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Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 1
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**Part 10: Pronglet Fights Back (The Swimming not Drowning Prank)**

*4**th* *January 1995*

“She hates me.” Harry muttered morosely into his oatmeal.

Sirius sighed heavily as he sat down at the table in their quarters at
Hogwarts, his eyes glancing off the parchment by Harry’s breakfast.

After a rather tense meeting on the day before with Hermione, Harry had been
left simmering somewhere between annoyance and heartbreak. Hermione had
ruthlessly pointed out that Harry couldn’t expect to have everything go back
to normal with a few apologetic words, not when he’d literally pushed her
away, made decisions for her, and had taken his time in trying to make it
right. She had accepted that the latter hadn’t been completely Harry’s fault
since he’d been asleep most of New Year’s Day with magical exhaustion and
Sirius had kept him resting for a couple of days after that just to make sure
his son was recovered. But she had been less forgiving about everything else.
Harry had sent her a letter as a second attempt at getting her to forgive him;
clearly it hadn’t worked.

“She doesn’t hate you.” Sirius assured Harry.

He was fairly certain that Hermione loved Harry a great deal, both as his
friend and his girlfriend. She was just teaching Harry a lesson by not
allowing their relationship to resume until Harry could, in her words, prove
he trusted her to make her own decisions. On one hand, Sirius could appreciate
Hermione’s viewpoint that Harry needed to understand making lone decisions
about their relationship wasn’t on; on the other hand, he couldn’t bear to see
Harry hurting in any way.

“The path of true love never runs smoothly.” Sirius said brightly, trying to
comfort Harry. “Look at your Mum and Dad.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I want years of Hermione giving me the
cold shoulder.”

Sirius grimaced. “I don’t think it’ll be years?” He offered tentatively. ‘And
besides,’ he waved at the letter by Harry’s plate, “she is still being
cordial, isn’t she?”

Harry sighed and pushed the last of his oatmeal away. “Only because of the
House thing.”

Hermione had assured Harry and Sirius that she wouldn’t make things difficult
as far as the House of Black was concerned; she was still happy to be a
daughter of the House and was committed to ensuring the safety and position of
the House within the magical world.

“Still, the House thing means she’s not going to ignore you.” Sirius pointed
out. “I’m also fairly certain I heard her tell you that she was still going to
be your friend and help you with the second task, so…”

“So…” Harry murmured grumpily.

“So, all is not lost.” Sirius pointed out as Dobby arrived with a traditional
English breakfast. His stomach growled hungrily. “Faint heart never won fair
lady, Pronglet. You’re just going to have to win her back around.”

Harry nodded slowly, a glint entering his green eyes in a way that was
slightly worrying. “Ron and Neville are coming over later. Maybe they’ll help
me think of something.”

Sirius couldn’t help the nostalgic smile the look on Harry’s face prompted.
James had looked the same way trying to cook up scheme after scheme with the
Marauders to win Lily over. It was good, Sirius thought, that Neville and Ron
had forgiven Harry without too much fuss. Ron had been the easiest, his punch
on Harry’s arm had been accompanied by an exasperated “You plonker; don’t do
that again!” and that had been the end of it. Neville had settled for
lecturing Harry for an hour about the history of fealty and their oaths, and
having gained Harry’s assurance that he understood pushing them away was not
an acceptable way to protect people, Neville had nodded and said “Apology
accepted.” Sirius was pleased Harry had the full support of both boys,
although the idea of them coming up with a plan to get Hermione back on board
had all the hallmarks of an impending calamity.

“Try to stay out of trouble.” Sirius advised dryly. “You really don’t want
Minnie upset with you.”

Seeing her going to town on Dumbledore had been a pleasure. Sirius had ended
up not having to say anything while Minnie dressed Dumbledore down for the
sheer stupidity of not keeping Harry informed about Sirius’s status when Remus
had explicitly asked him to do so. Sirius had settled for standing there
glowering while Dumbledore’s face turned bright red under Minnie’s blunt
scolding.

Dumbledore’s apology and subsequent promise to do better, Sirius had accepted
with a large dose of salt. He and Harry had already given Dumbledore more
chances than he deserved as far as Sirius was concerned; he wasn’t getting
another one.

