Harry clung to his father as they stood up together, and managed to stay in his arms, settled on his father's hip. He was never going to let go. Never. Father would never leave him, he'd said, and Harry meant to hold him to that promise.

"Of course, Severus," Mrs. Weasley said immediately. "Anything you need."

Mr. Weasley, who was a tall man, with red hair like his sons, and whose skin got red when he was upset, even if he didn't yell like Uncle Vernon, put a hand on Mrs. Weasley's arm. "Why don't you let him tell us first, Moll?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded tiredly. "Of course. Just tell us, Severus."

Father hugged Harry a little tighter, and his voice sounded odd when he said, "Sirius Black has escaped."

The result of those words, which Harry didn't even understand, was immediate. Both of the Weasleys opened their eyes real wide, and Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with her hand, as if she was going to puke and was trying to hold it in. Harry felt kind of bad for her. She had tried to help him calm down when Father told him he couldn't come back, but he had refused her offers of cakies and other puddings, and games and stories and everything.

Finally, though, he had gone to sleep and only woken up when Father came through the Floo at last. Harry thought, probably, he'd only slept because she had spelled him with her wand, 'cause he never would have stopped waiting for Father otherwise. Father never spelled him; only when he was hurt and needed Healing. But she'd been almost as upset as Harry, he thought, and he felt bad for upsetting her.

And now she was upset again, and Harry didn't know why.

"Oh my," said Mr. Weasley. "Did he really," he continued, and it didn't sound like a question. "From Azkaban. Goodness."

"What's Azkaban?" Harry asked.

Father startled and peered at Harry's face, as if he'd forgotten -- though how could he have, with Harry in his arms? -- that Harry was even there.

"Perhaps," Mrs. Weasley said slowly, "we should get you something to eat, Harrikins, in the kitchen, while the grownups talk out here."

Harry paled. "No," he begged. "Father, don't send me 'way. Please?"

After drawing a long breath, Father gave a tiny nod. Harry's stomach unknotted. "Harry will stay in here, Molly. But Harry, you must understand that what we are going to speak of is very . . . troublesome. It concerns a very bad man who hurt a lot of people, both Wizards and Muggles. We might say things that sound frightening this evening, but I do not want for you to be frightened. I will protect you from him, I swear I will."

"I know you will, Father," Harry told him. Of course Father would.

The skin around Father's eyes crinkled, just a smidge, so Harry knew he was smiling on the inside. Father nearly always smiled just on the inside. "Very well." Father sat on a chair near the sofa and settled Harry on his lap. He directed his attention to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley again, but his hand rubbed small circles on Harry's back, which was very soothing. Harry leaned against him and held his father's other hand between his own, feeling comforted by the very sense of touch. The Dursleys had never touched him, except when they hurt him, but Father was nothing like them at all.

Father said, "I've just spent the last three hours with Dumbledore, determining what safety precautions Harry and I must take, to protect him from Black. Hogwarts is, obviously, the safest place for him--" He stopped short when Harry tugged on his hand. "What is it, son?"

Turning his face up to see his father's, Harry hesitated. He was about to break one of the most important rules he had ever learned at the Dursleys: don't ask questions. But he had already broken the "Don't interrupt" rule, and Father hadn't yelled at him, so he thought maybe it would be all right. Besides, Father had told him again and again that he was allowed to ask questions, so he swallowed down his fear and said, "You didn't say what Azkaban is."

Father nodded, with the expression that meant he understood more than just what Harry was saying. He gave Harry a little squeeze to show he wasn't angry. "No, I didn't. But I am glad you reminded me to tell you. Azkaban is a wizarding prison."

"Where they send bad little boys, right?"

Mrs. Weasley barked a laugh that sounded half a sob, and Mr. Weasley looked shocked. But Father just shook his head and said, "No. This prison is for murderers and thieves and Wizards who commit awful crimes. And as I've told you, boys who are bad only get sent to their rooms, or have their brooms taken away for a week."

With a sigh of relief at learning the truth of another of Uncle's lies, Harry smiled softly, remembering his and Draco's adventure in the lake. "Who's Serious Black?"

"Sirius," Father corrected, and Harry heard the difference this time. Maybe. "And he . . . he was a very bad man who helped kill Lily and James."

Harry felt his mouth drop open. "My parents?" he gasped.

