Departure and Arrival
Sitting on the edge of the bed Harry's foot was bouncing up and down. With growing impatience he waited, listening to the sounds of music and chatter coming from Dudley's room next door, heart leaping at any flash of movement or light he saw through the window. And all the while he was staring at his Hogwarts trunk which was packed and ready to go, Hedwig's cage cleaned out and crammed inside, Hedwig herself having left for the Burrow last night.
For weeks he had waited to get out of this awful place. Even a single minute longer was unbearable.
He refused to check his watch, the watch Sirius had given him last year, because every minute past their agreed time of seven o'clock his frustration grew. The last he had checked it was closing in on eight thirty, and that was when he sank down onto the edge of his bed and sat still, waiting.
Any minute now...surely. Any minute now.
For how long had he been telling himself that?
For just over three weeks now Harry had been at Privet Drive, and so far Sirius had not been late for him once. He had always been on time, he had always followed through on the promise of when they'd see one another next. But tonight he was nowhere to be seen, and with Hedwig gone he couldn't write to him, nor was he answering when Harry tried to contact him through the mirrors.
He could have signalled to someone. He'd been told to send up red sparks if he needed anything, but he knew it was the Aurors on duty tonight, not the Order...and though he was planning on making a career with them one day he didn't particularly fancy the ones that were not yet part of the Order.
With a deep breath out Harry lowered his head, trying to keep his cool. But what had started out as worry had soon grown into frustration, now edging closer and closer to anger. He couldn't help but think Sirius must have forgotten him. That no one from the Order had showed up to collect him seemed to indicate this, and Harry was certain it wasn't he who had the days mixed up. Tuesday evening, seven o'clock. But that time had come and gone, and the setting sun marked its passage.
Lurching to his feet Harry seized the lid of his trunk and wrenched it open. He knew he was overreacting, a rational voice inside his head told him to keep waiting, but he couldn't stop himself - Sirius had obviously forgotten their agreement, and he was stuck here until the guard protecting him changed over to an Order member, which was likely tomorrow. Only then could he make his complaints heard, but even so it would be a while before Sirius came. Until then he might as well unpack...if anything for something to do.
Keeping the mirror safe on the bed he haphazardly began to unpack. Hedwig's cage was set back into its usual spot on the dresser, his schoolbooks and those borrowed from Scrimgeour were slapped down onto his desk, including the yet to be published manuscript Mad-Eye had been working on for years, Gambling with Gangsters. He had let Harry start reading it, citing that with the war that he was unlikely to finish.
Even the Auror Investigation binder was tossed unceremoniously onto the bed, figuring he might as well keep going with that now he finally had a lead to work from thanks to Scrimgeour's advise. But the one item not tossed aside was the small wooden box bundled in his school jumper and winter cloak. This was carefully set atop the dresser next to Hedwig's cage, but as he continued with the rest of his trunk, a pair of school shoes noisily thrown into his closet, Harry found himself looking at it from the corner of his eyes.
Slowing to a stop he looked at it, a large bundle of clothing protecting a small wooden box that was likely charmed for durability anyway...but it housed what might be his most precious belongings. Photo albums from his parents and their parents, personal possessions. A stack of letters his parents had exchanged while James was abroad for the Order, letters Harry wasn't sure he was ready to read. A leather bound notebook with his mother's handwriting, potions ripped out of magazines or text books and sellotaped into the pages, her corrections and improvements written in the margins. Pages and pages dedicated to her own brews, instructions and tips Harry could barely follow.
A letter to Sirius, thanking him for Harry's first birthday present.
Please don't be a stranger for too much longer. All three of us miss you dearly.
Lots of love,
Lily
Harry tossed his Quidditch gloves back into his trunk and wearily sat back down on his bed. He felt foolish, as if seeing himself through someone else's eyes. There was nothing to truly suggest that Sirius had forgotten him, for they had definitely agreed to this date and time. Not once had he been late or forgotten him, and Harry had no right to jump to that conclusion. He was coming...just something had held him up.
Still, he couldn't bring himself to repack. Keeping the mirror close just in case, Harry put his head back into his hands and resigned himself to waiting. All the while he tried to keep himself occupied, flicking through the Weasley Wizards Wheezes catalogue and then one of his Auror training books, but in his stressed state of mind he couldn't focus on either of them. It left him in a strange state of mind, one in which he was anxious to occupy himself but completely unable to.