What had Remus been thinking, Sirius thought again, scowling. They’d agreed
they were going to do better than before and what had Moony done? He’d done
the exact same stupid idiotic thing that Sirius had done so many years before.
Moony was damned lucky that it had ended with Harry truly safe somewhere; that
Wormtail had chosen to play with Harry’s head instead of killing him.

“Are you ever going to talk to Moony again?” Harry asked bluntly breaking into
Sirius’s unhappy thoughts.

Sirius shot his son a pointed look to keep out of his festering anger at his
old friend. “I’ve talked to Moony.” He stabbed a sausage.

“You’ve sent him mail.” Harry retorted. “That’s not the same thing.”

“This isn’t something for you to worry about, Harry.” Sirius said firmly. Yes,
he and Remus were having a bit of a spat but it wasn’t the first time in their
friendship and he doubted it would be the last.

“But I do!” Harry blurted out, capturing Sirius’s attention immediately.

Sirius frowned. “Harry…”

“It’s just…” Harry squirmed under Sirius’s concerned gaze, “I mean, Remus
isn’t to blame really when you think about it, and he couldn’t have known what
would happen, and I hate that you two aren’t speaking and…”

Sirius held up a hand before Harry could continue. “Look, Pronglet…” he sighed
and tried to organise his thoughts into something his son could understand, ‘I
do realise what happened wasn’t Moony’s fault. Dumbledore should have given
you the message that I had gone to the States for treatment, Trelawney’s
prophecy was unfortunate timing,’ or the result of too much eggnog, “and Peter
is obviously smart and slimy enough that he was able to take advantage of the
situation when you went to the hospital looking for me.”

He knew those specific things couldn’t be laid at Moony’s door.

“But,” he continued with a returning spark of anger at Moony, “the fact is
that he didn’t deliver the news about me to you himself. He promised me,
Harry, that he would be there for you if anything happened to me and he
wasn’t.”

And that was the top and bottom of why Sirius was mad at Moony — and why Moony
himself was accepting of Sirius’s ire.

Sirius was all far too aware that there was a danger that he wouldn’t survive
the upcoming fight with Voldemort. He knew he was a target, not only because
of his relationship with Harry, but because of the power he wielded as Lord
Black — power Voldemort had enviously coveted during the last war. He had to
trust that the people he’d asked to take care of Harry *would take care of
Harry*.

Of course, he’d received a scolding from Augusta, Richard, Amelia, Andy,
Molly, and a number of others about giving Harry a bolthole instead of a list
of people to go to for help. Sirius considered the various lectures he’d
received with a touch of grumpiness. He had pointed out that when he’d given
Harry the bolthole the only allies he’d had at the time had been Remus and the
healers back at the clinic. He’d also pointed out that in the latest crisis
Harry had been bound and determined to believe that contact with anyone was a
bad thing and that it wouldn’t have mattered if Sirius had told Harry to go to
Augusta or Richard, or Andy, or whoever — Harry would still have bolted. But
they had made their argument and there was now a list of who Harry should seek
out in such an event in the future (and since Harry had apparently finally
accepted that he wasn’t to blame if people got hurt, Sirius was reasonably
assured Harry would use it). Sirius had, however, refused to disclose where
Harry’s bolthole was; Privet Drive would remain his and Harry’s secret.

“I just hate it when the two of you argue.” Harry murmured, dragging Sirius
back to the present and the breakfast table in their Hogwarts’ quarters.

“We’ll make up,” Sirius reassured him again before waving a hand absently in
the air, “just… not right this minute.”

Harry snorted inelegantly but poked his letter morosely and Sirius figured he
was safe from his son pushing him to talk with Remus for another few hours.

Dobby popped in suddenly beside Sirius, the Daily Prophet clutched in his
hands as he hopped nervously from foot to foot.

“Dobby?” asked Harry hesitantly, picking up on the elf’s distress.

“Story in the paper about Master Harry Potter’s Mooey.” Dobby said, pulling on
an ear.

