Part 18
Now that the godbrother ceremoy was behind him, Harry finally found the time to return to his many other projects - and to take care of Goldie and her quiet brother, who had appeared in his bed sometime through the night and immediately wound around him for warmth. Blue and Sweetie had made room for them with nary a hiss, and the feeling of completeness with them there had been astonishing.
"Harry sleep," Goldie told him imperiously. "Beautiful Brady told us to watch over you, and we will. Harry is still growing, you need rest."
The quiet brother flicked his tongue out. "Harry is still weak from stupid rude boy's attack."
"Not much longer," Goldie hissed.
"Sleep now," Blue ordered, poking his head out of Harry's pyjama collar and staring at his siblings. "You are too loud."
Harry grinned as the little snakes all burrowed under his clothes. The goblins' protective magic tickled against Harry's skin. He hadn't noticed before, but now it stood out against human magic, almost like a visible finger print.
While his little bed mates quickly slumbered off, Harry's thoughts wouldn't quit running. Everything was touched on at least briefly: getting Slytherin's library translated, the burning need to cut Tom Riddle out of the Slytherin family, learning and teaching defence spells to Hermione and Neville and whoever of his friends was willing, keeping an eye out for Ron and Ginny, manage his money and estates, and staying on top of his school work, nevermind staying out of Dumbledore and the Ministry's way. Smaller projects like finding magical reptiles to try out his parselmouth abilities or finally getting Potter's Field ready for planting seemed less pressing, but they were still there, scratching at his conscience.
A quiet pop tore Harry away from his musings.
"Hey Dobby," he murmured. "What's up?"
"Harry Potter sir not be able to sleep," Dobby squeaked. "Dobby be wondering whether Harry Potter sir be wanting to dream-walk his hotel in France tonight."
"That'd be great," Harry admitted. "I've got so little time to appreciate what you and the others are doing for me. I'm sure your guest loves it a lot there. But say ... could you maybe visit Sirius in Rome sometime? I'd like to see where he lives, and how the goblins are treating him."
"Dobby can," the house elf agreed. "Dobby be doing that soon!"
Harry smiled at him and reached out a hand, which Dobby quickly took and held. "Thank you. I know I'm asking this a lot, but are you okay? We don't see each other as much, now that so many other elves are around me. I don't want you to think that I'm forgetting about you."
"Dobby be knowing that," Dobby replied earnestly. "All elves be knowing that Harry Potter sir be caring about them. Dobby be happy! And Dobby be looking for more security elves, just like Ninja. It not be easy, but we be finding some eventually."
"If anyone can, it's you." Harry yawned. "The others still need things to do, don't they? I know they're trying to get busy following Hermione and I around, but most of the time that's got to be super boring."
"It not be very interesting," Dobby admitted, "but it be important. Still, if Harry Potter sir be having more ideas for jobs, Harry Potter sir's house elves be happy to know."
Harry thought back to Hermione's thoughtful face a couple of days back, when Lavender had lamented her family's lack of household help. He was sure that his girlfriend had something to say about that, and he was looking forward to finding out.
But first there was his guesthouse in France to visit, and almost nine hours of sleep to help his body recover the last few bits of its lost magic.
oOo
It turned out that Harry didn't even have to bring up the matter of house elves; as soon as Hermione had sat down to breakfast and thanked Betty for the work that had gone into the lovely food, she asked the elf to stay and nearly vibrated in her chair with excitement.
"I know how to get your house elves some exercise," she blurted, and Betty let out an involuntary squeak of delight. "You need to create a business that rents out house elf services!"
Harry smiled. "I thought it'd be something like that."
"You did?" Hermione asked, a little wide-eyed. "And?"
Betty's large eyes stared unblinkingly at Harry, as well.
"It's a fantastic idea, actually."
"Yes!" Betty squeaked, ears and little clasped hands trembling.
"But," Harry cautioned them, "I have no earthly idea how to pull that off. I actually thought there'd be something like this already, but nope, apparently not. Sharptooth will have to do the heavy lifting, and I guess there'll be contracts involved about what my house elves can and cannot do, and how quickly. What can I charge if a snap of the fingers or two straightens up a whole house? I mean, we'd need a lot of clients to give the elves something worthwhile to do, and the clients would need to trust me enough with their secrets."
"Your name would be a huge draw," Hermione said, not deterred in the least. "Plus, your elves seem to have enough free time to take on at least a hundred clients, and they could clean houses as well as help with gardens, right? That's two super important areas. And you could loan them out to learn a trade! In turn, they'd help some business owner with their work, for a set amount of time. It could be a month, or half a year ... however long a house elf needs to become proficient."
Harry shook his head, amazed. "See, I didn't think about that last one, and it's brilliant! What do you think about apprenticing some of the elves to Gringotts' security teams?"
"Well ... the goblins might have reservations if it comes to specific trade secrets," Hermione said slowly, "but I don't see why they wouldn't. Sharptooth can certainly ask! Will you send him a letter today?"
Harry turned to Betty. "Before I start something, I need to know what you and the others think about it. Please inform them and have a vote or something. If you all think it's fine, we'll proceed."
