Chapter Sixteen
TWELVE WITHENHAM LANE
"Hermione!" called a deep voice from the opposite direction of the Weasley's exit. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as she turned, and he saw a well-built man walking toward them. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to be smiling, but he looked more like one of the American football players Dudley liked to watch on the television than a dentist.
Harry had met Mr. Granger exactly one time before, and he wasn't sure if he could even consider that a meeting. It had been more than three years ago, a brief introduction at the exchange counter of Gringotts; Hermione's parents had been changing Muggle money to buy her school supplies. Harry gulped when he saw him for the second time. He didn't remember him being such a large man. Hermione was rather short, and Harry had trouble picturing the person before him as her father.
"Dad," said Hermione, her tone somewhere between angry and excited. As Mr. Granger hugged his daughter, Harry could hear Crookshanks scrambling around frantically in his carrier.
"You've met Harry before, haven't you, Dad?" asked Hermione a few seconds later. She grabbed Harry's arm gently, forcing him to stand by her. Harry shook her father's hand when he offered it. He expected some kind of bone-crunching, shoulder-dislocating gesture, but Mr. Granger did no such thing.
"Edward Granger," he said. "It's been a few years since I've seen you, and I don't think we were ever properly introduced. Hermione talks about you all the time."
"Dad!" exclaimed Hermione as her dad took Crookshanks carrier from her. Harry looked at her. A blush was rising to her cheeks.
"What?" said Mr. Granger, and he chuckled. "How are you, Harry?"
"Just fine, sir," said Harry politely. He had decided immediately that addressing Mr. Granger as "sir" wouldn't hurt anything. "Thank you for inviting me to spend the holiday with you."
"It's good to have you," said Mr. Granger heartily, clapping Harry on the back just as Ron always did. The three were walking out of the train station, and he turned his gaze to his daughter. "There's been a slight changes of plans. Mark and Linda are so busy with the new baby that they didn't want to have Easter at their house."
"So we're having it at ours?" questioned Hermione, and Mr. Granger nodded. Seeing Harry's perplexed expression, Hermione explained, "Linda is mum's sister, and Mark is her husband. We usually go to their house for Easter."
Harry nodded a bit numbly. She hadn't told him that he'd have to meet more of her family than her parents. They had reached an exit of the train station, and Harry held the door open for Hermione and her father.
"You have good manners," observed Mr. Granger casually. This time, it was Harry that blushed at his words.
"Thanks sir," he said quickly. Hermione giggled, slowing her pace and falling back to his side. Mr. Granger seemed to be scanning car park as he muttered and scratched his head. Hermione placed her hand lightly on Harry's arm.
"He has a horrible memory," she whispered, giggling and pointing to her father. "I think he likes you, Harry, so don't be worried, though you do look rather lovable in your nervousness."
"Er," said Harry, "I thought your parents were supposed to be upset with you."
"A bit dumb, but rather lovable," repeated Hermione. She broke into a grin, but her face then grew serious. "It's mostly mum," she said softly, "that I'm worried about. Dad's softhearted when it comes to his girls; he'll agree with Mum to make her happy, but he'll come to my defense a moment later. I'm just hoping for the best out of both of them."
"It'll be okay, `Mione," assured Harry, taking her hand affectionately. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Maybe your mum will hate me, and she'll be so intent on making my stay miserable that she'll forget all about being upset with you."
"Very funny, Harry," said Hermione, "but not likely. If anyone hates you, it-"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Granger suddenly, and Hermione never finished what she was saying. "This way!"
"Looking back, it doesn't surprise me that he and Mr. Weasley hit it off fairly well," said Hermione as they walked to the Granger's car.
"Why's that?" said Harry, earning a pleased glance from Mr. Granger as he helped Hermione put her things in the trunk. Hermione waited for her father to climb into the car, and she then stood on her tiptoes to whisper in Harry's ear.
"Don't get me wrong, I adore them both," said Hermione, "but they both happen to be a tad bit nutters."
Harry laughed as he settled into the back seat with her. Hermione reached over, tapping his seat belt expectantly. He buckled it. She pointed to her father again, this time shaking her head. "He's the worst driver in all of Britain. You want to take all available precautions when riding with him."
"That's not true, dear!" protested Mr. Granger, but he came within millimeters of hitting another car. He turned around, grinning sheepishly. "Not completely, at least."
As they pulled out of the car park, it suddenly dawned on Harry that he wasn't even sure where Hermione lived. She usually vacationed in the summer, and Hedwig had no trouble delivering letters without an address.
"How far away do you live?" asked Harry.
"Oh!" said Hermione, looking at him apologetically. "We live in Dorchester; it's about an hour away when Dad's driving."
"Have you ever been in the area, Harry?" questioned Mr. Granger, peering into backseat via the rearview mirror.
"No, never," said Harry, shaking his head. "Before coming to Hogwarts, I'd barely left my aunt and uncle's home on Privet Drive."
"I studied abroad-went to an American university for four years," said Mr. Granger, "but I hadn't stepped a foot outside of Dorchester until then. Mum didn't like me venturing too far from home."
Next to him, Hermione sat up straighter, almost as if she was uncomfortable with talk of her father's mother. However, Harry dismissed the thought quickly, and he was quickly distracted as Crookshanks tried to jump from his spot at Hermione's feet to where Hedwig's cage was in the front seat. The cat purred loudly as Hermione pulled him into her lap, but Hedwig just fluttered one of her wings eloquently. She seemed to look down at Hermione's pet.
"Where's mum? Her owl said she and Angelica would be at the train station," said Hermione a few minutes later. Harry had been looking out the window at the fleeting London streets.
"Your cousin Malcolm knocked out a tooth," explained Mr. Granger, "so she went to the office to deal with that, and she took Angelica with her. Uncle Mark promised he'd watch her."
"Oh, okay," said Hermione, glancing at Harry. He knew at once that for as easy as her tone had been, she was relieved that her mother's absence had nothing to do with not wanting to see her. The three lapsed into an easy chatter and the rest of the ride was uneventful.
* * *
When they turned onto Withenham Lane an hour later, Harry knew that Hermione hadn't been kidding about her father's driving abilities. Still, he wasn't going to complain; they had all arrived in one piece, and Mr. Granger had made a very conscientious effort to make Harry feel welcome.
