Chapter Forty of 'For the Game'

[lomonaaeren]

“You do trust Black.”

“Blaise, that’s the seventeenth time you’ve asked me that.”

Theo snickered from his corner, where he’d been supposedly reading a book on the history of Transfiguration. “If he’s keeping track like that, Blaise, then you know you’ve irritated him.”

Blaise hissed under his breath and threw himself into a corner of the compartment. “I want to make sure that you’re safe and well-taken care of, Harry. You know that.”

“Of course I know that.” Harry smiled at his friend, and then turned to glance out the windows of the train compartment at the countryside rushing by. “And you also know that this isn’t about trusting the man, not really. It’s about otherwise having to go back to the horrible Muggles, and giving him a chance to prove himself.”

“If it turns out that he’s not going to do that?”

“Then Knockturn Alley awaits.”

Blaise peered at him as if wondering if Harry were joking. Harry kept up his determined, slight, bland smile.

Black felt like a personal matter. Harry did want to give him a chance, and he was also poised to run away if Black failed the test. But he didn’t want his friends telling him what to do because they didn’t trust Black.

Blaise finally rolled his eyes and nodded. “As long as you’re aware that I’ll be in Britain most of the summer because my mother’s here on personal matters.”

“What personal matters?” Theo asked, peering over the top of his book.

“Personal ones.”

Blaise and Theo stared at each other for long enough that Harry shook his head a little and stood up. “I’m going to find Ron and Hermione,” he said. “But I’ll be back to say goodbye before we get off the train.”

“And to talk to me, I hope.”

Theo’s voice was light, but his eyes had the same kind of determined look in them that Harry imagined his had showed when they talked about Black. He blinked and nodded. “If you think we should.” They’d avoided private or intimate conversations most of the year thanks to Theo being under suspicion from his father.

“Oh, I think we should.”

Harry shrugged and turned, striding out of the compartment and towards the part of the train where Ron and Hermione had told him they would be with other Gryffindors. He could hear the pop of Exploding Snap cards as he stood outside the door, and full and free laughter. For an instant, longing to be in Gryffindor gripped him so fiercely that he almost choked.

But then he wouldn’t have had Blaise and Theo, and he wouldn’t be who he was now—a person Harry had decided he quite liked. He knocked.

“I’ll get it!”

It was Ginny Weasley who opened the door. She paled at the sight of him, so rapidly that Harry thought she might faint. But she gave a little swallow and stepped aside with her eyes on the floor.

“It’s Potter.”

“Harry!”

Hermione was beaming at him, hurrying forwards with her arms out. Harry sucked in his breath and held it. He hadn’t had a lot of hugs in his life, and he was still never sure how to handle them when he got one.

Hermione did hug him, and leaned against him for a long moment as if that would enable her to count his ribs that way. Then she leaned back and gave him a scolding smile. “I thought you were going to sit with us on the train?”

“This is me, coming to sit with you.”

Hermione laughed at him and moved out of the way, keeping hold of his hand. Harry thought she still felt guilty for letting the Time-Turner consume so much of her time during the term. “Sit down wherever you like.”

Harry took the seat next to Ron, not that he thought he had much of a choice. The Gryffindors’ laughter had dimmed the moment he entered the compartment. Finnigan and Thomas did force smiles a moment later, but it was obvious that they didn’t feel comfortable around him the way they usually did in their Tower.

“Um, so what are you doing this summer, Potter?” Thomas asked, sounding as if he’d been desperately trying to think of a topic.

“Staying with my mass-murdering godfather.”

“Harry,” Hermione hissed, shoving him.

Thomas, meanwhile, had pulled back into the seat and was staring at Harry with such huge eyes that he felt a little bad. He shrugged. “It turns out that Sirius Black was my godfather and not a mass murderer after all.”

“I saw the article about that,” Finnigan said, leaning intensely forwards. “But everyone knows the Prophet lies all the time. How sure are you that he’s innocent? Do you really want to spend the whole summer with him?”

“They were the ones who reported that he was Voldemort’s—”

Everyone flinched, to the point that it made Harry feel like he was standing in an ocean with very small waves.

“—right hand in the first place,” Harry said, and shrugged. “If you think that I can’t trust an article saying he’s innocent, then why did you trust one saying he was guilty?”

Finnigan blinked and looked displeased by the introduction of logic into his life. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. “So how are you spending your summers?” he asked, thinking it was a more productive line of conversation.

It turned into Ron and Hermione and Harry having one conversation, with Finnigan and Thomas had an awkward second one, and Longbottom and Ginny Weasley both sat pressed into the corners of the compartment staring at Harry with huge eyes. Longbottom irritated Harry a little. He’d never done anything to the boy, and if Longbottom was scared of Parselmouths or something, he should have been just as upset about sitting with Ginny, who’d spoken it.

But Ginny really angered Harry.

She was the one who’d been possessed, the one who’d attacked him and hurt him, and had got off with no consequences except a little Mind-Healing. And she acted like he was the terrifying one in this situation?

