True Colors

Chapter 2: Freedom

1 September. A day of wonder. A day of bliss.

At least, it was if you were eleven years old and magical.

It had to be hard on Meghan, Harry thought, glancing at her in the back seat of Letha's car, sitting beside Padfoot with her arms folded and a hint of a pout on her face. She'd done everything with him since they were babies, and now suddenly she couldn't go somewhere he was going, just because there was a two-year age difference between them.

Hope she doesn't throw a fit in the station...

But then Harry remembered that they were meeting the Longbottoms there, and his qualms disappeared. Neville could handle Meghan in all her moods, even better than Letha or Padfoot could. By the time the train left, he'd probably have her convinced she had the better end of the deal staying home.

Harry's mind fluttered, free-associating. Home. Number four. The Dursleys.

His aunt and uncle had been less than pleased to discover he'd inherited his mother and father's "taint," but since it wasn't going to cost them anything to send him to Hogwarts, and it would get him out of the house ten months a year, they agreed that he could go. Not that he would have minded if they'd said no - what was the worst they could do? Lock him in his cupboard and hide away or destroy the things he'd bought? He had at least two different means of communicating with his family, and things could always be bought again.

He'd greatly enjoyed walking out of number four that morning, pulling his trunk behind him and carrying the cage containing Hedwig, his snowy owl, in his other hand. He'd had a curious feeling that it was the last time he'd ever be inside the boxy-looking house, although he knew it couldn't be true. He'd be back next summer, and the summer after that, and all the summers until he was grown.

But that's ten months away - no reason to borrow trouble.

Harry lost himself in pleasant daydreams of the coming school year, which ended only when Letha gently shook his shoulder to alert him to the fact that they had arrived.

Neville and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were waiting for them near the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters. Meghan's pout, which had shown signs of becoming permanent, vanished at the sight of Neville, who greeted her eagerly and showed her the toad his Great-Uncle Algie had bought him, which he'd named Trevor. Letha shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, and Padfoot wagged his tail to them.

"Good luck at school, Harry," said Mr. Longbottom, shaking hands with him. "I think you'll do fine."

"I know you'll do fine," corrected Mrs. Longbottom, hugging him. "Your parents would be proud of you, Harry."

Harry beamed. It was his favorite compliment. "Thanks."

Together, he and Neville crossed the barrier between platforms nine and ten, feeling the little wash of cool across them as they stepped through.

Time seemed to rush past. He and Neville and Mr. Longbottom were lifting the trunks aboard the train and finding an empty compartment... he was hugging Meghan and promising to write every week without fail... he was hugging Padfoot, who had said everything at home and had to content himself now with a soulful look and a big sloppy lick ("Yuck!")... he was being held close by Letha, who kissed the top of his head and whispered, "They would be proud today," before letting him go... he was aboard the train, waving out the door with Neville as it began to pick up speed...

"Let's go sit down, then," said Harry, shutting the door as the train rounded the corner.

The bang of the door closing must have startled Trevor, as he gave an emphatic wriggle and leapt from Neville's hand, vanishing into the next car.

"Oh no!"

"Harry!"

The two exclamations came almost simultaneously, and for an instant Harry wasn't sure which way to turn. Footsteps coming down the car helped clue him in.

"All right, Ray?" he said, turning around.

"All right. You?"

"All right. Do you know Neville Longbottom?"

"No, I don't."

"Neville, this is Draco Malfoy, but he likes to be called Ray, and his dog, Zelda..."

"Wolf, actually," corrected Ray quietly.

"Fine, your wolf Zelda."

Zelda tossed her head proudly.

"Ray, this is Neville Longbottom, and I'd introduce his toad, Trevor, but he just got away."

"That's too bad," said Ray as he shook hands with Neville. "Say, do you want Zelda to see if she can find him?"

Neville looked hopeful. "Could she?"

"Have you been holding him for long today?"

"All morning."

"Zel," called Ray, and the wolf came to sniff at Neville's hands. "Since you've been holding him, your scent's on him," he explained. "She'll go and find anything that smells like you, but isn't you, and then either bring him back here or come and get us to get him, if she can't reach him."

"Will she hurt him?"

Ray shook his head. "She fetches things alive all the time. She's very gentle and very smart."

Zelda smacked Ray's leg with the back of her paw, then nosed open the door of the next car and vanished through it.

"She's also temperamental," said Ray. "May I sit with you, or are you full up?"

"We've got room," said Harry. "But shouldn't you go with Zelda? Someone's going to make a fuss if they see a wolf wandering around without a human."

