20

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[What if?]

Harry comes in, wild-eyed.

We're sleeping in our bed, it's near the end of the term.

"We have a problem." He says seriously.

"What's the problem?" I ask tiredly.

"Voldemort has Sirius." Harry sound very worried and wild about this. "He has Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. We need to go there, right now."

Ron begins to say "Harry, calm down-"

"—no, Sirius is being tortured right now and we can't just sit around here!"

I just got settled into my bed, dammit. "Harry, I want you to do an exercise for me." I yawn. "If you don't, I will hex you the instant you set foot outside this room."

Harry, realizing that I have a tendency to make good on my threats, glare at me.

"Ash I swear to god." He growls.

"Ron?" I point my wand at Harry.

"Aiight." Ron does the same. Upon seeing Harry's betrayed look, he shrugs. "Sorry, mate, but you do need to calm down."

"Fine." Harry kicks the wall. "What do you want, you crazy bastard?"

Hey, he's learning. "Do that exercise again."

Harry rolls his eyes. "'Do that exercise again', he says. Like he knows what's actually at stake here." He mocks me.

"Do the exercise again or I'll hex you." I say lightly.

Harry does the exercise, but with much cursing and anger.

What's the exercise we're talking about?

Just that Harry should take all of his stuff out of his chest and put it back in. We say it's good for keeping a calm head, but really we just want him to NOTICE THE DAMN MIRROR.

Harry, after taking everything out, finally notices the mirror on the bottom.

He freezes, then grabs the mirror and begins to talk into it.

It's very strange to see someone literally talk into a hand mirror and expect it to talk back.

Either way, Harry, after conferring with Sirius, is now reassured that the dude is not actually in trouble.

Crisis averted!

Note how we didn't result in Voldemort being exposed to the public and thus jumpstart the Ministry's hurried defensive effort, which is arguably the main point of the book.

CRISIS AVERTED!

…

[Alternative What-If?]

…

We're sitting in the tower. It's the beginning of our term.

"Harry, call your godfather."

"What?" Harry, who has never had a phone, is confused.

"Use that thing he gave you, and talk to him. Call him."

"I'm not gonna do that." Harry says defensively.

Guilt trip time! "Your godfather is sitting in that house with no one to talk to and all he can do is worry about you. Call him."

Harry stops a little short at that. I don't think he's ever thought beyond 'I shouldn't get Sirius into trouble.'

"Dude, if you don't call him I will. Give that thing here." I hold my hand out for the mirror.

"Ok, ok." Harry says in some confusion. "I will. Jeez." He digs through his stuff and pulls out a mirror. "Sirius Black." He says in a low murmur.

Sirius's face pops up on the other end and breaks into a wide smile.

I don't think I've ever considered just how…I dunno. For the entirety of the term, how many hours did Sirius spend, just clutching the mirror and waiting for his godson to call?

Either way, Harry called now. They talk about inane, everyday things, and Harry's quite a bit happier for it.

"Good." I nod. "Now for the rest of the term, call him every Sunday at the very least."

Crisis averted!

Note how we're not solving the main problem.

CRISIS AVERTED!

.

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