Number twelve Withenham Lane was very comparable to four Privet Drive in size, but there was a completely different air about the Granger home. Harry couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but it seemed much more welcoming than the Dursleys' ever had. While it was well kept, it didn't have the same pretentious perfection and stark personality of his aunt and uncle's home. In other words, it actually had the appearance of being lived in.
"Mum's not home yet," observed Hermione as she stepped out of the car into the driveway. Crookshanks leapt onto the pavement the moment she opened the door. He sat, and he seemed to know that he was home. He looked at Hermione expectantly. "Go on, Crookshanks. You know the rules."
With her words, the cat turned his head and tore behind the house. Mr. Granger just looked at the cat in amusement, shaking his head. A few seconds later, he had disappeared into the house.
"He's not very fond of cats," explained Hermione to Harry. "He doesn't approve of having pets in the house, either, so poor Crookshanks has to spend all day cooped up in my room if he doesn't want to go outside."
"He doesn't seem to mind it," said Harry, chuckling. "Do you mind if let Hedwig out to stretch her wings?"
"Of course not," said Hermione. "I think you're trying to avoid the subject. Why were you laughing at me?"
"You treat Crookshanks like he's a person," said Harry with a grin. He handed Hermione her bag.
"He's a very special cat," said Hermione defensively, and it only made Harry start laughing again. He reached down to let Hedwig out of her cage.
"Don't be gone too long, girl," Harry warned as she flew around in front of him for a few minutes. He turned back to Hermione when the snowy white bird had flown off. "So...?"
"So," repeated Hermione. She just looked into his eyes for a moment. "Thank you so much for coming Harry. I don't know what mum's planning, but having you here will make it bearable."
"It's not a big deal," said Harry awkwardly. She smiled at him, and she kissed his cheek.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him in the direction of the house. "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."
* * *
Harry felt more at home in the guest bedroom at the Grangers' than he ever had back in his bedroom at the Dursleys'. It faced the street with three large windows above a window seat. The entire room was decorated in dark blues and whites, with the exception of two fluffy periwinkle blue pillows on the window seat. There was also a stack of books on it, and Harry knew instantly that Hermione spent a lot of time reading there. Besides the entrance of the room, there were two doors: one open and one closed. The open door revealed a small closet, and Harry figured that the closed door led into the bathroom.
"Will this be okay?" asked Hermione, and she walked absently toward the window seat, and, sure enough, picked up the pillows and books. She looked up at Harry hopefully.
"Of course it will," said Harry, dropping his bag on the floor and setting down Hedwig's empty cage. He walked over to her. "You really don't need to worry so much about what I think. I'm happy to be here, `Mione."
"Until she arrives," muttered Hermione. Harry noticed she clutched the pillows tightly to her chest.
"Who? Your mum?" questioned Harry. "It won't be that bad, will it?"
"No," said Hermione quickly. "Never mind. I'll tell you about it later."
"I'll listen to you now," offered Harry, touching her arm lightly.
"Later," said Hermione firmly, and she started walking across the room. Harry followed her. She put her hand on the closed door before pushing it open. "This is the bathroom, and my room connects on the other side."
As he followed her, Harry made a mental note to be very conscientious of knocking whenever he used the bathroom for the next week. He was thankful that Hermione was walking ahead of him; a very distinct blush rose to his cheeks as he thought of what had happened that morning.
The room on the other end of the bathroom was easily identifiable as Hermione's. The walls had been sponge painted with a periwinkle blue color, and it matched the canopy on her bed. A built-in bookcase stretched from the floor to the ceiling and covered almost an entire wall. The entire thing was filled with books, and there were three large crates filled with more sitting in the opposite corner. A very old rocking chair sat in another corner, and Hermione's desk was immaculately kept.
"Very you," observed Harry as Hermione tossed the pillows on her bed and stacked the books neatly on her desk next to her computer. He eyed the bookcase for the second time. "You have a lot of books."
"You should see the basement," said Hermione with a laugh. She had disappeared into her closet, already unpacking her bag. Harry followed her, leaning in the doorway. "We have those built-in bookcases all over the house because Dad and Mum also love to read. There isn't a book in the house that one of us hasn't tackled."
"So your family is coming for Easter," said Harry casually a few minutes later.
"They are," said Hermione, looking up as she took the last items out of her bag. She seemed to look right through his calm exterior. "Don't be scared, Harry. You'll like my aunt and uncle and cousins."
"Yes, but will they like me?" questioned Harry. Hermione stood up, and she smiled at him.
"They're not the ones I'm worried about," she said, and he looked at her blankly. She'd been saying variations of the same thing all afternoon.
"When are you going to let me in on who's really going to hate me?" said Harry. Hermione opened her mouth as if she was actually going to answer his question, but she was interrupted.
"Hermione! Harry! Come downstairs!" called Mr. Granger. "Mum and Angelica are home!"
Harry couldn't help but sigh as he followed Hermione back down the stairs. She stopped him at the base and caught his eye.
"I'll tell you," Hermione assured. "Don't worry. Then again, if this doesn't go well, I won't need to."
That made him feel better.
* * *
"Angelica!"
Mr. Granger was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a squirming baby dressed in a blue jumper. Upon seeing her older sister, she stretched her arms out, and Hermione gladly accepted her. Mr. Granger was beaming proudly at both his daughters as they walked into the kitchen together.
"Accident would be a more appropriate name," whispered Mr. Granger jokingly to Harry as they followed behind Hermione, "but Angelica was the closest Hermione and Alice would allow."
Harry laughed. Hermione had sat Angelica on the counter and was talking to her; the back door was open, and Harry guessed that Mrs. Granger had stepped out in the yard for a moment. Sure enough, she appeared a few seconds later, sliding the glass door shut behind her. She smiled warmly when she saw her daughter and Harry, and one glance was enough for Harry to know which parent Hermione favored. Still, despite her friendly smile, Mrs. Granger's tone sounded a little strained.
"Hermione! It's always so good to see you," she said, and they embraced awkwardly. Harry stepped back, and Mr. Granger was shooting a concerned look at his wife and oldest daughter. Mrs. Granger seemed to notice Harry at that moment. "It's nice to see you too, Harry."
"You too," said Harry awkwardly, but he smiled nevertheless. "Thank you for inviting me to stay with you this week."
"You needn't thank us," reminded Mr. Granger. He seemed to look at his wife pointedly. "Our home is always open to Hermione's friends."