"Betty will!" Betty cried, eyes welling up with tears. "Betty be going immediately. Dory be coming if you be needing something, Harry Potter sir!"
She jumped forward, hugged Harry around the knees, and popped off with a little boom.
"You," Hermione said with laughter in her voice, "are a gift to those house elves. And I sincerely hope it'll work out, because Magical Britain desperately needs modern ideas. Allowing them to specialize and apprentice with masters will probably increase their work's worth even more."
"If those masters even want to have house elves learn their secrets," Harry cautioned her. "We both know that those guys would put them out of business fast."
"Someone will give it a try," Hermione countered. "Especially when they get house elf labour in return. As you said, your friends are good. Their work will be worth it."
"I guess we'll find out." Harry finally sat down and picked up his fork. "And, er, maybe you'd like to write the business proposal?"
Hermione lit up. "You'd let me do that?"
"Not without compensation, of course," Harry hurried to say. "You've put some thought into this already, so it's only fair that you get a share. Maybe Sharptooth should be the one to negotiate that."
"There's no need, Harry," Hermione said. "I don't have any house elves, so I don't have a stake in this whatsoever. But I'd like to be involved in the setting up of the business, because it's exciting, and because I want to learn how it works. It's a tragedy how little we've learned so far about the only bank and the economy in Magical Britain."
"Deal." Harry shook Hermione's hand and grinned. "Thanks, 'Mione. I have a feeling that I'll get the house elves' answer-"
Betty popped back, right onto the table.
"-now."
"Betty be asking all of the Potter elves," Betty cried, shaking like a leaf from excitement, "and half of them are willing to take up work for other families! When we be starting?"
"As soon as I can manage," Harry assured her. "Hermione will write our business plan, one of you can take it to Sharptooth, and he'll make it happen. Have patience for a couple of days, and give Sharptooth time to get word out, okay?"
"Yes!" Betty jumped a little. "Thank you, Harry Potter sir, and Harry Potter sir's Mione!"
She popped away again, leaving two amused teenagers behind.
"I guess I'll get to work, then," Hermione said. "Frankly, it's the least I can do after she spoiled us with this."
"About that ... which country is this from?" Harry wondered. "I get scrambled eggs and rashers, but the sausage is strange, and there's salad. With red cabbage."
"It's Jajecznica, a traditional Polish breakfast. Typically it's just the egg and sausage with bread, but we know how your elves like to go the extra mile."
"Have you eaten this before?"
"No, but I know of it because my parents took me to a Polish restaurant two years ago," Hermione explained. "I remember seeing it on the menu and thinking that I'd like to try it one day. It's not so very unlike a British breakfast, it just tastes a little differently. And salad never hurt anyone."
"I guess not, when Betty made it." Harry stuffed a bite of the rashers in his mouth. "Yum, crispy."
"It's got so many calories," Hermione moaned around her mouthful of egg, "but it's so good."
It was very good, but it also was so filling that they had to decline seconds and were a bit slow in walking to class. Even the snakelings around Harry's arms and neck felt drowsy to him, as if they'd bitten off a bit too much for them to digest.
Charms unfortunately brought on not one but two new spells for them to learn, followed by even more homework. Therefore, Hermione secluded herself during lunch to write the business proposal for the house elf cleaning service, leaving it to Harry to draw Ron's unwanted attention to himself.
"I told you that the Ministry won't tell the dementors to back off, even with Black gone," the boy said smugly and waved a copy of the Daily Prophet around. "The Minister said so himself in this interview."
"At least Susan Bones' aunt tries," Parvati replied. "And she will keep trying until the Minister finally calls them off."
"Or the ICW intervenes," Percy Weasley called along the table. The students fell silent and looked expectantly at him. "It's not unheard of for them to overrule a country's decision if there's a direct link between a case they're working and an adverse affect or several adverse affects for the local populace."
"Oh, stuff it, Percy, what can the ICW even do against Minister Fudge's orders?" Ron asked. "They're in Rome or wherever, and the dementors are here."
Percy's expression grew pinched. "Magical Britain is a member of the International Confederation of Wizards, which means that Britain agreed to authorize the ruling members to take certain actions on its behalf, if necessary. Calling off a horde of dementors that are hanging around children with no justifiable reason whatsoever certainly falls into that category, and I for one hope that they'll take action soon."
"He does," Fred said loudly. "Wrote a letter once a week since Sirius Black revealed himself to spur the ICW on."
"We did, too," George added cheerfully. "Because the more the merrier!"
"As did we," Angelina Johnson said with a glare in Ron's direction.
"That makes you kind of traitors," Ron proclaimed. "Going over the head of our government like that."
Alicia Spinnet crossed her arms over her chest. "If the Ministry won't do the right thing, then the ICW will have to step in. That's what they're literally there for. That's got nothing to do with being traitors, and everything with wanting to stay alive. You better believe that I'll never vote for Fudge, should he dare run for Minister again."
"Nah, Fudge is finished," Lee Jordan said casually, reaching for the platter with the honey-glazed baked carrots. "No one at Hogwarts will vote for him ... at least no one with half a brain."