Sirius snatched the paper out of Dobby’s hands, aware that Harry had shoved
his chair back to run around to read the article over his shoulder. It was on
the front page…

***THE DANGEROUS PET WEREWOLF of BLACK AND POTTER: STEWARD’S HISTORY OF
VIOLENCE***

*It is not a secret in political circles that the Steward for the Houses of
Black and Potter, Remus Lupin, is a werewolf. What is not so commonly known is
that Lupin has been reprimanded for unsafe behaviour — behaviour which led him
to attack the hands that feed him!*

*In a document provided anonymously to the Daily Prophet, it is revealed that
Lupin lost his place as Defence Professor at Hogwarts — an appointment that
seriously brings into question Albus Dumbledore’s capability as Headmaster —
after attacking Black and Potter in his werewolf form at the end of the school
year. So bad was the attack that a disciplinary note was added to his file
after questioning by the Head of the DMLE herself.*

*However, it seems this werewolf was able to convince Lord Black, an old
school friend, and the innocent Lord Potter that his attack was not something
to worry about! They generously forgave him and allowed him a place within
their family.*

*But worryingly it is rumoured that Lupin has been consorting with European
werewolves to create his own werewolf army on the Continent — one that
threatens the fabric of our wizarding world and which he intends to use as a
coup d’etat against the very people who have given him sanctuary until now.*

*Perhaps with the rumblings that Black hasn’t spoken with Lupin in days, the
truth has finally emerged and this werewolf pet has been revealed for the pest
he really is!*

“Bloody Skeeter!” swore Sirius furiously, the paper crumpling in his hands.

“What was that about a disciplinary note?” questioned Harry, pushing his
glasses up his nose, worry in every nuance of his tone.

“I don’t know.” Sirius admitted.

The only time he knew Amelia had questioned Remus about the events at Hogwarts
had been during the interview Remus had done at the start of the Summer — the
interview to prove Sirius’s innocence and push for Sirius getting custody of
Harry, and — oh! That bloody idiotic werewolf!

“Remus had to tell Amelia about turning into a werewolf to explain Pettigrew
getting away when he talked to her about what happened with me at Hogwarts.”
Sirius said tightly. “She must have put a note in his file then.”

A flush of guilt ran over Harry’s features matching the rush of guilt that
stampeded through Sirius. As much as it wasn’t their fault that Remus had
changed into a werewolf after they’d left the Shack, who would have attacked
them when all was said and done, it was through helping them that the events
had led to formal action and the evidence that someone had given to Skeeter
for her atrocious article.

“Bugger!” swore Sirius again. His mind raced with the political ramifications
of Skeeter’s article.

“We have to go see him!” Harry said urgently, pulling on Sirius’s arm.

Sirius nodded, his previous ire at Remus pushed away under the immediate need
to connect with his old friend and provide some reassurance that the article
wasn’t going to affect Remus’s position in their lives.

They marched over to the floo and Sirius followed Harry through to the School
House.

Tonks was pacing in her dressing gown in the front parlour. She turned and
glared angrily at them, brandishing a rolled-up version of the paper like a
weapon. “Where the hell have you two been? Have you any idea…”

“Nymphadora!” Andy’s harsh scolding tone brought a halt to her daughter’s
diatribe before Sirius could yell at his young cousin for her disrespect.
‘That’s enough!’ She turned to Sirius with flashing grey eyes. “Although,
where the hell have you been?!”

“We just got the paper!” Sirius snarled.

Andy had the grace to look abashed. She crossed her arms and nodded briskly.
“He’s in the kitchen.”

Sirius stormed past her and through to the kitchen.

He paused in the doorway arrested by the sight of Remus sat at the table, head
in his hands, the remnants of breakfast laid out in front of him. Sian was
desperately trying to comfort Remus, a hand on Remus’s shoulder patting him
gently, her head close to his, whispering soothing words.

Sirius cleared his throat and Sian’s head whipped up, her eyes flashing amber
at him.

“What do…” Sian began heatedly.

“Leave.” Sirius stated tersely. “Now, Sian.”

She huffed but a quick glare at Sirius’s implacable face had her gathering her
dignity, sliding out of the table and stomping sulkily out of the room.

Harry gave Sirius a push and Sirius sighed. He took the space Sian had left
while Harry slipped into a chair on the other side of Remus.

“You’ll have my resignation immediately, of course.” Remus croaked out without
looking up.

Sirius and Harry exchanged a shocked and horrified look over the werewolf’s
head.

“Don’t be stupid, Remus.” Sirius snapped out.

Remus finally raised his head. “You can’t possibly think my staying on as
steward is a good idea after everything that has happened over the last few
weeks and especially after today!”

