Harry Potter: The Angel of Death C38 (Patreon)

Chapter 38: Second Chances 

Harry winced as another shout echoed through the closed door. Edward Tonks didn't even look surprised. The healer simply sighed, adjusted the stack of files under his arm, and continued walking down the corridor.

"Family reunion?" Harry asked.

"Blacks," Edward replied with a shrug. "They're all completely nuts."

Harry snorted.

"You married one."

Edward reached over and ruffled Harry's hair.

"You'll understand when you're older."

Harry immediately batted his hand away.

"I understand perfectly now."

"No," Edward said confidently. "Trust me. You don't."

Harry shook his head, though he couldn't suppress a smile. Unfortunately, Harry does understand a little too well. The lunatic's memories came with all sorts of knowledge, most of it useless and very traumatizing, but some... educational. 

For a few moments, they continued walking through the corridor together before Harry remembered something.

"Speaking of things I don't understand," he said, "what's this thing about you being the hospital's representative in the trial?"

Edward groaned.

"Oh Merlin, not that."

Harry became even more interested. That reaction alone tells him there is a juicy story worth investigating. 

Edward looked around as if hoping for rescue before realizing there wasn't any.

"Fine." He said. "The current Director of St. Mungo's wants me to replace him."

Harry tilted his head. 

"That's it?"

"No." Edward sighed. "The problem is that the Board of Governors disagrees."

"Why?" Harry frowned.

Edward gave him a look and Harry thought about it for approximately three seconds.

"Oh."

"Exactly." The healer's expression turned dry. "The official reason is that I'm too young, too unconventional, too progressive, too willing to challenge established procedures and whatever other nonsense they invent every other week."

"And the unofficial reason?"

Edward barked a laugh.

"The unofficial reason is that half the board cannot stand the idea of a Muggleborn directing Britain's most prestigious magical hospital."

Harry grimaced. Yeah, that sounded about right. 

"The current director knows exactly what's happening," Edward continued. "He also knows the board's preferred candidate."

"Is he bad?"

Edward stopped walking. Harry had never seen a man look so more offended by a question.

"Bad?" His voice rose. "The man is a self-important, arrogant, pureblood idiot whose primary qualification is having the right surname."

Harry nodded, definitely bad.

Edward resumed walking.

"If he becomes director, he'll spend six months replacing competent staff with friends, another six months creating committees that don't need to exist just to fill his pockets, and by the end of the first year, the hospital will be one bad day away from collapse."

That sounded very specific. Harry wonders how well Edward knows that candidate, or whether something like this has happened elsewhere. 

"So what's happening?"

Edward smiled.

"The current director refuses to retire."

"What?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"He refuses to retire." The healer grinned. "The board wants him gone, and they want their candidate installed, but the director wants me installed. Therefore, the director continues showing up to work every morning."

"That's his plan?" Harry stared. As far as plans go, that is well... not bad but not good. How long before the board finds a reason to fire the director? Or maybe the director also has the "right" surname, and that is protecting him. 

"At the moment? Yes."

"That sounds ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous." Edward shrugged. "But it's working."

"So basically you're the director."

"I'm the de facto director."

Harry stared at him and Edward stared back. The two of them concluded that the wizarding world was insane.

Another loud noise sounded from Sirius' room, neither moved nor even flinched. 

"You should probably go stop that," Harry suggested.

Edward looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why would I interfere? No one in their right mind gets between two Blacks, especially not when they are like these." He seems to speak from experience, so Harry shrugged. It can't be that bad, right? 

***

Inside the room, Sirius Black was remembering why Andy was the scary cousin growing up. It was a lesson all kids in the family learned: mess with Bella and she would hex you, mess with Cissa and she would tell her mother, but mess with Andy and you would regret being born.

She wasn't violent, she didn't run to adults, she was simply terrifyingly logical and possessed a talent for finding exactly where it hurt.

"You absolute idiot."

Sirius winced and pouted. Not even a hello or a hug, straight up calling him an idiot. In all fairness, he should have expected nothing else from the sharpest-tongued member of the family currently alive.

Andromeda stood beside the bed with her hands planted on her hips, staring down at him, quite literally.

"You got yourself thrown into Azkaban."

"I know."

"For twelve years."

"Yes."

"Twelve bloody years."

"I can count, Andy."

Andromeda narrowed her eyes.

"Can you?"

Sirius wisely chose not to answer. His cousin folded her arms and looked at him as thought he was the biggest idiot in the entire country.

"Seriously, Sirius."

Sirius snickered, and she glared at him.

"How?"

Sirius tilted his head.

"How what?"

"How did you manage to be this reckless?" She threw her hands into the air. "Reckless is supposed to be a Gryffindor thing, but you took it and elevated it into an art form."

