Episode 7. Part 2

Episode 7. Part 2

***

- Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban..." tapping his fingers on the oak tabletop, Harry pondered aloud. - You say he's my godfather, but he betrayed me and my parents to He-Who-Has-Named, giving away our whereabouts?

- That's right, Harry," Fudge nodded, greedily nibbling on a turkey leg.

They had met at the bank, and the Minister hadn't missed the chance to get to know the national hero better and try to enlist him as an ally, in case he wasn't already supporting Dumbledore. Of course, as Fudge reasoned, the child was not a meaningful ally and of little use, but still he was a celebrity whose opinion would at least be listened to, if anything. Yes, the boy, he thought, could be used, even though he was only a political pawn in a big game of power. That's why he'd invited Harry and his cousin to one of the most expensive restaurants in Slanted Alley for dinner.

- Excuse me, Minister," Dudley spoke up timidly. He didn't like the Minister because of the greedy looks he threw at his cousin while looking at him like Dursle was an annoying nuisance. Still, he was a minister, and it was impossible not to reckon with that. - I'm rather ignorant of magical traditions. - Fudge threw him an unreadable look, but with a half-smile encouraged him to continue. - But in the Muggle world, for example, godparents aren't just words. It's also usually an oath before a god, or a legally certified agreement. Isn't that how it works in the magical world? I read somewhere that godparents perform a christening ritual over godchildren in which they swear by magic and life to protect the child...

- Where are you going with this, Dudley?

- If this Black really is Harry's godfather (godfather not by word of mouth, but by tradition), then he couldn't hurt his godson, or he would lose his magic and his life. And since that didn't happen, he didn't betray the Potters either. I suppose there must be some kind of document attesting to the baptism..." Fudge thought convulsively. The boy must have been smart to have noticed such a detail. Indeed, godparents could not harm godchildren or their parents. Unless the parents themselves threatened the lives of their children. Is it possible that Black betrayed the Potters to save Harry from them, and that He-Who-Has-Named-Was going to the house in Godric's Hollow to kill the spouses but take the boy? No. That's nonsense. But in that case, Black didn't betray the Potters and was... innocent?! Also nonsense. Though it was certainly worth looking into. Black hadn't been tried, that was for sure, not to mention the use of truth serum. And if the head of magical law and order and minister of the time, and the eternal head of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore, put an innocent man in Azkaban for life, then by proving the innocence of the descendant and chief heir of the oldest and noblest pureblood family, he could raise his public profile. Even Dumbledore, in such a case, can't avoid the pile of dirt that will be poured on him. Yes, it was worth working on, especially since the election is coming up...

- Minister, by the way, do you know who was the woman who was my godmother...? - as if casually asked Harry, disrupting his thoughts. Fudge paled considerably: this was not the kind of information he wanted to give a national hero.

- I don't think that..." he began to blurt, but under the stubborn, somewhat cold and penetrating gaze of the bright green eyes, the minister gave up. Placing a foot on the plate, he carefully wiped his fingers with a napkin, then pursed his lips, and, carefully choosing his tone of voice, explained, "I don't know what got into your parents, Harry, but your godmother is Bellatrix Lestrange, who was also Black as a maiden. She's a notorious Death Eater, who, after the death of He-Who-Must-Name, tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom to madness with her accomplices. The poor things have been lying in Mungo for years and they don't recognize their son..." Fudge sighed and shook his head, not really sympathizing with the poor things. - Bellatrix is in Azkaban," he said, noticing that the brothers had something else to ask, and glancing regretfully at the half-eaten turkey leg, concluding that this conversation had to end. He was already regretting telling Harry about the godmother. After all, children could not keep secrets, and the fact that the heroes of the world, chose the Eater as godmother for her son, moreover, known for her madness - cast a serious shadow, both on these very heroes, and on the Ministry, which supported their legend in every way. - In any case, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to do, and I must be going," Fudge rose from the table. - You've given me a curious subject to ponder, young men, and I've been very pleased to meet you, Harry, and your brother personally," he held out his cousins' hands in turn for a handshake, in a mature way that should have flattered the children. They shook it, of course, rising from the table as well:

- It's mutual, Minister. It was an honor to dine with you here," Dudley bowed as well, with a touch of feigned subservience that the Minister took seriously.

