Harry was writing an essay, enviously glancing at the wizards experimenting with Sirius. And his godfather, apparently, was enjoying himself, answering questions in detail about his sensations after each transformation. Snape quickly went to fetch the set of potions that had been left at the Dursleys', reassured them about Potter's health, and then even gave the latter his notebook so he could chat a bit with his cousin.
When Harry interjected into the experimenters' conversation, wondering if so many transformations wouldn't harm Black since he was supposedly magically depleted, they reassured him: Polyjuice actually adds quite a bit of magic to the one who takes it, albeit temporarily. And this, apparently, promotes faster recovery.
"This is actually taught in school," Smethwyck said instructively.
"Polyjuice is fourth-year material," Snape noted, eliciting understanding smiles from everyone else.
From the way his godfather listened to all this, Harry surprisingly clearly understood that in school he had done anything but study. But at least Sirius finally breathed a sigh of relief: transforming was no longer scary for him. In such company! These people could break any spell. And the Chief Healer wouldn't allow anything bad to happen in any case.
Apparently, the transformations did him good. Because he had to think and be aware of everything happening to him, talk about it, explain things, clarify (including for himself), his speech began to improve, and he started thinking better too.
He even suggested himself that he'd continue wagging his tail as a white bulldog at the Dursleys': guarding his godson in this form was very convenient. And... he'd gotten used to it, apparently. And Snape's prediction came true: after another portion of "bulldog" Polyjuice, instead of a glorious but impulsive and foolish puppy-teenager, a quite young dog appeared, though he couldn't be called completely adult either. Harry remembered Aunt Marge and wrote to his cousin. He replied that she had just left. Excellent, they could move Black back into the garage... And actually, it was interesting, did he have parents? Or was he, like Harry, an orphan?
Such a question made Black even confused. And he finally remembered that he actually had a house... Grimmauld, twelve, under concealment charms.
"And you don't want to go home?!" Potter gaped at his godfather. Of all things, this was beyond his understanding.
Black started spinning something about Dark magic, cruel parents who didn't want to understand his attraction to good and light... And to his best friend James.
Harry listened, not believing his own ears. Good and light - was that what the Marauders' company did?! His aunt had told him a lot since Black appeared, he knew! About her wedding, and about how his mother was always indignant at their actions when she came home for holidays. One thing he couldn't understand: why did she marry, one could say, the leader of these thugs? Could it be that when they grew up, they stopped their antics? Doubtful.
And Sirius, who in the morning, while Snape was in the laboratory, tried to brag by telling about a couple of "pranks," quickly cut himself short when he saw his godson's face turn white. Harry told him a lot then. From the point of view of someone who had been hunted down like game more than once. True, he managed not to name a single name - that would be just like Black... Though interesting, would he snap at Dudley? No way, Harry would never risk such a valuable thing as peace in the family he lives in. And he wouldn't let bad memories spoil his current life!
Oh, so Black's mother didn't like the "Marauders"! Apparently, she had read more books than her son and understood the meaning of the word. What a name they found for themselves. Some "good"! And what was that, hmm, about the attraction to James? Harry asked. And having received an answer, couldn't even find words right away.
"Ah, they only allowed him to stay for no more than half the holidays! Well... well... REALLY! Yeah, Sirius, you haven't seen the Dursleys a couple months ago. Through my eyes. Just a couple of months... But it seems like a whole life has passed. Should I show you? Purely for educational purposes? But he'll bite everyone when he returns... But how I want to, pixie damn it! I'll have to consult with Snape."
But this thought receded to the background as soon as Black uttered the word "Fidelius." Like gunpowder flared up, here and there in Harry a big and beautiful bonfire blazed. He'd wanted to get into his parents' house in Godric's Hollow for so long! Into his house! After all, Flitwick had returned several days ago, it was time to remember. Though he wasn't proud, he could remind them himself!
Harry was actually "burning" over several things. First, he really wanted to know what kind of wizards his parents were and whether he might inherit any of their abilities: he'd already read that they're passed down by inheritance, and Snape had told him some interesting things.
Second, what kind of parents were they who took such risks, having a very small and only child? Or was he not really needed by them? Maybe something had gone wrong in the family? Or in their heads? Otherwise why? He was grateful to his mother, she gave her life for him... But he'd accumulated quite a few questions about his father. Though he also apparently died for them. But something just didn't add up.