It felt like hours later the cuckoo clock downstairs signalled that it was nine thirty, and he heard the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs. They must have been waiting down there for this exact moment, biding their time and seething just as much as he was.
Keep your cool. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.
'Boy!' Uncle Vernon bellowed, his fists pounding on the door. 'Don't you lot have any respect for punctuality? You said he'd be here two hours ago.'
'Two and a half, actually,' he retorted, though thankfully his uncle seemed not to hear him.
'Is he coming or not?'
The music in Dudley's room began to lower.
'I don't know,' Harry replied, trying not to sound as dejected as he felt.
'Well then find out,' Vernon demanded. 'Ask your lo-'
'I can't!' he shouted. 'I can't ask them anything.'
'Ask the-'
'I can't ask anything, I've already sent my owl away.'
The bedroom door flew open in a flash and Uncle Vernon stormed in. 'Don't you go shouting about that bloody bird in my house.'
He had lowered his voice to a snarl, but Harry didn't offer the same courtesy. 'I don't know where Sirius is,' he said loudly, standing up from his bed. 'And I can't ask anyone!'
Shadows moved in the hallway, Dudley's bedroom door opening just a fraction.
'Mark my words, boy,' Uncle Vernon warned. 'If Black isn't here in the next thirty minutes he may well find that your aunt and I have gone to bed, and that the doors are locked!'
Harry just stared at him. 'He's a fully grown wizard. He doesn't give a fuck about the lock on your door.'
Vernon's eyes bulged, and Dudley's door opened a little further. 'You mark my words, boy,' he repeated again. 'You will watch yourself in this house, or you may very well find yoursel-'
'Locked in a cupboard again?' Harry challenged, coming a step forward. 'You should be the one watching yourself. You wouldn't want me to slip up and tell Sirius where I used to live.'
There it was - a flash of fear in his uncles eyes, one that Harry relished in. For how many years in that cupboard had he longed for some long lost family member to whisk him away to a happier life? And though it hadn't quite worked out the way he wanted it to, Sirius's presence in his life had more than improved the circumstances he was forced to endure in Little Whinging.
In the hallway Dudley called out to his dad, saying something indistinguishable. For a long moment Harry and his uncle simply stared at one another, but slowly Uncle Vernon came to his senses, understanding that in this particular standoff Harry held the power. There was nothing he could do to ever stop him sharing that information if he wanted to.
As if backing away from a dangerous dog Uncle Vernon stepped back out into the hallway, and with one last fit of impetuousness Harry raised his hand and focussing on the door which promptly slammed shut with a satisfying bang. Outside his uncle gave an audible yelp, having seen what Harry did to the door without physically touching it, and then there was silence.
But with silence came no sense of triumph. Harry sank back down onto his bed and put his head in his hands all over again, listening as his uncle crept back downstairs and Dudley retreated back to his room, putting his music back on.
Why had he said that? What if the Auror on duty overheard? What if they heard shouting and worried he was in trouble, what if they heard him refer to being locked up in a cupboard...what if they said something? Uncle Vernon had no idea Harry's threat was entirely empty, that he had no intention of ever dissecting his childhood with anyone, least of all Sirius. If there was one thing that would get him sent back to Azkaban for a murder he did actually commit it would be Harry admitting he used to live in the cupboard under the stairs.
He hadn't meant for that to come out. In fact the only person in the world who would have any clue what the cupboard under the stairs actually meant to him was Snape, and that was due only to their Occlumency lessons. No doubt he'd seen glimpses of it during their lessons, of Harry being sent off to the cupboard as a punishment for whatever unexpected occurrence his magic had caused, or the more normal days of him sitting on his camp bed playing with broken toys or reading a book. So far Snape hadn't said anything about it, not that Harry expected him to care enough in the slightest.
Fucking Snape...
Flying off the handle all over again he lurched back to his feet, and this time he was even angrier, no longer even trying to reason with himself. He practically tore apart his trunk, shoving clothes back into drawers en masse, a pack a box of Chocolate Frogs scattering across the floor, and every time he looked up he glared at his own stupid reflection in the window.