"Of course," said Mrs. Granger, scooping up the baby from the counter. She looked at Hermione disapprovingly. "You shouldn't sit the baby there, Hermione. She's not old enough to know not to crawl off."
"I was holding her, Mum," said Hermione, and she had been. Angelica simply clasped her hands together and started to cry.
"Shh," cooed Mrs. Granger. "You're sleepy, aren't you? You should have had your afternoon nap ages ago!"
She was already fleeing in the direction of the stairs, and Harry remembered seeing the nursery across the hall from the guest bedroom. Hermione was biting her lip, and Mr. Granger almost looked agitated.
"Er," he said at last, eyeing the teenagers. "She's not in the greatest spirit. I think Malcolm tried to bite her."
His eyes didn't seem to give the same message as his words, but there wasn't anything to say about it. Hermione glanced between Harry and her father. Finally, Mr. Granger cleared his throat again.
"I think we're going out for the evening," he said, "because your mother wants to buy something for Troy-Linda and Mark's latest-and claims she needs a pair of new shoes for tomorrow. Is that all right?" When Hermione nodded, he turned to Harry and said kindly, "Do you have any-er, Muggle-clothing, Harry? It'd probably be best for tomorrow to be as... normal as possible."
"Er," said Harry nervously. In truth, he didn't have anything but Dudley's old pants and shirts still, all of which he could probably fit in with Hermione and her father at the same time. Hermione seemed to catch onto his nervousness.
"Don't worry," assured Hermione. "I'll help you find something. I need to get a new skirt and blouse myself."
"Thanks," said Harry. At about that moment, Mrs. Granger appeared a few feet from the doorway. She didn't have Angelica, which obviously meant she'd put the baby down for a nap. She started to turn sharply, as if she was going somewhere else, but Mr. Granger called her on it.
"Alice, why don't you come in here for a second? I know you want to get ready for the evening, but I think there's something we need to discuss first." He raised an eyebrow at Hermione, and the look on his face said that neither she nor Hermione would be leaving until their difference was settled.
* * *
"Maybe I should leave," said Harry, a bit uncomfortably. He tugged at his shirt; he and Hermione were both still wearing their Hogwarts uniforms, minus the robes. Hermione's eyes were pleading with him, and Mr. Granger put his hand on Harry's shoulder a bit forcefully. He quietly took a seat next to Hermione at the breakfast counter.
"Ned, please," said Mrs. Granger. "Is this really necessary?"
"Yes," said Mr. Granger with a raised eyebrow. "I don't want to be out in public with the two of you together until you've settled whatever difference has come between you. Honestly, the two of you used to be so close, but it's almost been painful to be in the same room as the two of you since this summer. Alice? Maybe you could start?"
"Oh, fine," she stared at her daughter, and her expression shifted away from anger. She gave Hermione a genuine smile. "I don't think this practice of witchcraft is such a good idea, honey. It's just not normal. Wouldn't you be happier to come back home and attend the local school?"
"No," said Hermione softly. "I love Hogwarts, Mum."
"I don't," muttered Mrs. Granger. She looked at her husband pleadingly. "It's not so much all the witchcraft and wizardry, but-well, yes, it is. You're so smart, Hermione, why waste all that? It wouldn't be too late to enroll you in school, and you'd be caught up in no time. You've always had such excellent grades; you wouldn't have any trouble getting in the university of your choice."
"I don't want to go to a Muggle university," said Hermione.
"There isn't any higher education in that world, though!" exclaimed Mrs. Granger. "How do you plan to succeed in life?"
"There is too," said Hermione defensively. "There is one wizarding institute in America for graduate work, but it isn't needed. I'll leave Hogwarts a fully qualified witch."
Mrs. Granger grew quiet for a second. Harry and Mr. Granger had both scooted away from the debate. "It's so unusual, dear. I'm sure your father agrees with me in saying that it would be wonderful if you'd come home. Like I said, it wouldn't be too late to start your regular education again. Remember when you were little? You used to say you wanted to be a dentist like your father and I!"
"Mum, I wanted to be a princess," said Hermione almost impatiently, "and an astronaut, a writer, a ballerina..."
Mr. Granger chuckled, and he stepped closer to his wife. "I can't disagree with your mother in saying it would be wonderful if you were home more often," he said, "but I want you to do what you really love. I also want you to be safe, which is part of the reason I wanted to have this talk-"
"We've gotten so many messages from Professor Dumbledore this year, Hermione," interrupted Mrs. Granger. "It's worrisome having you so far away in so much trouble!"
"Mum, Hogwarts is perfectly safe!" said Hermione. She looked to Harry to back her up.
"Er, she's right," said Harry hesitantly, not because he didn't believe what he was saying but because he was afraid of angering Mrs. Granger. "Hogwarts is one of the safest places within the wizarding world. Hermione could have gotten into a bit of trouble anywhere-any one of us could have."
Mr. Granger looked satisfied, but Mrs. Granger bit her lip. "Hermione," she said, and Harry knew she was going to try one last time. "Please, this isn't natural..."
"It is too! It's perfectly natural! I'm a witch, Mum!" exclaimed Hermione. "I'll always be a witch. You can take me out of Hogwarts and force me to go to a Muggle school, but I'll always be a witch. You never had a problem with it before, but now you do!"
"Dear, I'm just not sure if it's the best thing for Angelica to grow up around," said Mrs. Granger, and Harry put his hand on Hermione's arm. "Your grandmother gave me a lot to think about when I was-"
"I should have known Grandma Granger had something to do with this!" burst Hermione, and she nearly jumped off her stool. Suddenly, she reddened, "I'm sorry, Daddy."
"Mum had something to do with this," repeated Mr. Granger. He looked down at his wife. "Didn't she?"
"She just made a good point," said Mrs. Granger lightly. "You have to admit-"
"Dear, you've had precious few good things to say about my mother over the years," said Mr. Granger, "and I find it hard to believe that's changing now. I know Mum is a very persuasive person, but she's also very set in her ways. You know that as well as I do."
Mrs. Granger was starting to look very small. She blinked a few times, and she reached out and grabbed her daughter's hand. The last trace of anger and upset disappeared from her face, and she smiled very openly.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Mrs. Granger. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I just want you to do whatever makes you happy."
"That's Hogwarts," said Hermione, and Harry dropped his hand from her arm. He didn't need to worry about her jumping at her mother anymore. Slowly, her face broke into a grin.
