All three of them now stood before the quaint cottage, taking it in. It was strange. Harry had the impression from Dumbledore that the house had been severely damaged, but the house stood perfect as if the owners were asleep inside. Harry dared to hope for a second, that if he knocked on the front door, his dad would answer, but he knew this was only a dream and it would never come true.
The moon suddenly peeked out from behind the clouds and illuminated the cottage before them. The pale light revealed the house to look like any other house in the neighborhood. It sat secluded at the end of a long wooded driveway. Trees hugged the two story house, wrapping it in its own little world. A small stone wall was set off to one side, where a garden might have once been. A shed could be seen in the backyard, and a dirt pathway led up to the front stoop in an open greeting.
Ron and Hermione lingered nearby, not saying a word, as Harry stood silently. So this is where he and his parents had lived. Harry knew it would be difficult to come here, but he didn’t know it would be this painful. He finally had a chance to learn more about his parents and his past, but he couldn’t make himself move any closer. He was afraid of what he might or might not learn in the house, but they didn’t come all this way for nothing.
Harry took a deep breath and boldly stepped forward, pushing his emotions away. Ron and Hermione followed at a distance. Harry kept on moving, propelling himself to the front door. “Here it goes,” he said to no one in particular. He took another deep breath, turned the brass knob, pushed the heavy door open, and stepped inside.
It was difficult to see anything in the dark hallway before him, so Harry took the wand out of his pocket and whispered, “Lumos.” The light from his wand washed into the hall and allowed him to see a staircase in front of him, that led up to the second floor above. The hallway also opened up to two rooms on each side of the staircase. Harry made a decision and stepped into the room on the right.
The light from his wand flooded into the dark room before him, revealing it to be a sitting room. Harry saw a lamp sitting on a table to one side and turned the switch. To his surprise, the light came on.
“Why would the electricity be working?” Harry asked.
Ron, who had followed Harry into the room snorted, “More importantly mate, why would your parents live like muggles?”
Ron was right, as Harry looked around he saw two other lamps, a radio, and a small television scattered throughout the room.
“There’s nothing wrong about living like muggle. I live like a muggle,” Hermione scolded, as she walked into the room and immediately headed for a bookshelf in one corner.
“Maybe, that’s because your parents are muggles,” Ron scoffed.
Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to Ron with her hands on her hips glaring, “And what exactly is that suppose to mean?”
Harry sighed, “Hermione, Ron, I’m not in the mood to witness one of your lovers quarrels right now. So can you save it for later?”
Ron look surprised, “Lovers quarrel? What do you mean?”
Harry rolled his eyes, “Oh please, spare me, Ron. I saw the way you two were going at it earlier today in the shed, or don’t you remember?”
Both Ron and Hermione turned a bright shade of red, but neither of them said a word. Hermione turned back to the bookshelf pretending to look at it’s contents, while Ron found a small model of a Quidditch pitch and began playing with it. Harry shook his head and started to move through the room. He soon stopped as he caught a glimpse of a large portrait on the far wall by the fireplace. Harry stood riveted by the people in the picture.
It was a portrait of him and his parents. He must have been at least a year old. His baby self was currently squirming in his mother’s arms trying to catch a butterfly floating above his head, as she tried to hold on to him. His father stood behind looking down lovingly at his family. Harry watched in awe, not aware the man in the portrait had noticed his presence.
“Hello young man. What are you and your friends doing in this house?” the man in the portrait asked peering down at Harry.
Harry stepped back in shock, not sure how to respond. He knew portraits could interact with people, but had never dared hoped that there would be one with his parents in it. Harry was delighted and sad at the same time, because he knew the portrait was only a shadow of his parent’s former selves.
“Well are you going to stand there with that dumb expression on your face all day, or are you going to answer my question?” James barked.
“James, be nice,” Lily said, as she soothed a now crying baby Harry. “You’ve obviously scared the young man; and don’t raise your voice, you’re scaring the baby as well.”
“Sorry, darling,” James replied in a quieter tone, as he made funny faces trying to stop baby Harry from crying, forgetting the grown Harry standing in front of him. Baby Harry started to giggle at his father and put out his hands. The man took the laughing child and tossed him playfully into the air making the boy laugh even more.
Harry was so absorbed in watching the happy family, he didn’t notice Hermione trying to get his attention, until he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Harry,” Hermione said, “I’m sorry to interrupt. You do realize their not real, right?”
“I know,” Harry said quietly, his eyes still glued to the portrait.
Hermione paused a moment and then continued, “Look, I just wanted you to know that I saw this letter on the mantle. It’s addressed to you.”
Harry reluctantly peeled his eyes from the happy family on the wall, and looked at the envelope she had in her hand. Harry took the letter curious at who would have left it for him. He opened it and immediately looked down at the signature. Surprised at who had written the letter, he immediately began reading it eagerly.
