Harry and Snape spent the rest of the summer brewing potions in the basement at Spinner’s End during the day and reading or talking at night. Snape made tea quite often and Harry started to like it a lot—especially when Snape snapped at him that he was allowed to have sugar and milk, if he wanted. They had tea in the evenings and sat in the central area, Harry reading school books and doing homework while Snape read fat potions texts and it was nice. Quiet, but Harry didn’t mind quiet.
One night near the end of the summer, Harry had finished his homework and asked Snape, at dinner, if he could read the paper.
Snape hesitated for a moment, then handed it to Harry. He didn’t turn back to his book, but instead focused on Harry’s face. He let Harry read the whole first page (which described the lack of headway in the case of Sirius Black, the escaped convict) before interupting him.
“Have you ever heard of Sirius Black, Harry?”
“He’s—he’s the man from the Knight Bus. The one you ripped up in the picture. The paper says he’s a killer.”
“He is. He killed thirteen people with a single curse almost twelve years ago.”
“Azkaban—that’s the wizard prison?”
“Yes.”
“So, he escaped from there.”
“Yes.”
“It says—it says he works for Voldemort.”
Snape nodded curtly. “He did.”
Harry bit his lip. “Is—is he going to come after me?”
Snape took a deep breath and put his book on the side table before leaning forward and talking in a very serious tone of voice.
“What I am going to tell you, Potter, is something that many people would not want me to tell you. They believe that you are too young and fragile for such things. I, however, know that this is something you need to know.” Here the man paused and licked his lips. “Do you remember what Professor McGonagall told you about how your parents died?”
Harry nodded and played with the knee of his trousers. They were new—Snape had given them to him, for his birthday. He swallowed. “They—He went to the house where we lived and he—he killed my dad. And my mum.”
“Yes. But your parents were in hiding, Potter. From the Dark Lord—from everyone. There is a charm known as the Fidelius Charm—it allows a person in hiding to be completely hidden if they entrust their location to only one person—the secret keeper. We, for example, are under the Fidelius Charm right now.”
“We are?”
“Yes. Professor Dumbledore is our secret-keeper. The only way that someone would be able to find us now is if Dumbledore told them where we are.”
“Which he won’t do unless he trusts them.”
“Exactly.”
“Who—who was my parents secret keeper?”
Snape paused. “Black was. He betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord.”
Harry felt an odd whirring around his ears and he blinked several times, very slowly.
“So…so, he’s the reason I don’t have a mum and dad. And Voldemort, I mean.”
“Yes.” There was no mercy in Snape’s eyes, and maybe a little bit of glee, though Harry thought he must be imagining things, because Snape was not gleeful about this. Harry knew that much. “He is also your godfather.”
The whirring was back and Harry was clutching his knees with his hands. “He—he—no.”
“Yes.” Snape’s eyes looked sympathetic but stern, as though he would not let Harry leave until he grasped this fact. “That man—“ he practically spat the word out, “—was supposed to be responsible for your safety, and instead he sold you to the Dark Lord.”
Harry wasn’t even aware he had stood up until Snape stood as well and grabbed his shoulders. Harry felt he was shaking, felt Snape’s hands reach out and steady themselves on his shoulders. “Potter.”
“I—I hate him.” He felt anger rush along his throat, the same way tears did, and he wasn’t surprised when his voice broke and the tears spilled over on the next word. “I—why would he do that?”
“No one has ever known, Potter. His family was one drenched in darkness, though he always felt himself above them. Greed, perhaps, or jealousy. But no one knows.”
“I need to know.”
“You can’t, Potter.” He was surprised to see Harry like this. The boy was normally so quiet, so well-reigned in. But no more. His eyes were distant, as if scanning the sky for Black, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. The eyes looked up, searching, and he started to shake his head.
“I need to know. I—he was their friend! He—you don’t do that, you, I would never do that, not to Neville or Hermione—“ He suddenly fell forward and found it was because Snape had roughly jerked him forward, and he felt the mans arms rest lightly on his back. “I—no, that’s—I need to know.”
“Black is the only one that knows. And he is, most assuredly, too mad by now to know anything.”
“But—he was their friend.”
“And now—“ Snape said, tilting the boys face up to look into his own, “—he is your enemy. Do not let yourself forget that.”
Harry looked up, bewildered, lost, and angry. “D’you think I ever could?”
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The day after the news about Black was broken to Harry, Snape took him to Diagon Alley to meet up with Neville and Hermione. Harry collected all his new books and quills quietly, and only cheered up when Hermione proclaimed that her parents had decided it was time for her to get a pet.
“I want to get an owl, I think.”
“Why? Just for a messenger?”
“Well—yes.”
“You can borrow a school one, or use Hedwig. What do you really want?” Harry asked as the three made a detour into the ice cream place.
“Mmh—you have a point. I’ve always wanted a kitten. A little fuzzy one, you know?”
“Brilliant!” Neville said, slurping his chocolate cone. “We’re getting a kitten!”