And so did Mrs. Granger's. "Let's see how the rest of the term goes," she said softly. "I'm still a little concerned about your safety."
"Hermione's old enough to make her own decisions and watch out for herself," said Mr. Granger. He wrapped his arm around his wife. "Now, who's ready for dinner and shopping?"
* * *
There was a knock at the guest bedroom door. Harry eyed his reflection in the mirror one last time before crossing the room to open the door. He sighed as he fingered the back of his hair. It was no use; the unruly black strands just popped out of place when he pulled his hand back. Harry sighed again, adjusting his glasses and tugging the collar of his Muggle shirt, and he let Hermione in.
She looked much different than usual. Harry was used to seeing her in robes, whether for ordinary or formal occasion. Now, Hermione was wearing a light blue blouse and skirt. Her hair fell in the same loose curls it had for the Christmas Dance.
"You look beautiful, Hermione," said Harry, and she pushed past him to the mirror.
"Thank you said Hermione absently. She wore an anxious expression. You can't see it, right?"
"Can't see what?" pressed Harry, confused.
"My-my scars. From the Forveret Bursen," stammered Hermione. She lowered her voice. "They-my family-don't know just how bad it was."
Harry understood at once. If he parents and relatives knew how much she'd endured over the last seven and a half months, they would most certainly reconsider their decision to let her return to Hogwarts at the end of the week. Harry touched her arm reassuringly.
"You look beautiful," he repeated, "and no, I can't see any of your burns."
Hermione smiled gratefully. "You look hand-nice," she said, though her hands had already moved to straighten his tie and attempt to smooth his hair.
"I'm-er, not used to dressing up like this," admitted Harry, and Hermione frowned.
"What?" she said a bit angrily. "Was it just easier for the Dursleys to lock you up in the cupboard than buy you something nice to wear when they had company?"
"Er, not really," said Harry, but he gulped. Hermione was exactly right. She stepped back and sighed, removing her fingers from Harry's hair.
"I think most of my relatives would be politer than mentioning your hair," said Hermione, still eyeing Harry, "but if any one of them would say anything, I invite them to tame it."
"It's really not that bad, right?" said Harry hopefully. Hermione kissed his cheek.
"Of course not," she said sincerely. "It's just part of you, Harry. It's actually rather cute."
Harry blushed furiously, mumbling a brief thanks, and he was thankful when they were interrupted by the doorbell downstairs.
"Come on," said Hermione, tugging his arm. "I apologize in advance if they scare you at all."
They were on the stairs. "They won't," assured Harry. The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a towheaded boy appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hermione!" he squealed, throwing his arms around her and nearly making her fall back into Harry. The boy didn't look any older than four or five.
"Mikolas!" exclaimed Hermione as she caught her balance on the railing. "You shouldn't jump on someone as they're walking down the stairs!"
"I'm sorry, Hermione!" said the little boy quickly. They had reached the bottom of the staircase. Harry could hear voices coming from the entryway. Suddenly, Mikolas, who was still hugging Hermione, caught sight of Harry and hid his face against Hermione.
"Who's he?" asked Mikolas shyly.
"Him?" questioned Hermione, gesturing to Harry. "This is my friend Harry. We go to school together. Harry, this is my cousin Mikolas."
Mikolas still eyed Harry shyly, but he stuck his hand out. "How old are you?" he asked, holding up four fingers. "I'm four, but I'll be five in two weeks!"
Harry chuckled. "I'm fifteen," he said.
"Wow," Mikolas breathed. "Hermione's fifteen, too. You're both a lot older than me!"
Both Harry and Hermione laughed, and Mikolas kissed his cousin's cheek. "I'm going to go see Aunt Alice and Uncle Ned now!" he exclaimed before dashing off.
Harry smiled as he looked at Hermione underneath a raised eyebrow. "So far your family seems nice enough."
The two walked toward the kitchen, and he heard more laughing and talking. In addition to Hermione's parents and Mikolas, five blonds, ranging in age from newborn to middle age were gathered in the room.
"These are the McGregors," explained Hermione. "They're my mum's sister's family, and their numbers put even the Weasley's to shame."
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Harry understood Hermione's comment as a second car full of McGregors arrived. Harry stood in the corner with Hermione, amazed.
"You didn't believe me, did you," whispered Hermione, and Harry shook his head. She grinned. "There are eleven of them-Aunt Linda and Uncle Mark, and of course Mikolas. Peter is their oldest son; he's eighteen; then there's Annmarie, and she's about our age. Then there are Julius, Malcolm, and Elisabeth. Mikolas fits in between her and the twins, Naomi and Nicole. Finally, there's Troy, and he was only born a few weeks-"
Hermione had lost Harry in the sea of names and ages long before she was interrupted by a booming voice.
"Hermione!" bellowed a large man with a thick beard. He was even bigger than her father, and he also had an accent.
"It's good to see my niece," he was saying. "What are you doing over here in the corner? You haven't seen us since Christmas! I can see you haven't grown an inch since then, either," he chuckled. "Maybe we'll just have another short one in the family-now, who's this?"
Hermione looped her arm through Harry's. "This is my friend, Harry Potter," she said. "We go to school together. I'm sure Mum told you he was coming?"
"Ah, yes," said Mr. McGregor, stroking his beard before thrusting his hand forward. He gave Harry such a vigorous handshake that Harry thought his arm would be ripped straight off. "Mark McGregor. Pleased to meet you, son."
"You too, sir," managed Harry, wishing desperately to rub his shoulder. Hermione grinned as her uncle walked away, rubbing Harry's shoulder for him.
"Uncle Mark is American," said Hermione. "He played football with Dad at university. He really doesn't mean any harm. He's just a bit overenthusiastic."
Harry nodded grimly. "They seem nice enough," he repeated. "I still don't know what you warned me for."
"You'll see," said Hermione darkly. There was a moment of silence, and then her face brightened. She kissed Harry's cheek quickly.
"I'll be right back," said Hermione. Before he knew what was happened, she had disappeared in the direction of a plump blond woman that Harry couldn't help but like to Mrs. Weasley. He looked around, caught in a sea of McGregors.
"You must be Harry."
Harry turned around to see a tall, lanky boy offering his hand. He must have had a startled expression on his face because the boy chuckled at Harry.
"Don't be scared, lad," he advised, "though I would be if I was the bloke standing alone in the middle of a Granger-McGregor reunion. I'm Peter McGregor, Hermione's cousin."