"Ron hasn't got even quarter of one," Fred offered, "which explains his profound stupidity."
Ron glowered at him. "You can laugh all you want. The facts speak for themselves. The ICW hasn't done shit yet, and they never will. They don't care for a bunch of kids. Besides, maybe there's a reason the dementors are still around, and you just haven't bothered to find out."
"You know," George began.
"He might be right," Fred continued.
"There might be hidden depths to Minister Fudge," George said.
"Other than his deep, deep pockets." Fred looked so innocently ponderous that Harry nearly tore something as he tried not to laugh.
"But-" George barrelled on.
"-he'd have to prove it," Fred said.
"-and the time for that is running out fast," Lee ended the spiel with a flourish.
"He has until the end of the week," Katie Bell said to approving murmurs of friends and fellow students. "After that, we should call for a vote of no confidence."
"Hell yeah!" Oliver Wood cried, raising his cup of pumpkin juice. "We need our Quidditch pitch back!"
Others chimed in, and the call to arms spread from Gryffindor to the other tables. While Slytherin seemed the least enthusiastic, the idea visibly took hold. Even the teachers looked intrigued, as if the idea to actually try and oust Fudge from his post hadn't even occured to them.
"That's just another one of your useless ideas," Ron complained. "And we'll all get punished for it, just you wait and see."
"Before you open your big mouth, Ronald, be aware that anyone can call for such," Hermione called from the far end of the table. "Even underage witches and wizards, as long as their reason to do so is considered valid by the Wizengamot and by public vote."
"Even if the vote should somehow fail us," Percy went on, faint excitement on his usually placid face, "the ICW will take note, because a vote of no confidence is always international news. No gag order can prevent that."
"Yeah, because Gringotts is involved in the spreading of those news," Ron sneered. "But don't be so sure that the ICW will actually act, because Gringotts is protecting their own interests, aren't they? They want Black's gold, and Harry's, too, by getting Black free. That they'd also seriously harm our government would play right into their hands."
"Wow, you sound like a Ministry mouthpiece," Angelina said sharply. "Should we check you for curses, Weasley?"
"I'm not cursed," Ron's sneer turned up a notch. "I'm just saying how it is. That's strategy, even an idiot can see that. The Minister can't really lose, not with Gringotts' conflict of interest, and you won't be able to make him change his mind."
"That's a new low, even for you, Weasley," Lavender told him. "Are you secretly a hardliner like Malfoy and his posse? Do you want some sort of king to make all the decisions for us? Maybe even someone like You-know-who?"
Ron flushed unattractively. "Of course not. But that's how things are right now, and no amount of protesting will change anything, other than make the Minister believe that he has to bring you all under control. Do you want to imagine what he'll come up with? Because I don't."
Lunch ended on that unpleasant note, mostly because Harry had the niggling feeling that Ron might be right. It was terribly suspicious how slowly things concerning the dementors were going, and even Sharptooth had no idea what could be done, other than having gotten the ICW involved and waiting for things to finally happen.
After class, when the others were busy with the Patronus Club, Harry took Hermione's business plan up to the Come And Go Room and settled in for a conversation via journal with Sharptooth.
October 19th, 1993
Hello Steward Sharptooth,
I write to mentally prepare you for a business proposal Hermione has come up with. Since my house elves desperately need more work, Hermione thinks that I could loan them out to families that would like the services, but can't have an elf for whatever reason. My elves are very on board with that plan and asked that the list of available services be adjusted as they further their education. Right now, they excel at cooking, cleaning, gardening, farming, and tailoring, but they plan to add to that very soon. I think they'd also do great as a taxi service.
Please tell me that there's enough interest in house elf service to get this going, because I can't let my elves suffer like this. They're desperate for even the smallest jobs and their restlessness is making me restless, too.
Thank you!
May your pile of gold ever grow and your enemies grovel at your feet,
Harry
To his great relief, the answer came just a few minutes later. Harry was so eager for it that he read the words as they appeared on the journal page.
Heir Potter,
Your idea sounds good in theory; however, it's not something that hasn't been attempted before. Many enterprising wizards and witches, and even Gringotts at some point, have tried to establish businesses like the one you're envisioning. The problem wasn't the eagerness of the house elves then, either, but what it would mean magically in our society, especially as it modernizes.
You see, if you send a house elf to do work for you, their magic automatically makes that about you, even if the work they're doing is for the individual that bought their services. It can never not be about you, either, not even by contract, because of the bond you have with your elves.
The solution to circumvent that magical circumstance can be twofold:
1) If someone signs a contract, they'd have to sign over their house, garden, farm, or business over to you so the house elves can use the full breadth of their magical abilities. If it's your property, even if you'd never actually claim it as yours, their service would be at a hundred percent and thus beyond satisfactorily.
