The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Part III - Chapter Twenty-One
The day my Hogwarts letter arrived was a warm day just after the start of the summer holidays. I had gone to play football with my friends, Geoffrey and Ian, and my younger brother James and sister Lily had tagged along as they often did. The two of them are twins and they played the game at full tilt, as they did everything, except perhaps their schoolwork.
Fortunately, as Geoffrey and Ian are Muggles and have no idea we come from a family of wizards, we could not play quidditch that day. Not that I don't like quidditch; but James and Lily are unreformed addicts of the game and quite often a danger to themselves and others when they get a chance to fly.
We live in Otter St. Catchpole, which is in the middle of nowhere and has less than five hundred souls to boast of and three families of wizards: my family, our grandparents, Nana Molly and Papa Arthur, and our Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and cousins. Nana's house is off the road and Muggles can never find it. Our house and Uncle Ron's are a bit different. We have a front area that looks like any normal Muggle house so our non-wizard friends can visit without knowing what we are. The back of the house and upstairs are where we spend most of our time and we have the area enchanted so that the magic is confined away from the non-magic area. Even so, the reception on our phone isn't very good, and I always go over to my friends' houses to watch the telly because ours is always on the blink. Ian jokes that we must have a poltergeist. If he only knew.
I knew that something unusual was up because Dad came home early that day. According to Mum, Dad is quite a famous wizard, but to us, he's just our Dad, and he is the best.
Mum is great too. She has red hair and the temperament to go with it, just like all the rest of the Weasley family. James takes after her as he has the red hair, but it sticks up funny just like Dad's and if you dyed his hair black, I expect he'd be the spitting image of Dad. Lily is the one who really looks like Dad. She has masses of jet-black hair and green eyes that see right through you. And though both of the twins are clever enough to cut themselves, Lily is the one with the soft heart, like Dad's.
I'm the in between one. I have black hair, but my eyes are blue-gray. Dad says he named me after his godfather Sirius because I look just like him. Apparently, our family is related to Dad's godfather through Papa Arthur. Well, we are related to lots of people through Nana and Papa. Dad has a cousin or something somewhere, but as he is a Muggle, we don't ever meet with him. I've never figured out why though, since we have other Muggle friends and relatives we do.
At Mum's call, we stumped back home. James had to stop and tease Crookshanks, Aunt Hermione's cat, and naturally, I had to climb the tree he had retreated into in order to get him down. Being a very clever cat, not to mention a very mad cat at that moment, Crookshanks simply climbed higher and watched me struggle up the swaying branches of an old oak tree, his amber eyes gleaming with annoyance.
"Come on down, Crookshanks," I pleaded, "Mum will yell and Aunt Hermione won't be happy either."
Crookshanks regarded me haughtily and I concluded that we were all sure to be in trouble. I reached up to grab him and the branch I was on swayed ominously. James laughed and said, "He can take care of himself, Sirius! Just let him sulk up there. He deserves it after he bit my bare feet last night."
"Do come down, you idiot," Lily shouted up. "Crookshanks will be fine, but you're going to fall and break something."
"I will not fall," I called down. Instead of climbing down, I reached up again and whispered, "This is a matter of honor, Crookshanks. Just pretend you're in distress and I am your knight come to rescue you." You may think this was silly since I was talking to a cat, but Crookshanks is no ordinary cat. He's half-kneazle and very clever and I'm sure he understands everything we humans do and say.
Proving his cleverness, Crookshanks patted my face with a paw and mewed at me. Then he trotted right down my arm to my shoulder and leaped ten feet from the branch to the ground in a single jump. Unfortunately for me, he's quite a large cat and his jump from my shoulder upset my precarious balance. I fell most ignominiously and landed flat on my back.
"I knew it!" Lily shouted. "I knew you'd fall!" She turned on James and said crossly, "It's all your fault he's hurt, too, you git." Being winded, I said nothing for a moment, but I pushed her anxious hands away when she tried to check my bones to see if was hurt. Well, I can't help being ticklish, can I?
"I'm all right," I said. I sat up and managed to get to me feet and then started to limp back to the house feeling irritated and abused and amused at the same time. After all, I suppose it is rather idiotic to try to rescue a large cat from the tree it wants to be in. Besides, I do have to impress on the twins from time to time that I am the oldest and still just a little bit stronger and smarter than they are. This works in school, where I always get the highest marks because I bother to do my homework, but not always in other things.