Sirius opened his mouth but Andromeda wasn't finished.

"I genuinely think you have achieved something historic. Somewhere there is a record book listing the greatest idiots in magical history and you've just won first place."

Sirius pouted, sure he was a bit reckless back then, but there isn't any need to be this mean. 

"You left your infant godson with Hagrid." She continued.

"Hagrid is a good man."

"Hagrid is Hagrid."

"He—"

"Hagrid once tried to raise a flock of flesh-eating magical birds classified as XXXX creatures."

Sirius hesitated.

"That was one time."

"He is the reason Hogwarts has a giant spider colony."

"The spiders are not that bad." He muttered. “They mostly mind their own business.”

"The spiders once ate a 3rd year student's arm." Andrometa gave him a flat look.

"The student snuck out into the Forbidden Forest alone." Sirius defended.  

"What if that had happened to Harry?"

"... those spiders are dangerous." 

Andromeda gave him an unimpressed look. 

"And after leaving Harry with Hagrid, without contacting literally anyone, or using the brain Lady Magic supposedly gave you, you decided to hunt Pettigrew yourself."

Sirius winced.

"You make it sound stupid."

"It was."

"My best friends had just died! He betrayed us!"

For a brief moment, Andromeda's expression softened, but just for a few moments, before hardening once more. 

"And?"

Sirius stared at her.

"And?"

"Yes. And?"

His jaw dropped.

"They were dead!"

"And therefore your brain stopped functioning?"

Sirius opened his mouth, then he closed it, opened it again, but nothing came out.

Andromeda pointed at him.

"You are a Black, Sirius." 

"Oh, now we're proud of that?"

"At the moment? Yes."

Sirius groaned.

Andromeda continued relentlessly.

"You were supposed to think."

"I was grieving."

"You knew everyone believed you were Secret Keeper."

"..."

"You knew you would be suspect number one."

Sirius looked away. 

"You should have realized the moment James and Lily died that half the country was going to think you betrayed them." She pointed out. "You should have gone straight to Dumbledore."

Sirius grimaced.

"You should have gone to the Aurors."

Another grimace.

"You should have dragged half the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with you when hunting Pettigrew."

Sirius buried his face in his hands.

"And then what?" he muttered.

Andromeda looked at him like he'd just asked whether water was wet.

"Then there would have been witnesses." The answer came right away, as if it were the most logical thing, and for her, it likely was. "If Pettigrew still blew up the street, there would have been witnesses."

She raised one finger.

"If Pettigrew escaped, there would have been witnesses."

A second finger.

"If Pettigrew confessed, there would have been witnesses."

A third.

"And if you'd caught him, he would have been the one rotting in Azkaban."

Silence filled the room. The worst part was that she wasn't speculating, all she was saying was pure cold logic. It was so infuriating to hear, and so embarrassing, she made it look like he could easily have avoided 12 years in Azkaban had he used his head instead of his heart that night. And she was probably right.

"You know, normal people would start a family reunion with 'I'm glad you're alive.'"

"I was glad you were alive twelve years ago."

"Andy."

"And then you immediately got arrested for mass murder."

Sirius groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't."

Andromeda sighed and passed her hand through her hair, the anger draining from her shoulders.

"You really are an idiot."

Sirius managed a weak smile.

"That seems to be the consensus."

"It is."

Andromeda leaned forward and pulled him into a hug before he could react. Sirius froze for a moment before hugging her back. He buried his face on her shoulder.

"Good to see you too, Andy."

"Don't make me wait another twelve years."

His throat tightened, and she did not comment on her shoulder getting wet.

"I'll try not to." He chocked out.

***

Edward and Harry had barely made it halfway down the corridor before a familiar figure stepped out from around a corner. Albus Dumbledore stopped upon seeing them, and for the briefest moment, surprise crossed the old wizard's face.

"Harry."

Harry stopped, equally surprised. He hadn't expected to see Dumbledore, of all people, here. He was probably there to see Sirius, but Crowley had made it very clear that Sirius wasn't to meet with any government official without the Healers' authorization and his presence. Dumbledore, technically, was a government official. It wouldn’t be the first time Dumbledore thought himself above such things. 

"Professor."

Dumbledore's gaze lingered on him before shifting toward the room Sirius occupied further down the corridor.

"I came hoping to speak with Sirius." His eyes returned to Harry. "I did not expect to find you here."

Harry said nothing, and the silence stretched for several seconds before Dumbledore spoke again.

"If you would allow it, Harry, I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you privately."

Edward looked between them, not knowing if he should intervene, call Crowley, or remain silent and vanish into the wall. 

Harry looked at Dumbledore, and after a moment, he nodded.

"Fine."

Edward sighed.

"You can use my office."