- Very well. Be careful, young men," he patted the boys on the shoulders with the paternal, patronizing gesture of an opinionated man. - Especially since such a notorious criminal is on the loose! And Harold, you are our hope," Fudge looked the national hero in the eyes and spoke heartily: - You must take care of yourself. Especially since there is a high probability that Black escaped in order to finish what he started, that is, to kill you...

***

- Flatterer. Just like his father! - Smiling, Harry shook his head as he finished his turkey. The minister had left them, but that didn't mean they had to leave the restaurant immediately. Especially since they didn't get to eat themselves, while Fudge nearly ate a whole leg of poultry, half a bowl of salad, and an impressive chunk of chocolate pudding. - I still remember Uncle Vernon inviting influential or wealthy guests into the house, flattering them with his drills and drills.

- I see no reason to quarrel with influential people," Dursle shrugged, smirking slyly. - Besides, you're not the one to judge me, cousin. You were the first to show impeccable courtesy to aristocrats. - Harold snorted and laughed. He was tipsy and didn't know why. But Dudley knew this for sure: if he had found a relative, convicted but probably innocent and not infatuated with a countless number of bulldogs, he would have been glad too.

- First we'll get on our feet, strengthen our position, and then we'll make powerful enemies. Otherwise they'll crush us too quickly," Potter shared his thoughts.

- I think so too, brother," his cousin smiled at him, saluting him with a glass of juice.

The kids were playing adult games, and although they hadn't yet chosen a target for their game, they already knew how to act...

***

Harry pressed his back against the brick wall, trying not to show fear. His hands reached for weapons: his right for his wand, his left for his generic dagger or brass knuckles, which he hid in one spot behind the belt of his jeans. And it was a good thing he was in a dark alley, windowless. If anything, he hoped he could stand up for himself. Except... the situation was not in his favor.

- Well, boy, did you get it? - He grinned at the fat man of relatively short stature, who was not lacking in athleticism. He was dressed in a tracksuit and was playing with a penknife, tossing it in his hand. On either side of the man stood his closet-like associates, with no trace of intelligence on their faces, and around them gathered five more, athletic and quick-looking guys. They all grinned at the cornered boy. - We found you. You think we taught you a trade so you could set us up and run away? No, you owe us," the small man, clearly the leader of the... gang, said in a tender tone, as if explaining to his wayward son the immutable truth. - You owe us for shelter, food, protection from the police, and your brother's life. Remember who helped you survive? Remember who gave you the medicine? You should have been grateful to me. But you spit in the outstretched hand of help, practically put a knife through my heart, Harold. I wanted to make you my protégé, my heir, and it pains me that you, boy, did this to me. And so, instead of living and enjoying helping your benefactor, you'll be paying for the rest of your life. It's only fair," Harold was silent. He was as focused and taut as a bowstring, ready to fire an arrow at its target. It would take him two moments to draw the dagger, another moment for his wand. But he wasn't sure he had the dexterity to handle an unfamiliar weapon. Perhaps at hand-to-hand he could shove the crowd of old acquaintances that had jammed him, and then make a run for it and escape... to a magical world where Muggles couldn't get into. The situation was critical, which was probably why he hadn't even thought about the possibility of using his own unique powers...

And, of course, he remembered to whom he owed his and his brother's lives. He remembered who had found them barely alive in the street, fed, warmed and healed them. He remembered. But he remembered other things, too. What had made him run away from Surrey County, going from town to town and not at all childishly confused. He was sure that if it hadn't been for magic, they would have been found back then. And how fortunate that his cousin had not asked any questions at the time!

But Harold knew that sooner or later...

- Or did you think we wouldn't find you? - He flipped the knife from one hand to the other, and, unafraid of the boy, though cornered, walked over to pull on Potter's jacket and rub the label on it. - You've got expensive, brand name clothes, you bastard. You must have learned our lessons well.