Harry sent Sirius another silent look, pleading with him to fix it.

Sirius sighed heavily and grudgingly let go of his righteous anger. “You
screwed up, Remus. I trusted you to be there for Harry and you weren’t. But,”
he held up a hand when Remus went to speak, ‘you trusted Dumbledore and you
had every right to think that everything would fine if you waited it out at
the hospital for the rat to show again.’ He squirmed in his seat a little. “I
can hardly condemn you for making the same mistake I made back in the day,
even though I would have hoped you would have learned from my piss poor
example.”

“I should have.” Remus sighed, dropping his hands onto the table. He looked
over at Harry. “I am very sorry, Harry.”

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. “Dumbledore should have told me.” He bit his
lip. “And I should have talked to you when I saw you at the hospital instead
of hiding. If I had…”

Remus reached over and patted his arm. “Maybe we all have a lesson to learn
from what happened but don’t blame yourself, Harry. You were let down by
Professor Dumbledore and by me.” He grimaced. “I can only promise that it
won’t happen again but…” he motioned in the direction of the newspaper Sirius
still held, “unfortunately it seems that events have overtaken us.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Sirius asked dismissively, tossing the
newspaper down. “It’s a pile of crap.”

Remus frowned heavily. “Sirius, you can’t honestly believe that I can continue
as your steward after such awful press?” He grimaced. “You need to do damage
control and my resigning…”

“Who cares what they think?!” Harry blurted out angrily. “You’re not leaving!
I don’t accept your resignation!”

“Harry…”

“And neither do I.” Sirius cut in before Remus could marshal an argument for
Harry’s outburst. “Do you honestly think I hadn’t considered the possibility
that at some point the press would react badly to the idea that a werewolf
holds one of the most important positions for two powerful Houses within our
society? Not to mention the whole providing sanctuary thing for the rest of
the British pack? Do you think I haven’t planned for this particular day
already?”

“Well…” Remus mumbled sheepishly. He pushed a hand through his hair. “When you
put it like that.”

“So, firstly,” Sirius said, focusing on the problem they faced, “why didn’t
you tell me you’d received a warning, Moony?”

He knew Remus had registered the use of his Marauder name and knew that Remus
knew that it meant Sirius really did forgive him because Remus’s shoulders
dropped a touch, tension eking out of him.

“Because it wasn’t important.” Remus argued succinctly. ‘Your name needed to
be cleared and Harry needed you to be his guardian.’ It was his turn to
gesture for silence, preventing Harry and Sirius from speaking with a simple
raised finger. “And truthfully, I deserved it.” His cheeks turned red. “I was
monumentally stupid that night. I completely forgot my Wolfsbane and if you
hadn’t been able to turn into Padfoot to run me off, I could have hurt you all
very, very badly.”

Sirius harrumphed. “You’d probably have just gone for Snape.” It was only a
partial joke.

Remus chided him with a soft tut. “Not the point.” He shrugged. “Amelia was
very kind about the whole thing. She could have had me arrested but she
appreciated it was an accident. She had to uphold the law and make a record of
it but that was it.”

“So how did Skeeter get her hands on it?” Harry wondered out loud.

Sirius pointed at his son. “An excellent question, Pronglet.”

“A very excellent question.” Amelia’s dry tone had them all looking over at
the doorway. She strode in and took the remaining seat at the table. “I wanted
to come over and apologise immediately, Remus. Your file is meant to be
confidential. I have an Auror investigating.”

“Well, I have two suspects in mind.” Sirius growled.

“Wenlock and Diggory?” Amelia nodded. ‘Me too.’ She waved a hand at Sirius.
“But I doubt Wenlock was behind it. He’s far too prissy to get his hands
dirty.”

“But not beyond using Diggory to do it.”

Amelia nodded unhappily. “Amos has been a good friend for a number of years.
It’s not going to be easy if it is him.”

Harry slumped back in his chair. “Merlin. Can you imagine what it’s going to
be like for Cedric?”

“We don’t know for certain it is them.” Remus protested weakly.

“Oh, it is them.” Amelia contradicted him. “The second report on the Creatures
bill goes in front of the Wizengamot tomorrow with the overview of the new
legislature proposal. What better way to push for another overturn of the
Committee reviewing the laws if it’s biggest proponent is discredited thanks
to bad publicity.”