Harry shook his hand, feeling fortunate that Peter didn't have his father's death grip. "Harry Potter," he said. "I'm just one of Hermione's friends."
"I know," said Peter, leaning against the counter next to Harry. "We all knew you were coming. Mum warned us all to be on our best behavior. I believe it was mostly for Julius and Malcolm's benefit-" he gestured to two boys, both younger than Harry, who were chasing around a younger girl, presumably their sister. "Leave Elisabeth alone, you two!" He grinned apologetically at Harry. "Do you have any siblings?"
"No," said Harry. "I'm an only child."
"I'll give you a few of mine," offered Peter, cringing as Mikolas tore in front of them and stepped on Peter's foot. "It's nice being away to university, though it took me a while to get used to the peace and quiet!"
Harry was about to ask him where he went to school when a girl of about Hermione's age and height appeared carrying a dozing toddler.
"Hey sis," said Peter.
"Hey Peter," handing him the little girl. Harry figured it was one of the twins Hermione had mentioned. She gave him a warm smile. "I'm Annmarie. You must be Harry. I hope Peter hasn't started in with horror stories about our family. We really aren't bad, just... numerous."
Harry couldn't argue with that. "No, no horror stories," said Harry with a smile.
"That's a relief," said Annmarie, and she glanced to her mother and Mrs. Granger. Hermione was also over there, playing with a baby. "Honestly, after all the time Mum spent in the car warning us..." Annmarie shook her head.
"What are you talking about?" said Harry, bewildered.
"Oh, you haven't heard?" said Peter with a chuckle, clapping Harry on the back. "Mum and Aunt Alice nearly have your and Hermione's wedding planned!"
Harry blushed scarlet, about to protest. However, Annmarie had already started to talk.
"Oh, pay him no mind," she commented. "All my brothers, every one of them, are practical jokers. And Mum, she's just a hopeless romantic. I understand you and Hermione are only friends."
"Yes, I do too," said Peter. "I was just joking with you, Harry."
"We are," said Harry anyway. He was nearly thrown off balance by a tiny girl who looked to be seven or eight. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she stammered. "Hi! My name's Elisabeth. Are you Hermie's friend?"
"Yes," said Harry. "I am. My name's Harry. It's nice to meet you, Elisabeth."
The little girl was still staring at him, awestruck. Her older siblings were laughing uncontrollably. She glared at them. "Malcolm says-" Elisabeth blushed and lowered her voice. "He says you're a wizard! Are you?"
Harry looked nervously from Annmarie to Peter. Did they all know about Hogwarts? They must have because Peter nodded at him.
"Er, yes, I am," said Harry, and Elisabeth gasped.
"Hermione's a witch!" she blurted, blushing again. "I don't like witches. They scare me. Hermione's really nice, though, so I like her."
One of her brothers burst in at that moment, and Elisabeth took off running from him before Harry had a chance to answer. He looked at Peter and Annmarie uncertainly again.
"Don't worry," said Peter. "We all already know."
"The little ones understand they're not allowed to talk about it outside of the family," added Annmarie, "so you needn't worry. We, at least, are proud to have a witch in the family!"
Harry was about to ask about the at least part when he was interrupted once again. This time, it was Hermione.
"Annmarie! Peter!" she called, hugging them both before returning to Harry's side. "I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to say hello to Aunt Linda, and I hadn't met Troy yet. I see you've met my cousins, yes?"
"A few of them," said Harry with a lopsided grin.
"There are an awful lot of us!" exclaimed Annmarie. She was holding her sleeping sister again.
At that moment, the doorbell rang again, and Harry met Hermione's maternal grandparents, her widowed uncle, and his eleven-year-old daughter, Sasha. Harry was really starting to enjoy himself. Everyone had made him to feel welcome, and he loved to see Hermione happy after all the pain and heartache she'd suffered through in the last few months. He'd forgotten about her ominous attitude of earlier when the doorbell rang again. Hermione paled.
"Is something wrong?" whispered Harry.
"Er, no," said Hermione, "nothing wrong. It's just Grandma Granger. Come on, Mum told me to get the door when she came."
Harry followed her to the front door, his happy mood fading. There had been something her tone that made him feel more than a little uneasy. Hermione unlocked the door, and it swung open.
The first thing Harry noticed was the elderly woman's forced smile. The second was the large black bible she held in one hand. Finally, she didn't have the same happy, twinkling blue eyes as Mr. Granger. Hers were gray, and they were staring disapprovingly at Harry. He swallowed hard.
"Happy Easter, Grandma," said Hermione, and she hugged the older woman. She didn't return her granddaughter's affection. "Grandma, I'd like you to meet someone. This is my friend, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Grandma Granger."
She was still looking at him disapprovingly, but Harry smiled at the elder Mrs. Granger anyway.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger," said Harry politely.
"It's Ms. Granger!" she snapped shaking her head. "Of course, I didn't expect any manners to be taught at that school of yours."
"I'm sorry, ma'am," said Harry automatically.
"Humph," said Ms. Granger, still glaring at him. "So what brings you here, Mr. Potter?"
"I invited him, Grandma," explained Hermione quickly. She got the same disapproving look as Harry.
"I asked Harry," said Ms. Granger coolly. "Isn't your own family celebrating this year?"
"Er, no," said Harry. "Both my parents are deceased."
"An orphan? Unfortunate." She didn't seem very upset. "How long has it been?"
"Almost fifteen years," said Harry softly. "I was just a baby when they passed away."
"An accident, then?"
"Of sorts," said Harry, feeling very uncomfortably. Hermione was sending him apologetic glances.
"Very well," said Ms. Granger. "And what sort were they?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," said Harry, but he knew full well where she was going with this. Many things began clicking into place.
"I mean," said Ms. Granger, "to know if they were normal or if they were of the other sort. The sort engaging in the same nonsense as the two of you. A witch and a wizard?"
Harry wasn't about to lie and dishonor his parents, their deaths, and his kind. "Yes, my mother was a witch and my father a wizard."
"How long did you say it's been? Fourteen years? Very tragic."
Ms. Granger didn't sound the least bit sorry.
* * *
Harry's good mood had departed the moment Ms. Granger had arrived. Her words had cut more deeply than he was willing to admit, and he no longer felt comfortable around Hermione's other relatives. He couldn't help but feel relieved when they began to leave; Hermione's maternal grandparents were the first to go, along with her uncle and Sasha. They had left right after dinner, but the McGregors and Ms. Granger stayed on.