- Yeah, or you've got a new patron," grinned one of the chaperones, the one closest to him, who could pull his long ponytail and run his hand down his thigh. - The kid's a good-looking guy, and at his age.

- Tell me, who are you crouching under? - The other grunted. - Why don't you show us old friends what you can do, baby? - Potter, squeezed into the wall, visibly shuddered. The ringleader liked that reaction and, grinning lewdly, grabbed Harry by the chin, running his fingers down his cheek.

- Scum..." Potter whispered, barely able to hold back angry tears. He was really scared. Scared to the chills that ran down his spine. The attackers cackled and all swung at their victim, all at once, hoping to be amused. The hero of the magical world could not stand such treatment of himself and, with all the force of his despair, punched in the liver of the leader of the gang he had belonged to a few years before.

The men recoiled, however, not for long, piling on Harry all at once and hoping to take him by force. At first Potter fought back, taking his opponents out of the fight one by one. Still, the forces were far from equal. There wasn't enough power in the boy's hands to compete with the grown men, and even more so with eight of them. He was in the middle of the night, and he was in the middle of the night, and he was in the middle of the night, and he was in the middle of the night. Potter had lost his own by then in the heat of battle, and there was simply no time to reach for his wand or dagger. His blows were getting weaker and weaker, and he missed the men's attacks more and more often, each time shuddering painfully, losing his bearings from the pain. Despair, resentment, hopelessness rolled up to his throat. He no longer hoped to win...

Suddenly he heard the angry growl of a dog in the alley. Moments later, one of the attackers was attacked by a large black dog. With a howl of pain, he simply chewed the man to death. This gave Harold strength and he attacked the stunned bandits with fury, not even noticing the magic surging in him to help. Luck smiled on him now, and whether the attackers were confused, or the magic intensified the blows, or there was another reason, but the two of them and the dog, they quickly took out the six. There were two left, and, unfortunately, one of the latter managed to give the boy a serious blow to the back of the head. Harry's eyes went black and he settled to the ground, spitting up stomach juices and blood. Before he lost consciousness, he thought that this dog had been in his face too often for the past two weeks..

.

***

- I'm sorry, I can't thank you enough for the morning," Dudley said quietly, placing a plate of unfinished dinner on the floor, under the nose of a large but frighteningly thin black dog. This dog had somehow found him an hour ago, and had led him to his cousin, who, drenched in blood, lay in a narrow London cul-de-sac in the company of... eight adult male bodies, at least half of which were dead. Dursle dragged his brother's emotionless body with difficulty but to the hotel where they were staying, and, fumbling with his invisible robe behind his sinus, dragged him past the pile of people in the lobby to their room. The dog, keeping up, trudged along beside him. And he seemed to have had enough to eat, for he yapped quietly and began to eat, glancing up and down at Harold, who was in a state of unconsciousness.

Dudley was doing something of his usual business, handling the "battle injuries" of his brother, who was almost always the first to get into a fight, shielding Dursle himself. There was nothing life-threatening. Only numerous bruises, including internal organs. He did not know how to use magic in such cases, so Dudley used a supply of potions brewed on potions and Muggle medicines with bandages and plasters. He squinted at the dog with some degree of apprehension and yet, unable to endure curiosity, he inquired:

- Are you really more comfortable eating in dog form, Sirius Black? - The dog choked on his food, coughed un-doggishly, and stared at Dudley like a wolf. He shrugged. "Yes, I know. Just as I know you wouldn't hurt me or my cousin. You've had plenty of chances to do that, since you've been watching us for two weeks now. Harry and I don't believe you betrayed his parents, but we wonder what happened. We won't give you up. - Sirius Black, who was an animagus-dog, keeping his eyes on his godson's cousin, turned into a human, with a wave of his hand he conjured up some rags instead of clothes, and then continued to eat, but as a human.

- Why did they attack him? - he asked, coughing in a hoarse voice: he could do with health potions, too. But questions about his situation could wait. What had happened to his godson would have been more important. - And they talked as if they'd known him a long time. - Dudley was silent, and for some reason Sirius decided to clarify: "I found you at the call of the Godfather's duty and the scent, and I've been watching. You are professional thieves and...

