“So, you’ll all keep together tomorrow. I won’t have you running around Diagon Alley at a time like this. Do you understand me?” asked Mrs Weasley, frowning severely at her two youngest and including Harry and Hermione for good measure. All of them gave their assurances of their best behaviour, though the fact that his mother had been punctuating her warning with her serving spoon rather than dishing up the carrots was perhaps the reason for Ron’s enthusiastic nodding.
“Damn shame I can’t go with you, but you’ll be good and tell an old convict like me all about the twins’ shop, won’t you?” asked Sirius, his eyes bright with excitement. Harry was not sure what had been said, or when, but he was glad that Remus had talked to Sirius. His godfather seemed calmer than he ever had in the last couple of years. He had also gained weight and lost the dead look in his eyes. There was still a lingering note of disappointment and loss but Harry had never seen him look so good. Perhaps the battle at the Ministry, with its many close calls, had had the effect of a wake-up call.
“Of course, Sirius,” Harry replied. “I can’t wait to see it, they made it sound fantastic the last time they came round. Is there anything you guys want me to pick up for you?”
“Do you think you could fit half their shop into your pockets?”
“Sirius!” exclaimed Remus, grinning and elbowing his friend. “No, Harry, we’re fine. You’ve got your lists, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, we got them weeks ago but I don’t know what to do about Potions. I didn’t get the OWL grade for it but then Snape said what he did about me being in his class. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe he’s lowering the grades this year?” said Hermione.
“Can you see that bas…,” Ron coughed as he caught the looks from both his parents, “ugh, man, doing anything to help Harry?”
“Yeah. It just seems a waste of money to buy the textbook when I might not even be in the class.” Everyone around the table was aware of Harry’s frustration that he could no longer take all the subjects he required to enter the Auror Department. There were a few sympathetic looks as Harry stabbed a roast potato.
“Sensible thinking there, Harry,” said Mr Weasley. “If you find you need it after all, then you can just drop us a line and I’ll pop into Flourish and Botts and send it on to you.”
“Thanks, Mr Weasley, that’d be good.”
For a while there were only the companionable sounds of scraping cutlery, extra gravy being poured over vegetables and of crackling being chewed while everyone enjoyed the roast pork that Mrs Weasley had cooked. With the unseasonable chill permeating the noble house of Black with ease, the hearty meal went some way to warming everyone up.
“That was lovely, Molly, thank you,” said Remus. He straightened his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair. “I understand from Sirius that you went on a little trip with Professor Dumbledore last week, Harry. Did you go anywhere exciting?”
“Oh, that. It was a bit strange. We went to persuade this guy to come and teach. It turned out we weren’t even in his house! He’s trying to lie low as he thinks he’s a target for Death Eaters.”
“So Dumbledore wants a prime Death Eater target for the next Defence teacher?” said Ron, aghast all over again. “Does he actually choose them for their likelihood of lasting less than a year? No offence, prof…, I mean, Remus.”
“None taken,” said Remus, chuckling. “I agree he doesn’t have much luck. He didn’t in our day either. I’m almost certain there’s something to that curse rumour.”
“What was he like, Harry?” asked Ginny.
“Well, I was telling Ron and Hermione the other day that he didn’t seem, well, that agile really. I don’t want it all to be theory again; we had enough of that with Umbridge.”
“What’s the fellow’s name, then? Maybe I’ve heard of him,” asked Sirius.
Harry grimaced. “Well, Professor Dumbledore said I should just keep it to myself for the moment. Added security for the bloke, I suppose, though he said something about a surprise and a shake-up.”
“That sounds intriguing!” said Remus.
“I’ve half a mind to get Filch’s thumbscrews but I’m sure Albus has his reasons. Do let us know as soon as you’re allowed to, then,” said Sirius. “And I’ll be expecting regular letters in any case,” he added, with a mock stern face and a wagging finger.
Smiling, Harry was pleased that a simple meal with people he loved was enough to lift his mood from the ugly place Snape had lowered it earlier that day.
The following evening, after having seen Hagrid off through the Floo, Harry settled back into a comfy settee in the main sitting room. The day had thoroughly wiped him out. On the one hand it felt good to know that Voldemort’s return was being taken seriously by the general wizarding populace; on the other, it had felt awfully grim to walk down Diagon Alley and see the effects of his warning being heeded.
Only in Fred and George’s shop had their group, and other Hogwarts pupils, felt able to relax a little from their hurried shopping trip. Harry was still impressed with what they had achieved. The joke shop had been doing a roaring trade and would no doubt be popular with pupils for a long time to come. He had especially appreciated their audacious U-NO-POO joke which had been in stark contrast to the sombre atmosphere of the street in general.
Of course, spying Malfoy up to no good had hardly improved his opinion of the day. It was a shame that they had not been able to get any more than snatches of the little blond git’s conversation with the creepy Mr Borgin. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Malfoy was up to trouble this year and from what he had seen in Madame Malkin’s it was not some mildly humiliating school prank. No, whatever he was up to, it had to be tied in with his family’s Death Eater connections. As neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to believe Malfoy could have taken the Dark Mark yet they did not approve of his plan to keep a sharper eye on the Slytherin this year.