Ray made a face. "Didn't think of that. Neville, you want to come too? It's your toad."

"Er, all right. See you in a minute, Harry."

Harry returned to the compartment and sat down, not really thinking about much of anything, just enjoying the fulfillment of his dream, to be on the Hogwarts Express and going away to school at last.

The door slid open. "That was quick," said Harry, turning to see.

But it wasn't Ray or Neville, it was another boy, fast turning as red as his hair. "I'm sorry, you're expecting someone - I was just going to ask if I could sit here, everywhere else is full, but you've got people coming-"

"It's all right," said Harry, standing up to stop the boy from leaving. "You can sit in here, there's only me and two others. First year, too?"

The boy nodded, coming in. He was tall and gangling, with a long nose and large hands and feet. "Ron Weasley," he said, holding out his hand.

Harry took it and prepared himself for the inevitable. "Harry Potter."

Ron goggled at him. "Are you really?"

Harry nodded.

"And d'you really have..." He pointed to his forehead.

Harry lifted his bangs to show his lightning-bolt scar.

"Wow." Ron sounded truly impressed. "Who're you waiting for?"

"Some friends of mine," said Harry, stretching a point, since he wasn't quite sure if he was friends with Ray yet, though he liked the blond boy. "They're in our year. Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy. But he likes people to call him Ray."

"Have you known them long?"

"I just met Ray at Diagon Alley a month ago, but I've known Neville my whole life."

"Oh." Ron sat down. "Is that your owl?" he asked, pointing to Hedwig, on the luggage rack above Harry.

"Yes, that's Hedwig. D'you have a pet?"

"Just my brother Percy's old rat," said Ron dismissively, pulling a lump of gray fur from his pocket. "He never wakes up unless he's eating, he's useless."

"What's his name?" asked Harry, looking more closely at the rat.

"Scabbers. Percy's had him forever, but now he's a prefect and he gets an owl for it, and Scabbers gets handed down the line."

"Do you have any other brothers?"

"Only four," said Ron just a trifle bitterly. "And a younger sister."

"I've got a younger sister," said Harry. "Sort of. She's my neighbor, her mum babysits me, and we've been together so much it's kind of like we're brother and sister. Does yours steal your chips at lunch?"

"Yes - and then tries to claim you ate them yourself when you weren't looking!"

The conversation was in full swing when the door opened again. "I'm glad we were there," said Ray, coming in behind Neville, clutching a squirming Trevor. "Otherwise she might have got warts on her tongue..."

Zelda, coming in last, stopped dead in the doorway.

"What's that?" asked Ron, looking at the wolf.

"Her name's Zelda," said Ray. "Who're you?"

"Ron Weasley. Who're you?"

"Draco Malfoy, but call me Ray. What's that?" Ray pointed at the lump of Scabbers on Ron's knee, at which Zelda was now growling.

"It's my rat, and keep your dog away from him. I don't like that look." Ron bundled Scabbers away in his pocket again.

"She's not a dog, she's a wolf. And she won't hurt your rat." But Ray was looking in the direction Scabbers had been with an oddly angry expression himself, Harry thought. "When did you get him?"

"Why's it any of your business?"

"I'm just asking! I-" Ray broke off, frowning fiercely for a moment. Then his face cleared. "I'm sorry if I insulted you somehow," he said carefully. "I didn't mean to. And I promise Zelda won't hurt your rat."

"All right." Ron looked at Neville and held out his hand. "Ron Weasley."

"Neville Longbottom. And this is Trevor."

"A toad! I didn't know anyone still brought those."

"He was a gift," said Neville, reddening slightly. "From my great-uncle."

"No kidding - you mean someone besides me has great-uncles?"

After Ron and Neville had compared families, everything in the compartment settled down, and the boys could have a good long talk about topics that interested them all. Such as Quidditch, Hogwarts, Quidditch, food (as the lunch cart came around and Harry treated everyone), and Quidditch. Zelda curled up on the seat between Ray and Harry and went to sleep.

"When did you get her?" asked Neville.

"We've been together since I was a baby," said Ray. "I think 'Zel' was one of my first words."

"Is she like a guard dog?" asked Ron. "Would she hurt someone who tried to hurt you?"

Ray nodded. "That's supposedly what she's for. But she means a lot more to me than that. She's really more like my friend." His hand rested on the back of Zelda's head for a moment. "She's almost all the company I have at home. My father and mother are busy with their own things a lot."