- When my parents died, they put us in an orphanage," Dursle interrupted the outlaw. - Harry's magic was awakened, and he did unexplainable things. Which made us feared at the orphanage and mistreated. They wouldn't feed us, locked us in the basement, even beat us a little..." There was a growl from Sirius' throat: he didn't like his godson's life during the time he'd been watching his cousins. - And then we ran away. There was nowhere to go, and the streets were not what we expected. The brutal hunger, the cold tormented us relentlessly. I was... spoiled, unlike my brother, and quickly went cold. I had a terrible fever. And frankly, I probably would have died. But once I blacked out, and then woke up, I found myself in a small room under a thin blanket. Harry wasn't there. But there was a table littered with medicine, and a note in Harry's handwriting that said, "I'll be right there.

I don't know who Harry was in touch with at the time, or how he got us the money to live on. I was afraid to ask. I'm afraid to ask now. But he would often disappear for an entire day and come home with modest food, medicine, and change that was barely enough to pay for his room. Harold taught me how to steal. From whom he learned, I don't know. Probably those people, too. We didn't come to London straight away, we came here. Though I got the impression we'd run away from someone.

- Why weren't you taken care of by wizards? - growled Black, not holding back his foul language at every word, forgetting that he was not in a cell, next door to his sworn enemies, but with his children. - After all, plenty of magical families must have been willing to raise a hero...

Sirius Black had many more discoveries to make about the people he thought he knew everything about...

***

Harry, are you coming?! - Black asked his godson with barely concealed hope, inviting him along with everyone else to the amusement park. Of course, he was only supposed to be a dog himself, with a muzzle and a leash, but... he was almost happy to spend his time that way. And he only hoped his best friend's son would keep him company, but...

- Sorry, godfather, but no," Potter replied stiffly. It wasn't that he was against the amusement park or Sirius, it was just that he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, and he was afraid to go to Muggle London after the incident.

Waking up closer to the morning then, he startled his cousin and godfather with the hysteria that had occurred. Not only did he immediately cower in a corner, then lock himself in the bathroom, but like a girl... Anyway, once he recovered from the shock, he became very withdrawn, but that didn't stop him from discovering a stranger adult man in his and Dudley's room.

The introduction to the godfather had been uneventful and tepid. Yes, Dudley trusted him, relying on some feeling. Harold trusted his cousin, and so he let Sirius stay. But that didn't mean he was willing to let an adult into his life who was supposedly responsible for him. As long as he had been looking out for his father's friend, he had been prying out information about his parents, their positive and negative traits. He let Black, who his whole company had found out about, fidget around, but he wouldn't leave Dursle alone with him. He didn't trust the impulsiveness of the man's character, didn't trust the note of madness that was sure to appear in Azkaban, didn't trust the habits of the man who had gone mad in prison...

The man, now and then on the lookout for Peter Petigrew-the culprit in the Potters' death and now hiding in his animated rat form belonging to Ronald Weasley-wanted to get close to his godson, then tried to preach to him about stealing and dealing with Reaper children, then simply ate quietly in the corner whatever he was offered. And sometimes tried to get him to take revenge on Petigrew for his parents. And even though he was an intricate, cheerful and very charming man - which delighted the Weasley twins, Theo and Dudley - Harold still stuck to him.

But Sirius himself was benefiting from the children's company: he was having fewer nightmares, smiling more often, and getting younger. And the canine body in which he had to stay most of the time did not interfere with that. He was quite content with life. Of course, he was upset by his godson's coldness, but he realized that it just took time.

He was also scandalized, not understanding why Harry didn't want revenge on Peter, why he didn't consider Voldemort the enemy when they killed his family! The godson explained that that wasn't what his parents were protecting him for. But Sirius refused to accept that point of view, longing for revenge for his best friends... It was the only thing that was spoiling him was the thought of Petigrew. He must find him and kill him. He just had to!

***