For some reason, Father's whole body stilled for just a moment, but then he nodded anyway. "Black betrayed them to the Dark Lord, Harry, and then, when he was confronted with his perfidy, he killed another of their friends, as well as a dozen Muggles. The Aurors caught him and he was sent to Azkaban."

Harry could help but shudder. "And h-he es-escaped?"

"Stop it, Severus!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "You're scaring him."

"I'm not scared!" Harry retorted. He was, though, a bit. It wasn't every day you found out a murderer was on the loose. And worse, Sirius Black had betrayed his parents . . . "What's that mean, 'betrayed them'?"

Father sighed. "James and Lily were under a special spell that hid them, and you, too, from anyone who wasn't their friend, and didn't already know where they were living. It's called the Fidelius Charm, and the only way a person can find your home, if you're under it, is if the Secret Keeper tells them your address." A corner of Father's lip twisted up in a vicious sneer, making his face almost ugly. "That idiot, Potter, trusted Black and made him their Secret Keeper."

"And he told the Dark Lord where to find them," Harry whispered. How could someone do that to his friends? he wondered. I wouldn't ever do such a thing to Ron or Draco or even Dudley, and I don't even like him. "He wanted them to die?"

With a nod, Father looked like he was about to go, but Harry realized something else suddenly and blurted, "He wanted me to die!"

Father hugged him closer, more tightly than almost ever before. In a low voice, he said, "Yes, Harry. And I fear he might try again."

"Might come after me, you mean."

"Yes."

"Severus," Mrs. Weasley said. "Do you really think you should be telling the boy all--"

"I will not lie to my son, Molly. He deserves to know the truth, even if it is frightening."

Harry was glad to hear that. He wanted to know, and he knew Father would protect him, so he wasn't scared. Not really. "Are we going to hide, Father? In the Fidel Us?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to ask the Weasleys about. Hogwarts is very safe because of hundreds of years of warding, including that of the Founders, and at our other home, we are safe because of the Blood Wards. But if you are to still come here for studies and playing, we would need additional warding, to protect you from Black, should he come sniffing around." Father looked over the Weasleys on the sofa, and his expression was almost blank. "I would ask that, if you want Harry to keep coming to your home, that you allow us to put it under the Fidelius."

Mr. Weasley got up from the sofa and paced to the window. He stared out at what Harry knew was the back yard and the field where he and the others had played Quidditch. "I don't know, Severus. That's a pretty hefty charm to put here, when we have family all over the place that we'd have to inform. We love having Harry here, don't get me wrong, but you'll have to give us some time to consider."

"I understand," Father said, and a small line appeared next to his upper lip, which meant he was upset, but wouldn't say anything. He stood, placing Harry on his feet as he did, but Harry grabbed his hand and would not let go. "Thank you for your time this evening. And for caring for Harry today. I appreciate your hospitality. Good night."

As Mr. Weasley's mouth dropped open, Father strode toward the fireplace, his legs so long that Harry had to trot to keep up. Before they reached the hearth, however, Mrs. Weasley said, "Don't be ridiculous, Arthur! Of course we'll go under the charm. Harry needs a place to stay during the day, and we'll do all we can to protect him. Just like we would have for James and Lily!"

"Molly, let's discuss this--"

"There's no need," Mrs. Weasley insisted. "Severus was in the Order, just like we were. We all pledged our lives to the cause ten years ago. Do you think we should just turn a blind eye now? Sirius Black is a murderer, Arthur!"

"I know what he is," Mr. Weasley started, but his wife spoke right over him, "He as good as killed dear Lily and poor James, and he'll kill again. We need to help protect Harry!"

"I know." Mr. Weasley rubbed his hands over his face. "I know. You're right, of course." He looked over at Father. "Of course; we'll do anything to help."

Father had a funny look on his face, as if he were in pain, but not sure just where. But all he did was nod, and give Harry's hand a rather tight squeeze. "You'll need to decide who you want as Secret Keeper, and Albus said he would be available to cast the spell -- if you decided to take it on -- in the next few days, even tomorrow, should you wish it. Let him know when the best time will be. I'll not bring Harry back here until after then, of course."

"Of course!" Mrs. Weasley said agreeably. "I do hope we can have all this straightened out tomorrow."

