With Knowledge Came Help

Well, here’s a new one. There will be no reading of the books. It is glossed over. They read the books and move on. This is what they do after they read them.

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Sirius Black, in his dog form, was about to approach his godson Harry Potter when a bundle of books plopped in front of him. He was about to ignore them when he recognized his godson’s picture on the front of the top book. The title read ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone’. He turned back into a human and picked the bundle up. He loosened the rope and said, “What’s this?”

Curious he leaned against the alley wall and started reading by the streetlamp light. It started with the Dursleys of all people. He almost stopped reading, until he remembered that that was Lily’s sister’s married name. He had wondered why Harry was in this muggle neighborhood. He looked like he was running away. He had remembered that Hagrid had said he was taking Harry to Petunia’s.

It was the second chapter that captured his attention and not in a good way. He was pissed, and the more he read the more pissed he got. This was not how his godson was supposed to be raised. He was supposed to have been loved. Albus promised that he was going to be watched and taken care of. That he was safe. He never would have hunted Peter down if he hadn’t trusted that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

Making a decision, he gathered the bundle and took them to the last place he ever thought he’d go. Grimmuald Place. He could hide there until he read them all. He knew he wasn’t going to like it, but he needed to know. If these books told of Harry’s life, he needed to learn all about it. If they told the future, he needed to know that as well. Then he could prepare.

When he got to the house, he called for the house elf, “Kreacher.”

The house was a mess. The wallpaper was ripped and torn. It was dirty and stained. The carpet was matted and sticky. The gaslights were tarnished and unlit. The pictures were so filthy that you couldn’t see who was in them.

He could hear his mother shrieking from the stairwell. He’d have to do something about that.

“Dirty master is calling Kreacher,” the filthy elf said as it popped into view. The elf was in as sad a shape as the house. His pillowcase was so encrusted with dirt it could stand by itself. The elf had not bathed in months it looked like. The stench was overwhelming.

“Yeah, like you’ve got room to talk. Why does this house look like this?” Sirius asked, knowing his mother would never have let the house fall into this disrepair. She might have been crazy, but she was a neat freak.

“Mistress is dead,” the elf said like that was all the answer that was needed.

“Well, I’m here now, so get to cleaning,” the dogman said, waving a hand around to show he meant now. “First bathe, you stink,” he added, knowing he was no bed of roses himself.

 “As master says,” Kreacher said as he shuffled off.

Sirius went to the kitchen to see if there was any food. He didn’t think there would be, since only Kreacher was in residence, but he had to look. He found a tin of biscuits, so he ate those. He settled at the table with a glass of water and the cookies and started reading again. He was just getting to where Hagrid was taking Harry to Gringotts, and he wanted to see how his godson reacted to his wealth.

After the twentieth chapter he went to find a bath and bed. Then he cracked the book open again and started reading. He didn’t get to sleep until late, and only because he was too tired to read anymore. This was the case for the following days. He would send Kreacher out for food, and he would read, eat, sleep, read, eat, sleep.

It took the better part of a week for him to finish the books and he was pissed, and scared. He had died. Remus had died. Dumbledore had died. Heck, practically everyone Sirius knew had died. Even that git Snape had died. Above all, Harry died. Sure, he came back, but he died. There had to be some way to change this.

In that week there had been a lot of crying, screaming, cheering, laughing, and a plethora of other emotions. But the biggest one of all was pride. He was so proud of his godson. That boy had done what should have been done by the adults in his life.

Sirius was ashamed of his book self. He never saw just how burdened the boy was. How abused the child had been. He never looked passed his own angst to see his godson’s problems.

Well, that was going to change. Harry was going to come first now. It would be Harry first. Not Remus. Not Dumbledore, especially not the headmaster. He had a love/hate going on for that man. No one was going to prevent him from taking care of Harry.

He was going to write to Remus. He knew where the rat was, and with Remus’s help he could be free. Then he could be proactive. He would take care of Harry and the burden of the whole war wouldn’t be on the boy’s shoulders.

Moony

I know you don’t want to hear from me but hear me out. I am innocent. I can prove it. I hear you are going to be a professor at Hogwarts this year. There is a boy named Ron Weasley that has a pet rat. That rat is Peter. If you can capture him, it will prove my innocence. Please, what will it hurt to check. If you ever had any faith in me, do me this one favor and check that rat out.

Padfoot.

‘There, that ought to do it. If this book was true, then this should get too Moony before he leaves for Hogwarts and the kids will be sitting with him on the train. If he does that, then I will send him these books,’ Sirius thought as he tied the note to an owl that was roosting in the owlery.