About the cloak that the headmaster had returned to him as the first Christmas present, he'd already thought a lot. After all, if it had been in the house then, they all could have hidden! And Apparition? And enchanting a portkey for the family - there was a war going on! The Potters were a family of artifact-makers, he'd read about that so many times, and his father couldn't have taken care of it?! Didn't they know they were being hunted? They couldn't not know if they were hiding the house! Why did they behave that way? Consciously or not? Oh, he'd ask his daddy some questions...
Third, there was a desire to get to the library, because he'd long ago understood the value of books that are written by hand, passed down by inheritance and beautifully called grimoires. Flitwick had shown him a couple once, and even let him flip through one. There was so much interesting and amazing there that you won't find in any textbooks, won't find anywhere. He understood, of course, that even if he found something, he couldn't figure it out alone yet, but he wasn't at all against sharing with respected professors. What, everything's fair: he gives them books and ideas, they give him explanations of what, how and why, and as a result they get working charms or an artifact. Normal, right?
And finally, those same artifacts and the laboratory. After all, there too, like at Snape's, it would be possible to do magic anytime and as much as you want! And
how many useful things there must be... At the mere thought of this, Harry felt a very serious thorn in a certain place.
So when Smethwyck was yanked out of the research he was immersed in by an urgent call to work, the boy gave his professors almost an ultimatum, which they, however, agreed to. True, Flitwick advised to "take the doggy." Well yes, instinct is a useful thing. The little dog, however, wasn't pleased yet: he was sleeping like a log right there, despite being in human form. And Snape kept trying to slow things down, it was clear how much he didn't want to go there. And Harry decided to tempt the professor a little:
"Do you remember what you said about the Potters' library?" he cast the line.
"And are you sure it's there?" the potions master parried.
"Well, there must be something in the house anyway. They did magic."
"I wouldn't be surprised if I find there only textbooks and notes from your esteemed mother."
"And the laboratory?"
"Do you think there will be something there capable of surprising me?"
Harry sighed. The fish stubbornly refused to bite.
"I have no idea, but I feel like something's pulling me there..."
"Ah... That's more interesting," Snape sighed. "Then tomorrow morning. But no more than a couple of hours."
***
Two respectable gentlemen, similar as brothers, with a blond boy (apparently the son of one of them) who held an English bulldog on a leash, looked like a completely classic company. Their appearance as tourists on the central square surprised no one, rather pleased them: soon they were offered "Harry Potter" souvenirs, stones from the Potters' house, some dried stems supposedly from a bouquet gathered by his mother, and even scraps from "Harry Potter's own baby blanket," after which the guy was quite stunned.
Snape growled, just like at school, and the sellers were blown away as if by wind, for which Harry was very grateful.
"Somehow these souvenirs make one suspect that all is not well with the house," he said.
Flitwick laughed:
"If the Secret Keeper is alive and the Fidelius hasn't been removed, the local kids just scraped and cut all this at the nearest dump."
And then Harry saw the house. His house... A neat two-story mansion. And this is his? Wow!.. He rushed forward, but was firmly held by the shoulders from both sides. And only then did they see it too.
"Indeed, intact," Flitwick rejoiced.
"This cannot but be encouraging. You seem to have acquired real estate, congratulations, Potter."
"You still won't get rid of me that easily, Professor," Harry thought. Sit in such a house alone? He'd quickly go mad. Or, more likely, conjure up such things that... better not imagine. He understood everything, realized it, but sometimes the brakes just failed. Especially when something was very interesting. About five or six times a day. He stepped forward.
"Don't rush, Harry," Flitwick said quietly. "Look at Sirius."
The dog was sitting on its haunches, attentively sniffing.
"Something wrong?"
The dog nodded. And then stood up and slowly walked along the fence, sniffing something out.
"Protection? Signal charms?"
"Headmaster?"
"Woof."
"Yes, a talking parrot would be handy..."
"His instinct is off."
"Let's go in order. Besides the Fidelius, is there protection?"
"Woof."
"Alarm?"
"Woof-woof-woof. Grrr!"
"So, I understood, everything's a woof. Ugh. That is, yes, about everything mentioned."