Dear Harry,
I was hoping I could bring you home and surprise you with the renovations. After Voldemort’s attack I’m afraid the house was left in ruins. I’m not really sure what caused all the destruction. I’m assuming most of it happened when the curse rebounded on Voldemort, because the brunt of the destruction was centered on the second floor where your nursery was located. I didn’t want you to come here with it in such a state. So I took the liberty of cleaning up and remodeling. I even paid the electric company in advance so you could move right in if you wanted, when the time came.
You might be wondering what is with all the muggle stuff. Your mother was insistent on living like a muggle. She thought it important that you understand the muggle ways. Your father found it to be a great adventure and I enjoyed teasing them relentlessly about it.
Everything isn’t the way it use to be, but its pretty close. Some things were too badly destroyed to save. I was however, able to save the portrait of you and your parents. It was painted a few months before they died in celebration of your first birthday, despite the fact that neither of your parents were not much into making portraits of themselves. They considered this a special occasion and wanted to preserve their happiness. I hung it on the sitting room wall, exactly where your parents had it originally. I though it would be a nice surprise for you. Just don’t get too attached to it and don’t expect too much from it. But it might give you some insight on what kind of people your parents were. I’m sorry I never mentioned it before, but Dumbledore asked me not to tell you until you got a little older.
If you’re reading this letter, then my hope of bringing you here myself did not come true. This means I’m either dead or worse, back in Azkaban. Sorry, I can’t be there for you. I know it’s been tough for you and being in this house will be even more so. Just remember that your parents really loved you and that some of their happiest moments were with you in this house.
Sirius
P.S. Just so you know. I also stayed here for a time when I was in hiding. I hope you don’t mind.
Harry smiled at the post script. Of course he didn’t mind that Sirius stayed here. In fact, it made Harry feel better knowing that his godfather had spent at least some of his time on the run in this house.
“Who is the letter from?” Hermione asked curiously peering over his shoulder.
Harry handed the open letter to her, “It’s from Sirius. He wanted me to know that he had the place remodeled for me.”
Hermione took the letter and skimmed it, “Well, I guess that explains why the house is in such good shape. I was expecting to have to do some work to get this place ready for us to use.”
“So what’s next mate? Are we making this our new base of operations or what?” Ron asked, as he flopped onto the pale green sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Yeah, I just want to get a better look around. See where everything is at,” Harry replied.
Hermione finished reading the letter and handed it back to Harry, “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll finishing checking out the main floor if you two want to check upstairs.”
“How about I check out the kitchen?” Ron asked. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Is your stomach the only thing you can think of?”
Harry could tell his friends were going to start arguing, so he quickly left the room leaving them and the portrait behind. He went back into the front hallway. After searching a moment, he found a light switch that lit up the stairs, and then climbed them to the second floor.
Once at the top, Harry found himself in yet another hallway. This one opened up to a corridor with four different doors along it. He went to the first door, stood in front of it, and slowly began to turn the knob. He suddenly stopped, backed up from the door, and continued down the hallway to the next door. Something seemed to be calling him to it. Once there he noticed it was already cracked open slightly. Harry gently pushed the door open. It squeaked loudly in the quiet hall. Harry hesitated only a moment before stepping through the doorway.
The light from the hall spilled into the room revealing it to be what must have been his old nursery. Harry noticed a rocking chair sitting near the door, while across the room from it was a small chest of draws. Next to that was his crib.
Harry stood still as a wave of strong emotion hit him. It was a mixture of fear, and hate and it penetrated every inch of him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something about this room felt terribly wrong, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Harry!”
Harry stiffened. It sounded like his mother’s voice calling him, but how was that possible? Harry turned around quickly, found the light switch on the wall, and turned it on.
The room looked almost cheery in the golden light as he noticed the pale blue walls and stuffed animals sitting around. But Harry still felt a strange foreboding feeling radiating from the room, or maybe the feeling was coming from him and at his uneasiness at being in this house. Harry shook it off and advanced further into the room.
Harry went to his crib and put his hand on one of the railings. It had a dark wood frame that wrapped around a white mattress. The bed had little animals carved all over it and his name was engraved into the head board. Harry continued to run his hand up and down the railing, and noticed small cracks in the wood. He looked closer and realized that the whole bed had sealed cracks everywhere.
It finally dawned on him, just how much trouble his godfather had gone through to remodel his home. Most of the stuff in the house must have been replaced or fixed somehow. Harry’s heart swelled at this. He wished Sirius was still alive so he could thank him for going through such pains for him. It couldn’t have been easy with him being on the run.
“Harry!”
Harry whirled around at hearing his name again. He looked around frantically to find where the voice had originated from. Suddenly, the room started to fade in and out. Harry could vaguely see the outline of a woman next to him. A dark figure was standing in front of the female and Harry could hear the faint cry of a child waling.
“Harry, not Harry!” his mother’s voice was almost deafening this time.
Harry’s vision started to blur and the light from the room began to fade into blackness.
Again, he heard his mother’s voice before blacking out completely, “Not Harry, please not Harry!”
