𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 6

Transformation: Chapter Six

Harry had gotten out of bed early to see Ron and Ginny off; Hermione had left the night before, with Anthony, to spend Christmas at his home. She'd kissed him on the cheek, wished him luck, and told him she would send him an owl. Ron had looked pleased when she'd done the same to him, though when he opened the portrait hole to find Anthony Goldstein waiting outside, he'd looked decidedly less cheerful.

It was snowing steadily outside, and by the time Harry returned to the dormitory to pack, everyone else had gone. Neville and Dean had left him a scrap of parchment on his pillow that said, in colored inks, "Happy Christmas Harry!" with several Golden Snitches scribbled around the edges. In the empty dormitory, in which Seamus's absence was even more pronounced, Harry was grateful for it.

He arrived at Remus's rooms in the afternoon to find Draco already waiting there, wearing a familiar sneer. He straightened when Harry got closer.

"Ready?" Harry said, rather unnecessarily.

"Oh, thrilled," Draco retorted sarcastically, sounding as if he were starting to doubt accepting Harry's offer. "I've been waiting all week to visit the doghouse. I couldn't be happier."

"Don't call it that," Harry said. He leaned around Draco to knock on Remus's door.

"Me, a Malfoy, setting foot in the home of a werewolf and Harry Potter," Draco continued on, scowling. "The disgrace is unimaginable. It's probably filthy. Covered in grime. I'll catch some incurable disease, no doubt."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said good-naturedly, leaning against the wall. "It's a Pureblood house, you know. Your mum's family lived there."

"Well, it's probably infested with fleas now," Draco muttered.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, Remus opened the door and said pleasantly, "Boys, come in," and they followed him inside. He already had the Floo powder out and, after offering them both a cup of tea, which neither wanted, he gestured to the fireplace. "You boys go first."

Draco looked horrified. "Potter," he said, "I am not going first. Lord knows what kind of disgusting things you have stowed away there."

"Fine, I'll go first," Harry said, rolling his eyes at Remus. Green flame roared as he tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire, and taking a deep breath, he stepped through.

What hit Harry first was the subtle dank smell of Grimmauld Place, as he tumbled out of the fireplace coughing. Once he had spoken to Sirius and Remus through this very fire, listening as they both told him about his father. And he'd stuck his head through looking for Sirius in June, when he had found only Kreacher. Harry glanced around the room as he waited for Draco and Remus to come through the Floo. Dust had settled with a vengeance in the past months, with Remus gone, and it looked much the same as he remembered it in the beginning, a dark house full of shadows and secrets. There was something sad about it now, Harry thought. It looked neglected.

Maybe, he speculated, it wasn't the same without any Black descendants living inside it. The thought was unexpectedly gloomy.

It stung him to realize that Sirius's death had become undeniable, a part of Harry. All through the first weeks of summer he had fought it, dreaming desperately of the Department of Mysteries not out of Voldemort's obsession but out of his own final, futile sense of hope. But after Dudley, after Dennis and Seamus, after Sirius's own enemy Snape, who was he to challenge the finality of death? Nothing he did could change anything. Nothing could bring them back.

"I despise traveling by Floo," Draco snarled behind him, as he stumbled out into the room. He looked disheveled and unhappy, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at him. "Oh, how very welcoming of you, Potter," he said flatly. "Ha ha."