“That’s cheating!” Harry said hotly.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of dirty politics.” Sirius said dryly. “There
are cheats everywhere, Harry, not just on the Quidditch pitch.”

“I do have a concern for your safety, Remus.” Amelia turned to him.
“Regardless that the article is a load of nonsense, there is a fair amount of
anti-werewolf feeling out there and this paints a target on you.”

“I already had a target on me.” Remus countered. “I’ll be fine.”

Sirius hid the wince he wanted to make at the reminder that Remus was being
hunted by Greyback.

“I’d prefer to have Tonks provide you with a discreet escort until we can
contain this.” Amelia shot back.

“You’re that worried?” interjected Sirius before Remus could refuse.

Amelia nodded briskly. “I am. This type of thing stirs up mob behaviour.” She
spread her hands. “Look at what happened over that disgusting article about
Hagrid on Boxing Day.”

“Missed it.” Sirius reminded her.

“It was bad.” Remus said quietly. “Skeeter revealed Hagrid is half-giant.
There are rumours a number of the villagers from Hogsmeade went to Hogwarts to
demand Dumbledore fire him because they didn’t want him around.”

“That’s awful!” Harry said. He frowned. “Is this why Dumbledore had Trelawney
looking after me? He was taking care of people wanting Hagrid to leave?”

“Partly.” Remus admitted.

“It doesn’t negate the fact that Dumbledore should have just told you the
truth about my whereabouts and condition.” Sirius said quickly, anticipating
that Harry was about to excuse Dumbledore’s decision given the situation with
Hagrid. He decided a slight diversion was in order. “How did Skeeter find that
out anyway?”

“I assume she must have eavesdropped on them in the garden at Hogwarts the
night of the Ball.” Remus said. “I remember seeing her on the map near to
where Hagrid was sitting with the Madame Maxime.”

“Really?” Amelia said. “I’m certain I overheard Maxime telling Dumbledore that
they were alone. She was taking him to task about security and privacy. I
can’t blame her.”

There was a moment of silence while they all considered Hogwarts’ wobbly
security.

Sirius sighed. “If Tonks can stay with Remus as an escort that would be great,
Amelia.”

“Now, wait a moment…” Remus began.

“No, Moony.” Sirius said strictly. “Greyback can’t get to you easily but a mob
can. Tonks is a good choice being a daughter of the House, it keeps it within
the family.”

Remus glared at Sirius.

“Moreover, it’s probably not safe to keep your guest here.” Amelia said.

“Sian?” blinked Remus, taken aback, before the real threat of a mob bent on
hurting a werewolf sank in a moment later. ‘No. It’s probably not safe.’ He
agreed. “This place is well protected but…”

“But it would be better if she were elsewhere.” Amelia said crisply.

“There’s no reason why she shouldn’t head to the sanctuary.” Sirius said. “I
admit it’s useful having her here for intelligence on Greyback but she could
provide that through a floo connection or over a mirror.”

Remus sighed but gave a nod of acquiescence that had Sirius letting out a slow
breath of relief at not having to argue about it.

Amelia got up from the table. “I should head back and see what the
investigation is doing.”

“I’ll be in contact later.” Sirius said. “I’m going to call a meeting of the
Potter alliance; we’ll need to discuss strategy for the Wizengamot. Harry, you
should return to Hogwarts…”

“No.” Harry said so firmly Sirius’s eyebrow rose in surprise making Harry
blush. “It’s just… this is my fight, Padfoot. Remus is the steward for the
House of Potter and this is an attack on my political agenda. I should be at
the meeting.”

Sirius leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Well said, Pronglet.” He glanced at
Remus and motioned toward the door. “Why don’t you walk Amelia to the floo?”

Harry nodded a touch unhappily but Sirius figured that Harry understood he
needed a moment alone with Remus.

“It’s going to be brutal.” Remus said as soon as Harry and Amelia were out of
earshot. “Are you sure he should…”

“He’ll stand up.” Sirius said simply.