He ought to just leave on his own terms. Just get on his broomstick and go like he threatened this time last year. That's what did it, he remembered. The threat to Sirius that he'd rather sleep in a gutter than spend another day trapped at the Dursleys. And though it was no where near as bad this time as it was last year Sirius had promised him he wouldn't be stuck. They had agreed the date, they had confirmed everything - Sirius would pick him up tonight, he'd be at the Burrow tonight, he'd see Ron and Ginny, he'd see the Weasleys.
His Firebolt was right there, tempting him, ready and waiting. There was nothing stopping him.
Except the absolute havoc he had just wreaked on his bedroom.
Exhausted, and covered in a cold sweat Harry sank back down onto the bed and just lay there. As quickly as his temper had come on it faded away again, leaving him physically and mentally depleted. Turning away from the mess he had made he faced the wall and stared at it, trying to sort himself out. He couldn't go flying off the handle anymore, he couldn't stand bouncing from one extreme to the other - that had been his entire life last year, and it had broken him.
He had been banking on this, that he would leave the Dursleys that night. He and Sirius had settled on it days ago, and he'd been counting down. Days then hours then minutes...and he was still waiting.
For what felt like hours he lay there staring at the blank wall beside his bed, time passing slowly. Occasionally he would glance up at his window waiting expectantly for an owl to appear, to see conjured sparks in the sky or even Ron and the twins in another flying car ready to break him out a second time. But nothing...there was nothing.
It was nearing eleven o'clock when the doorbell rang, and despite the numb stupor he was suspended within he flew to his feet without even thinking. He bolted out of his room but barely made it to the landing before inexplicably his uncle made it to the front door first, and his angry voice echoed up the stairs.
'It's about time,' he scolded. 'The boy said you'd be here at seven!'
'The boy has a name,' came Sirius's terse reply. 'You do know his name, right?'
'Well I damn well kno - hey!'
Harry rounded the top of the stairs just as Sirius came inside, pushing past Vernon and ignoring him entirely. Moving straight for the stairs he looked up, and when he saw Harry his shoulders relaxed and he gave an apologetic smile, completely clueless as to the reception he was about to get.
'Sorry, I-'
'Where have you been?'
Sirius blinked, taken aback to see that Harry was as angry as his uncle. For a split second the whole situation was supremely awkward and when Harry turned on his heel and went back to his room Sirius followed. When he entered his room Harry was in the midst of hurriedly hauling everything back into his trunk.
'You didn't pack?' Sirius asked in confusion, looking around.
'I did,' he said shortly. 'You're four hours late.'
Fuming even more now he seized his books and shoved them back into his trunk, while Sirius lingered awkwardly in the doorway. Any other time he might have felt sorry for him, for the way he awkwardly cleared his throat and moved his hands looking as though he wanted to say something. From the corner of his eye Harry observed him, feeling a vindictive kind of satisfaction. But the tone that came next was not that of a man who was looking for forgiveness.
'I got held up,' he said tightly, each word sounding carefully measured. 'I'm sorry.'
'You couldn't even send a Patronus?'
'No, I couldn't.'
Taking his father's box, still wrapped in his jumper and winter cloak, he carefully set it into his trunk. After that his trainers landed unceremoniously, followed by clothing and his Quidditch gear.
'No one else in the entire Order could either?'
'No.'
At this Harry stopped for a moment, properly looking at Sirius for the first time. His face was set in a grim expression, perhaps holding back his own temper, and he rubbed his hand over his face. When his hand lowered Harry's surprised to find that something was off. It wasn't a gut feeling, it wasn't a sense that the person before him wasn't really his godfather...but something was off.
'Why are you so late?'
'No reason that concerns you.'
Not appreciating that particular comment he turned to face him properly, casting his eyes over him even more critically. 'Something involving rubble?' he asked, pointing out the grey dust on the shoulder of his jacket.
Surprised Sirius looked himself up and down, hurriedly brushing it off before drawing his wand and doing it properly. He was grimacing, looking annoyed that Harry had pointed that out. 'I said I'm sorry. Now are you coming or not?'
The tension between them remained, but they had reached an impasse. If one of them didn't stop now it would escalate. Someone would start yelling. And a small voice in the back of Harry's head reasoned with him, reminding him yet again that Sirius had never been late for him before, that this wasn't an intentional slight against him.