"That would be best," said Father, and after a few more minutes of saying their good nights and Harry thanking Mrs. Weasley for taking care of him that day, they went back to Hogwarts.

Harry had never been so glad to see his own bed. Before he got in, though, he quickly dressed in night clothes and brushed his teeth, and fed Treacle Tart a little nibble from the biscuits he had in the back of his bottom drawer in the dresser. She purred and leant against him, begging for her chin to be scritched, and he obliged gladly, loving the soft feel of her fur on his fingers. It had been a long, long day, and he was just happy to be back home.

"Are you ready for bed?" Father called from the hallway.

Harry shoved the drawer closed before Father saw his secret stash of food. "Yes, Father!"

"Good." Father came in the room, carrying a book. "Hop in then, and we'll have a story, which I'm sure you'll miss half of when you fall asleep whilst I read."

"I won't!" Harry promised, but Father just lifted an eyebrow that said he didn't believe it. Harry thought maybe this time he was right; he was just so tired. "What story?"

"The Pauper King," Father answered, as Harry clambered into bed and pulled up his bedclothes. Treacle jumped right up after him and started turning circles near his left shoulder.

"I like that one," Harry said.

"I know." Father sat down beside Harry, resting his back against the headboard and started to read while Harry nestled in beside him. Treacle tried once to sprawl over the book, and Father pushed her away, so she started licking her paw instead, giving Father a cold, disdainful look.

Father had just turned the first page when Harry said, "Father? Do you really think he's going to try and kill me?"

Hand stilling on the page, Father closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "It's possible, son. That's why we're going to do everything we can to protect you. I won't let him hurt you."

"But why?" Harry asked. The question had been bothering him since he first heard about Sirius Black. "Why did he turn on my parents, Father? Why did he want us all dead?"

With another, smaller sigh, Father sat up a little straighter and moved so he and Harry could see each other's faces. Father's face was tense looking, and kind of . . . distressed. Like when he had heard about Aunt Petunia burning Harry's hand. "Sirius Black was a good friend of James Potter's. They were friends all through Hogwarts. But Black was never a nice man; never a good man, but an arrogant one who assumed he was better than others because he was richer, more powerful, and always picked on those weaker than he."

Father's mouth got thinner and thinner, until his lips were almost gone, except for that one lip that rose in a near snarl. "He did horrible things, even in school; I never trusted him, and I don't know if your mother ever did. . . . I would doubt it, really. Lily was very clever and kind . . ." Father stopped suddenly. He had been talking very fast, furiously, as if the subject of Sirius Black pained him and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Black sounded a bit like Dudley, in fact, and Harry knew from very personal experience how horrible such people could be.

Father went on, "James and Lily were very opposed to the Dark Lord, and I can only assume the Dark Lord offered Black something that he prized more than his friends in order to get their location. Maybe more power, or a way back into his family -- he had been disowned, last I heard. Who knows. The point is, he was in a position to destroy your family, and he took it."

"I hate him," Harry said hoarsely. He had never hated anyone more.

Father snaked an arm around behind his back and hugged him close. "You don't even know him."

"But he tried to get me killed, and anyway, he sounds mean, just like Dudders, picking on the littler kids. He was mean to you, wasn't he, Father? In school."

"He was, Harry." Father let out a harsh gust of breath. "If it were only that, I wouldn't be so absolute in keeping him away from you, but . . . I cannot forgive what he did to your mother."

Harry frowned. "Why would you ever let him come near me?"

"I would not want to, but he might have had legal . . ." Father frowned, then gave a small, cold smile. It almost gave Harry chills to see it. "He wouldn't, in fact," Father said, probably to himself, as he spoke the words so softly, "since James had no right to make him godfather at all . . ."

"Godfather? What?" Harry asked, just as the alarm sounded from the sitting room that meant they had a caller.

Father waved his wand to check the time, and frowned as he rose from Harry's bed. "I'll be right back," he said, but Harry slipped out of bed and followed him down the hall to the fireplace, where Professor Dumbledore's head bobbed alone, ringed in green fire.

"What is it, Albus that could not wait? It's nearly 11!"

"I'm sorry to intrude; I hope I haven't woken you--" the professor started.

Father interrupted, "Just spit it out, already. Harry needs his sleep, as do I."

"Very well, Severus. I hate to say it, but we were right. Sirius Black has been spotted in Hogsmeade."