This brought the conversation neatly back to their families, with it being Harry's turn to talk this time. He kept to his story about Letha and Meghan being his neighbors and said nothing about Padfoot except as the family pet. The other boys were more interested in his stories about the Dursleys anyway, being all three pureblooded and not familiar with Muggle life.

In what seemed like no time at all, the train was slowing down, and they were getting off, dressed now in their Hogwarts robes, following the bellow of "Firs' years! Firs' years follow me!"

"That's Hagrid," whispered Harry to the others. "He's the gamekeeper." He smiled at Hagrid as he passed - Hagrid had come to visit Letha a time or two when Harry had been there, and he'd liked the big man who always had something interesting in his pockets.

They made their way down the steep, slick track to the shore of the lake. Ray had gotten cut off from them at some point, and Harry looked for him as he climbed into a boat with Ron and Neville, finally spotting him far down the shore. He was looking unhappy about something... oh, of course, there were already three other people in his boat, so there wasn't any room for Zelda, who was standing on the shore, whining.

Harry waved to get Ray's attention, then pointed at Zelda and beckoned. Ray leaned out of his boat and said one or two words to the wolf, and she raced down the shore and leapt lightly into Harry's boat, almost making Neville drop Trevor again. Ron snickered, and Zelda smacked him with her paw as she had Ray on the train.

"Ow." Ron rubbed his knee. "What was that for?"

Zelda snorted and turned away from him, resting her head on Harry's knee and looking up at him amusedly. Tentatively, he offered her his fingers, and felt gratified when she sniffed them and gave them a delicate lick.

Ron shook his head. "That animal is not normal," he said.

Zelda favored him with a look that said as clearly as words, And you are?

xXxXx

Harry tried not to fidget as he stood in line, waiting for the Sorting Hat to finish with Neville.

"He'll be a tough case for Sorting," Padfoot had said of Neville. "His father was a Hufflepuff, but he's the bravest Hufflepuff I know, and his mum was a Gryffindor, but the hardest-working and fairest-minded one I know. So he could go either way."

The Hat opened its mouth now -

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry wished he could cheer, but there was no guarantee that he'd be a Gryffindor himself. He could hope, of course, but the Hat placed you where it thought you would fit best, and that wasn't necessarily where you wanted to be...

Neville was jogging back to Professor McGonagall now, a bit red-faced, to return the Sorting Hat, which he'd run off wearing. She set the Hat on the stool and looked at her list, frowning.

Harry felt Ray tense beside him. "What's wrong?" he asked under his breath.

"Nothing."

But Ray looked worried, all the same, and only relaxed when McGonagall read out, "MacDougal, Morag!"

It was a short reprieve. "Malfoy, Draco!" was the next name on the list.

Ray went forward to sit on the stool. McGonagall lowered the Hat onto his head, and another long waiting process began. Zelda whined uneasily, watching him.

"He'll be all right," Harry told her out of the corner of his mouth. "You'll see. He'll be all right."

The Hat straightened up. "GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a great deal of cheering from the Gryffindor table. Ray, as the Hat came off his head, looked surprised, pleased, and relieved. Zelda gave a joyous bark and bounded forward, leaping at Ray -

No, it was the Hat she was leaping at, and she'd snatched it out of Professor McGonagall's hand before anyone knew what was happening.

"Zelda!" shouted Ray, although he was handicapped by laughing. "Come back here!"

Zelda wasn't listening. She'd bounded down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, and was now worrying her head into the Hat, for all the world as if she wanted to be Sorted too. She came prancing back up the aisle wearing it, causing gales of laughter, both for the incongruity of the sight and because it was obvious that she couldn't see where she was going.

And then, to top it all off...

"GRYFFINDOR!" announced the Hat loudly.

More laughter still, and Gryffindor House cheered its newest member, as Ray, rather pink in the face, removed the Hat from Zelda's head, gave it back to Professor McGonagall, and led Zelda firmly to the House table, where Fred and George Weasley made a production of making room for the wolf on the bench between them.

xXxXx

Dear Meghan,

The Sorting's over, and we're all in Gryffindor. That's me, Neville, my new friend Ron, and the boy I met in Diagon Alley, Ray. And his wolf, Zelda. She stole the thing they use for Sorting, and it Sorted her before anyone could stop it. (I'm not telling you how it happens.)

I guess it's true that you can bring other kinds of pets than cats or owls or toads. Ray has Zelda, and Ron has a rat called Scabbers. We have a nice dormitory, with two other boys - Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan - at the very top of Gryffindor Tower.

I'll write again soon and tell you how classes are going.