The white bulldog Black breathed a sigh of relief and scratched his belly with his paw.
"Well then, let's see what and how."
The process dragged on... Until finally both professors sadly admitted that how to untangle everything without disturbing the alarm charms, they, alas, couldn't figure out. What a situation...
"So nothing will work out today?" Harry frowned. It was annoying - the house he'd been striving for was so close, but no, they couldn't get through.
"Harry... you should be able to do it, after all, when these charms were set, you were inside. But taking us through is unlikely to work."
"And the alarms won't detect me?"
"They shouldn't. But they might."
"Fifty-fifty."
"I wouldn't want you to go there alone," Snape added and immediately explained: "It's unknown what other surprises might be inside. If even combining our efforts we can't get through these charms... apparently, Potter was quite skilled after all. Not to mention the headmaster."
"The problem is I can't figure out where the ends are, otherwise we'd unravel all this quickly. And if we break them - the headmaster will definitely know," Flitwick thoughtfully tugged his beard.
"There's one option: I inform the headmaster that Potter is desperate to get into his parents' house. Dumbledore can't refuse if I present it as Harry having realized the full depth of the tragedy that befell him..."
"Yeah, just by chance... Was walking, walking, fell, hit his head, then woke up and suddenly realized!" Harry was no stranger to sarcasm and dark humor.
"And necessarily with witnesses. I'm ready..."
Snape nodded. But immediately noted that when they're let in, they shouldn't even hope to find anything. Though... over these years they could have not only cleaned everything out, but actually dismantled the house stone by stone.
Harry thought.
"And who in general could have enchanted a house that's under Fidelius?"
"Excellent question, Harry. Either its owner or the one who cast the Fidelius."
"That is, either James Potter or the headmaster? But if it's the headmaster, he should have known who the real Secret Keeper was! That is... he couldn't have allowed Black to be convicted? So these are father's charms and nothing threatens me! And..." the boy's eyes sparkled familiarly, and Snape and Flitwick immediately tensed up, "what if you drink Polyjuice too? Oh, but you can just transform! And no one will recognize you! Though you're not very recognizable as it is."
Indeed, Snape in the same clothes he wore at the shooting club, with light blond hair, whitish eyebrows and a wide slightly flattened nose didn't look like himself at all. And Flitwick, having doubled in height and width...
"Three white bulldogs... No, I'd rather transform," Flitwick decided.
"Right here and now?" Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Well... there's no one here! And anyway we can turn around the corner, there's either a park or..."
"An old square in front of the cemetery, Potter."
"Ah. Right, we should stop by. They're there, right? Let's just do it after we visit the house, please."
Snape nodded. Harry's calm businesslike manner calmed and smoothed emotions, and solving the problem that had arisen completely dampened the old pain. Need to think about how to get through to where the boy wants, not be distracted by bitter memories.
***
Flitwick cast invisibility charms on everyone at once, and therefore they, invisible to others, could see each other perfectly. Seemed convenient, but he quickly realized it was a mistake.
Have you ever seen a laughing English bulldog?..
Sirius Black felt avenged... He was ready to transform into anyone and anytime after he'd had his fill of watching Snape marching toward the Potters' house in the form of a black eagle. The sight was absolutely... um, unique, and most importantly, represented quite a wicked parody of the potions master himself. For such a large bird to take flight was undesirable: too noticeable. Such birds definitely don't live in Britain!
The dog howled, rolled on the grass, rubbed his eyes, whined hysterically and didn't stop even when the eagle, spreading its luxurious wings, rose slightly above the ground and pecked him quite painfully on the crown. So he yelped something... rolled over belly-up and started waving his paws. Until a flying mouse, or rather also a dog, dropped on his head and grabbed his ear, quite sensitive like all dogs' ears.
So on the lawn near the Potters' house gathered a very picturesque company: a bewildered teenager, a white bulldog whining from both laughter and pain with a bitten ear, an eagle looking at him with disdain, and a flying dog perched on a porch support chirping something melodiously but angrily. Harry surveyed this zoo, puffed his cheeks to keep from bursting into laughter (Sirius would definitely be unstoppable then), and flung open the door.