2) If a client does not sign their land, property, or business over to you, your elves would be severely hampered in what they can do for them. Cleaning might be easy, as would be cooking, or farming, but jobs that require magical finesse, or sacred knowledge, would be out of the question. As soon as family magic is involved, and you're not part of that family, Magic would refuse your house elves to grasp that family magic's secrets, and quite rightly so. It's the one branch of magic that's taboo to prying eyes and ears, even house elf eyes and can liken such situations with asking your elves to do someone a favour for you, like cooking or fetching things for Miss Dagworth-Granger. It'll help that you'll earn money for their work, that makes it more about you than a mere favour would.
So you see, either case requires careful contracting, and not just a stellar, but a platin reputation for keeping secrets that aren't relevant for law enforcement. As head of your family, your elves would naturally report everything they'd learn to you, which would make you the potentially most dangerous wizard in Britain. In the past, none of the entrepreneurs were therefore satisfied with the stringent constraints, because nothing about it was as fast or easy as they'd have liked. They also didn't want to give Gringotts the cut it deserves for the work the goblins would have to put into the crafting of the contracts.
That being said, I can set up the business today and craft contracts for several standard scenarios. Gaining clients may take a while, but as you have a reference in your guesthouse in France already, even if it is a very young one, and your name is well known, it just might take off regardless.
Personally, I'm rather intrigued and willing to find out whether you'll lift the curse that's been holding back hired house elve service for centuries, so you may send your proposal along and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Once I've verified its viability, you'll have to send me an official letter, instructing me to get the business with your exact specifications up and running.
May your foes quiver in fear and your friends always profit from your generosity,
Sharptooth
Harry leaned back in his leather chair and exhaled loudly. "Oh man."
All four snakelings crawled from his robe sleeves and circled the journal with flicking tongues.
"Not good news, Harry?" Sweetie asked.
"No, well, maybe. Can I explain?"
Goldie raised her head and splayed her hood, looking like a large, golden arm coil for a moment. "Of course. We understand a lot already, even though we're still young."
"Thanks. I need to talk it over with someone before I'm trying to do the impossible." Harry proceeded to read Sharptooth's pertinent statements and then asked, "Do you think people would go for it? Either signing over all of their stuff just to have someone come in and clean their house? Or accept subpar service if they don't?"
The quiet sibling coiled around Harry's ink bottle, blue markings glowing a little. "I think you underestimate how satisfying house elf magic of even average strength can be for a magical human." He tilted his little head. "All a normal family wants is get rid of dust and vermin, and maybe get good meals, no? House elves can do that easily, no fancy contract required."
"It only gets interesting for apprenticeships and high arts because of family magics and secrets," Blue agreed. After his short trip around Harry's desk, he made his way back up his right arm and settled around his neck. "The goblins are very, very good with contracts. They take a proper cut from Harry, elves have work, people are happy, everyone wins."
"You all think so?" Harry asked Sweetie and Goldie.
Both snakelings hissed their agreement, and a sense of peace settled over Harry. "Cool. Then I'll try ... if Sharptooth says we can. I don't need the money, anyway."
He called Betty, handed her Hermione's carefully written proposal and sent her to Gringotts. She was ecstatic and so grateful for the order that it nearly hurt. Worse, waiting for Sharptooth to consider all the angles would take time, time Harry's poor house elves would spend biting their little nails and fighting for scraps of work. How that was even possible after Dobby had shown him just how big Potter Manor and the grounds were, Harry didn't know, but if the elves felt like they didn't have enough to do, who was he to question them?
To distract himself, he pulled out Sirius' journal next. It had been a while since he'd written because of their Floo talks, but Sirius was usually busy with meetings during the afternoons and evenings and writing was helping Harry calm down.
October 19th, 1993
Hey Siri,
How are things in Rome? All's well I hope; news have been slow in coming for a week.
Neville and my ceremony was successful; I'm sure Dobby has already shown you the memories in your sleep. Did you like it? And are you very angry that I invited Professor Lupin to stand with me? His magic felt good, though, so I hope you can forgive me if you actually don't like it. I also told him to finally write you; he's been moping around the castle for weeks and it's driving me a little bonkers. Anyway, do you think Neville and I will get the certificate for our bond soon? Since they're created with magic, we thought we'd get it the day after or something, but it's still not here.
This morning, Hermione convinced me to try and create a business to find my house elves some work. Sharptooth said it'll be difficult to attract clients due to certain magical restrictions, but we'll try anyway. He'll likely contact you soon. I hope you'll also think that it's a good idea and give him the go-ahead - if you don't need my elves for some of your own projects, of course. Those'll always come first.
Oh, and can I ask what Brady's emergency was? I missed him on Sunday and hope that he and whatever, or whoever, he was busy with is okay now.
Love,
Harry
P.S.: Ron's been his usual optimistic self and said that the ICW probably won't force our Ministry to call back the dementors because there might be a valid reason to keep them around. Do you know something about that? No one knows what it could be, and people really, really want the dementors gone. There's even talk of calling for a vote of no confidence for the Minister.
Harry read over his entry and decided that it was enough for now. Sirius' meetings could go on forever, especially his healing appointments, and he didn't want to stress him out more than he absolutely had to.
In fact, it was probably time to send him something nice to go with his letter.