Harry sighed. He felt that this summer had marked a turning point for him. It was not just that the war was now in the open, it was more personal than that. It had always been about Voldemort’s strange obsession with him but now he understood that obsession. The prophecy, which Dumbledore had decided Harry was old enough to hear, put some of Voldemort’s actions in perspective. Harry had spent a great deal of time contemplating the consequences of Trelawny’s fateful words. At first, there had been a lot ‘why me?’ thinking and, in truth, he still felt unfairly picked on by the fates. However, recently he had made a conscious decision to accept the situation and deal with it as best he could.
This morose line of thinking was interrupted by Sirius walking into the room with a fancy glass bottle in one hand and two short glasses cradled in the other. He sat down next to Harry on the settee and with a faux elaborate gesture placed the glasses in Harry’s upturned palms. Harry accepted them with willing fingers though with an askance look at his godfather.
“A toast,” proclaimed Sirius, unscrewing the cap and holding the bottle aloft, “to my favourite godson’s final year of minority,” a liquid almost too deep in colour to be called golden fell into one of the tumblers with a delicate splash, “let his innocence be tarnished,” Harry groaned at the leer Sirius sent his way, “let his professors never catch him at it,” Sirius’s suggestive wink brought some colour to Harry’s cheeks, “and!” in a theatrical tone of voice Sirius continued, “let it never be forgotten that his godfather,” the second tumbler received its splash, “who has such knowledge of Hogwarts, girls and, yes!, academia, can be easily contacted for wisdom, wit, warmth and whatever else through the use of a most extraordinary mirror.” Sirius placed the bottle of Firewhisky on the end table and lifted his glass and eyebrow.
“Um, right, to me then!” said Harry clinking his glass with Sirius’s. With Sirius watching him in some amusement, Harry took a tentative sip of his first glass of Firewhiskey. The aroma was as deep as the colour and the small mouthful was enough to cause his eyes to tear up. Yet the taste was sublime, the burn down his throat comforting and dissipating slowly.
“There you go. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Harry took another sip. “I always got the impression from Seamus that it was rather rank.”
“Anything a kid can buy would definitely be cheap, easy-to-buy and poorly-brewed. Anyway,” Sirius pointed his glass in Harry’s direction, “you do understand that you may contact me at any time, yes? I will be happy to speak to you about anything, don’t let’s lose touch, hmm?”
“Of course, Sirius. You know, this is probably the first time I’ve had mixed feelings about going back to Hogwarts. Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to the new year and everything but this is the first time I’ll be leaving something, rather someone, important behind.” Harry looked into his glass, not wanting to be seen as too needy or emotional as he said, “I will miss you, Sirius.”
“Ah, come here, you,” said Sirius, plucking Harry’s glass out of his hand and placing them both on the table with the bottle. He grabbed his godson in a clumsy but firm bear hug. “I’ll miss you too and there’s no shame in saying so. Write, use the mirror and I’ll see you at Christmas.”
Harry nodded into Sirius’s shoulder feeling safe and loved.
Pounding footsteps on the staircase followed by heavy thumping on his and Ron’s door had Harry awake earlier than he would have liked. Sirius and he had stayed up till late and though Harry had only had one more glass of Firewhisky he had become quite loquacious, telling Sirius about his feelings on every topic under the sun, including his suspicions about Malfoy. He did not feel any the worse for wear now, presumably thanks to Sirius’s insistence on him glugging down a large glass of water, but he would have welcomed another hour or two in bed.
Harry knew that Ron would still be asleep. No doubt his siblings’ antics at home had inured him to loud noises. Harry started getting dressed, throwing clothes from Ron’s open trunk at his sleeping form while doing so. Ron’s bed was covered in balls of dirty socks, several pairs of pants and a growing pile of robes before his belt hit him on the shoulder and woke him up.
“Hey, watch it! Can’t you let a guy get some sleep?”
“Come on, Ron. You’d better get dressed and finish your packing. Your mum will go spare if we’re late for the train.”
Ron flopped on to his back, exhaled deeply, sprung up suddenly and stretched his gangly form. “Bloody hell, mate,” he said looking at the mess around his bed, “I put all that in last night, you didn’t have to chuck it all out again.”
Harry gave him a grin and continued stuffing his clothes, textbooks and personal possessions into his own trunk. Before long a loud, “Breakfast is ready!” reverberated through the old walls and had the two boys adding their own elephant steps to the creaky staircases.
Breakfast was a muddle of clanging cutlery, arms intruding through personal space to reach various items weighing down the table and the excited hubbub of teenagers eager either to escape suffocating parents or simply to board the Hogwarts Express to start a new academic year.
Soon enough Harry was on the platform saying his goodbyes to Remus and Mr and Mrs Weasley. Sirius had been dissuaded from coming as Snuffles and so had made Harry promise once again to keep in touch before letting him leave the house. Harry was glad he had told his godfather about Malfoy. Sirius had promised to mention his suspicions at the next Order meeting and also to keep Harry more informed on what was discussed at those meetings.
The train’s whistle had them all hurrying into the nearest carriage.
“I saw Neville head up that way,” said Hermione.
They soon found Neville with a strange-looking plant in a free compartment. Ginny said “Hi!” and then left to sit with her year friends. Before too long the train was moving away from the platform and the new sixth years were catching up on all the gossip.