Harry

xXxXx

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. "Hmm?"

"Does that have to go out tonight?" Ray pointed to the letter in Harry's hand. "Because I was just going to ask if I could borrow Hedwig for something."

"When would she be back?"

"Tomorrow morning at the very latest. It's not far."

"What kind of thing?"

"A little package. Nothing heavy or hard to carry."

"How about it, girl?" Harry asked Hedwig. "You think you can do that?"

Hedwig clacked her beak.

"Go ahead," said Harry. "I'll hold onto this and send it out tomorrow."

"Thanks." Ray held out his wrist for Hedwig to step onto, then climbed onto his bed and pulled the curtains shut. Zelda, holding something in her mouth, leapt neatly up after him.

"Harry, have you seen Scabbers?" asked Ron. "He's not anywhere around."

"He'll turn up," said Harry, yawning. "Don't keep the light on too late, Ray?"

"I won't," said Ray's voice from inside his bedcurtains.

xXxXx

He summoned a light within the closed space, then shut his eyes and relaxed all over, surrendering control in the familiar process he'd known since he was a baby. When his eyes opened again, they moved without direction from his own mind, and his wand moved in gestures he himself wouldn't learn for years, sealing the curtains so that no sound could escape.

She dropped what she'd appropriated, and his hand brought the wand down sharply, stopping its flight before it could even start. Another tap and muttered incantation secured the container he would use, and he touched the lid to his light, making an air hole, before securing that too. Death was not what he desired for this one.

Since he was old enough to understand the concept, he had hated injustice. And a long-standing injustice was about to be righted.

xXxXx

Albus Dumbledore returned to his office tired, but elated. His years-long quest was bearing fruit. Four of the objects he had sought, he had found, and dealt with appropriately. As far as he knew, only one remained, and he had an idea of where it might be found.

Perhaps, after all, Harry's impossible task will not be so impossible.

A small package waited on his desk. A small cylindrical package, addressed to him in familiar handwriting.

I wonder what this can be?

He had received many notes from this unknown correspondent through the years. One had warned of an attack on a married pair of Aurors and their young son. Another had revealed the current locations of some of the missing Death Eaters. And a third...

A third sent me on this quest I have undertaken.

Minerva keeps asking me why I leave the school so often, and for so long. He smiled thoughtfully. I wonder what she would say if I told her the truth? All the truth? What I have been doing, who I suspect sends me this information, and from whom they obtained it, and how?

She might well start proceedings to have me declared incompetent.

But the communication had always been in writing only. Never before had his "friends in low places," as they called themselves in their letters, sent him a package. That argued for something extremely precious, highly dangerous, or both.

Carefully, Dumbledore ripped away the brown paper.

A glass jar was revealed, with an extra sheen to it making him believe it had been charmed Unbreakable. A wise precaution, he realized when he saw what the jar contained. His tiredness vanished in a flare of righteous anger and satisfaction.

Time and past it for justice to be done.

He picked up the jar, considering it and its contents. For one moment, he thought he smelled smoke, and wondered whimsically if his eyes could set things on fire.

If they could, this might well be one of the things I would choose to ignite...

But not yet.

Slipping the jar into a pocket, he turned to his fireplace.

xXxXx

Meghan was up early the next morning, playing quietly by herself in the living room of her home, making fanciful sculptures with her magical building blocks, which stuck together no matter what configuration one put them in. She often built chairs with them for her playhouse, and very comfortable they were too, though Mum said they ruined her posture.

I wonder when Harry and Neville's letters will start coming? She got up to peer out the window, though she knew the boys probably wouldn't write after just one night at school. Still, she wanted to look.

Behind her, the fireplace ignited with a whoosh. She turned in surprise - they weren't expecting visitors. But the first person out of the fireplace allayed her worries. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore," she said happily. "Would you like some tea? Mum lets me use the kettle on my own now."

"Thank you, Meghan, perhaps later. Is your father here?"

The question nonplussed Meghan. It had been drilled into her from infancy that she must never speak of her father outside the walls of her own home, or when there were strangers present, and there were no fewer than three - four, she corrected herself as another person climbed out of the fire. Four strangers in their living room, tracking soot on the carpet, and Professor Dumbledore had mentioned her father as casually as if he were supposed to be living with them...

"Dumbledore, what are you talking about?" said one of the men, echoing Meghan's thoughts. "Surely you don't think Black would be here?"

"Where do you think he lives, Rufus, if not with his family?"