Harry called up his Occlumency when he saw the way that Ginny was staring fearfully at him between her fingers, and buried himself in the cold, swaying grass. He would exist this way during the train ride, if he had to. It wasn’t forever.

“Harry?”

He’d missed a question from Ron, it seemed, or a sentence he should have responded to. Harry turned back to him with a little smile. “Sorry, thinking about how much better my summer is going to be this year. What did you say?”

Ron started describing how his parents were probably going to take the whole family along with his older brother Bill on a dig in Egypt. Harry listened and thought the life of a Curse-Breaker sounded pretty exciting. Of course, he’d have to survive until that age to take advantage of it.

He blinked.

“Harry?”

Theo and Blaise would have noticed his distraction, too, but they would have let him get away with it for at least a while. Harry sighed and focused his attention on the conversation, letting the back of his mind consider the revelation he’d had.

He didn’t really expect to live to an age where he could choose a career.

That’s an interesting idea, he thought, buried it in the Occlumency, and went on listening.

*

“Don’t forget to write to us, Harry!”

Harry waved at Hermione and turned back towards the magical side of the station, some emotion that he couldn’t even name pulsing through him. On the one hand, he thought that Black was going to be here. They’d only met a few days before in Dumbledore’s office, and he’d seemed so sincere about it.

On the other hand, people had lied to Harry before.

He only waited for a few minutes before Black appeared, though, in his dog form. Harry approved. The man probably thought that he’d panic people if he showed up as a human, even though he’d been announced as innocent.

“Woof!”

Harry then had to deal with something he’d never thought he’d get to experience: a dog actually being glad to see him. Black was huge as he rose on his hind legs and enthusiastically licking Harry’s face. A few people glanced over with smiles. Harry put his arms around Black’s neck and lost the battle against the urge to laugh.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” Harry muttered as he rubbed behind Black’s ears.

“Woof!”

Black wriggled on the ground in front of him, head bowed almost to touch his paws and tail wagging furiously. Then he turned and bolted towards one of the Floos, glancing over his shoulder frequently to make sure Harry was following him.

Harry did. No one seemed to think it was strange. Then again, probably some people had owls lead them home, or house-elves to come and pick them up.

“Harry?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Theo and Blaise standing there, and only then remembered that Theo had wanted to talk to him. He turned to Black with a look he knew was probably defensive.

Black just sat down in the middle of the station and panted at him. Harry swallowed. He really was being perfect right now.

Right now.

But all Harry had was right now. He turned around and walked back to Theo. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he murmured. “I found it was harder to get away from Ron and Hermione than I thought. Did you want to go somewhere to have this conversation, or is here okay? I don’t know how soon your…”

He trailed off, not wanting to name Theo’s father, but Theo was giving him a narrow smile that went all the way up to his eyes. So that was all right.

“It’s fine,” Theo said softly. “And as long as you raise a Privacy Charm, then we can have that discussion.”

Harry nodded and did so. Blaise had stepped a little closer, so Harry made sure he was included in the charm. Blaise relaxed with a smile that made Harry look quickly back at Theo. The smile sparked odd feelings, the same way that watching the line of Theo’s throat sometimes did.

I have to keep my weird feelings to myself.

“My father didn’t want me to associate with you because he thought the Dark Lord would regain strength this year,” Theo said quietly. The air seemed to leave Harry’s lungs, but he had promised to listen, so he stayed and listened. “He was concerned that being your friend would mark me as the Dark Lord’s victim. Or just that I’d be made to spill information.”

“And you can’t spill what you don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Theo took a deep breath. “He sent me a letter a few days ago that said his prediction about the Dark Lord returning to power had been wrong. And he seemed to doubt the source of the information, whoever or whatever it was, now.”

“I would have stayed your friend even if he hadn’t sent you that letter.”

Theo closed his eyes with what seemed like a look of pain in them. “Really?”

“Really.” Harry reached out and clasped Theo’s shoulder. “I know what it’s like having relatives that tell you things that turn out to be wrong, and who exercise a lot of control over your life. You’re still my friend, Theo.”

Theo ducked his head. Harry glanced to the side and let him have his moment.

Of course, that meant he was looking at Blaise, whose face radiated a subtle shine of contentment. Harry half-smiled at him. It occurred to him, suddenly, that it had probably been hard on Blaise to have his two best friends at odds, or at least separated in such a way that Blaise couldn’t share secrets with them both.

Wait. I’m one of his best friends?

But thinking about the way that Blaise acted with other Slytherins, Harry knew it was true. Blaise didn’t make jokes with the others. He didn’t practice spells with them. He didn’t even sit next to them in classes. He would take a seat as far away as he could from the rest of the Slytherins if he couldn’t sit with Harry or Theo.

Huh. I reckon I am.

“Thank you,” Theo whispered.

“What are friends for?”

“There was a time when I didn’t know. You and Blaise are the first ones I’ve ever had.”