Several minutes later, the door closed behind them. Outside in the corridor, Edward remained standing for several seconds before rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"When exactly did my office become public property?"

First Crowley and now Harry. At this rate, he was going to need a second office just so he could actually work. Shaking his head, Edward turned and walked away.

Inside the room, silence settled over the office. Harry sat behind Edward's desk while Dumbledore occupied the chair opposite him.

Neither spoke.

Harry found himself looking at the photographs resting atop the desk. One showed Edward standing beside a smiling woman, the same woman who was currently speaking with Sirius, and he assumed it had to be Andromeda Tonks, Edward's wife and Sirius's cousin. Another featured a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair that shifted colours every few seconds, cycling through shades of blue, purple, and green before returning to pink. That had to be Nymphadora "Call me Tonks" Tonks.

The final photograph drew his attention the longest: it was a family portrait. Edward stood at the centre, surrounded by those he loved. Andromeda stood at his right side, while on his left was a grey-haired couple with a younger-looking Tonks squeezed between them, all of them smiling as if the photographer had just told a particularly good joke. They looked like a normal, loving family.

The thought left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth.

For a moment, he found himself staring at the photo, watching the family laugh and shift about in the frame. He wondered what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by people who wanted him there, people who looked at him the way the Tonkses looked at one another.

Harry forced the thought away before it could take root.

Dumbledore broke the silence.

"You saw Sirius."

Harry nodded.

"I imagine that was difficult."

Harry considered the question and shrugged.

"The difficult part was finding the courage to walk through the door."

A small smile touched Dumbledore's face.

"Courage is something you have never lacked, Harry, my boy."

Harry ignored the compliment as he leaned back in the chair.

"You know something?"

Dumbledore waited.

"Sirius spent less than five minutes with me before he started asking about my life."

The old wizard stared at him, not knowing where Harry was going with that.

"He wanted to know whether I liked Hogwarts, whether I played Quidditch, or had friends." Harry continued. "He asked if I was happy. He obviously cares about me, even loves me, even after 12 years apart, he actually loves me."

Something flickered behind Dumbledore's eyes, and Harry met his gaze.

"Why didn't Sirius raise me?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"Because we believed him guilty."

He began recounting the events of that night. He told Harry that it was he who had cast the Fidelius and named Sirius as the Secret Keeper. James and Lily changed the Secret Keeper to Peter Pettigrew without telling him, so he, along with the entire Order of the Phoenix, believed Sirius was the Secret Keeper; they had no reason to think otherwise. Not even Remus Lupin, James' other best friend, knew about the switch. 

Dumbledore did find it odd how easily Sirius handed Harry to Hagrid, which planted a seed of doubt in his mind, but then Sirius proceeded to kill Peter and slaughter dozens of Muggles, and those doubts vanished. 

The aurors had found a hysterical Sirius Black laughing amongst the ruins of the street while shouting that he had killed them.

"In my eyes," Dumbledore admitted, "the evidence appeared overwhelming."

Harry listened without interruption.

"I was not aware he had never received a trial." The admission seemed to cost him something. "The truth is that those were chaotic days. Voldemort had fallen, his followers were being hunted, and the Ministry was struggling to restore order."

His blue eyes seemed older, and he sighed.

"I believed Sirius guilty. Therefore, I saw no reason to question the conclusion."

Harry remained silent, but his jaw tightened.

"Everything I did afterward," Dumbledore continued, "was done because I believed it was the best for Britain, for our world, and for you."

"The Dursleys were best for me?" He asked through clenched teeth.

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly.

"No." He admitted. "They were not."

Harry stared at him. He had expected many things, but Dumbledore admitting that so easily was not one of them. 

Dumbledore folded his hands.

"Your mother sacrificed herself for you, Harry, and that sacrifice created powerful protective magic."

Harry said nothing.

"The blood wards I later built upon that protection required you to live with a blood relative of Lily Potter. Petunia Dursley was the only viable choice." Dumbledore's voice remained calm. "Many of Tom's followers escaped justice, while others hid away, and Tom himself was not truly gone."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. 

"If Harry Potter had grown up openly within magical Britain, surrounded by fame and attention, there is every possibility he would not have survived to receive his Hogwarts letter."

Harry did not say anything at first. Dumbledore was correct, but that did not make it right. Yes, the Wizarding World was, and still is, dangerous for him. Voldemort is still out there, but the Dursleys were not the best option for him. Ron had said so himself, the Death Eaters did not need to enter the house, they would have just needed to wait for him to get out to capture him, or use a random Muggle, maybe even his relatives, to get him out. 

Harry wasn't going to get into that, not now. 

"Were you aware they didn't want me?"

Dumbledore doubted for a second.

"Yes."

"Were you aware they resented me?"

He paused and lowered his eyes a bit. 

"To some extent."