"Would you like to get your picture taken for Sirius?" Harry asked the four snakelings. "Betty can develop the photo real quick."
"Our beauty should be captured for posterity," Goldie hissed. Her tail tangled with Sweetie's and both swayed a little as they opened their hoods to preen. Next to each other, their contrast in colour looked absolutely stunning.
"I want Harry," Blue said, wriggling a little around Harry's neck to get more comfortable. "His father still needs much happiness."
"Betty," Harry called softly. When the still twitching elf appeared, he sighed. "Hey, Sharptooth will work as quickly as he can. You know that, right?"
"I be knowing, but ... hope be terrible," Betty squeaked, wringing her hands. "We elves be hoping so much. We be knowing that people be wanting us to work, and that Harry Potter sir not be having any influence on that. Still ... we not be able to help it."
"Okay." Harry gently stroked her arms. "Would you take a picture of us for Sirius? The Come And Go Room already provided a camera, see?"
"Of course, Harry Potter sir!" Betty snapped up the camera and directed the four snakes to drape themselves all over Harry and find a good pose to show off their hoods. "Death adders be growing well. Harry Potter sir's dogfather be liking that a lot, Betty be sure of it."
She snapped the picture and immediately popped away to get it developed.
"Thanks you guys," Harry praised the snakelings. "You're good friends. Sirius will love it."
"Harry is a good friend, too," Blue declared. He snuggled against Harry's cheek and tickled him with his tongue. "Very warm. And you listen."
"And feed us well," his brother added. "We're hungry, Harry. Can you call your soul friend?"
"Of course, here ... Expecto Patronum." When the apparition swirled into existence, surprisingly having taken on the form of a rabbit, Harry said, "Play until they're full, and if they want to snuggle and you're still having fun, let them. Thanks, mate." He carefully touched the lightly buzzing silvery animal and smiled. "Off you go, then. I know you want to."
The rabbit's ears and whiskers twitched and then it shot off, the snakes racing to follow.
Surprised, Harry watched them chase after the running rabbit. The snakes were fast! And after a bit of mindless slithering they were quickly devising a strategy to corner the Patronus and take little nips and bites out of it. As large as the Come And Go Room was, the snakelings always seemed to find ways to gain on their prey, and sometimes Harry thought he saw them lengthening as they lunged, which surely was a trick of the rather dim light.
A rustling from Sirius' journal caught his attention.
October 19th, 1993
Harry,
It's so good to hear from you. Thank you for the information in your post script - it's unfortunately the most pertinent bit of news to reach Walker and I right now. How far along are your friends to calling that vote of no confidence?
Listen carefully now, please, because that vote shouldn't be called if it can be helped. Ronald unfortunately was right, the Minister will have a valid claim to keep the dementors posted around Hogwarts, and the reason is Peter Pettigrew, your parents' secret keeper. I told you that he was taken care of, and he is, but the British Ministry of Magic doesn't know it yet. All they have is my 'testimonial' from 1981; I did try to tell the aurors that they needed to find Pettigrew, and that's enough for them now to justify their dementor decision, even if the wanker was declared dead by them.
I'll talk it over with Walker, but he told me only last week that telling the world that we have Pettigrew in custody will open us up to attacks as the ICW will want to take him into their own custody for preliminary questioning. The timing is very inconvenient - we've just negotiated for the trial to begin in January. Giving certain people two months to try and get rid of my main witness in the trial could lose me everything.
However, I'll ask Gringotts to authorize the printing of a special edition of the Hogwarts Herald if you can't wait a second longer to have the dementors - and Fudge - gone. Just say the word and Hermione'll get her story.
Love,
Sirius
Harry cursed and grabbed his quill, ramming it into the ink pot in his haste to pen an answer.
Sirius,
No.
In fact, hell no. I won't let you throw away your best chance to win that trial! The dementors are bad, and we won't get to play Quidditch as long as they're at Hogwarts, but that's not nearly as bad as you possibly going back to Azkaban! I'd much rather let Fudge stay in office for a while longer than lose you.
Also, you told me that Walker's excellent at stalling. Even if the vote of no confidence gets called and Fudge brings up Pettigrew, it'll change nothing for us. I've got no problem being selfish when it's about you, you know.
Harry
Anxious, Harry waited for Sirius' reply. For long minutes, the new page of the journal remained blank, and when words finally began to appear, he greedily followed their path across the page.
Harry,
You're just as fierce as your mum, and you know how well she protected you against Tom Riddle. Thank you, pup, it means a lot.
I still meant it, though. If you need the dementors gone tomorrow, Pettigrew will make a spectacular reappearance and damn the consequences. Your protection comes first. It'll always come first.
Love,
Sirius
Harry scowled and scratched out, Still a fat no. I've got an army of house elves; I'm protected enough. You keep Pettigrew under wraps. That rat bastard owes you, and he'll pay.
Just as hurriedly, Sirius answered.
Harry,
He will. We've got Pettigrew questioned already, and had his testimony verified by several surveyors, both of Gringotts and independent. His testimony wouldn't be lost in case of his death, but courts of law can be unpredictable. The untimely demise of a witness is never a good thing, even if we can use magic to verify nearly everything. We can't ever underestimate the human factor. People will go to incredible lengths to reach their goals, consequences be damned.
