Chapter Text
Many thanks to RavenclawGreen28 for the lovely cover!
Another summer had descended upon England, just as hot and boring as the last bunch of them. Privet Drive was no different, with lawns browning in the heat despite the surreptitious efforts of its inhabitants to keep their grass watered at night. Number 4, occupied by the Dursley family, happened to stand out in that it had a lush green lawn which the big, beefy Vernon took great pride in mowing twice a week. “Lovely sunshine!” he would crow to the neighbors as he sweated over the mower, “simply lovely! Petunia and I are headed for Majorca this fall!”
Vernon loved to brag about Majorca, and the vacation home he had bought after pulling off a huge business deal with the wealthy developer Mr Mason. He also loved to brag about his son Dudley, who was getting to be just as big and burly as his father even at the age of 13; he bragged about his son’s physical accomplishments, yet hastily changed the subject when it shifted to Dudley’s academic performance.
But there was one thing in his life he didn’t brag about, one thing he in fact preferred to ignore, and that was his niece, Hazel Potter. Hazel was a budding young witch, with a wand and a racing broom and a trunk full of spellbooks, and a white snowy owl named Hedwig which flew around at night, and sometimes delivered mail and brought back packages from her friends in the Wizarding world. She couldn’t let on to anyone else about it though, or cause any sort of mischief, or bad things would happen.
Hazel preferred to avoid bad things, so she grudgingly accepted the rules and kept Hedwig inside during the day, and left her things put up except when she was doing homework. As long as she could get letters from her friends she thought she could handle it. She had worried about the little green bottle of pills, but found she didn’t have to; once a week it went off as usual, but it did so later in the night and was much quieter, as if it sensed Muggles about.
Swimming lessons were a thing this summer; since everyone in Little Whinging was putting their kids up for them and of course, the Dursleys hated to stand out, so Hazel went too. She was a decent swimmer, she found, and the Muggle swimming suits were a far cry from the old-fashioned ones she imagined a witch or wizard might wear. Between swimming, self-defense, and the various ways she kept herself busy at night (homework, Occlumency, working out, training her left hand), she didn’t have time to worry about Dementors and other mad things, so the month fairly flew by and it was halfway through July before anything interesting happened.
Well, aside from how Hazel was the one who kept the Dursleys’ lawn so green and lush. But she’d never admit to it, how she stood at her window in the dead of night and cast a few quiet spells over the lawn beneath. She preferred her relatives to be in a good mood, for then they were willing to overlook some of her own quirks.
Anyway, halfway through July she got a letter from Ron, one that was much more interesting than the letters she’d gotten up til now.
Dear Hazel,
I guess you heard about the Malfoy decision already? If not, read the newspaper clipping I put in here. I feel bad for Draco, but after what happened to you and Ginny I can’t say I’m too torn up about it.
Mum and Dad are planning to have you over for the rest of break too, and Sirius Black volunteered to get you. Let us know when’s a good time and we’ll set it all up!
-Ron
Frowning, she peeked in the envelope again and saw the clipping in question. The picture was of Lucius Malfoy, looking distant and arrogant as usual. Malfoy Patriarch Confesses to Plot Involving Rival Family & Relics of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! blared the headline. The article described how, two months ago, he had appeared voluntarily before the Wizengamot to confess to his part in the events at Hogwarts, claiming full guilt and foreknowledge, and admitting to a motive of trying to discredit Arthur Weasley.
Deliberations, she read, were quite brief, and Lord Malfoy was quickly sentenced to one year in Azkaban, though many of the warlocks had pushed for a lifetime sentence. It was speculated that Malfoy offered substantial reparations to the Weasley family as well as intelligence regarding the identities of other Death Eaters still at large in Wizarding Britain as leverage to reduce his sentence. Arthur Weasley had no comment for the press; Narcissa Malfoy could not be reached.
Hazel put the clipping down, trying to ignore the guilt bubbling in her guts. If only she’d acted sooner, caught the signs faster… maybe if she’d been in Gryffindor, been closer to Ginny… Ugh.