Dinner had been even worse than the scene in the entryway, and it had nothing to do with the food. Harry's stomach had began to turn at the moment Ms. Granger suggested that they pray before they ate, and it had flipped over completely when she asked to lead. She made a great show of asking the Lord for his forgiveness on behalf of her granddaughter's "many sins." Harry had lost his appetite completely when she finished and looked up at him darkly. Hermione had squeezed his hand under the table and sent him many more sincerely apologetic looks. She'd apologized to him every time they'd gotten a moment alone, and, even though he assured her it wasn't her fault, he still knew she felt awful.
Now, the McGregors were starting to leave, and Harry actually found him wishing they could stay longer. He'd hit it off fairly well with Peter; the older boy seemed to loathe Ms. Granger as much as Harry wanted to. Even so, Harry hung back as Hermione hugged her younger cousins. Mr. McGregor had to pry Mikolas off her.
"It's been good seeing you, Hermione," he said warmly, hugging his niece with one arm, picking Mikolas up with the other. He straightened, shaking Harry's hand again. "It was nice meeting you, too, Harry." Then, he bent down again and said quietly, "Don't let anything she said about the two of you take any root. She's always been a meddlesome old bat, if you ask me. I'm proud of the two of you. Take care."
Mr. McGregor winked, smiling at them as his walked out the front door. Mrs. McGregor also had kind words for them, as well as hugs for both teenagers.
"He's right you know," she said hastily, "even though I don't approve of calling anyone an old bat. I just wanted you to know, Harry, that you're welcome at our home anytime. Do take care, both of you."
"Crazier than a loon," muttered Peter. He clapped Harry on the back. "Come again, Harry. I'll see you this summer, Herms. Have a good term."
And with that, the last McGregor was out the door. Mr. Granger had gone out onto the driveway to talk to Uncle Mark on his way out, and Hermione's mother and grandmother retreated back into the kitchen. Angelica had already been put down for her nap.
"Fools, that's what they are," Ms. Granger was saying from the kitchen. From the entryway, Harry heard her tap her fingers rapidly against the countertop. "Honestly, Alice, I know she's your sister, but there isn't a single parallel between the two of you. All those children, and that Peter! To have a child of eighteen years and a marriage of seventeen is a very clear sin! Do they not care what others think? Do they not care what the Lord thinks?"
"Oh, Mum," said Mrs. Granger, "we were all young once. Surely it's been long enough to look beyond any of those old mistakes-"
"I regret nothing more than I regret my youth," said the elder woman sharply, and the sound of shuffling feet could be heard on the hardwood floor. "It's a shame to regret, Alice, a shame. It's not too late for Hermione, you know, not if you stop this nonsense now. I've prayed for her. She can be forgiven."
"I don't want to hear this," said Hermione suddenly. Harry stopped listening to the conversation in the kitchen. "She won't leave for a while. Do you want to go upstairs?"
"Sure," said Harry. Hermione was already on the steps, taking them so quickly that Harry was sure she would trip.
* * *
"She's insufferable!" exclaimed Hermione a few minutes later. She drew her knees into her chest. They had both changed from their nice outfits into casual clothes and were sitting on the window seat in the guest bedroom.
"Tell me about her," said Harry, letting out a deep breath. He ran a hand through his untidy hair. "I get the feeling she doesn't think too highly of us."
"You noticed?" said Hermione sarcastically, and then her expression changed completely. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm just sitting here, complaining, when it was you that she was so horrid-"
"At least I don't have to be related to her," said Harry gently, interrupting. He touched her arm kindly. "I know she lived with you when you were younger. How did you-and your father, for that matter-turn out so normal?"
"Normal? I'm a witch!" said Hermione, which made Harry laugh. She shrugged. "I don't really know. She's always been very religious, but it's not so noticeable when she isn't opposed to something. When she lived here, she acted like a nanny to me, and she used to read from a children's bible to me for an hour each day. We never missed a Sunday church service, but other then that, she was just a typical Muggle grandmother."
"Why'd she come live with you?"
"My parents were older when I was born," said Hermione, "but don't tell them I said that-Mum's thirty-five indefinitely if anyone asks. Anyway, they were both professionals, and they couldn't be at home with me as much as they wanted, but they didn't want to hire a stranger to look after me. Eventually, as peculiar as she could be at times, Mum and Dad decided it couldn't hurt any to have her care for me during the day. The daily commute got to be too much for her, so she simply moved in."
Harry nodded. "Dudley had a nanny of sorts," he reflected. "She'd come over when Aunt Petunia was going somewhere that Dudley couldn't come with her. She'd play with him and fatten him up with even more sweets than Aunt Petunia."
"What did they do with you?" inquired Hermione. Her eyes were flashing, and he knew how greatly she disapproved of the Dursleys. Now that he had met her grandmother, he knew that she was one of the few people that could relate to having a relative that despised magic.
"Sent me to Mrs. Figg," said Harry with a shrug. "She lived a few houses down on Privet Drive and had a lot of cats. You could say she was a bit insane, but looking back, I think she might have just been lonely."
Hermione looked like she was caught between giggling at the idea of Harry's crazy elderly neighbor and scolding the Dursleys for their behavior toward Harry. She had brought a pillow from her room, and she clutched it tightly.
"I don't think Grandma was always like this. She's never been much for smiling, at least not in the years I've known her," said Hermione, "or when Dad was growing up, but I've seen pictures of her when she was in her late teens, and I don't think I've ever seen someone so happy."
"Then what happened?" asked Harry. He tried to imagine the woman downstairs smiling, and he found it impossible. Hermione seemed to think the same thing because she shrugged again.
"I don't know," said Hermione. "I think it might have been when Grandpa died."
"Oh," said Harry, and it suddenly dawned on him that she would have been married at one point or another.
"It was a long time ago, long before I was born. Dad doesn't even remember his father," explained Hermione quickly. "Grandma wouldn't talk about him when he was growing up. My dad knows little more about his father than his name, Albert Daugherty. Grandma won't even show Dad pictures. She says it's too painful."
"Oh," said Harry again. Hermione smiled at him, and she reached her hand out to him.
"Let's not talk about her," she said. "What did you think about the McGregors?"