Regardless of his romance troubles, Harry seemed more settled in his skin.
Sirius suspected some of it was down to Harry finally meeting Lily and James.
A touch of envy and jealousy spiked sharply in his gut but he shook it off
quickly. He was raising Harry; got to live with him, see him grow into a fine
young man. James and Lily were gone but if talking to their ghosts had helped
Harry even a little bit in facing up to his destiny, how could Sirius think of
it as anything but a good thing? And hadn’t Harry admitted he loved Sirius?

Sirius felt himself settle into his own skin with that final thought. “I
talked with James and Lily.”

Remus stared at him. “What?”

“I found Harry at the cemetery with the Resurrection stone talking with James
and Lily.” Sirius explained quietly.

“Dear Merlin.” Remus breathed out thinly. “Were they… are they…”

“They looked exactly like they always did.” Sirius said, grief churning
through him as always but it was tempered by the knowledge of seeing them.
‘They forgave me, Moony.’ He shook his head. “I never realised how much I
needed them to until…”

Remus clasped his hand on top of the table. “It was never your fault, Sirius.”

“I let them down, Moony.”

There was a hushed silence.

“And I let you down.” Remus said regretfully.

Sirius sighed. “We have to stop making the same mistakes, Remus. Lily and
James told Harry that he’s stronger with his friends than without. The
Marauders… we were stronger together. *We* are stronger together.”

“So…” Remus said tentatively.

“So I really do forgive you.” Sirius said sincerely.

“Thank you.” Remus said. He wiped a hand over his face, hiding suspiciously
shiny eyes. “I just wish that Skeeter hadn’t gotten hold of that note.”

Sirius squeezed the hand that was clasping his own. “We’re brothers, Moony.
You, me and Prongs. We didn’t run when you told us as teenagers, and Harry and
I — we’re not running now. Now, come on. Let’s find our youngest Marauder and
work out how we’re going to prank the pants off Wenlock.”

Remus gave a huff of laughter. “I hope you don’t mean that literally.”

Sirius’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Well, now that you mention it…” he
slapped Remus on the shoulder as the other man chuckled and felt his own
equilibrium return with a vengeance.

Wenlock was going to deeply regret taking on the Marauders.

o-O-o

The fire in the parlour was down to a dull ember.

Remus sipped the whiskey he had poured out and dropped his head back against
the cushion of the sofa. Tonks switched on the wireless and sat down beside
him but didn’t say anything for which he was eternally grateful.

There was a blast of music before the sound faded and the tones of the radio
host echoed through the room.

“This is Malcolm Mitherington, reporting on today’s extraordinary news from
the steps of the Ministry where I have the Minister himself here with me to
make a statement!”

Remus snorted. He remembered Malcolm as a rather pompous Hufflepuff in the
same year as Sirius’s brother.

“Minister,” Malcolm continued, “what can you tell us about the werewolf Lupin
and what will happen now?”

“My dear Malcolm, and faithful Wizarding Wireless listeners of course, I fear
this article today has become something of a mountain when it is in fact
simply a molehill.” Fudge’s smooth politicking slid through the airwaves like
honey.

“So Lupin didn’t attack Lord Potter and Lord Black at Hogwarts at the end of
the school year in June?” Malcolm inquired sharply.

Fudge gave a small cough. “Uh, no — that is to say, Remus Lupin did admit that
on the full moon in question, in trying to apprehend Peter Pettigrew and
understand the truth behind Lord Black’s situation, he had forgotten to take
his Wolfsbane and did turn into his werewolf form when he was in the open.”

“And he attacked them.” Malcolm insisted.

“Oh no, my dear fellow!” Fudge said cheerfully. “On the contrary, Lord Black
was able to divert him and Lupin chased after the fleeing Pettigrew. No harm
befell Lord Potter and Lord Black from Mister Lupin’s actions that night.”

“I see.”

Remus chuckled dryly because it was evident Malcolm didn’t see.

“Obviously, when Director Bones investigated the situation with Lord Black at
the beginning of the Summer, the truth about the evening at Hogwarts came out
in her interview with Mister Lupin and as per protocol, a note was added to
his Creature file.” Fudge continued when Malcolm remained silent. ‘All
completely above board and normal process.’ He gave a tsking sound. “What has
not been above board is leaking this confidential note to the press and I will
assure you and the listening public that the DMLE will thoroughly investigate
how this happened!”