The man called Rufus frowned a little, looking Meghan over with his yellowish eyes. "I could see him visiting, perhaps, sneaking in from time to time, but it's unlikely that he's here now, don't you think?"

"Thus, my question. Is your father here, Meghan?"

Meghan looked at Professor Dumbledore in dismay. What was going on, she tried to ask with her eyes alone - were these Aurors here to take her Dadfoot away? Should she tell the truth, or lie?

"Everything is all right," the Headmaster reassured her, making a small motion with the hand away from the Aurors that reaffirmed what he was saying aloud. "You may speak."

"He's here," said Meghan, squaring her shoulders. No matter what was going on, it was her duty to meet it bravely. "Should I go and get him?"

"If you would."

xXxXx

Harry woke up a little late that morning, with a feeling of having had a marvelous dream which he couldn't quite recall. They had been celebrating something, something they'd been waiting a long time for. He'd been surrounded by people who liked him, loved him even, and having such a good time that he hadn't wanted to wake up, but she had pushed him back to reality, she wouldn't let him stay...

"Harry, come on, we're going to be late for breakfast."

Harry pulled his bedcurtains back and looked out. One set of blue eyes, two of brown, and one of gray (Ron, Neville, Zelda, and Ray) were regarding him closely. Zelda's eyes, in particular, were a soft, warm shade of brown that seemed familiar somehow...

He blinked, breaking the almost-trance he'd been in. "Be ready in a second," he said, and climbed out of bed.

It wasn't quite a second, but it wasn't very many minutes before four boys and one wolf were clattering down the stairs. "I still can't find Scabbers," Ron was saying as they climbed through the portrait hole. "I don't know where he could have gotten to. Maybe he's asleep under the bed or something, and just hasn't gotten hungry enough to come out."

"Trevor's gone too," said Neville gloomily as they walked through the halls. "Probably in the bathroom somewhere. Where are we?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing he'd never seen the hall around him before.

"I'm lost," said Ron bluntly.

Ray blinked a couple of times, and his face seemed to change a little, subtly, but it only lasted a second. "Fourth floor," he said. "And we took a wrong turn at that corridor back there, we wanted to go right, not left." He led the way back to the branching, and proceeded to get them to the Great Hall in three minutes flat.

Ron inhaled the odors of eggs, bacon, kippers, and toast appreciatively. "How'd you do that?" he asked, leading the group into the Hall itself.

Ray shrugged and mumbled something about being lucky, which Harry didn't pay much attention to, since he'd just discovered he was starving. He finished a huge bowl of porridge in no time flat and was about to start on bacon and eggs when Ron elbowed him.

"What?"

"Everybody's looking at you."

It was true. Almost every head in the Great Hall was turned his way, those that weren't hidden behind newspapers.

"Oy, Harry." It was Fred and George Weasley, both looking confused. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" asked Harry, bewildered.

For answer, Fred spread out the newspaper he had under his arm.

Two large photographs caught Harry's eye. One showed his godfather, much younger than Harry was used to seeing him and laughing maniacally, obviously taken on the day he'd been imprisoned. The other -

Harry's heart leapt. The other photograph was of a fat little man, balding on top, fidgeting nervously in his frame. He knew that face. He'd seen it in pictures from the Marauders' school days often enough.

His eyes flew to the headline.

SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT!

True killer, Peter Pettigrew, captured last night

Black discovered to have been hiding in Surrey

Wild excitement rose in Harry.

They found him - they found him - Padfoot's free! Really and truly free! He never has to hide again!

"Harry," repeated George, joggling his shoulder. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Is Sirius Black really your godfather?"

Harry laughed aloud. "Yes. Yes, he is. He always has been." He picked up the paper, glancing through the article. Bits of phrases leapt out at him... credibly, but as it seems, wrongfully accused... hiding in plain sight, in the home of his wife of ten years... daughter, Meghan, and often sees his godson, Harry Potter...

"A toast," said Ray from across the table, lifting his glass of pumpkin juice. "To freedom."

"To freedom," answered Harry, touching his goblet to Ray's.

"To freedom," chorused Ron, Neville, Fred, and George.

Ray tapped his goblet against Zelda's saucer of juice before drinking from it.

"So how long have you known?" asked Fred, sitting down beside him.

"What's he like?" Neville wanted to know.

"How did he hide all that time?" was Ron's question.

Trying to answer all three at once, Harry failed to notice Ray's appropriation of the newspaper, or his rather wistful look as he held it where Zelda could see it.

xXxXx

Freedom was a nice toast.

It would have been an even nicer reality.