“Harry! Harry, wake up!”
Harry slowly drifted back to consciousness and felt someone shaking him by the shoulder. He opened his eyes, and saw Ron and Hermione standing over him. Harry slowly sat up.
“What happened? Why was I on the floor?” he asked.
“You tell us, mate. You were there when we came in,” Ron said, a worried look on his face.
“Did something happen?” Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head, “Not that I know of.”
“How did you end up on the floor?” Ron asked.
Harry rubbed the back of his head. He felt a bump starting to take form there. It must have been where his head had hit the floor. Harry looked at his two concerned friends, “I don’t know. I just stepped into the room, when I thought I heard something and the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor just now.”
Hermione’s raised her eyebrows, “You don’t remember anything else?”
Harry knew what she was getting at, “No, it wasn’t anything like that. This was different. It was like… I don’t know. It was like I was remembering something.”
“Remembering what?” Hermione asked curiously.
Harry shrugged, “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Everything is fine.” He felt like he knew what he was remembering, but didn’t want to tell them just now. The only other time he had heard his mother’s voice was just before a dementor’s attack. Even though Harry felt a bad feeling being in the room, it was different from what he experienced with them. This was almost like he was remembering a lost memory, but wasn’t he too young to remember anything at a year old? Harry didn’t understand what had happened. All he wanted to do was to leave the room and to leave the terrible feeling he had inside. He got up from the floor and quickly walked out of the room.
Only once he was in the hallway and the door closed did he turn to his friends and ask, “How long was I out anyways?”
Hermione wasn’t convinced that everything was okay, but she decided to let it go for now, “You came upstairs about half an hour ago. We came up looking for you because we found something you might be interested in.”
Harry perked up at this. Glad to put behind him what happened in the room, “Oh yeah? What?”
Hermione handed him a book she had been carrying.
It was an old battered photo album with warped pages and singed corners. It was already open to a page, “What’s this?” he asked.
Hermione pointed to a worn photograph, “Look.”
Harry looked closer, and noticed that the picture she was pointing at was a picture of a teenager Sirius and another dark haired boy.
“Yeah, it’s a picture of Sirius and someone else.” Harry shrugged, “What’s so important about that?”
“Harry, the picture is of Sirius and his brother. See it says so under the picture,” she said pointing at the caption.
“So?” Harry asked still not sure of where this was going.
“R.A.B!” Hermione exclaimed.
“I’m not following. Ron, what’s she talking about?” Harry asked as he noticed Ron hovering in the background.
Ron shrugged, “Your guess is good as mine. She was looking through that book when she started jumping up and down. Then she ran up here to find you. If you ask me, I think she’s finally lost it.”
Hermione sighed, “Fine, I’ll spell it out for you two. Regulus is R.A.B.”
Ron got a confused look on his face, “Huh?”
“What makes you say that?’ Harry asked looking confused himself.
Hermione took the photo album back, “Look, it all fits. We know for a fact that Regulus was a Death Eater and he died mysteriously years ago. We also know that he had access to Kreatcher, who could have helped him get past the lake. His last name is Black and what do you want to bet his middle name is Arcturus, after his grandfather. I just can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.”
“How did you find out what his middle name is?” Harry asked curiously.
Hermione hesitated, “Well, I don’t know for sure what his middle name is, but his first name is Regulus after his uncle. So…”
“So we don’t know for sure that it is him,” Harry said.
“Well, it’s the best lead we’ve had. I think we should check it out.”
“Where do we start?” Ron asked.
“I would think that obvious. We need to go back to Grimmauld Place,” Hermione said.
Harry flinched. He was hoping he won’t have to go back there. Yes, he was there for a while as he waited to hear what had happened to the Dursley’s, but he was so wound up about the incident, that he barley noticed where he was. Harry had no desire to go back to the house that had been a prison for his godfather, and now his cousin Dudley was there. It just wasn’t a place he felt very comfortable in. Besides he still hadn’t finished investigating his new home, or why he blacked out in the nursery.
“Are you sure we can’t get the information we need somewhere else?” Harry asked hopefully.
“We could, but our best chance is that house. There’s also something I wanted to check out.”
“What?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just a hunch,” Hermione said mysteriously. “Look, are we going to just stand here, or check this out?”
“Tonight?” Ron asked incredulously.
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s getting late and I’m tired. Can it wait until the morning?” he pleaded.
“Ron, this is the first real lead we’ve had and you just want to go to sleep? I really think we should check this out as soon as possible.”
“I agree with, Hermione,” Harry said reluctantly. She was right after all. It was the best lead they had had so far, and it was worth checking out. No matter how uncomfortable he felt about going back to Grimmuald Place. “I know you’re tired, Ron. We all are, but if Hermione is right about this lead…”
“Alright fine, let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get some sleep and hopefully a decent meal,” Ron grumbled.
“It’s settled then. Let’s go,” Hermione said as she led the other two down the stairs and out the front door.