When the eagle, proudly wagging its short black tail from side to side, proceeded inside, Harry, holding the door, bit his lip, restraining the laughter bursting out. After the eagle flew in the fruit bat, but the dog on legs tangled from laughter stumbled three times on the steps and nearly sprawled, until finally the boy-owner helped him with his foot, carefully pushing him into the doorway... But even then he continued to whimper and grunt happily. And then simply lay down and closed his eyes. Harry pulled the door shut and froze in the semi-darkness of the hallway. After the sunny summer street, his eyes adjusted slowly to the change in lighting.
Soon Flitwick's voice sounded from somewhere above:
"You can transform back. There are no charms here."
"Oof!" Black exhaled deeply and started rubbing his cheeks. "You should warn people. I nearly died! Oh, Merlin's underpants, this isn't even funny anymore, everything hurts!"
"Survived? Get to work," Snape cut him off, paying no attention to others' emotions. "We have about an hour, and after that, I think, we'll need to lure some local kids to the house... to play. They'll 'break' the charms."
"Yes, we need insurance, you're right, colleague," Flitwick was already examining the hallway, illuminating it with a small but quite bright Lumos.
Sirius's eyes widened: the professor was doing magic just with his fingers...
"Sirius!" Harry amplified his surprise by creating his own ball of light exactly the same way. "I don't know what to look for here. But you've been here, more than once, right? Will you tell me?"
"How do you do that?"
"What? Light? Simple, I'll show you later," Harry waved it off. "Come on, lead, show me what's here and where."
Their tour didn't drag on: the mansion wasn't that big. They carefully examined everything they came across, but the result was zero. Just an empty house. Even not much dust, apparently the house was somehow protected from that too. After all, quite a bit could have accumulated over so many years! But so far this was the only oddity.
When they'd walked around everything and now knew the layout of the rooms, Black transformed back into a dog.
"I'll try with my nose," he managed to throw out before the transformation.
Well, and he went to work, starting from the very entrance.
Flitwick and Snape, of course, took to sorting through books. They didn't even think of poking into the laboratory, closed, as the part-goblin determined, by blood charms, but Harry could pass through. He intended to, but stood by the cherished door for now, absorbed in his thoughts.
"House. Truly my house. Why doesn't this evoke almost any feelings in me? I can't say it's completely alien, but it's definitely unfamiliar. Strange. Not mine. Not mine yet. I'm interested here, I'd like to know what was here and how. How they... we... lived. How they got up in the mornings, what they liked to eat for breakfast. What mom's soap smelled like. What they talked about with father. What my life could have been if all that hadn't happened. And most importantly, why did they do what they did?"
He ran his finger along the wooden carving, immediately scratched himself, but before he could bring his finger to his mouth, the door opened completely silently... Peering inside, Harry didn't notice how both professors tensed, standing behind him with wands at the ready.
Oh yes! This was the second part of the library! Harry rushed to the shelves, but immediately slowed down: first he should still examine everything. If only he could find something like working journals, after all wizards must have kept them? This might be, most likely, somewhere at the workspace or very close to it.
In the depths of the room, behind the last bookshelf, there turned out to be a passage to the laboratory. It differed quite strongly from Snape's: a room elongated lengthwise, the far part of which was clearly allocated for potion-making, and the one where he stood was apparently an artifact-maker's workshop. Tables with some unfamiliar devices, tongs, tweezers, small hammers, just some weird squiggles, vises, clamps, half-empty cabinets, shelves...
Harry pressed his lips together and started pulling out one drawer after another.
He discovered his father's grimoire on the fifth attempt. But it wouldn't open, despite Harry diligently bleeding the scratch from the door and generously smearing it with his blood. He set aside the find and went to the cauldrons. Snape said his mother was a talented potions-maker, so most likely this was her part of the laboratory. He carefully examined everything, pulled out all the drawers... Empty. Strange!
In the cabinets and on the shelves he found quite a few ingredients, more than half of which could be safely thrown out as unfit, but the preparation vessels were good. Stirrers, measuring flasks, burettes, stands, pipettes, scales... wow, what quality scales! Retorts, beakers, test tubes, burners, tripods... Silver, and this seems to be gold... oh, is that crystal? His hands itched to brew something here - the setting seemed to invite it itself: everything's ready, just take and do. Except maybe there aren't enough source materials. Somehow... a bit sparse. And the "cookbook" has disappeared who knows where. But it should be at the workspace, like father's...