Harry nodded.

"Did you know they made it clear every single day?"

Dumbledore did not answer.

Harry looked away, fighting those memories. This is not the time to let them affect him.

"Do you know what it's like growing up knowing your family wished you weren't there?"

Dumbledore remained silent. 

"No child is born believing they're unwanted." He paused. "Someone teaches them."

Harry stared at one of the photographs.

"Every meal, every birthday, and every Christmas, they made sure I knew how much of a burden I was."

For a moment, neither spoke.

"I'm sorry, Harry." 

Harry let out a short, humourless laugh.

"Did you ever check on me?"

The question seemed to catch Dumbledore off guard.

"I—"

"Not the wards."

Harry looked directly at him.

"Me." He said. "Mrs Figg worked for you, didn't she?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened for a moment before dismissing it. He remembered seeing Minerva with Harry's group during the trial; she must have mentioned Arabella. Minerva did visit the old squib a few days back, and the poor woman was left crying. 

"You know about Arabella?"

Harry did not answer his question, instead, he made one of his own: 

"Did she report back?" Harry pressed. "What exactly did she tell you? Did she tell you I had friends?"

"..."

"Did she tell you I was happy?"

"..."

"Did she tell you I was loved?"

The silence answered for him.

"Did she tell you I was barely fed half the time?"

Dumbledore's expression shifted.

"Harry—"

"Did she tell you I spent years cleaning their house? Cooking? Gardening? Doing whatever chores they could think of?"

The old wizard tensed.

"Did she tell you I slept in a cupboard?"

The room fell silent, and Dumbledore stared at him in disbelief, horror building up in his blue eyes. 

"The house had four bedrooms." Harry's voice remained perfectly even. "And I lived in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years."

The old wizard looked physically ill.

"The funniest part?" Harry leaned forward. "When Hogwarts sent my acceptance letter, it was addressed to the cupboard."

Dumbledore swallowed and gripped the armrest of the chair.

"Hundreds of letters addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs'" Harry laughed again. "One personally delivered by Hagrid yet, by some miracle, nobody noticed or cared to notice. Or maybe someone did and thought it to be a mistake, a joke of sorts, or maybe even not something to be concerned about. Maybe they thought it was a magical cupboard the size of a castle."

His eyes locked onto Dumbledore, and his next question was almost gentle.

"When would it have been enough?"

Dumbledore did not know what he was asking this time, and frankly, he was a bit scared to ask.

"When would you have stepped in?" He asked. 

Dumbledore remained silent, tensing his hold on the armrest. 

"If Vernon beat me every day?" Harry stared at him. "Would that have been enough?"

Dumbledore looked away, and Harry took a deep breath. 

"Was there ever a moment," Harry asked in a lower tone, "where my happiness mattered?"

Dumbledore's gaze returned to him, with surprise in his eyes.

"Not my survival, not Voldemort and the weird thing binding us, not protecting magical Britain or the greater good, just me," His voice cracked. "Just Harry."

Dumbledore looked heartbroken, but Harry no longer cared about the old man's feelings.

"I don't think you wanted me hurt."

The old wizard looked up, a bit of light returning to his eyes.

"But I don't think you ever had my best interests at heart either." The words landed harder than any accusation. "You had objectives."

Harry stood from the chair and began walking towards the door. 

"You had goals and plans," he said plainly. "And my well-being was never one of them." 

He stopped near the door and looked back at Dumbledore, meeting his eyes.

"You are not my grandfather or guardian." His tone was even but firm. "You are not my mentor, and you're certainly not my friend."

Dumbledore flinched.

"You had a chance to be part of my life." Harry opened the door. "And you wasted it."

Harry gave a step forward.

"For some mistakes, Professor, there isn't a second chance."

The title was deliberate. Harry was drawing a line between them, a clear boundary: Albus Dumbledore was a stranger, one who no longer had any place in his life. 

"You're the headmaster of my school." Harry gave another step forward, crossing the threshold. "Nothing more."

Then he paused and looked back one last time.

"And if you keep trying to insert yourself into my life after I've made my boundaries clear..." His eyes hardened. "There are plenty of magical schools in the world."

The message was very clear.

"I can afford any of them."

The door closed behind him, leaving Albus Dumbledore alone.

***

Author’s Note: And no, Dumbledore isn't going to get away with everything he's done. This is Harry being emotionally done with him.  

About the title of the chapter: It has a double meaning, Sirius is getting a second chance, mending his bonds with his godson and cousin, and getting the chance to live on. While Dumbledore is NOT getting a second chance with Harry. 

Harry did not mention the Horrocrux because he isn't letting Dumbles know how much he knows. And he did not mention Privet Drive not actually being safe because the trial is not yet over, and there are still plans and schemes ongoing.