James slung my arm over his shoulders and helped support me, which can't have been easy as he is a good bit shorter and skinnier than I am. "You're not really hurt?" he asked. "Mum'll kill me," he added.
I wanted to pretend that I wasn't hurt at all, but my ankle had gotten twisted when I fell and it didn't want to support my weight. I sighed and said, "Just tell Mum and Dad I tripped over the football. They'll think I'm a right idiot for climbing that tree after Crookshanks."
"Well, you were," James answered. He looked at me shrewdly, his hazel eyes comprehending everything. "You just like to show off for Lily so she'll look up to you. But you don't have to, you know," he said matter-of-factly. "She loves you the best anyway."
"Don't be silly," I answered, though I felt pleased all the same. "She's your twin."
"All the same," James said, "she loves you the best and you love Dad the best and Mum and I look after all the rest of you because you three have got your heads in the clouds half the time. What were you doing anyway," he asked, "pretending to be a knight from one of those Muggle adventure books you love?"
"Don't be a twit," I answered stiffly. "I was thinking of all of us. Mum and Aunt Hermione would not be pleased if they knew."
Mum wasn't pleased anyway when I came limping in. She clucked and fussed and muttered about stupid Muggle games as if falling off a broomstick playing quidditch wouldn't be far more dangerous than tripping over a football, or falling out of a tree.
I limped through to the lounge in the back and when I saw Dad was home already, I tried to stand on my own, but Mum made me sit down on the big scarlet couch which came with the house. The couch, like a lot of our furniture, was made for the original owner, and being over a hundred years old is in the Victorian style. It's stuffed full with down and amazingly comfortable, but it is genuinely hideous. Mum wouldn't let Dad throw it out because it's as good as new and she can't abide waste.
I had to put my foot up and Dad examined my foot, waving his wand over it, and I pretended it didn't hurt at all.
"It's a bit strained is all," Dad said. "Shall I?"
Mum, however, drew her own wand and with a quick wave, the pain subsided. "There," she said. "Take it easy on that for the next day or two, and stick to some nice wizarding games instead of silly Muggle football." She huffed again and kissed me swiftly on the cheek. Then she added, "At least you won't be fooling around with any Muggle games at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" I asked. My mouth went a bit dry.
"Yeah," Dad said. His green eyes shone with pleasure. "Your letter came today. You start September first."
"And that's another reason for you to be careful," Mum said. "I'll be taking you to Diagon Alley to buy your supplies tomorrow."
"Except his wand," Dad cut in. "I'll take him for his wand next week."
"I can do it," Mum said, but Dad shook his head and answered firmly, "I'll take care of that."
Mum shrugged and huffed again, then she sniffed just like a cat detecting the scent of its enemy and said, "My roast will be burned in a moment," and she hurried right on out.
James and Lily followed her, only James gave me a wink first to confirm our conspiracy of silence. He should have known better as Dad always notices things like that.
"So what were you really doing?" he asked, "climbing a tree or playing knights or something?"
I sighed, as it's perfectly useless to lie to Dad and said, "It was Crookshanks, really. He ran up the tree and we figured Mum and Aunt Hermione would go mad on us if he was stuck up there."
A small grin twitched on Dad's face and he said, "No doubt because you - no James - was teasing him."
"You know everything," I said. "But don't tell Mum. She'll yell and James will thing I tattled."
***
Harry looked down at Sirius and marveled at the eerie resemblance his son bore to his godfather. The pale eyes were exactly the same as was the black hair, which fell elegantly about his handsome face. His personality, however, was quite different as this boy was not reckless or arrogant in the same way his namesake had been. Indeed the greatest marvel of all was that this child might be the son of the world's worst and most monstrous wizard, Lord Voldemort. Who would believe that he would be so innately kind, so full of odd romantic notions of chivalry from ages gone by, so protective of his younger brother and sister?
Harry smiled and helped Sirius up from the couch and gave him a quick hug. "You'll have the best time at Hogwarts," Harry said wistfully, "I always did. Now go help your Mum. Your Nana and Papa are coming to dinner and your cousins."
Sirius went toward the door and then turned back, "You're really going to take me for my wand?" he asked.
Harry nodded and Sirius's face lit up. Then he turned and whisked out as nimbly as though he had never twisted his ankle at all.
