Chapter 50 - 50

Chapter Six: Questions…Too Many Questions

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harish in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the weekend. Harish didn't complain like he usually would have. He was too upset. Humiliated and annoyed at himself for fainting every time he got near a dementor, downtrodden about his broom, he wouldn't let the nurse throw away the shards of it. He had never broken one before, and it felt like losing a friend.

It was a huge relief when he finally had to return to the bustle of school on Monday. But, he was determined that he would never lose a Quidditch game again. So, any free time was devoted to studying up on patronus charms. He taught himself how to perform it, but had still not managed to produce a corporeal patronus.

Professor Lupin had returned by their next Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After class, Lupin held Harish back. Now Lupin was just as close to James and Lily as Sirius was. If anything, he was closer to Lily than the dog animagus ever was. Because of this, he had instantly recognized the shape of Lily's eyes. This had instantly sparked the werewolf's curiosity. Ever since then, he had been wanting a chance to talk to the boy.

"Yes, professor?" Harish asked awkwardly.

"I heard about your broom. Is there no chance of repairing it?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "It flew into the Whomping Willow."

"The Whomping Willow was planted the year I started at Hogwarts," Lupin told him. "Students used to try to get close to it until it took out Davey Gudgeon's eye and they were banned from going near it. No broom would stand a chance."

"Did you hear about the dementors too?" Harish asked, not looking at the professor.

"Yes, I did. Dumbledore was furious…They were the reason you fell, I suppose?"

"Yes," Harish replied. He hesitated for a moment until all of his questions burst out at once. "Why? Why do they affect me so much? Am I just—"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Lupin replied sharply. "There must be some sort of horror in your past. Dementors affect you according to how bad your memories are. They feed on your good ones and leave you with your worst memories."

"I already knew that," Harish said. "It's just…I don't have any bad memories. Not that bad anyway. I've wracked my brain trying to figure it out but…it's useless. And—whenever they get near me…I hear this voice—a woman's voice."

Lupin's stomach plummeted. He thought he might know where this was going.

"What does this voice say?" he asked warily.

"She's pleading. It's horrible. I can't help but hear it. This woman pleading for her son's life."

"Her son?"

"I'm guessing it's her son. She keeps trying to protect…Harry. Harry's his name."

GETTING-WARMER

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened to a stunning white and the muddy grounds were covered in frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were discussing their plans for Christmas.

Harish was intending on inviting everyone over to his manor over the break. All of his immediate friends were sending letters back and forth to their parents, asking to stay there. Draco had already been over so much, his parents had no problem with it. The twin's parents had already given up on keeping them away from the Slytherin boy. Those three were going to be staying with him most of the break.

Then, he was going to host a Christmas party. The fifth year was planning on inviting the Weasleys, Daphne (and possibly her sister), as well as Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood (because of Ginny), and Justin Finch-Fletchley and his friends.

And, to everyone's delight, there was another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.

"We can all do our Christmas shopping there!" Hermione exclaimed. "Mum and Dad would love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"

So, on Saturday morning they all (except the twins; they had to finish last minute homework) bundled up in many coats, hats, and scarves and went down to Hogsmeade together. Harish figured that it would be best to not go on a date with Daphne that week so that he could buy her presents without her knowing.

LIVING-IN-A—MARSHMELLOW-WORLD

Neville was thoroughly miserable. He wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall had pulled him aside after Transfiguration one day and told him that Black was after him. Because of this, he was not allowed to leave the castle as a safety precaution. Ron hadn't wanted to leave Neville alone in the castle, but eventually Neville told him to go.

He went down to the Entrance Hall to bid his friend goodbye. Then…

"Psst—Neville!"

He turned to see Fred and George peering out at him behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

"What are you doing here?" Neville asked in concern. "How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?"

"We've come to bring you a bit of festive cheer before we leave," Fred said with a mysterious wink. "Come in here…"

He nodded to the nearest disused classroom, which was located to the left of the statue. Neville hesitated for a moment, torn between curiousity and worry. Then, his curiousity got the better of him and he followed them in. George shut the door behind them and then turned, beaming to Neville.

"We wanted to tell you of a way in to Hogsmeade," he said.

"Why?" Neville asked. "Why would you help me?"

Both twins gave a little shrug.

"Kindness is good for the heart," they said in unison.

"Well," Fred said. "Most of the time—"

"Half of the time—"

"Occasionally," they ended together.

"So how do I get in without going past Filch?" Neville finally asked.

"A bit eager is he?" George asked, tilting one eyebrow up.

"Perhaps looking forward to breaking the rules."

Neville shuffled his feet, looking down. "No, I just—"

"It's all right," both twins interrupted.

"A bit of rebellion—"

"Is healthy too."

"Can you just tell me already?"

"Tusk, tusk. Don't speak to your superiors like that," Fred said.

"Now what you want to do is go to the statue just outside this classroom—"

"The one of the one-eyed witch."

"And then, you'll need to tap it with you wand—"

"And say 'Dissindium!' and then, just—"

"Toddle along the secret passageway to Hogsmeade!"

"Where does it come out?" Neville asked curiously.

"Right under Honeydukes. Don't worry about when you get there though."

"You should blend in with the crowd as so many people will be there."

"Good luck," they both said with winks. "See you in Honeydukes."

The twins then went out the front door and walked to Hogsmeade. The two of them met Harish in the Three Broomsticks. He had a bag full of purchases sitting next to him and he was lounging back in his seat.

"So, did you tell him?" the boy asked.

The twins nodded in reply.

"He seemed rather happy to get out of the castle."