What happens to the rat after the trial ... well. I'd only care if they decided to let him walk free, and in that case I'd have him eliminated myself. Sorry if that shocks you, but that man cannot be allowed to walk the same earth as you do, after what his cowardly actions cost you. Don't ask it of me, either, because that's the one thing I won't be able to give you.
Love,
Sirius
Harry needed to sit back and breathe for a moment, because seeing it spelled out so starkly was shocking, and even more shockingly reassuring. That tiny bit of magic in Sirius' words showed just how seriously his father was taking it, and it resonated with something deep inside of Harry. Something dark and feral.
It's okay, he finally wrote. I understand. I'd never ask you to spare him. After a pause, he added, As long as you don't get caught.
Ha, Sirius replied, that's a deal. Now that that's out of the way, let's talk about your ceremony. It was fantastic, you and Neville did very well with the ritual. That you chose Remus to stand with you was very kind, and it's okay if you get along with him. I'm sure he'll write when he's ready. As to why Brady wasn't there ... it's because he was with me. He was too kind to say so to you, but he should have. I was a mess because I couldn't stand with you and begged him to keep me company. I'm sorry. He should've been there.
A horrible wrench of compassion tore through Harry and he cursed himself for assuming that Sirius would be able to deal with missing this important event in Harry's life when he'd made it more than clear how much he hated himself for missing the last eleven years already.
It's okay, he replied, throat tight and eyes burning. I had all my friends and Professor Lupin. I'm glad you weren't alone. Maybe Neville and I should have waited until you were cleared - I'm sorry for not thinking it through.
Something like subdued, wet laughter bled through the ink as Sirius wrote, Nonsense. Waiting is the last thing you should've done. Who knows how long I'll be kept busy in Rome? You claiming family is a matter of survival at this point, because you'll need all the help you can get to withstand Riddle's attacks. Me missing the ceremony might hurt, but I sure as hell don't want you to remain alone just to spare my feelings.
A little calmer, Sirius continued, You're already letting me be a part of your life, and it'll be enough. I'm just not in a good place mentally yet, but that's hardly your fault, love. Allowing me to poach your friends when I need them helps, too. You found a good one in Brady, that's for sure. Talking to him is amazingly easy.
Yeah, I'm glad Healer Spleenbash made me pick a mind healer, Harry admitted. A little worried, he asked, Is it strange that I don't think of him as my doctor anymore? At all? Even if he is?
It's not unusual, according to Healer Spleenbash, Sirius replied. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think of him as your doctor, either. He's gotten too involved for that, at least as it pertains to me, because he's a marshmallow. He's not getting paid to hold my hand, and he still does it because he wants you to be well. My own healer already warned me not to get too attached, so this is me passing the warning along. It sucks, but she's right. Brady will have to move on eventually, and only time will tell if the friendship we enjoy with him now will persist past our professional relationship.
Do you think it will?, Harry wondered, trying not to feel too downcast.
Sirius' magic was cradling Harry's fingertips softly as he answered, Well, I sure hope it does. I'm not good at giving people back once I like them. If I were, I probably wouldn't have hounded Pettigrew the way I did for betraying your parents.
Harry sighed. I don't think I'm very good at it, either.
Just let things come at you for now, Sirius replied. Your elves will protect you from physical harm, and what I know of Hermione and your other friends has me believe that they're good people to have in your corner. As long as you keep a cool head and evaluate stuff from time to time, you should be good.
So, trust but verify?, Harry asked, not entirely serious.
It's a good motto for you, at least right now. Mine is more like: investigate the crap out of things, then trust, then verify. Maybe verify some more if the old doggy gut is still twingeing.
Harry huffed out an involuntary laugh. Right. You're not paranoid if someone's really out to get you. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't find this funny.
Oh, it definitely would be funny if it weren't so unfortunately true, Sirius assured him. I picture my future acquitted self in a water castle somewhere, surrounded by sneaky, deadly house elf ninjas, with several deadly surprises hidden in the moat, and the castle itself, because why not? Maybe I'd write my memoirs of Azkaban ... or just raunchy romance novels, I haven't decided yet. In either case I'd project an aura of dark despair, of course, as is fitting for a tortured hero.
Er, okay. Why romance novels, though?, Harry asked, bewildered. Why not spy stories, or crime novels?
I've missed out on romance this last decade, pup, and it doesn't look like I'll have any sort of fun in the foreseeable future, either. I'll just take what entertainment I can get while being Gringotts' guest.
I can get behind that, but maybe don't ask me to read that book?, Harry wrote quickly. I don't think I'm ready for 'raunchy', whatever that actually means.
Sirius drew a little smiley face. Don't worry, I'd never. I'm your dad! I do have one or two serious bones in my body. Ha!
Groaning, Harry shot back, You just had to go there, didn't you?
I absolutely had to, yes.
The dinner bell tolled then, disrupting their chat with its insistence.