When he nodded Sirius turned his wand on the rest of his room, and with a sweeping movement his belongings swept themselves up in a whirl and converged on his trunk. Everything neatly arranged itself, even leaving space for Hedwig's cage which Sirius put in and then closed the lid.
'Where's your invisibility cloak?'
'My pocket.'
Another wave of Sirius's wand saw his trunk vanish, its absence leaving the room remarkably empty. There was a quiet moment, still awkward, and then Sirius took a deep breath.
'I'll let you say goodbye. Meet me out the front.'
Letting him to say goodbye wasn't necessary. Nonetheless when Sirius left it gave him a moment alone to collect his thoughts, somewhat wrapping his head around what had happened that evening, the notion that Sirius was actually here for him and he was leaving finally sinking in.
Shit...all of that had been for nothing...he was an arse.
A stray chocolate frog remained on the floor, and though Harry didn't look back he stopped long enough to pick it up, and then he departed and closed the door behind him for another year. In the landing he hesitated, guiltily looking towards Dudley's room where music was still playing. Strange and odd as it was his cousin had made somewhat of an effort that summer, and he knew he ought to reciprocate.
He knocked on the door, and as if he had been waiting for it Dudley's music immediately stopped, his footsteps coming straight after. When the door opened Harry was forced to step back a little and turn his head up, always forgetting that Dudley was taller than Ron until they were standing right next to one another.
'You're off then, huh?'
'I'm off.' When he didn't say anything else the moment became uncomfortable. He and Dudley were never going to be friends, they were never going to relate to one another. 'Thanks for the lift the other day.'
'No problem.'
On a whim Harry slipped his hand into his pocket. 'Here,' he said, handing Dudley the chocolate frog. 'It's a sweet, from my lot. It's safe to eat,' he added, remembering the last time Dudley had eaten something given to him by a wizard. 'It won't make you ill. Just don't let it get away.'
Dudley looked at the otherwise innocuous sweet in his hand, holding very still as though afraid it might hurt him. 'What is it?' he asked casually.
'A Chocolate Frog. I eat them all the time. It's like a Galaxy bar, just...quicker.'
'Uhh, well I-'
'You can trust me, Dud.'
At this Dudley tore his eyes away from the sweet and looked at Harry. 'I once made you eat an eclair I dropped on the floor.'
'Oh yeah,' Harry muttered, a grimace coming across his face as he remembered that day. It hadn't dropped it on the floor, it had been dropped it in the rubbish bin, and seven year old Harry had been forced to eat it covered in old carrot peel and congealed gravy. Nevertheless he managed an amused smile. 'Enjoy at your own risk then.'
When he went downstairs it was a small blessing that his aunt and uncle were lingering in the threshold of the hallway, making his brief farewell, 'See you next summer,' relatively painless. Internally grimacing at the thought Harry stepped outside and closed the door, not at all surprised by the hurried footsteps that preceded the turning of the deadbolt.
It was unusually cool outside, and the notion that Dementors were breeding was a horrifying thought he tried to put out of his mind. Focusing on Sirius he joined him out on the road, noting that he had properly cleaned himself up this time and had even neatened his hair. Whatever delayed him for four hours he clearly didn't want Harry to know about, but he seemed more at ease now, and it was this notion that he went with.
'Should we do all that again?' Sirius asked.
Harry nodded, grateful.
'Sorry I was late.'
'Sorry for being an arse,' he muttered, glancing away for a moment. 'No one told me anything.'
'I wouldn't have left you waiting if it wasn't important.'
'And you won't tell me what it was?'
'No, I won't.'
Sirius gave him a quick embrace, patting him on the shoulder as he ushered him to start walking. Relieved that their poor start had been rectified Harry fell into step alongside him, but he wanted to apologise again, to explain. Though he hated to admit it the truth was that for four hours he hadn't been so much concerned about what might have happened to the Sirius, but more that he'd been forgotten and left there again.
Being at this place brought out the worst in him, and he knew Sirius would understand that.
He had been about to say something when Sirius made a sudden movement and stopped. 'Whoops,' he said loudly. 'Wrong way.'
Harry stopped and turned around, looking back the way Sirius was now facing, and the moment he spotted the subject of his godfather's attention he knew it had not been accidental. His heart soared, a thrill of excitement erupting at what was intentionally parked out of sight of the Dursleys, something Harry recognised well from his parents' photo albums - Sirius's old motorbike.
