"What do you mean?"
"Have you any ideas about her political views?"
"She isn't a Death Eater," Sirius assured him. "She calls Voldemort a 'prissy little bitch' on occasion, and she hasn't taught Harry to agree with his beliefs either. I've met Miss Granger who I know I don't need to inform you is muggleborn."
"Of course, I don't mean to imply either of them were prejudiced. Moreso, I was concerned about some rumors that Harry and his friends might be practicing Dark magic. Harry certainly has a troubling aura for such a young child, and Miss Adams is… unique."
It was obvious, and very sweet really, how much the two cared for each other. That she was a competent mother was not under question, but there had been a barrage of strange occurrences at the school and it was not adding up. Harry was an odd child, who easily handled dangerous scenarios, was not as empathetic as was normal, was overpowered for his age, and was constantly disappearing. That the string of evidence leading to the suicide of Madame Umbridge could all be tentatively linked back to the boy was currently less of a theory and more of a hunch.
The young students who had been cursed had blamed Miss Lovegood, a known companion of Harry but then changed their story after the suicide. Not to mention that Umbridge had claimed she'd done it as a hate crime against muggleborns, when neither of the two victims were such. Madame Umbridge's evidence had all been photographed by a Gryffindor student under orders of Mister Weasley.
Now, Umbridge had admitted to it and she was certainly the type to do such a terrible thing, even if it was to the wrong victims, Dumbledore could not rule out that the woman was very stupid. But there was something off about Harry and his adopted mother. Something he did not usually notice outside the likes of Dark wizards.
Again, he could not find an ounce of proof except for rumor and the particular type of dread that arose when dealing with the most unsavory.
How he had not noticed the severity before, he did not know, but he felt in his gut that something was off, and Dumbledore was a very smart and powerful wizard who had absolutely never been wrong about anything before.
"I haven't noticed anything," Sirius said, as though he had not spent his morning waist-deep in Death Eater bones, arguing with ghosts about Voldemort's childhood. How the old man could not sense the Darkness which rolled easily off of Sirius, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he thought it was the remnants of his time in Azkaban, but either way, surely he knew Sirius himself was far too neutrally aligned to be the person to have this conversation with. "The kids haven't given me any impression that they aren't normal kids. Maybe the aura is from when Voldemort attacked him? Or his fight with that basilisk?"
"That could be the case. Hmm. Has Harry reported any pain or unusual feelings emanating from his scar?" Dumbledore inquired, hopeful for this new angle. It could very well be the result of their connection through Harry's scar. No one had ever survived the Killing Curse after all, and he did not know what spell or ritual Lily had used to protect him, and Voldemort had dabbled in obscure magic. Who knew what Darkness might result from that Halloween night?
"No? Shouldn't you be asking Allie or Harry about this -"
"Oh, no. I don't want to give them any unnecessary worries. It's just a hunch I have about Harry and a possible connection to Voldemort -"
"That really sounds like something you should bring up to them," Sirius repeated, cutting him off and a bit flabbergasted at the man's chronic unwillingness to speak plainly. Had it always been this bad and Sirius had not noticed, content to receive whatever scrap of information Dumbledore deigned to grant him?
"I had not realized you and Miss Adams were familiar enough for nicknames," Dumbledore continued in a probing voice, giving Sirius a scrupulous look. He had assumed the man would be eager to reinsert himself into Harry's life, but if he had also become friendly with Adams, that could prove to be a problem. Sirius had a reputation back in his school days. Surely he had not positioned himself to be Harry's pseudo-stepfather? Although, that meant he could take advantage of their closeness to learn more about whatever Adams was planning.
"Well, I'm Harry's godfather," Sirius reminded him. "I've been to visit several times. As Molly Weasley has said, Harry's reaching the age where a male role model is appreciated, so we've been cordial, and it is my hope to have an active role in Harry's life. Truly, Headmaster, I don't get the sense that she's teaching him anything inappropriate. Harry is well cared for." He said all this with his best Black smile - all teeth and a clear mind so no amount of the man's probing could detect any hint of a lie. Not that it was a lie, truly. Sirius didn't consider it inappropriate for Harry to learn necromancy, at least not anymore.
"Well, as his godfather, and Lily and James' first pick as guardian you have a greater legal right to gain primary custody." Sirius could not hold in his carefully constructed calm attitude, as he began to choke on the air and took a swig of whiskey to help regain his breathing, which of course did not help much.
"First off - neither Harry nor Alabasandria will take well to that. He calls her his mum, Albus. Neither will be separated quietly, and I will not be the one to tear up a family. Secondly - I know that Lily and James' top priority would have been to ensure Harry was somewhere where he would be safe and happy, which is the case with Allie, and not true with the Dursleys, where you left him. Do not attempt to use their words against me, you did not know them like I did. Why is this important to you?"
"Voldemort is gaining power," the old man insisted. One would think spending a decade in the depression prison would make Sirius a little easier to talk to, but clearly, the infamous Black arrogance had not been lost to him. "Harry is in incredible danger more and more every day! I do not wish for something bad to happen to him. It is in his best interest that he remains with a Light wizard, a member of the Order, in a secure home under Fidelius."
Sirius scoffed. "I wasn't aware I was any of those!"
"Nonsense, of course you're welcome back into the Order, and I was thinking we could cast the Fidelius over Grimmauld Place."
"No."
Sirius was not in the mood to point out that Dumbledore had slid over the first point. He was not in the mood to argue much further else he would consider stringing the man from the rafters by his beard. Now, that was a solid idea. The sort of prank James would have loved. Harry would think it was hilarious, he would have to take pictures to show him.
"No? Sirius, pardon me, but this is a serious discussion. Harry's life is in danger -"
"And him staying with Alabasandria is not going to jeopardize that. He is safe and loved and I've been showing the kids how to duel. Harry is safe. Focus on the things you can control, old man. What are you going to do about Voldemort?"
"Harry is the only one who can defeat Voldemort! It has been prophesied -"
"Oh, those things are bullshit! Do you really believe that? Are you going to sit there then, and do nothing? Let a child fix this mess for us? He isn't even allowed to have a loving family while he goes to war for us?"
"Sirius, I have not been doing nothing! It is not my intent to make Harry fight in a war. But he is Voldemort's target, and he will need to fight eventually. If he is being raised in such a matter that he is not trustworthy -"
"Oh fuck off. If he was trustworthy, you wouldn't tell him anything anyway. That's your deal. You love secrets. Look, I'm going to leave before I hit you. If you have concerns, you need to bring them up with Harry and his mum, okay? He isn't some evil little shit, he's a nice kid and he would totally fight Voldemort if need be. He is a child, though. And he doesn't want to fight, he doesn't need to. That should be our job. He wants to play Quidditch, not fight. Do not ask him to kill a dark lord for us."
Sirius stormed to the floo in a huff. Dumbledore went ahead and rolled himself another joint, Fawkes lighting it up for him in a blast of fire. His head banged against the table and he let out a long groan.
....
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