I'd better go, it's dinner time, Harry wrote regretfully. I really miss you.
Only two more months until the holidays, Sirius encouraged him. And you'll already see Brady again next week. I'm a bit jealous, but I'll just lure him here with the promise of pasta and vino and get all the juicy gossip from him.
Betty chose that moment to appear on the desk and offered a glossy photo to Harry. "Betty be done developing the photo. Betty be already sticking one in Harry Potter sir's photo album. Should Betty be taking this to Harry Potter sir's Sirius?"
"Yes, please do. Give him a hug while you're at it, he's talking about gossiping." Harry shuddered a little. "Clearly he needs one."
Grinning, Betty popped away and Harry once more set his quill onto the journal page. I've got a little surprise for you. Everyone says hi!
It took a while for Sirius to answer, and it wasn't because Betty needed a while to pop to Rome. As he waited, Harry collected the sleepy snakelings, put them all in his bag and asked a Potter elf to take them up to the dorm for a nap. Harry mentally thanked the house elves for their idea to simply call them like this, as opposed to trying to remember fifty names and giving them all equal amounts of little jobs to do. That way they could work it out among themselves and wouldn't be subjected to his meddling.
Finally, Betty came back, and she was holding out a photo for Harry to take. It showed a fairly healthy looking Sirius in shirtsleeves, a robe carelessly thrown over the back of his chair. It moved, as magical pictures did, with Sirius grinning at him and making a ridiculous kissy face before turning into his animagus form and wagging his tail. Harry choked up a little just by seeing him, as the quality was vastly superior to the one grainy picture Gringotts had allowed the ICW and the international press to have. He realized then that he hadn't fully believed in the man's recovery. Sometimes a picture really said it best.
Thank you, Harry wrote, trying very hard not to let his agitated feelings bleed into the journal. You look so much better than you did in August.
Thankfully I feel much better, too. And I feel incredibly dumb that I haven't done this sooner, Harry, Sirius wrote, the chagrin drifting from the ink as well as through their bond. I hope you can forgive me; I was vain and wanted to look my best the next time you saw me. The healers really are doing their best to feed me up, and I'm doing my best to make their job as easy as possible so I can be the father you deserve.
You already are, Harry replied, wanting to scowl but knowing just too well where Sirius came from. If he weren't so busy, he'd probably feel self-conscious about his still less than optimal state as well. Can I show Hermione your picture? And Neville?
Of course you can, they're your friends. And now I'll let you go. It's already seven, you must be starving. We'll write or talk soon! Love you, pup.
Love you, too. Harry drew a little snake with a talk bubble, into which he scribbled 'siriusly'.
A wave of amused fondness reached him through his bond with Sirius and then a small surge of magic closed the journal with a decisive snap.
"Right, dinner. I'm going," Harry grinned. "Potter elf, please."
A younger house elf named Beanie appeared promptly, eagerly awaiting his request.
"Hey Beanie, you game trying to get me as close to the Great Hall without being seen as you can?"
"Beanie is!" the elf gushed, grabbing Harry's hand and popping off enthusiastically. When they'd reappeared in one of the bathrooms right by the Great Hall, he shyly asked, "Romy be offering Beanie work in the castle tomorrow. Can Beanie go and help with cleaning?"
"Of course you can," Harry said. "No helping Dumbledore or Snape, though, or students who want to be mean to others."
"Beanie understands, Master Harry," Beanie beamed. "Beanie is a good elf! Master Harry be proud of Beanie's good work!"
With a little whoop, the house elf vanished and Harry quickly downed a vitamin potion before finally making his way to dinner.
oOo
All of Wednesday was a trial. Harry had to fight to get a moment alone with his Quidditch team, and when he'd finally managed just after dinner right outside the Great Hall, Oliver Wood ranted for five minutes about having the upcoming match cancelled before he allowed the others to get a word in edgewise. Harry's stuttered explanation fell on deaf ears.
"Good to know that you're taking it as seriously as I am, Harry," Wood finished. "We really need to get our demand for that vote of no confidence to the Wizengamot, or else I can kiss my career as a professional Quidditch player goodbye."
"But that's just it, Oliver!" Harry cried. "I don't want you to send that demand! Not right now!"
"What?" Wood cried. "Why?"
Katie sighed. "If you'd actually listened, you'd know." She patted Harry's shoulder. "Seems like there'll be complications for Harry's father if we do that ... that's what you were trying to say, right? Fudge would be trying to hurt Lord Black's case."
Harry nodded. "Yes, exactly!"
"But this is Quidditch!" Wood protested. "If we wait until the New Year, it might be too late!"
"How hard can it be to rearrange the matches?" Angelina asked with a roll of her eyes. "Honestly, it's just us students, we're flexible. Harry's convinced that Black is innocent, and Black is certainly doing his best to set things straight. That's enough for me."
"But why can't Black do that now?" Wood raked both hands through his hair. "It's my last year, and some team coaches said they'd come scouting, maybe! That was supposed to be my big chance!"