There were many things he noticed in the books that were wrong too. Like Harry’s vaults were smaller than they should be. The fact that Dumbledore had his key, that should not have happened. The fact that McGonagall had watched the house all day, and Hagrid brought Harry there straightaway. Either Dumbledore knew the Potters were going to get attacked, or it was the next day that Harry was brought to the Dursleys. He didn’t like either of those scenarios.

Then there was the fact that Dumbledore had the Invisibility Cloak. James never let anyone use that cloak. It was a family heirloom. It was in the vault last he heard. Did that mean that Albus had access to the vault. That should not be allowed. Harry gave up his key to willingly too. He was never told not to do that. He was far too trusting.

Let’s not even get started on the Deathly Hallows. He knew where they were now, but what to do about it. He knew if he let others read the books they would know to. So, he needed to limit who he let know. And one of the people who should never get to know was Dumbledore. If there was one thing that man coveted it was the Deathly Hallows. That was the last thing Sirius wanted.

There were things that had never been explained to Harry. Things he needed to know about the magical world if he were going to live in it. Like how to get a job, what kind of work there was. What classes he needed for what type of work he wanted. The classes he took in the books would not let him become an Auror, which is what he expressed was his career choice. Well, they would, but if he took Runes, or Arithmancy, then he would go further.

He picked up the first book again and started reading. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything the first readthrough.

Hphphp

In a cottage a rather ragged werewolf reread the note again. “It can’t be,” he said for the tenth time. “But what if it is,” he repeated, again for the tenth time.

He had been going over and over in his mind since the owl left the contents of the note. Peter was alive and hiding. Sirius was innocent. If this were true, then he felt so bad that he believed that Sirius was guilty for so long. It would be so simple to find out. He would have to wait until the train ride, or the Weasleys got back from Egypt. They had won a lottery drawing and wouldn’t return until just before time for school. He might pop by the Leaky Cauldron and catch the rat then.

Until then he had some plans to make. He needed to go and see Sirius. He knew just where he was too. The old dog was at his mother’s house. They needed to hide the house. The ministry would find him there sooner or later. If his friend was innocent, then he didn’t want him caught.

Grabbing his coat, he stepped out of his door and disapparated. He reappeared on the door of Grimmuald Place and knocked. The door opened on its own, and Remus stepped inside with his wand drawn. There were no lights showing the hall.

“Sirius,” he called as the door slammed shut behind him. He lit his wand and waited for his friend.

“Remus?” Sirius said, confusion in his tone as he came from the kitchen.

“What did you expect? For me to just wait?” the werewolf asked, his wand trained on the other man.

“Why did you come if you don’t believe me?” Sirius asked, not raising his wand. “You have your wand pointed at me,” he pointed out as he lit the gaslights.

“I don’t disbelieve you either,” was the answer as the werewolf lowered his wand. “We need to either find another place or hide this one,” he said, looking at the appalling conditions of the house.

“I can hide this one if you’ll be my keeper,” Sirius said, there was a small pleading in his tone. Remus was the only person on this earth that he trusted. Well, Harry too, but he would not put that responsibility on the boy.

“I can do that,” Remus said, knowing that Sirius was trusting him, so he must be telling the truth.

Sirius waved him to the library and to the ritual room in the back. There they performed the Fidelius charm that hid the house and made Remus the Secret Keeper.

“Thanks, Remus, that means a lot to me,” Sirius said, a bit worn out from the spell. “Come on, I’ve got some food in the kitchen. It’s one of the cleaner rooms.” He led the way back through the library and to the kitchen.

“Why is your house in such a sad shape?” the werewolf asked, not wanting to touch anything.

“The house elf is barmy,” Sirius said with a shrug. Kreacher hadn’t cleaned much, but enough that he was following orders.

They got to the kitchen, where Remus spotted the books on the table. “What are these?” he asked, noting that they had Harry’s picture on them.

“They’re books on Harry’s life. The last two years. This year, and the next four years. They are not nice reading. Trolls, basilisks, Voldemort, dementors, tournaments, rituals, dragons, abuse, a slew of other things. Betrayal, after betrayal, after betrayal. There’re some good parts, but they are far and few,” Sirius said, sitting down a tea service on the table.

“Betrayal?” Remus asked, looking at the pictures on the front of the books.

“Harry has had one good constant in his wizarding life, and that is a girl named Hermione Granger. She’s a muggleborn, and she’s the only one who stands by him throughout all the bullshit he goes through. I would too, but I die,” he said, hanging his head.

“How do you know they are real?” Remus asked, reading the titles.

“The names, the places, and the things they know. Things that no one but me knows,” Sirius said, thinking of the conversations that were in the books that he had with Harry.

“Oh,” was all the werewolf could say to that as he picked up the first book and started reading.

Sirius picked up the fifth book and started it. He hated that book, and if he had it his way this Umbridge woman was going to disappear. And he was going to live through it.