Chapter 22: A Plot is Born
Try as he might, Harry could not keep the shadow of anger from around his eyes at the thought of going to see the Headmaster. He had not spoken to Dumbledore since they were re-sorted. That had only been eight days ago, too short a time to get over a year of pent-up resentment and a summer of anger. Even having Sirius alive and relatively carefree was not enough to keep Harry's mood from slipping at the thought of looking into the face of the man whose secret-keeping had helped kill Sirius.
He stabbed a jacket potato as if it had personally wronged him, throwing it down onto his plate.
"Why is Mr Granger so vexed by his food this fine evening, I wonder," James said in a loud and theatrical voice. Normally Harry would have been amused, but not today.
"Perhaps I should inquire for you, Mr Potter," Sirius suggested in a tone of equal pomp and ridiculousness. Harry tensed, bracing his nerves to have that irritating tone thrown his way. Instead, Sirius turned and slapped him on the head. "Oi! Harry James Granger, what's your problem?"
The snort of derisive laughter came unbidden from him. "You want an alphabetical list?"
"Maybe later," Sirius said, a strange smirk taking over his mouth. "I'm more interested in why you're suddenly so damn depressing."
Harry sighed. "I have to go talk to Dumbledore."
"Why? What did you do? Something worthy of our friendship, I hope."
"I didn't do anything," Harry insisted a bit too quickly.
"Want me to go with you?" Sirius offered. "I can hold your hand and whisper encouragements in your ear."
"Git."
"Well, you can't say I didn't try," he sniffed in mock indignation and turned back to his dinner, glancing over his shoulder at Harry periodically to ensure that the boy was still eating or to check his level of despondency. Whatever the reason, Harry was somehow both thrilled and annoyed by the attention.
"I'm going," Harry declared and stood.
"Sure you don't need company?" Sirius asked, all playfulness aside.
"No, I'm fine," he assured the boy. He left the Great Hall, walking with absolutely no purpose through the corridors in the general direction of the Headmaster's office but taking the longest route possible. If not for Hermione counting on him to get more information from the old wizard, he was sure that he would have turned around and gone back to the common room by now.
Turning the corner, he saw the gargoyle ahead. Between him and the stone guardian there were no more side corridors to wander down in avoidance of the Headmaster.
He walked up to it and stopped.
Harry stood at the end of the corridor staring at the ugly gargoyle. It stared right back. He had been looking at it for fifteen minutes. It wasn't that he had forgotten the password; he just really wanted to postpone the irritation and headache he knew were going to spring from this meeting. Dumbledore, even this twenty-years-younger version, was about as forthcoming as a brick.
"I'm getting sick of looking at you," the gargoyle informed him.
The boy jumped at the voice. "Sorry," he said. "Jelly Babies."
"About time," the statue grumbled and leapt aside.
Harry trudged the short distance to the rotating stairs, climbing a few steps before he stopped and let them take him upward. The door was open and Dumbledore's voice greeted him before he had even reached the landing.
"Mr Granger," the Headmaster called. "Do come in."
"Sorry to come unannounced, Professor," Harry said. "We were hoping for some help with our problem."
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore nodded and gestured for him to sit. "Have you had much luck in stimulating your memories?"
Harry shook his head. "We know that none of our friends know any spells that could have done this, not even if the spell hit a portkey."
"So that leaves only the other gentleman," Dumbledore said slowly.
"We think he purposely found a spell Hermione wouldn't be able to counter, which means it would have to be a pretty rare or dark hex."
"He is a young man well acquainted with the Dark Arts, I take it?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry said, "very well acquainted."
The man hummed his disapproval. "Finding the answer may prove difficult, then. If neither you nor Miss Granger can recall the precise spell used to bring you here, it will take considerable time to discover it. I can allow you both unlimited access to the Restricted Section of the library. There are numerous books on such matters that may prove useful. Our good Madam Pince knows every book by heart and can tell you which would contain spells that might react unusually when cast in proximity to a portkey. It's unlikely you will find a book referencing your precise experience, but theory abounds in books."
The disappointment must have been splattered across his face because Dumbledore sighed, "I am sorry, Harry. Without more information there is little I can do to remedy your situation."
"I know, sir," Harry replied. It was true, he did know, but that did not mean he liked it.
"We will talk again," he assured the boy.
"Yes, Professor," Harry said and left without another word. Walking down the steps, he grew angry again. That was supposed to be the greatest wizard alive in the world, the only man Voldemort ever feared, and he couldn't solve a problem as simple as this? It was easy: Spell X + Portkey = Time Travel
How bloody hard was that?
Glaring his anger back over his shoulder, he ran the rest of the way back to the common room.
oOo
"What's he doing now?" Peter whispered.
"Same thing he was doing five minutes ago," James replied just as quietly. "Standing there. Staring."
"Maybe he doesn't know the password," the boy said.
"Shhhh," Sirius commanded. "There he goes, come on."
All three Gryffindors moved in perfect unison under the invisibility cloak. After so many years sneaking around the corridors under James's magical cloak, they barely had to give one another instructions anymore; they simply knew how to move, where and when. The only difficulty they really had was to fit three grown boys beneath it.
Silently, they walked past the gargoyle. Harry was moving so slowly they could walk at a snail's pace and still get there faster than him. They had spent five minutes debating whether to follow him and fifteen minutes running to their dorm for the cloak, yet they managed to reach the gargoyle over thirty minutes before Harry did. They had grown understandably anxious as they waited, first for Harry to show up and then for him to speak the password. As the boy stepped past the gargoyle, they excitedly pushed at one another to get a move on and to join Harry on the stairs to the Headmaster's office. Sirius signalled their direction, tapping James and Peter on the arm to go right and straight until they could see the exchange from the side and watch both Dumbledore and Harry's expressions as they talked. They would never have dared get this close without the Animagus insistently tapping out directions.