"They're quite a crowd," said Harry. He was trying to put into words what he'd thought of each of them, but he was interrupted by a cry from the room across the hall. Hermione started to stand, but she stopped when she heard the stairs creak. Angelica's cries ceased a few seconds later. However, that wasn't the last thing Harry and Hermione heard. There were footsteps on the stairs again, but they stopped suddenly.
"Alice! Come up here right now!" called Ms. Granger. She sounded frantic.
"Mildred! What's wrong? Did something happen to the baby?" Hermione's mother seemed very startled as she ran up the stairs. Hermione stood and started to make for the door.
"Of course not," snapped Ms. Granger. "It's that!"
"A closed door?" Mrs. Granger sounded puzzled.
"That's right!" said Ms. Granger. "A closed door! Isn't the nonsense Hermione engages in already enough?"
"Excuse me?"
"That boy!" spat Ms. Granger. "She's in there, alone, with that boy! Can you even imagine the things they must be doing?"
"Mildred, Hermione and Harry are merely friends," said Mrs. Granger calmly.
"You encourage it!" shrieked the old woman, and Harry had to resist the urge to cover his ears. The footsteps had started again, and he knew they were approaching the door to the guest bedroom. It swung open a few seconds later. Ms. Granger was fuming.
"See?" said Mrs. Granger pointedly. "Hey, kids. Are you two okay?"
"Just fine, Mum," said Hermione. It sounded forced, and Harry noticed she was averting her eyes from her grandmother.
"Harry?" prompted Mrs. Granger. She was now frowning at the elderly woman.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Granger," said Harry politely. "I don't think I ever thanked you for dinner, though. It was excellent."
Mrs. Granger beamed, shutting the door. She wasn't fast enough, though, because both Harry and Hermione caught sight of Ms. Granger's hateful expression.
* * *
That night, Harry found it difficult to sleep. He and Hermione had not discussed anything further after her grandmother had made issue about the closed door. They ended up playing five straight games of wizard's chess in her room before rushing downstairs at Mrs. Granger's terrified screams. Harry had been sure she was being murdered and was quite relieved to hear that a stray had just hopped the fence into their yard. Apparently, dogs really spooked her.
Ms. Granger left shortly after, and Harry began to enjoy himself again. Mr. Granger fixed sugar free ice cream sundaes for the family, and then Harry had studied while Hermione and her mother gave Angelica a bath. They had ended up outside after that, sitting together on the porch swing. Hermione had rested her head against his shoulder, and they had talked for a long time about nothing in particular. It was easily Harry's favorite memory of his time at the Grangers' so far.
It was late when they had finally gone upstairs again, and Harry had been sure he would fall right asleep. According to the digital clock at his bedside, that had been an hour ago, and Harry was even farther from sleep than he had been then. He had a lot on his mind, and none of it was anything he really wanted to think about. He rolled over and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he had successfully started to drift off, but he was awakened. There had been a pop and then a whisper, followed by a very muffled scream. Harry sat straight up in bed. He located his glasses in the dark and was in Hermione's room a second later.
Sure enough, she wasn't alone. The look on her face reflected both confusion and astonishment, and Harry's eyes settled on the other person in the room.
"Sirius?"
"It's good to see you again, Harry," said Sirius warmly. He wore an exhausted expression, but he grinned at the sight of his godson.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" stammered Harry. He added hastily, "Not that it isn't good to see you."
Sirius chuckled. "I've been trying to reach you for days. I went to Hogwarts first, early yesterday morning, but you weren't there. Remus said he'd thought you went home with Ron."
"Ron's in Belgium," said Hermione. She had pulled back the canopy on her bed and sat back down. Harry sat down next to her, but Sirius still stood a few paces away.
"I know," said Sirius, grimacing. "I Apparated into the living room of a very nice apartment-and right on top of Percy Weasley. Needless to say, he was a bit surprised to see me. Ron somehow convinced him I wasn't a deranged criminal and told me where I could find you.
"I'd had it with Apparation, so I transformed into Padfoot as soon as I reached Dorchester. I didn't mean to startle you, Hermione, by Apparating into your bedroom, but your mother chased me away with a broom earlier, and I figured I had little choice in the matter."
Harry laughed, and Hermione exclaimed, "So it was you! I didn't think it was anything but an ordinary stray! Mum's just terrified of dogs. A neighbor's dog bit her when she was little, and she's hated them ever since."
"I'll keep that in mind if I have to pay you a visit here in the future," chuckled Sirius. He summoned the chair from her desk and sat down. "I'm sure you're eager to know why I'm here."
Harry nodded earnestly, as did Hermione. Sirius took a deep breath, and he withdrew something from his pocket. It was a piece of parchment.
"The Ten Smokes of Brilliance?" asked Sirius with a raised eyebrow.
"Er, yes," said Harry quickly. He suddenly felt very numb. "What about them?"
"I received this own from Remus," said Sirius. "He wrote that you asked him about the Ten Smokes of Brilliance when he talked to you several days ago. What do you know about them, Harry?"
"I know that they're a powerful form of Dark Magic," said Harry slowly.
"How did you find out about them?" demanded Sirius. The look on his face was foreign, bordering on anger, but it was also of great concern.
"I read something about them when I was working on my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay," said Hermione softly.
"Why share them with Harry?" pressed Sirius. Hermione's eyes found Harry's in the darkness. Wordlessly, a decision was made. They had resolved not to tell anyone about Malfoy's story, and that even included Sirius.
"I just thought it was interesting, that's all," said Hermione. She sounded very small. Sirius's eyes flashed; Harry had never seen him look so disturbed.
"Remus also said you've been awfully keen about your essays," said Sirius. "He decided to talk to Madam Pince about the two of you and Ron. It seems that you've been researching a lot more than your subjects lately. What are you looking for?"
"I've just been looking up things about the Dark Scar I didn't understand," suggested Harry. He hoped it sounded convincing. At his side, Hermione nodded seriously.
"Harry," said Sirius softly, "I'm not as dumb as you might think. Neither is Remus. We're both capable of putting two and two together."
"Well," said Harry, squirming uncomfortably, "we're just interested in knowing more about all that's happened at Hogwarts this year."
Sirius's eyes flashed. "Dumbledore is handling those matters already," he said flatly. "It is not for you to be concerned about."
"We're just curious," said Hermione bravely. This time, Harry did the earnest nodding, but he stopped suddenly, startled. Something had moved behind him. Much to his relief, Crookshanks crawled out of the covers pushed to the foot of Hermione's bed. He leapt to the floor and walked to Sirius.