"I could imagine," Harish replied. "I would go insane if I was stuck inside."

"Why did you have us—"

"Tell him how to get here?"

Harish shrugged. "I figured I may need a favour in a couple years."

The twins rolled their eyes.

"I think you think too far ahead, mate," George said.

Just then a bell tinkled in the distance and the door to the pub opened. Harish grumbled and turned around to watch as snow was blasted in the door. Then, the Minister of Magic walked through the door.

"Hello?" he murmured. "What is he doing here?"

He continued to watch as Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid walked in as well. While they were busy, Harish slowly moved to the other side of the table so that he could watch without drawing attention to them. Harish motioned for the twins to do something, so they both pulled out books and pretended to read, though they were really listening to the adults' conversation.

"A small gillywater—" Madam Rosmerta was saying.

"Mine," Professor McGonagall said, raising her hand slightly.

"Four pints of mulled mead—"

"Ta, Rosmerta," Hagrid replied.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella—"

"Mm!" Professor Flitwick hummed, licking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you Rosmerta," Fudge said. Harish noticed that he looked a little tired. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Rosmerta walked away, her high heels glittering slightly. Then, she returned with her own drink and pulled up a chair.

"So what brings you to the neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.

Fudge turned, checking for eavesdroppers. Harish made certain to glance over to the door before pulling out a book. If Fudge had noticed him, he would have thought that Harish was simply looking out the window on the door. Harish looked back up when he heard Fudge speak.

"What else but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school on Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumour," Madam Rosmerta admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" McGonagall asked exasperatedly. Hagrid shook his head and took a swig of his drink.

"Do you think Black is still in the area, Minister?" Rosmerta whispered.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge replied shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched my pub twice? Scared all my customers away…Very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge replied uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution. I've just met a few of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore—he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," McGonagall said sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those cloaked horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" Flitwick squeaked.

"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you from something much worse…We all know what Black's capable of..."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," Rosmerta said thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I would have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Rosmerta asked, her voice alive with curiousity. "Worse than killing all those people, you mean?"

"I certainly do," Fudge replied.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," McGonagall murmured. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," Rosmerta replied with a laugh. "Never saw one without the other—thick as thieves—they were quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall said. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright of course—exceptionally bright, in fact—but I don't think we've had a pair of trouble makers such as them—"

"I dunno," Hagrid chuckled. "Harish Blake and the Weasley twins could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Flitwick chimed. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge replied. "Potter trusted Black beyond all of his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James and Lily were married. Then they named him godfather to their son, Harry."

Harry? The name piqued Harish's interest. As the Minister had said the name, McGonagall's eyes had teared up and she gave a little sniff.

"Of course," Fudge said. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was working tirelessly against him, had a useful number of spies. One of them had tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course You-Know-Who isn't the easiest to hide from, so they were forced to use the Fidelis Charm."

"How does that work?" Rosmerta asked breathlessly. Flitwick cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," he said. "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper who as long as they refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Rosmerta.

"Naturally. James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would rather die than tell where they were, that Black was planning on going into hiding himself…and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Rosmerta gasped.

"He was sure someone close to the Potters had been slipping information to You-Know-Who," McGonagall replied darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor. And was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did," Fudge said heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelis Charm had been performed—"

"Black betrayed them?"

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, and was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who." Harish shook his head, glancing down at his book. How could they be so sure he was a follower of Voldemort without proof? "But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter, it was a shame the boy died as well. Powers gone, horribly weakened he fled, And this left Black in a terrible position. His master had fallen at the very moment when he had shown his true colours. He had no choice but to run for it—"

"Filthy stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

"Shhh!" McGonagall hushed him.

"I met him!: Hagrid growled. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all those people! I was sent there by Dumbledore to check on the Potters when Dumbledore heard of Voldemort's forces moving. The house was blown to smithereens—Sirius shows up on his motorbike, wantin' to know what was goin' on. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White as a sheet—shakin'—and yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared.

"Hagrid, please!" McGonagall scolded. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James an' Harry. An' Harry! A baby! Black's own godson an' he turns him straight over to You-Know-Who! An' then he asks me 'Where's Harry? Can I see 'im?' but of course he was dead. I didn'—I didn' have the heart—" Everyone wiped at their eyes or blew their noses. "Then 'e gave me 'is motorbike. Told me he didn't need it anymore. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. Why was he givin' it ter me? Fact was, it was too east ter trace. Black knew he had ter run fer it."

"But he didn't disappear did he?" Rosmerta asked. "Didn't the Ministry catch up with him the next day?"

"Alas if only we had," Fudge said bitterly. "It was not we who found him but poor little Peter Pettigrew—another one of Potters' friends…"

Harish stood up then and told the twins that he needed to buy more gifts before they headed back. Once they were outside the pub, they headed to the Shrieking Shack so that they could talk. It was empty as they had suspected, but they still spoke in low voices.

"Is all of that true?" the twins asked.

Harish shook his head.

"My father told me when we came back from Egypt that Peter Pettigrew had been working as a double agent for him. He was the Secret-Keeper."

"Black was innocent?" they both asked in disbelief.

Harish nodded. "That's the curious thing. He's been in Azkaban for thirteen years, innocent. He never said a word. He never tried to escape, until now. What could've caused his sudden want for freedom?"

"Maybe he got bored?" Fred suggested.

"I would've gotten bored thirteen weeks into the sentence."

"Well, he was insane," George said. "He was probably in shock the first month or so."

"Still," Harish said. "My father recons he left for a reason. He did come here after all. The question is, what is that reason?"

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