"Better be worth it, Padfoot," James muttered under his breath. "If I get detention for you…"
His threat fell on deaf ears. Sirius was too busy watching the exchange between their strange new friend and the Headmaster. It was amazing how even these two spoke with vagueness, referencing the Grangers' situation, some other bloke, the Dark Arts and a portkey without ever actually saying anything specific. None of it told them anything. Sirius would have thought that if they were working together to solve some major problem, they would be speaking in some detail about it. Moreover, of all the rooms in the castle, surely the Headmaster's office was one where they could speak whole truths.
Clearly, he thought wrong.
They followed him from the office and down the stairs, watching as the boy's posture changed. The dejected and defeated slump of his shoulders squared as his spine straightened. All three froze as the boy looked back, the anger on his face making each fearful that he knew they were there.
"Oh shit," James muttered. "On my signal…"
But no retaliatory spells were necessary. The boy turned and ran.
They were left alone in the corridor, more confused than ever. Harry James Granger was a very hard nut to crack. Worse still, they weren't even sure precisely what sort of nut he was.
"Is it me," Peter asked in a quiet squeak, "or is Harry a little scary?"
"I don't know about scary, but he certainly is strange," Sirius replied.
"Did you see the way he looked at Dumbledore?" James asked. "Like he hates him. I don't know anybody who hates Old Dumbles. The bloke's only known him a week; why would he be giving him a glare like that?"
"I think," Sirius declared as he collected the invisibility cloak and gave it back to James, "that it's high time we took a greater interest in our dear friend, Harry James Granger."
"I thought you were already interested in him, Padfoot," James smirked.
"Git, you know what I mean."
The boy snorted but still nodded. "Agreed. Granger is way too weird. I can't let something as mysterious as this alone." His eyes lit up excitedly as he considered what they had witnessed. "You heard all that, right? Portkey and Dark Arts and the Grangers' 'situation'… something massive is happening, and I am not exaggerating."
Peter scowled his disapproval. "No, let's just leave it. I thought the goal this term was to get Lily to like you. And to get the new girl to like Remus. Who cares about Harry?"
"I do," replied Sirius before he could stop himself. "Besides," he added hastily, avoiding the smirking face of his black-haired friend, "Harry's been doing a pretty good job talking Prongs up."
"And Moony's been doing just fine on his own," James added. "No, this is going to be much more interesting, I can tell. That bloke had more secrets than the Department of Mysteries, and I can't wait to find out what they are." The Chaser rubbed his hands together, a sure sign that he was starting to formulate a plot.
Sirius grinned. "So, where shall we begin? How ever shall we get more information from our odd friend?"
His friend stopped and looked at him sideways. "Are you actually waiting for permission to go flirt?"
"Well, this is now officially Marauders business," he explained, stopping to bat his eyes imploringly.
"Go on, you tosser," James sighed. "If this turns weird it is not my fault."
"What?" Sirius gaped. "I am using my sexual prowess and devastatingly good looks to lure friendship and information from the painfully secretive new bloke who looks freakishly like my best mate… what could possibly go wrong?"
"I'm thinking quite a lot, actually," James commented in a very close imitation of Remus's feared and often mocked Prefect Voice.
He laughed and slapped James on the back. "Relax, Prongs. I'm an expert."
"You said that about Tori Hooper, too," Peter grumbled, mimicking Sirius's confident swagger. "Oh, don't worry, Peter. I can talk that bird into anything. I'll have her eating out of the palm of your hand before the week is out."
Sirius just snorted. "Come off it, Wormtail. You thought it was great fun until she hexed you."
"It hurt!"
"Yes, but you have a story to tell the grandkids and a very manly scar," he countered. "But this is nothing like The Hooper Incident. This is me making friends—"
"Flirting shamelessly," James corrected.
"Same thing with him," Peter snorted.
"Whatever you call it," Sirius bit out, annoyed at them for interrupting. "It's me being nice to Harry James Granger."
"Um… Padfoot," James stopped and bit at his lip in contemplation. "Have you considered the possibility, my dear friend, that perhaps Harry James Granger might 'be nice to you' back?"
Sirius shrugged carelessly, "Added bonus of the mission."
"I'm not joking," the boy warned. "I feel kind of responsible for him what with him looking so much like me and being so keen to get me with Evans and all. What happens if he actually likes you?"
Sirius just shrugged again and continued to walk, but he kept that question at the forefront of his brain. What would he do if Harry flirted back? Not the fake, just for fun flirting they had done so far, but really flirted. What would he do if Harry actually liked him? Neither would be new or special. Loads of people had flirted with him and he flirted right back, not caring how real their interest was. Loads of people had liked him, really liked him, liked him enough to send spiked chocolates and cards every Valentine's Day and buy him gifts on his birthday. He avoided the laced gifts, but, again, he flirted. It was fun and generally harmless.
It was easy to say he would do the same with Harry James Granger, flirt and smirk and play regardless of how the boy responded, but he remembered the dark turn Harry had taken when he had played with him, when he had promised to always be there. The change had been instant, quicker than thought. Harry did not mean to put that haunted look on his face; probably if the boy had any say in his reaction, that particular pain would have stayed hidden along with the rest of his secrets. Sirius had seen it and now it haunted him, too.
"I'll stop before it goes that far," Sirius promised. "Nobody gets a scar, however manly, on this mission."