"Curiosity killed the cat," said Sirius, looking pointedly at Crookshanks. The cat froze in place, his yellow eyes focused on Harry and Hermione. Neither he nor Sirius blinked.
"This-everything that has gone on-is not for you to be concerned about," repeated Sirius. "Dumbledore-"
"But Dumbledore isn't doing anything about it!" exclaimed Hermione. Harry could tell she couldn't help herself.
"Dumbledore knows best," said Sirius, continuing as if he hadn't been interrupted. "He is yet to be wrong in his decisions. You need to trust his good judgment and not interfere."
"We're not interfering!" protested Harry. Sirius looked at him, his tired face worried.
"You might not be interfering," he said, "but you are putting yourself at risk."
The monotone disappeared. Sirius almost sounded desperate. Harry bit his lip.
"If Dumbledore is handling it," he reasoned, "then there isn't any harm in learning. It's just that-learning."
"No!" barked Sirius. Harry was stunned at the exclamation, and Hermione recoiled next to him. Sirius's face softened, but it had been enough. Harry knew that he, Ron, and Hermione weren't the only ones doubting Dumbledore at the moment.
"You aren't to pursue it any farther," said Sirius firmly. "There is nothing that you can do."
"Sirius-" said Hermione, and she stopped. Harry looked at her questioningly. He wasn't going to hold his tongue.
"Dumbledore isn't doing anything about it," said Harry, anger rising from the pit of his stomach. "I think we'd know if he was. If he's not going to do something about it, then someone has to!"
"Someone already is!" barked Sirius. "Again, you aren't to pursue it any farther!"
"Why not?" pressed Harry. He knew what kind of nerves he would hit with his next statement. "I thought you were supposed to be against Voldemort. How can you be against something if you aren't willing to fight it? Standing back and watching it happen is almost as bad as helping it along!"
"Harry," said Sirius weakly. He looked defeated. Then, his eyes grew very cold. He stared at Harry.
"I am fighting Voldemort," said Sirius darkly. "I have always fought against Voldemort. I've been fighting him for longer than you've been alive, Harry, and it is not your place to tell me what to do. Legally, I am the guardian of you, an underage wizard. I forbid you to pursue this further!"
"I'm sorry," muttered Harry.
"I don't want to be harsh," said Sirius, and Harry realized that tears had formed in his eyes. He looked up, almost as if he were reminiscing. Finally, he leveled his gaze at Harry once more. He sounded pained.
"Sixteen years ago," he said hollowly. "Sixteen years ago, give or take a few days, Voldemort launched the most brutal attack of his first reign. It went on for nearly a week-small raids on Muggle towns, attacks on wizards he knew didn't support him. On the first night alone, the death toll was twenty-six-an entire street full of Muggles killed. It became to be known by the name of the town, `what happed at Waterford,' they'd say, but it wasn't just Muggles killed.
"We-the old crowd-lost four of our own. The McKinnons and the Bones. Your mother-" said Sirius. The pain on his face was obvious. "Your mother, Harry, was almost six months pregnant with you. On Dumbledore's orders, she had left Britain. We knew, even then, that your parents were targets. James stayed behind, and I went with your mother to look out for her. He was in Waterford that night, Harry. He was with the Bones and McKinnons just before their deaths. He had left just before the Death Eaters arrived.
"It took several weeks to sort out, but it became obvious that all four wizards that lost their lives that night refused to give information about James and Lily's locations. It was James, as Dumbledore's direct contact with the resistance, which Voldemort wanted dead. He wasn't stupid-he still isn't-he knew he couldn't get to Dumbledore. He must have felt that the resistance would have fallen apart without James to lead it.
"We know now that your mother wasn't a target," said Sirius, "but we didn't know it then. The reason she'd left the country in the first place was because she'd nearly been killed in a raid. The Death Eaters must have wanted to kill you, even before you were born."
"What does this have to do with what's happening now?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"I was with your mother in the days following that attack," said Sirius heavily. "At first, we didn't know James had escaped. No body had been found, but we knew he had been there. Your mother was terrified. The love between your parents was like no other, Harry, and the love they already had for you was extraordinary. She didn't want you to grow up without a father. She didn't want to you to grow up in a world so plagued with war.
"I promised Lily something that night. I had already agreed to be your godfather. I think she knew what it would eventually come to, that she and James had a limited amount of time left, because she was very matter of fact in her wording.
"Sirius, I understand that Voldemort is more powerful than any of us will ever dream to be. Even if he is defeated, there will always be someone else willing to follow in his footsteps. The Dark Side has never lacked for followers, and it will rise again someday. I don't want him to know this life. I don't want him to know the constant fear, the lasting pain, and the unending uncertainty. Let him grow up, Sirius. Let him make his own choices then, but lead him away from this. Promise me he won't grow up in the middle of this as we did."
"I didn't like what she said, Harry. I didn't like thinking she and James might not live to raise you themselves. I didn't like that she thought of our struggle as a war. I didn't want to promise her, but I had to," said Sirius, and he wiped his eyes. "We never spoke of it again, not once, in that precious year and a half before they died. To this day, I don't know if she ever told James. James and Remus and I were all smart, but we were nothing compared to Lily. It might not even have been an issue of intelligence. She simply accepted what we could not. She knew we were in the midst of a war, and she knew that not everyone would live to see its end. That was all."
Sirius looked very weary. The memory had made him age before Harry and Hermione's eyes. Finally, he stood.
"By being imprisoned at Azkaban for so long, I bent that promise," said Sirius. "I bent it again when you were flung into the Triwizard Tournament. Now, I know Voldemort has risen again. To allow you to do anything that would lead you into another encounter with him would be to break that promise. Your mother died for you, Harry. To uphold her wishes is the least I can do. There's precious little I can stop you from doing-I can only try dissuading you."
Harry nodded numbly. He couldn't speak. His mind was plagued with thoughts of his parents. He couldn't shake the sound of his mother's voice as she screamed at Voldemort to take her instead of him, and he broke into a clammy sweat. He felt Hermione's warm hand touch his arm.
"Okay," said Harry, unsure what he was agreeing to. Sirius had taken several steps backwards.
"Please, Harry," he said. "You needn't be involved with this. Don't risk it."
Sirius smiled thinly through his parting words, and he waved. Without further ado, he was gone, Disapparated to an unknown location.
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