Harry swallowed. There was a huge, sticky lump in his throat, and he had the impression he would cough it out all over someone if he had to stand here and talk about this more. “Um. Well. You and Blaise are among the first friends I ever had.”

“You’re counting Granger and Weasley,” Blaise said, with a long-suffering air.

Harry glared at him. “Yeah.”

“Fine. We can allow that.”

Harry rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. Black was still waiting for him, tail drumming on the ground, but he had to wonder how much longer that would last. “Um. I still have to go spend the summer with my mass-murdering godfather.”

“I wish I had a mass-murdering godfather,” Theo said wistfully. “I’d tell him exactly where to start killing.”

Harry laughed. Blaise smiled. It was the kind of humor that he knew would be too dark for Ron and Hermione, and maybe for Millicent, but the point was, Harry was allowed to have different sorts of friends.

Theo abruptly leaned forwards and hugged him.

Harry froze. He had never had someone other than Hermione do that before, and maybe his parents when he was a baby. What did he do? He didn’t know where to put his hands, or whether he should rest them on Theo’s shoulders—

“Do something, or he will pull back and your shoulders will be tense again.”

Harry slowly lifted his arms and wrapped them around Theo. Theo slumped against him with a sigh, and Harry realized then that his friend had been as tense as he had been.

And if Harry hadn’t received many hugs, Theo couldn’t have given many, either.

They stood like that for long enough that it became awkward, then broke apart. Theo cleared his throat and glanced over Harry’s shoulder. “I think the mass-murdering dog is becoming a bit impatient.”

It was Theo’s way of letting the mood go and moving on, and that was fine with Harry. He smiled. “That’s fine. I’ll be able to see you both over the summer, and not in Knockturn Alley, either.” He could hear his voice, full of wonder, but he’d gone past the moments of wondering if they would betray him.

“We’ll be here.” Blaise’s voice was as steady as a mountain.

Harry nodded to him, a little relieved that Blaise didn’t want a hug and they wouldn’t have to go through the awkward stuff again, and then moved away, towards Black. The dog rose to his feet and performed a little dance of happiness.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Harry muttered, and rearranged the snake beneath his robe. He hadn’t told Black he’d be bringing the snake. It was another test, of sorts. If Black acted horrified by his Parseltongue, Harry would run away.

It would hurt like hell, when he’d built his hopes for the summer on Black being kind, but he’d do it. He would always survive.

*

“Welcome to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.”

Harry stared around as Black let him through the fireplace. Yes, this house fit the name. The walls were covered with grime, the lights dim, the stairs looking as though someone had deliberately tracked mud up them. The wallpaper hung in tattered and peeling strips. Harry turned and stared at Black.

“It’s the family’s ancestral home,” Black said, and glared at a pair of curtains near the entrance that hadn’t done anything as far as Harry could tell. “No one’s been here to keep it up since my mother died probably ten years ago. Sorry I don’t have a better place to bring you, but the wards are still strong, and they’ll keep out any Death Eaters who might come after you.”

Or anyone who might try to bring you back to the Dursleys. Harry had the impression that part was true, too.

Black took a deep breath and turned to face him. Harry tensed.

“I’m only going to say this once, because I think you’re uncomfortable with it,” Black murmured. “I’m sorrier than you can ever know that I wasn’t there to raise you. What you told Dumbledore that day in his office, the cupboard and so on…” He swallowed. “I didn’t want to show how much I was feeling because I think it would have embarrassed you or put you on the defensive in front of Dumbledore. But I felt a lot, all right? You don’t have to worry about that happening here no matter what. You’ll always have enough food to eat and a real bedroom to sleep in. We have to drive some of the curses out and clean the house up, but it’ll be home. I promise.”

Harry nodded slowly. He didn’t really want to discuss the Dursleys with Black, at least more than he already had, but maybe what he’d said had been good. It had convinced Black to sound sincere when he apologized, at least.

“And you might as well know about someone who’s going to scream constantly,” Black muttered, and drew his wand to flick back the curtains he’d been glaring at.

Behind them was a portrait of the ugliest woman Harry had ever seen, yellow-toothed and foul-faced. She drew a deep breath the minute the curtains opened and bellowed, “SHAME OF MY HOUSE! NO SON OF MINE! FILTH! LEAVE!”

Harry tensed, and the snake came crawling out from beneath his robe collar. “You are to stop tensing.”

“That woman’s making a lot of noise,” Harry hissed back.

He heard a choked sound from in front of him, and looked up sharply. The woman in the portrait was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. The next instant, the curtains on the portrait snapped shut.

Harry blinked and glanced at Black. The man had his eyebrows all the way up his forehead. But he looked at the snake with a smile.

“Any reptile who can intimidate my mother like that is a friend of mine,” he said.

Harry felt a burst of happiness that he tried not to feel, but it was there, anyway, as Black showed Harry up to his cleaned room and talked about the various places they would go this summer.

This might work. This might work after all.