"Oh shut it." Alicia slapped him impatiently. "Lord Black broke out of Azkaban for Harry, Ollie! The place everyone calls hell on earth! Do you think he's fit for a trial, yet? If he needs more time to heal and prepare his case, then that's what I'll give him. We owe Harry that much, after sending You-know-who packing."
Katie agreed promptly. "It sucks that Fudge won't call the dementors off, but we won't let him get away with anything, we'll just send our owl a bit later than planned."
"That doesn't mean-"
"-we can't prank the crap out of him-"
"-though!"
"I'd never ask that of you," Harry told the Weasley twins with feeling. "In fact, I'll help, if you want."
"Oooh-"
"-how can we say no-"
"-to that offer?"
"Yes, great," Alicia said, "but we'll have to tell the others. Let's hope that no one decides to do it alone."
"We're on it," Fred said with a little salute.
"Leave it to us, Harrykins," George added. "Your friends won't go behind your back if they know what's good for them."
The twins marched off, causing the girls to shake their heads fondly.
"It's as good as done," Angelina assured Harry.
"Thank you, I appreciate it," Harry replied. To Wood he said, "We'll win that cup!"
"Yeah, yeah." The boy's shoulders slumped dejectedly. "The only good thing about all of this will be that everyone's training will have suffered after such a long break, not just ours."
"Aww, come, I have a couple of chocolate frogs. They'll cheer you right up," Alicia cooed. She put her arm around Wood's waist and gently led him towards the stairs. "It'll be alright, Ollie."
They left, taking Angelina and Katie with them, and Harry hurried off to find Hermione before they had to get ready for their Astronomy class.
"Could you convince them?" Hermione whispered as they gazed through their telescope.
"They agreed to hold back until after the holidays," Harry answered just as quietly. He fought against a shiver and glanced at Ron, who was fighting to get his own telescope into position. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"You don't think Ron would ..."
Harry shook his head. "Nah. I believe him when he says he doesn't want the trouble. But things don't stay secret long around here, do they?" He lowered his voice even further. "Tons of students heard us, and there are portraits everywhere. Also, we can't be the only ones thinking about getting Fudge out of office. Lots of parents hate him too, so it may be only a matter of time, anyway."
"You're probably right," Hermione admitted with a little sigh. "And your father probably knows that, too." Hidden in the folds of their robes, she took Harry's hand. "Whatever happens, you'll get through it."
"You think so?"
Hermione smiled encouragingly. "Your dad hired the meanest lawyers in all of Europe; I'm pretty certain that their contingency plans will have contingency plans."
"Quiet, please," Professor Sinistra admonished them and tapped them both gently on the shoulders. "Stargazing is not a time for juvenile whispering."
"Sorry, Professor," Harry and Hermione said and even meant it.
For the rest of the night they didn't talk much, and when it was time for bed, Harry tried to tell himself that everything would work out.
oOo
"He can't be serious!" Hermione cried, brandishing the Friday edition of the Wizarding International Times like a weapon. "What was Dumbledore thinking!"
"What's up?" Seamus asked as he slid onto the bench next to Dean.
"Dumbledore called for a vote of no confidence for Fudge," Harry said dully.
"Well, I'd say it's about time, so why is that a bad thing?" Seamus started to put food on his plate. "Me mum'll be ecstatic." His happy expression dimmed somewhat as he asked, "It is about the dementors, right?"
"You'll see," Harry sighed. "I'm not hungry anymore." He pushed his plate away and got up. "I'll see you in class."
"Wait, I'll come with you," Hermione said. She handed the paper to Parvati, who immediately spread it out so Lavender could read along.
Hermione led Harry into one of the unused rooms close to the Great Hall and hugged him tightly.
"Dumbledore did this deliberately, didn't he?" she murmured. "The timing is very suspicious. You just managed to stop the Hogwarts movement and there he is, doing what the students wouldn't."
Harry burrowed into her as well as he could. "You bet he did. He knows that he can't control me anymore if Sirius gets cleared - not that I get why he would want to control me in the first place. He wants to take away Sirius' best defence."
"A lot of students won't understand why putting Fudge on the spot is a problem," Hermione said carefully, stroking his hair and shoulders. "Please don't be angry at them for being glad about possibly getting rid of the dementors. Whether they know it or not, they - we - are all suffering from very mild dementor exposure. I overheard Madam Pomfrey complain to Professor Lupin about it. That's why we always get so much chocolate after the Patronus Club, and why we were having so many chocolate based desserts lately. It's to combat the fatigue."
"I'm not angry at them for being glad," Harry mumbled into her hair. "But I'm bloody well furious with Dumbledore for pulling that stunt when he knows exactly how much it'll hurt Sirius."
"Can't you tell me what this is all about?" Hermione asked. "I'll support you regardless, of course, but it'd be easier to have a little more context."
"It was supposed to be a surprise for the Hogwarts Herald. A super exclusive reveal for January." Harry closed his eyes. "But we can forget that now, I guess."
"I'm sorry ... and angry on your and the Paper Troupe's behalf," Hermione admitted. "What can we do to help?"
"I'll ask Sirius how he wants to handle this. As soon as I know, I'll tell you. Is that alright?"