Getting away from Privet Drive early was always a plus, at least, so she put the letter down, finished her morning routine and went downstairs. Vernon and Dudley were watching tv, and Petunia was cleaning the kitchen. She stood beside Vernon's chair and cleared her throat. “Uncle Vernon?”
“Mm?” he muttered, not looking away from the screen. Usually he just grunted irritably, so she considered this a success.
Just as she opened her mouth, she remembered how Petunia had reacted last time, when she had mentioned going to a boy's house. “My, um, my friend Hermione Granger wants me over at her place for August, and she was wondering when they could come and get me?”
“Hm…” His brow furrowed, but not in fury for once. “Petunia!” he called. “When was Marge wanting to see the new place in Majorca?”
“The first of August, Vernon!” Petunia called back.
“You heard your Aunt, any time before August,” and he went back to his show. “You make sure they don’t disrupt things around here, mind, we won’t tolerate any freakishness!”
“Yes, Uncle, thank you.” She turned to head back upstairs, reaching for a pen and a piece of parchment.
Ron, it’s all good, Sirius can come and get me any time before the 1st of August. He’s not to disrupt the neighborhood, mind you; my uncle’s words, not mine. And if Hermione’s there, make sure she comes too.
It would be the first time she’d met her godfather, she thought with a smile. She wondered what kind of man he was, was he serious or fun loving? Would he take his position seriously or not?
Hedwig came back within the hour with a reply, with Ron confirming that Sirius would be by in two days to collect her.
Two anxious days later, around 4pm, there came a distant rumble that quickly grew louder.
“What in blazes,” Vernon muttered, standing up and moving to the window as the source of the noise drew up outside. “Hazel! I thought I told you not to let your friends disrupt the street!”
“I did, I promise I told them not to!” she called, dashing down the stairs and flying to the door. Outside was an enormous black motorcycle with a sidecar, and two people were pulling old-fashioned helmets off and climbing onto the ground. One was her friend Hermione in jeans and a t-shirt, the other was a tall man with wild dark hair and a sleek green frock coat with matching suit. That had to be Sirius!
“Hazel!” Hermione called, a huge grin on her face as she raced up the walk and pulled her friend into a hug. “Oh gosh, it’s so great to see you!”
“You too, Hermione!” she gushed back, smiling as well. They had both grown a little, it seemed. “Oh, here, this is my Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, and my cousin Dudley.”
Hermione cleared her throat and offered her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr and Mrs Dursley,” she told them, and after a moment they shook her hand very quickly.
Behind her, Sirius was also grinning, and Hazel recognized the mischievous glint in his eyes; it was the same glint Fred and George had before truly epic trouble happened. She frowned and shook her head briefly, and he just rolled his eyes. “All packed up, kiddo?” he said instead, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Right, one second.” She ran back upstairs, checked the room for any last things, and opened her trunk to make sure everything was packed away neatly. Everything was in order so she grabbed trunk and cage and tripped back downstairs, where Sirius and Hermione had already retreated back outside. “Have fun in Majorca! See you next year!” she called back to the disapproving Dursleys (well, Vernon and Petunia were anyway; Dudley had an awe-struck expression at the sight of the huge bike).
The sidecar and saddlebags were much roomier than they looked, as the trunk slipped away easily and Hazel, Hermione and Hedwig all sat side by side with room to spare. “Helmets on, ladies,” Sirius called over the roar of the motor, and handed one to Hazel. She slid it over her head and gripped the side, heart racing with excitement. “We’ll let your owl out soon enough, just need to get away from all this!”
There was a bang, and the bike lurched forward; Hedwig screeched as the cage was rocked back and forth, and Hazel and Hermione clung to each other on instinct. They blasted down the street, no doubt attracting many stares from windows, and turned a corner at such a speed the whole bike creaked. “Sirius, slow down!” Hermione cried, still clinging to Hazel. Hazel didn’t know what to think; on one hand it was nerve wracking, on the other hand, Hermione was a nice person to have clinging to her.
