74 Chapter 74: Sirius Black!
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"Of course they have." Harry grinned. "Everyone wants to meet me. I'm Harry Potter, killer of Voldemort, killer of dragons, killer of…too many other things for me to actually remember—that said, I don't have a very good memory except when it suits me."
'Accept his offer,' said Loki. 'We may have Marco's soldiers, but we could always use more—people who actually have experience fighting Voldemort.'
Harry nodded. "Very well."
Dumbledore smiled. "Well, a meeting is happening soon. While you need not attend, it would be a good opportunity to meet the Order of the Phoenix." He reached into a pouch on his desk and extracted a handful of shiny powder.
Floo powder, Harry recognised it as, rather than fairy dust mixed with cocaine—Dumbledore probably did have some of that, too, though.
Then Dumbledore handed him a slip of paper, reading 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry glanced at him questioningly.
"There is a charm around our headquarters, stopping anyone who has not read this from entering it or even knowing that it exists."
'Advanced magic,' said Loki. 'I've never even heard of anything like it before.'
'Did you expect anything else from Dumbledore?'
Harry walked over to the fireplace and lit it with a wave of his wand. Nonchalantly, he threw the powder into the flickering flames, turning them from orange to shades of green. He stepped in and yelled, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"
The world rushed by him and he was suddenly in a dark void; hundreds of fires glowed amidst the blackness and an invisible wind rushed through Harry's hair. And then he was moving towards one of the fires and being flung out through it.
Though disorientated, he hit the ground in a roll, flicking his wand as he did so and sending a poorly placed table flying so he didn't crash into it. It smashed against the wall, exploding into splinters.
Harry moved to a dark corner and pressed himself into the wall as footsteps and yelling sounded through the house. He glanced around as he waited to see if anyone was coming to attack him. The house was covered in dust and looked rather old-fashioned.
Just as one of the doors leading into the room opened, Dumbledore stepped gracefully through the fireplace.
"It's you, Dumbledore," said a voice, its owner concealed from Harry by the door. "Sorry, we thought we heard something breaking…" He trailed off, probably noticing the smashed table. "What happened?"
Dumbledore glanced to Harry. "He did."
Harry stepped forward and waved. "Hi."
The man was rather thin and gaunt and pale. Wavy black hair hung down to his shoulders. His grey eyes were wide and his jaw hung open. "Harry?" He sounded as though he couldn't quite believe it.
Harry nodded. "And you are?"
The man rushed forward to hug Harry. He was so distracted that he didn't notice the wand poking between his ribs; if Harry hadn't lost his old wand, the man might've already been dead, an icicle through his heart.
"I'm Sirius Black!" the man exclaimed excitedly. "I'm your godfather!"
Harry had seen him mentioned, how he had supposedly killed a dozen muggles with one spell and betrayed the Potters. No matter how admirable the former might've been, the man was still a rather awful godfather—he had allowed Harry to be placed with muggles, for God's sake.
Harry refrained from mentioning that and awkwardly patted Sirius on the back, unsure what to say.
Finally, Sirius released him from the hug that might've been bone-crushing if Harry was human. "Come on," he said, still excited, "let's go and meet the others!"
Harry held back a groan.
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A week later, Harry found himself in Dumbledore's office again.
"Were you not supposed to be going into hiding whilst I tracked down the Horcruxes?" Dumbledore said.
"Well, I think I was actually meant to be in your Order of the Phoenix safe house, but following the rules isn't a habit of mine—especially when they include staying in a house full of people who like me about a hundred times more than I like them, and even the supposed mass murderer isn't an actual mass murderer."
"Most people would be pleased to discover their godfather hadn't betrayed their parents and killed a dozen people."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Most people aren't me—and mass murderers are much cooler than people who spend over a decade wallowing in guilt and literally licking their own balls. I think Sirius is one of the few people I've met who's almost as weird as me."
Dumbledore peered down at him over his spectacles. "I'm sure. Now, is there another reason you wanted to speak to me, or did you simply come to gossip?"
"As much as I enjoy talking to you, Albus—it's refreshing that you're not as fanatically in love with me as your followers—there was indeed another matter I came to discuss." Harry glanced around the room. "I know where Voldemort is, and I'm planning to take him down."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "He still has his Horcruxes."
Harry smiled maliciously. "Don't worry—I don't need to kill him. I'm just going to imprison him in a place that he'll never be able to escape from."
He was absolutely sure of it—well, near absolutely sure of it. What he was planning to do to Voldemort, nobody—no human, at least—would escape from.
"Can you elaborate?"
Harry leaned forward and grinned. "Now, tell me Dumbledore," he said, "what do you know of Norse mythology?"
Loki's memory was nigh-on eidetic. Even in the dark, with Harry fighting a dozen assailants and later Lord Voldemort himself, it hadn't been hard for him to pick out a few names on gravestones.
From that, it had only taken a bit of internet research, and Harry had found the town of Little Hangleton.
He had, of course, later learned that Dumbledore had already known that Voldemort had once been called Tom Riddle and once used the Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, so all of his searching had been a complete and utter waste of time.
Still, it made him look independent and therefore responsible, which he counted as deceiving people and therefore not a waste of time.
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