Finding nothing else, he returned to the main library. The professors couldn't get into the laboratory.
"And how's the library for you?"
"Not bad, but... notice how loosely the books stand on the shelves."
"You think something was... removed?" Harry didn't immediately find the right word.
"I don't think, I know, there's the scent of two people here, one is unfamiliar to me, and the other is our esteemed headmaster," Black joined the honest company and added: "Not such old scents, by the way."
"Really?!"
"About a month, I can't say more precisely. In a closed room they're well preserved, so it could be two or three. I'm not a bloodhound."
"This isn't the main Potter library, that should still be in the family manor. Though James wasn't a fool, he managed to drag quite a bit of useful stuff here. But there's no point looking for something special here," Snape summed up.
"No signs of rituals are visible, but after so many years..."
"Exactly."
Harry smirked, showing the grimoire.
"Now that's something," Snape nodded.
"If I can open it."
"Let me see..." Filius Flitwick got interested in another puzzle. "And your hand, please, too... So... So... Ah, there's an age restriction here! And James Potter was quite the schemer. Interesting, interesting. What if I do this?..
Snape, setting aside some book, looked questioningly at his friend and teacher. The Charms Professor handed him the grimoire, removed the glove from one hand, called Harry over and started a very serious conversation... Soon, having set aside studying the cover and obviously complex charms placed on it, Snape joined them too, also realizing that convincing Potter to undergo a dual mentorship ritual while his curiosity was gnawing at him over his father's grimoire was a very good and timely idea.
Apparently, he still didn't know his ward very well. The boy listened attentively, almost holding his breath, didn't even interrupt with questions as usual. And when Flitwick finished, he looked questioningly at Snape. He nodded, confirming all the information.
"Professor," Harry addressed the part-goblin, "I feel that you're not telling me something, but I can't formulate it precisely. Maybe you'll tell me directly? What's the catch of this ritual, what's wrong? Just don't say that everything's fine and simply after it you, as mentors, will be able to open many enchanted things for me. Tell me yourselves."
"Potter is also intuitive..." Snape thought. "Strongly so. Interesting, is there something else in him that we don't know about yet?"
They had to tell him everything. And then Harry himself started asking questions, including about what might happen if the vows and oaths came into conflict.
"You know what? I'd rather wait until I come of age," he declared with complete certainty. "Suffering from curiosity for a few years isn't such a high price to pay so that you..." he swallowed, his voice trembled, and his fists clenched involuntarily. "I don't want to lose anyone else!"
"Potter..." Snape exhaled and immediately corrected himself. "Harry, you haven't quite understood correctly. The ritual will give protection to us too, primarily because no one knows about it. Conflict is possible upon activation of vows and oaths given earlier, but their holders still need to figure out that this needs to be done. We're capable of not giving them reasons to even think about such a possibility. And the ritual helps with that too."
Harry thought. Maybe Flitwick? In any case, nothing much threatens him - he's not that entangled with the headmaster, and goblins... they don't interfere, right? And, to Snape's considerable surprise, he called the part-goblin to have a private talk in the next room.
When he asked the professor whether it was possible to change the seniority of mentors, he answered simply:
"Harry, you yourself know which of us you prefer. And don't think I don't understand that. This is your personal inclination, and it will affect the ritual in any case. How long ago did you decide for yourself that Severus is your Teacher?"
Harry thought.
After the Wizengamot? Probably not. Then... at Mungo's it was definitely already so. He shrugged.
And the professor continued:
"You know, I expected this question and would be happy to agree - Severus has long been a friend to me, not a student, but as you've already understood, it's simply impossible. You can no longer choose me, unfortunately. Apparently, I'm still too much... goblin."
Harry opened his mouth to dispute this, but Flitwick smiled sadly:
"I should have been gentler with you then, after your visit to the bank. But now - what is, is. Your choice itself is more important. And it's already been made. All I can do is support you both, which is what the agreement is for. It will give protection - both to you and to Severus."
"Fine protection... that can burn!"
"Not the protection, but the vows and oaths given earlier. By the way, not all of them..."
"The professor doesn't want to tell me about all of them. And I won't agree otherwise."
"He'll tell you, Harry. We're all so entangled already that we can't allow something irreparable to happen to any of us. Right, Severus?"