“One speed!” the man shouted back, hitting two buttons on the handlebars; one didn’t seem to do anything, but the other had them flying! “Maybe you don’t remember, Hazel, but Hagrid brought you back there on this bike twelve years ago!”
“I do! I’ve always had dreams about a flying motorbike!” she shouted back. And a large hairy man, come to think of it. It was nice to know her very early childhood wasn’t all doom and blood. “They weren’t ever very clear, of course!”
“Sirius, it’s too loud!” Hermione complained. “Can’t you-?”
“Oh, sorry!” He did something with his wand, and the noise of the motor dropped considerably. “There, better?”
“Much better, thanks.” She scooted away from Hazel and tried not to look down. “Um, so Hazel, this is-”
“Sirius Black, I know, I saw his picture a few times,” she replied with a grin. “Hagrid gave me a photo book once!”
“Ah, yeah, I wondered if that came to anything,” Sirius said. “Of course he came to me, and I think he tracked down Lupin too, probably visited old Mrs Longbottom…”
Neville’s grandmother, Hazel reckoned as she looked over the side. “I think it’s safe to let Hedwig out now,” she told Sirius, who just nodded in return, and she turned to unlatch the cage. Hedwig hooted indignantly and soared away, falling behind quickly because of their speed.
“I’ve got so many questions, Sirius! About you, about my parents- all of it!” she went on.
“I bet you do, kiddo!” he replied with a laugh. “Sorry I never showed my face before now, Dumbledore made me promise to wait. But I’ve kept an eye on you in my own way.” He looked back at her with a fierce grin. “Believe me, if those Muggle relatives of yours had stepped out of line I’d’ve been there in a flash, Dumbledore or not!”
“Good thing they didn’t, then.” She didn’t want to think about the scene that would ensue if Sirius felt he had to intercede on her behalf. “How fast are we going? How far is it to Ron’s place? And speaking of Muggles, won’t they see us?”
“About 150 miles, give or take,” he explained, “we’ll be there in an hour and a half at this rate. And no Muggle’s gonna spot us up here, that button I pushed made us invisible to them!”
“How’ve you spent your summer so far, Hazel?” Hermione asked, and she regaled her friend with the not-so-thrilling tale of summer on Privet Drive. Swimming lessons, self defense, tending the lawn when the Dursleys weren’t looking…
“Ooh, Uncle Vernon’s gonna be pissed when the grass dies,” she finished unconcernedly. “Doubt he’ll make the connection though.”
“Vernon Dursley is a special kind of Muggle,” Sirius remarked. “So why’re they letting you learn Muggle dueling anyway?”
“I let them imagine what’d happen to the house if I were left alone for hours,” she replied smugly. “It’s helped a lot, I gave that asshole Lockhart a piece of my mind a few times last year, and the movements are useful in wizard’s duels.”
The mention of Lockhart made Hermione go quiet for a minute, and Hazel regretted bringing him up. “Cheer up, he’s in Azkaban now,” and she hugged her again.
“I know.” After a moment Hermione hugged back. “I just- I still can’t believe he had me fooled…”
“It was the same when we were at Hogwarts,” Sirius cut in, shaking his head. “Dumbledore couldn’t hang onto a Defense teacher longer than a year. And the nutters he did manage to bring in, it’s a wonder we learned anything at all.”
“None of them were child predators though, were they?” Hermione sniffled.
“Yes, actually. Professor Smethly, real cradle snatcher she was, retired Obliviator and Auror; she was actually competent when she wasn’t slavering over the fourth-years.” He shook his head. “Got caught in May and thrown out, died in Azkaban six years later.”
This revelation was troubling, especially in regards to Dumbledore’s judgment, and Hazel was silent for some time. After a while Sirius lifted the Silencing Charm and the roar of the motorcycle engulfed them again, and though Hazel and Hermione held hands they didn’t speak until the bike began descending through the darkening sky.
“Ooh, there’s the Burrow!” Hermione said, pointing forward. From up here it seemed to be a pile of stone and wood, stacked haphazardly toward the sky; glancing around again, Hazel thought she saw a stone tower higher in the hills north of the Burrow, but they were descending too fast for her to get a good look.