The Master of Death

Chapter10: A Conversation with Sirius(part1)

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts, once Mrs Weasley passed their door. He was reminded of his original plans and then he waited for five minutes in silence, just to be sure that he wouldn't be disturbed. Harry looked at the door and then at Death. This had to be long enough. The being seemed to read his mind and reached out to touch his arm. As soon as Death's hand landed on Harry's skin he was whisked away into the shadows. It felt like he was moving through water for a moment and then he found himself on a chair in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place No. 12.

Harry blinked, disoriented, realizing that he was sitting on a chair opposite to his Godfather, a bottle of Whisky standing between them.

Death stood looming behind him, his hand slipping from Harry's shoulder. Harry missed the contact.

Meanwhile, Sirius was staring at a glass in his hands. He didn't look well. The flickering light from the fireplace had his eyes appear deep in their sockets, unkempt strands of hair framed his face which was dominated by a sombre expression. Harry could see the similarities between him and Bellatrix. She had the same dark hair and just like Sirius, she possessed the high cheekbones every Black seemed to inherit. Even Malfoy, the prick.

From the corner of his eyes, Harry spotted a sleek, black snake slithering up the chair next to him. But just at that moment, Sirius flinched heavily and bumped into the table with his knee. In the last second, Harry was able to grab the bottle which wobbled dangerously in its place.

"Merlin's balls, Harry!" Sirius pushed the hair out of his face. He seemed pretty calm, but most of the whisky from his glass was now forming a puddle on the table, "How did you get down here?"

Harry smirked. "You know, it's not good to drink on your own," he said and pulled the bottle towards him.

"Are you going to scold me now too?" his godfather asked and the scent of alcohol wafted over to Harry.

"No, it's more of a proposal, really," Harry replied. He licked his lips and fixated a shelf not far from him. Death had told him that he could summon any and everything if he just knew where an object was. A glass a few feet from him should be a good enough starting point and the ministry would hardly trace him in a place under the fidelius charm, would it? Focusing on one of the cut whisky tumblers on the shelf, Harry tried his best to visualize it in his hands. When it actually appeared out of the blue within his palms, Harry was so surprised he almost dropped it. Yet he grinned victoriously as he put the glass onto the table. It didn't even have a chip. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"You know, it's also not good to drink if you are underage and I'm not even asking how you did that thing with the glass. But please be my guest," Sirius said and made a wide gesture with his hand, "You are lucky that I don't care too much about rules right now. This is a bourbon. It's been rotting in this house for years. It's pretty decent but I doubt you want more after the first sip either way." Sirius took the bottle out of Harry's hand and poured some of the golden liquid into Harry's glass before he refilled his own.

He watched with a half-smile when Harry tipped the glass to his lips, probably awaiting a reaction that didn't come. Once the familiar burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat had passed, Harry addressed his godfather. "I promised you I'd tell you everything you want to know, but there are some conditions. There are things you can't tell anyone else and I might ask for a favour."

Sirius expression became more serious. Turning his own glass in his hands he looked at Harry contemplatively. "You know some things, don't you? More than everybody thinks you do," Sirius stated and he stared at Harry. There was not a trace of the drunkenness from a few seconds ago. Harry nodded, before he looked at the glass in his hand, the golden liquid sloshing as he contemplated how to go about this.