'I knew it,' he exclaimed, hurriedly setting off back to the motorbike. 'I knew you had this hidden at Grimmauld Place!'
'I couldn't let you see your birthday present before it was ready.'
Grinning Harry looked it over, admiring the shining chrome that gleamed in the street lights, the leather seat and handle bars, parts he wouldn't know how to name. He'd never been particularly interested in motorbikes, but he was beginning to see the appeal.
He turned back to Sirius. 'I don't expect you to give me your motorbike.'
'I want you to have it,' Sirius insisted. 'It's really more of a seventeenth birthday present, but I can't help myself. I'm sure you won't mind me borrowing it until you're of age, and then again until you finish school.'
'Thank you,' he said sincerely. He had heard stories of this, of the near heart attack his grandmother Effie had the day Sirius brought it home, of the mischief and escapades he and his dad got up to on it - and the hefty fine paid when a Muggle saw them flying it past their office building. To Sirius this was more than a mode of transportation. 'You'll teach me to ride it then?'
Sirius nodded, clearing his throat. 'I'm sure we'll find time. Might have to get you some training wheels though. But tonight you're on the back,' he said lightly, gesturing to the rear of the seat. 'Your first lesson is hanging on.'
He followed Sirius's directions about how to sit and where to put his feet - and importantly where to hang on. When he started the engine and it roared to life Harry couldn't help but grin, his heart racing in excitement. The hefty engine rumbled beneath them, the noise and volume completely unnecessary but thrilling in a different want to broomsticks.
At this thought his head whirled around back to number four, and he laughed at the sight of the light turning on in the main bedroom.
'Louder!'
Sirius didn't take much encouragement. He did something Harry couldn't see and the engine roared again, the sound making him laugh out loud in delight. When they started moving Harry looked back up to number four, thoroughly enjoying himself upon seeing the curtains move, the shadows of his aunt and uncle cast in a silhouette against the window, and he hoped they could see him. Now the fact that Sirius was four hours late was no longer an issue.
The engine roared again as they started moving, and a little shocked Harry focused for a moment on properly holding on, trying to remember everything Sirius had told him. They made their way through a couple of streets before Sirius found a length of road deemed suitable, and with an excited yell for Harry to hang on they took off, the wind whipping back their hair and force of motion making him double down again to hold on. Riding on the back was exciting enough, but when they took off into the air Harry's heart felt lighter than he remembered it being in weeks, almost as if the motion of taking off from the ground stripped him of his life in Surrey, freeing him for another year.
Flying an enchanted motorbike would be not dissimilar to a broomstick except that it was constantly vibrating and far noisier, but after a short while he became accustomed to the sound of the engine. Not needing to concentrate on anything he looked around at leisure, admiring what he could see below. There was very little moonlight tonight, it was difficult to see much except patches of light from little towns and vast areas of darkness. He enjoyed what was disappointingly only a short journey before they began to ascend.
They began to gently descend, honing in on a patch of pretty lights which Harry watched form into streets, and then a few minutes later they were back on the ground. The landing was surprisingly smooth, just one bump as the tyres touched down on the street, and it was only as they travelled a few more streets did Harry realise the sound of the engine was significantly softer now - it had been noise for the sake of noise, but he didn't mind in the slightest.
'What do you think?' Sirius eagerly asked when they came to a stop, helping him off the back.
His legs felt like jelly, his heart racing and hands shaky. Harry grinned, looking up at him. 'What is it my turn?'
Sirius echoed his grin and pocketed the keys. 'I'll teach you,' he promised. 'Sometime this summer I'll teach you.'
'It is technically illegal, right?' he asked slyly, the two of them setting off down the dark road together.
'What's the Ministry going to do to me, huh?' he smirked. 'I've got thirteen years of prison time banked up.'
Though he didn't relish the thought of Sirius provoking the Ministry he laughed in agreement, feeling happy and carefree. For a few minutes he had even forgotten what they were doing tonight, which even with the four hour delay still seemed to be on the itinerary. He hadn't been paying attention to where they were walking.
'We're going to see your old Potions Professor, right? Slughorn.'
'That's right. What did you think of him?'