Hermione and Harry got their cones and walked towards the pet shop. Harry filled the other two in quielty as they ate their ice cream and talked about what kind of cat Hermione should get. Neville insisted that they all get to name it, since it would be all of their kitten, since Neville had always wanted a kitten and he knew Harry had too, hadn’t he, Harry?
The pet shop was filled with tame rats and three eyed toads and adorable little Jack Russel puppies with forked tails (“Crups,” Neville had corrected him, “They’re crups.”). Harry was playing tug of war with one when the bell to the store door rang and Harry looked up to see Ron, Percy, and Ginny Weasley enter.
“Er—hello,” Harry said, awkwardly standing. Neville and Hermione, who were looking at the assorted kittens, looked over and then came over to Harry.
“Hi,” Ron said shortly, his ears bright red with embarassment. “How—how’s your summer been?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Erm—excellent. Me and my family, we went to Egypt to visit my brother Bill—I think you met him in the hospital wing. After last year.”
“Er—was he the one who called Snape a prat or the one who gave me a high five?”
Ginny let out a small giggle. “High five. He says it’s a cool-o-meter.”
Harry smiled at her. “That sounds wicked. Hermione went to France.”
“It was fascinating. So much magical history! Did you know that during the Revolution there were court magicians that sent some sort of wasting disease into the sewers to try to defeat the rebels?” Hermione said, her face shining. Percy was the only one whose face seemed to shine in return.
“Yes, I read about that last year in a great book from the library—Une Histoire des Magicks Francais by Elward Wandworth, it’s in French but I can offer you a translation spell—“
“Oh, thank you, Percy!”
“Hello, Percy, how’s your summer been?” Neville asked. Harry shifted his attention from the awkward situation with Ron to his friend, Percy.
“Very good. The trip to Egypt was, of course, fascinating—completely different than European magic, a lot more of charms and amulets and crypts. Bill says you’ll never find anyone like the Egyptians with curses. He’s a cursebreaker, you know, with Gringotts.”
“Yeah, it’s the coolest job I’ve ever seen,” Ginny said, her eyes bright. “Next year I’m going to take Ancient Runes so I can be a cursebreaker.”
Harry grinned at Percy. “Sounds fun.” He suddenly caught a glimpse of a badge on Percy’s chest. “Percy, what’s—“ he started, making a vague motion to his chest, but Hermione answered his question by throwing her arms around Percy’s neck in delight.
“Oh! Percy, you’re Head Boy!” she said gleefully, and Percy blushed a deep red as Neville and Harry started to exclaim about it as well.
“Oi! You down there, either get to business or get out! No loiterin’, this ain’t a tea room!” the owner called out, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville went back to the kittens.
“They all look so adorable—I don’t know which one to pick,” Hermione said, cradling a small, fuzzy black one in her arms. It yawned, displaying a small pink tongue and sharp little teeth, and Hermione sighed. “I quite like this one, though.”
Harry was about to concur when he heard the familiar sound of Ron Weasley’s howl of outrage.
“YOU MANGY CAT, GET OFF HIM!”
The three turned to see a great ginger blur run past them, chasing Ron Weasley’s rat. Hermione stepped in front of the cat and he banged right into her legs, giving the rat a chance to escape to the outdoors.
Ginny and Ron ran after it, calling for it, while Percy apologized to the lady, took a small red bottle from her, and sighed.
“I really think Scabbers would be much better off at home. Don’t think he’s quite up for Hogwarts this year—he looks old.” Percy left the store, saying gooodbye to Harry and the others.
The ginger cat was still running about the store, sniffing for the rat, until the owner hit it with a Stunner.
“Oh, Crookie, what am I to do with you now?” the witch said despairing as she scooped the cat up.
“Does—does he do that often?” Harry asked.
“All the time. He’s really a sweetie, but sometimes he just goes off like that. Went haring after a stray mutt in the alley yesterday—well, no more of that. I’m sorry, Crook, but I warned you.”
“What are you going to do to him?” Hermione asked.
“Put him down. He’s had his chances. No one wants him anyway, been here since he were a kitten. Ahw, don’t look at me like that, Crook. S’for the best.”
Hermione seemed paralyzed, but then she lunged at the counter, pulling Galleons out of her pocket and slamming them down on the counter.
“I’ll take him!” she said shrilly, and the owner rang up the purchase as fast as she could. She even threw in a free carrier for him, and Hermione scooped the enormous cat into her arms and left the store.
“He’s a beauty, isn’t he, Neville?” she asked, and Neville looked at the cat and stroked him carefully.
“Yeah. Looks like he’s got Kneazle in him.”
“Hermione,” Harry said as he in turn patted the cats head, “Do you realize that you’ve just undone all good faith I had with Ron Weasley?”
Hermione spun on him, eyes blazing, before she seemed to realize it was a joke.
“Funny, Harry. If he isn’t able to be civil with you just because you have a friend with a cat who chases rats, he isn’t worth it anyway. Come along, Crookshanks.”
The three headed to the steps at Gringotts, where Snape, Gus, and the Grangers were waiting.