Harry had vast stacks of stone blocks by the first week in August. The stacks were a little impressive to look at, but they didn't reveal just how much work had gone into reclaiming them. Most had been damaged by the fire. All had water damage from more than ten years of sitting in pools of rainwater. Some had lichens and mold growing on them. Quite a few were damaged from the way the house had collapsed in on itself, damage Harry wouldn't trust a reparo to fix.
Harry didn't have enough undamaged stone to rebuild Godric's Hall exactly as it had been. That was the bad news.
On the other side of the ledger, his levitation technique had become top-notch: powerful, quick, and refined. He had discovered a few variations of cleaning spells that got even smoke damage out of otherwise pale-colored stone. The day he started reclaiming this material, he managed to lift and clean thirty-nine stones – and that left him as exhausted magically as if he'd lifted and hauled each stone with his own muscles.
Today, before ten o'clock, he'd already added seventy-five to the stacks. He was stronger, much stronger, with these few spells. And the training had allowed him to strengthen his cutter and his other adventuring spells. By next year, he might be able to go somewhere.
"What have you been doing?" a voice called out.
Harry about dropped his wand. Someone was here? Harry turned and saw his godfather. He'd written Sirius that he was camping here, trying to see about Godric's Hall.
"Did you sneak out of the hospital?" Harry asked.
"Should have. Some godson of mine didn't come to visit..."
"I'm supposed to be out of the magical world in the summers. That crazy ghost of Dumbledore might have people who still believe his nuttiness."
"The letters were fine, Harry." Sirius gave a frail smile, thin with disappearing lips. That cold prison had even stolen his lips and the upturn of his mouth. "No, to answer your question, I didn't sneak out. I sought a release and they said they'd done what they could."
But why had he sought a release? Harry's godfather still looked like a skeleton with a little flesh stretched upon it.
"And what's the real reason?" Harry asked.
Sirius laughed. That sounded real. "I couldn't lie to your father, either. There was a foul up at Azkaban..."
Harry was a little surprised, but not much. "What happened?"
"They knew that my old friend Wormtail was an animagus. So they had spell-layers outfit his cell to keep him from transforming and escaping."
"Sounds good," Harry said.
"It should have been, but the prison's stones they used were old, weather-worn, the whole bit. Not so long ago, one of those worn stones cracked and a hole opened in the protections. Three people escaped, several others tried. Peter was killed escaping."
The prison administration had tried to do the right thing, then cheaped out on stone? And it killed people... "Who escaped?"
Harry figured that was what had gotten Sirius out of the hospital. He was here to give Harry a warning.
"A cousin of mine, Bellatrix Lestrange, and another Death Eater named Rookwood. Also, the Wolf of Bandon..."
Death Eater. No one had ever explained the term to him, not even Binns, the history ghost. Harry had picked it up from all his reading of old Daily Prophets. Would have been nice not to need to self-study everything...
"And you're scared?" Harry asked.
"You're here, by yourself." Sirius pointed around to the empty space.
"On warded land."
"The wards didn't stop me."
"Did you come here when you were younger? Before the house burned?"
"Well, yes..."
"I haven't dug up the stones at the perimeter, but I'm guessing that invitation you received is still active. I've seen people pass by on the road. I've stood twenty feet from them and they didn't notice me, or anything else. Unless the escapees were also Potter guests..."
"Unlikely..."
Harry saw that his godfather was sweating – and it wasn't even warm out yet. "Come into the tent. Tell me all the news."
A second look confirmed the first. His godfather was beginning to look a little ragged as he stood. He'd probably been in a bed so long he couldn't stand for any length of time.
"Perhaps a glass of water?" Harry asked.
His godfather agreed.
Harry led the way and got Sirius settled into a comfortable chair. Obtaining water was simple and Sirius wanted nothing else for now.
When Harry took his seat, he had to ask a few questions to get Sirius to explain the details and why he looked so shaken.
First, an escape from Azkaban had never happened before. Second, no one as incompetent as Cornelius Fudge had managed to gut the Ministry so effectively either. He'd been in office not so many years, but he'd fired his second set of office staff a few weeks earlier in addition to the various other hiring freezes he'd put in place.
"What are they doing to find the escapees?" Harry asked. He figured Sirius wasn't telling him everything.
"They're hunting the three with Dementors. We'll need to prepare you for that. There's talk of stationing them in Hogsmeade, if not outside Hogwarts."
Harry didn't know much about Dementors, but stationing prison guards at a school... Who exactly did Fudge have advising him?
"I've read a little about the Patronus Charm," Harry said.
"You learned it?"
"No, not yet. I saw little need to learn something so specialized. I guess I'll have to try."
"That you will."
Sirius drank his water and looked at the tent. He didn't think it such a marvel as Harry had. He'd probably grown up with a model that had crystal chandeliers and water fountains in every room.
"I saw you were cleaning and saving the stones. Did the whole house fall into the basement?"
Harry nodded. "Mostly. I got the other stones first. I've recovered and stored everything I could."
"You've spent your entire summer doing this, haven't you? From dawn to dusk. Your letters said you were just doing a little cleaning up..."
Harry shrugged.
Sirius wasn't angry. "Some of the happiest times of my life were in this manor, Harry, with your grand parents and your father. How can I help?"