Harry shrugged, thinking about their introduction at Malfoy's hearing last month. It had been a brief introduction, for though Slughorn seemed keen to talk Harry was not. 'He seemed to like Mum a lot.'
'He likes a lot of people. A certain type of person,' Sirius clarified. 'People he thinks are going places...people he thinks will become important. '
The insinuation here was not lost on him. 'And why are we going to see him at midnight?'
'We are doing a massive favour for Dumbledore. He's despatched us to to tempt ol' Sluggy back to Hogwarts.'
'With me?'
Sirius nodded. 'He's been dodging my letters, so my plan is to wave you around in front of him, see what happens.'
'And why does he matter so much?' Harry pressed, wanting more information. He watched Sirius's expression closely. 'I'm sure Dumbledore could find any Potions teacher, why does it have to be him?'
'He's the one Dumbledore wants, that's all I know.'
This didn't particularly sit well with Harry, not when Sirius had only recently warned him of trusting Dumbledore too much. 'He wrote to me. Dumbledore. Said he was going abroad for a while and that I wouldn't hear from him.'
'That's right.'
'What's he doing?'
'Haven't a clue.'
'You wouldn't tell me, even if you did.'
At this Sirius had the good decency to look apologetic. 'I might...but probably not. Slughorn likes the company of rich and powerful people,' he continued, his sudden change of subject not missed. 'He likes the idea that he could influence them. Up until you first accused Malfoy he was quite cosy with the whole lot of them.'
They walked a little longer, turning a corner and walking up a slight incline in the footpath. Harry remained silent, and Sirius continued.
'Even if Dumbledore has an agenda of his own, we shouldn't underestimate the support Slughorn can give to the Order. There's a reason people like him and your mum are highly valued by both sides.' There was another pause, and Sirius was watching Harry from the corner of his eye before he continued. 'We need to show him how much he stands to gain should he return to his post at Hogwarts. A nice cushy job in a well protected castle, and you.'
Harry nodded, following along. He didn't mind being used so long as he was aware of it. 'There's no guarantee I'd be in his class. I probably won't get the grades.'
'We'll cross that bridge if we come to it,' Sirius assured him. 'Even if you weren't, he'll still like the idea of knowing the famous Harry Potter.'
'So what do I have to do tonight?'
'Make small talk, have a conversation...make him think one day you might count him as a friend.'
'Being the friend of Sirius Black isn't enough?'
Sirius laughed under his breath, a little uncomfortably. He knew the position he had taken, that of the Order's poster boy, and he'd been in the Daily Prophet more than Harry. 'It has appeal, but not appeal that will get him to Hogwarts.'
'Maybe he just doesn't have a lonely heart,' Harry said slyly.
Knowing immediately what he was referring to Sirius's face fell. 'Don't you go reading that rubbish.'
'Oh, how I wish I could stop,' he teased, and from his back pocket he pulled out the newspaper clipping Ron had sent him from the Lonely Hearts column. 'The cards told me a dark and handsome wizard would take my heart,' he read, dodging Sirius who lunged for the paper. 'But I'll let you take my bod-'
'Enough,' Sirius insisted, succeeding in snatching the paper from his hands. 'Shall I resume a prior conversation that had you drowning yourself in larger?'
Harry forced himself to stop laughing. 'No, I'll behave.'
'Focus,' Sirius scolded him, using his wand to literally set the newspaper clipping on fire, which Harry felt was a little dramatic. 'Horace Slughorn. You think you can do this?'
'What? Make conversation and let him think we could be friends? Sure, but if he's determined he's not coming back I can't make him.'
'All I ask if that we try,' Sirius assured him, though his attention seemed distracted. He was looking past Harry, his brow furrowing. 'Though I should warn you, he's been a little dramatic lately.'
Harry turned around and looked down the garden path of the house they were standing outside of, his heart faltering. The house was as inconspicuous as the others they had passed by except for the front door, which even in the darkness he could see was hanging off its hinges. For one dreadful moment he stared at it, wondering what terrible thing had happened here before remembering what Sirius had said.
'Stay behind me.'
Sirius's tone was worried, but it came at a huge contrast to the amused smirk on his face. Doing as he was told he let Sirius go first, both of them drawing their wands as they crept down the garden path and into the dark house.