Harry sank onto the big red couch, which was quite cushy and comfortable and reminded him of the easy chairs scattered about in the Gryffindor common room. The rest of the room was a bit of a hodge-podge. A great Oriental rug covered the floor and dark wood bookcases lined the walls. They were filled with books, many from the last century and even older and here and there scattered about were statuettes of cats, and various Egyptian artifacts. The original owners of the house had been Egyptologists and they had collected all sorts of antiquities from around the globe. Though Harry was quite sure they had not been wizards, the local people had thought them odd, and at their passing some years before, stories had gone around that the house was haunted. Consequently, Harry had been able to buy the Victorian house with many of its original furnishings and objects. He was particularly fond of this room and of the round tower at the back of the house.
"Harry!"
Ginny's voice roused him from his musing and he was surprised when she came back into the lounge with Johnny Carter. She looked to be in a bit of a temper as she guided in Sirius' godfather. "I can’t see why Harry can't take half a day off," she said, "without someone wanting him back at work again."
"What's happened?" Harry asked.
Johnny's face was grave but polite as he waited for Ginny to leave. She stood her ground, however, until he said calmly, "You don't have clearance anymore, since you left the Job."
She huffed with annoyance and stalked out once more.
Without further preamble, Johnny pulled out a file from the black leather briefcase he carried. He opened up the file and pulled out a sheaf of photos and handed them wordlessly to Harry. The man in the photos was dead, his eyes wide open and fixed in a permanent expression of horror. There was no other mark on his body, which was clothed only in a pair of trousers, with one exception: over his heart was the triple A symbol of the Aryan Alliance. The mark stood out clearly as the photo was in color. The rusty brown must be dried blood and he realized that the mark had been carved in by magic. There was no other way it could have been placed there so precisely without any other bruising or damage.
"He was dead when they branded him," Johnny said, echoing his unspoken thought.
"Have they checked for the cause of death?" Harry asked.
"There isn't one," Johnny answered. "The only injury is the brand and that was done after death according to the M.E." He paused and said, "Do you recognize him?"
Harry frowned and cudgeled his brains for a recollection of the man, but he could not recall ever having seen him before. "It's Essex," Johnny said. "Hayden's man who spilled everything."
"He looks different," Harry replied. He did not ask why Essex was dead, though. Clearly, Hayden had caught up with his former right hand man.
"Yeah," Johnny answered. "He had plastic surgery to alter his appearance after he talked to us."
"I don't like it," Harry said. "It's been ten years since the last major attack by the Alliance here in Britain. Do you think Hayden is here?"
"No," Johnny answered. "We've had reports that he's been in Paris and Berlin, but no sightings here in England. The question is whether this is the beginning of a new spate of attempts or what. Anyway, Bentley wants us to see if we can locate him."
"On the Continent?" Harry asked skeptically. "Why don't they send someone from six?"
"Bentley isn't telling Six just yet," Johnny answered. "He's been wanting a piece of Hayden for years now and he'd like to retire with Hayden's head on a plate - or with his body in jail permanently. Besides," he added, "he figures we need our resident wizard in on this."
"When are we supposed to leave?" Harry asked. "Not today?"
"Today," Johnny affirmed.
"After dinner then," Harry said. "We're celebrating Sirius's admission to Hogwarts. You can join us."
***
The dining room looked like an advertisement for the redheaded league. With Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Ron, his own James, and Ron and Hermione’s boys a sea of vivid red surrounded the table. Bill and Fleur had joined them along with their redheaded daughter, Victoria, who had received her invitation to Hogwarts that day as well. Johnny looked quite bemused at the mass of people, but he had snagged himself a chair next to Sirius and had joined in a heated discussion of Muggle culture.
"It's not fair," James said mournfully, "Sirius and Vicky get to go to Hogwarts and we’re stuck going to Muggle School and having to learn grammar and science. And we'll have to read poetry. I ask you, what on earth does a wizard need with Muggle poetry?"
"You are such a barbarian," Sirius answered. "Poetry isn't for Muggles only. Lots of wizard histories are in poetry. In fact, half the Muggle epics and romances are distorted versions of real history, aren’t they, Aunt Hermione?"
Before Hermione could answer, Johnny cut in and said, "Absolutely. Look at King Arthur and Merlin. There're loads of stories about them, but the Muggles have no idea that any of them are true."
"That doesn't stop them from trying to find Arthur's sword," Hermione answered. She took a deep breath of the kind that signaled she was going to provide them with a whole lecture on the subject, but Ron interrupted. "There's a wizard nutter or two who'd like to get their hands on that, too."
"Any chance they might?" Johnny asked casually. Harry rolled his eyes. Ever since they had first encountered Hayden, with his mania about King Arthur and the sword Merlin made him, Johnny had been keen to learn of any legend to do with the sword. He thought it a load of nonsense himself – a ploy by Hayden to keep his followers distracted and to prop up his grandiose notions of himself as the descendant of ancient Anglo-Saxon kings.
"Of course, not," Sirius answered gravely. "The sword was lost; hidden by great enchantments so that no one can ever find it again."
"Why not?" Lily asked. Her bright green eyes, so like Harry's own, shone brilliantly at the thought. "Any spell can be broken, if you have the power and you know how."
"Not the Killing Curse," piped up little Edward, Ron's youngest.
There was a very tiny hush as the adults at the table avoided looking at Harry. The children, however, who had no recollection of the War against Voldemort, and only the dimmest knowledge of those events, felt no such distress.
"Honestly," James said, "You two would try to tame a dragon if you could. Some things can't be undone. Dead is dead and lost is lost."
"Lost is different than dead," Sirius objected. “What's lost can be found. And enchantments can be broken. Just ask Uncle Bill. It's what he does for a living, isn't it?"
Bill's eyes brightened. As a treasure hunter for Gringotts, there could be few greater treasures to find than the lost sword of King Arthur. "I have to agree with you, Sirius. Lost things can always be found, if you know where to look."
The summer sun was dying in the sky and a soft purple haze softened the outlines of everyone's faces. Johnny glanced at his watch and gave Harry a significant look. Reluctantly, Harry nodded and excused himself.
"How long will you be gone?" Ginny protested.
"Just a few days," Harry answered firmly.
"I thought you were taking me to Diagon Alley," Sirius said reproachfully.
"I am," Harry replied. "Your Mum will take you tomorrow for your books and uniforms and I'll take you in a few days when I get back for the rest."
"But why d'you have to go?" Lily asked.
"Work," Harry answered. "You know I do every once in a while."
"When the government calls," Johnny said calmly, "we go."
"Well, its too bad Papa isn't Minister of Magic anymore," James commented. "You wouldn't make Dad go out of town at such an important time, would you, Papa?"
"Well, I'm glad I'm not," Arthur harrumphed, "but, sometimes important things come ...erm..."
"If you were Minister," James said, "I should want to work for you, Papa. Just like Dad and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. And you could tell us all what Dad does that's such a secret." He looked outrageously innocent as he said this.
"Sorry to be the spoiler," Johnny said calmly, "but we just push parchment, really, and occasionally we find lost things. Nothing special."
"At least Uncle Ron is an Auror," James said. "That's much more exciting. I want to be an Auror some day and have adventures, or a treasure hunter like Uncle Bill."
***
As Harry was leaving, Ginny hugged him close and whispered, "I wish you did do something tame and boring like Johnny said. Even an Auror would be quiet and safe compared to the Service these days."
"I'll be all right," he said softly. He paused and looked down at her and added, "Do you ever mind stopping work to stay with the kids?"
She shook her head and said, "Only when I'm afraid you'll get into trouble and I won't be there to get you out of it." She bit her lip and went on, "It was better when Ron and Hermione were still there. At least I knew they would watch over you."
Harry sighed. "Perhaps one day the Prime Minister will decide I can leave. But in the meantime, I've a bargain to live up to, and it's one we still need to keep secret." He kissed her quickly and said, "I'll miss you. And don't let James con you into buying a new broom for him out of guilt that he has to stay at the Muggle grammar school."
"He doesn't like it," Ginny answered. "I could teach him and Lily at home like my Mum did for me."
Harry shook his head. "You know it's good for them. They have to know from early on that Muggles are normal people, too."
"Yes, but science," Ginny said. "It's so silly. And I can't even help him with his homework."
"I shouldn't worry," Harry said, "he can do perfectly well when he wants to. In fact they all do better at school than I ever did."
"Let's hope they do as well at life as you have," she answered.