“Surely it doesn’t matter though?” Malcolm argued. “Lupin is a werewolf and
doesn’t have the same right to privacy! Surely this was in the public’s
interest to know! Lupin is dangerous!”

“Ah, well, let’s examine those three statements, shall we?” Fudge sounded
almost gleeful.

Tonks shot Remus a questioning look and he smiled weakly back at her.

“Firstly, the law that stated werewolves did not have the same right to
privacy as wizards and witches was suspended by the authority of the
Wizengamot following the decision to review the Creature laws. At the present
time, werewolves do hold the same right to privacy and it is completely
illegal to reveal details of Ministerial files containing any private
information related to them.” Fudge explained.

Remus breathed out. It had been a shock to him earlier in the day to realise
that whoever had leaked the information would face criminal charges for their
action.

“Secondly,” Fudge said, “the matter was uncovered in the course of a separate
investigation and Mister Lupin’s actions were examined by the Director of the
DMLE herself and found to be accidental and non-criminal. There were
extenuating emotional circumstances surrounding the event which provide some
mitigation to Mister Lupin forgetting the Wolfsbane and the impact coming out
into the open would have upon him. Furthermore, all parties involved bar
Pettigrew have come forward today to state their support for Mister Lupin.”

“I think Professor Severus Snape might disagree.” Malcolm argued. “He did
advocate to have Lupin removed from the Hogwarts’ staff.”

“On the contrary, Professor Snape has contacted me personally to express his
dismay that Lupin’s record has been besmirched by this incident.” Fudge
countered calmly.

Remus’s eyes widened with shock and he almost dropped his drink.

“Professor Snape has had time to consider the incident and admits his
immediate reaction was driven from a personal phobia rather than sound logic
and his knowledge of Lupin’s character.” Fudge said. “Which brings us nearly
onto your third point that Lupin is dangerous. Outside of the full moon, Remus
Lupin is a very intelligent and gifted wizard who Lords Black and Potter count
as a friend as well as their steward. He is dangerous on the nights of the
full moon but Lord Black provides Wolfsbane as part of their agreement and
Mister Lupin usually spends the time alone in one of the Black properties.”

Malcolm cleared his throat. “What about the rumours he is building a werewolf
army?”

Fudge laughed lightly. “Dear me, no! Mister Lupin was identified as an Alpha
by his counterparts in Europe and has undertaken that duty seriously with the
support of his Lords. They are simply providing a sanctuary to any in the pack
run by Fenrir Greyback, a very dangerous werewolf who is a wanted criminal not
least for his act in biting a four year old boy who grew up to be Mister
Lupin.”

“Lupin was four when he was turned?” Malcolm sounded shocked and Remus
carefully avoided making eye contact with Tonks.

“Yes, it was very tragic.” Fudge said with just enough sincerity to be
believable. “Greyback had tried to blackmail Lupin’s father into a deal and
when he wouldn’t kowtow, Greyback took his revenge by biting the son. Lupin
deserves our compassion not the diatribe of unremitting intolerance and hatred
typified by today’s newspaper article. I adore Rita but on this occasion she
has it very wrong.”

Remus waved his wand at the wireless and switched it off abruptly.

“Well, that was a positive defence.” Tonks said brightly.

Remus snorted and rubbed his free hand over his face. “I really don’t want to
talk about it.” He knew the second stage of Sirius’s and Harry’s plan involved
the Wizengamot the next day and he really didn’t want to think about *that*.

He knew he had royally screwed up trusting that Dumbledore would follow
Remus’s instruction to tell Harry about Sirius; trusting that Dumbledore
wouldn’t just assume that he knew best and do his own thing. And he’d let his
own want to get the rat get in the way of taking care of Harry the same way
Sirius had done all those years before. Well, Sirius had learned and smartened
up his act where Harry was concerned and so would Remus. He took a deep gulp
of the Scotch. He had to do better at putting Harry first, Remus mused,
especially given the support Harry was giving him.

The meeting at the Potter alliance had been as brutal as he had anticipated.
The room had been hostile at the beginning — too many had too ingrained
prejudices about werewolves regardless of their liberal views for it not to
be. A couple of them had gone so far as to recommend that Harry and Sirius
ditch Remus but they had been quickly silenced by Harry’s blunt statement that
Remus was staying.

There was something different about Harry, Remus mused. Sirius might have
chaired the meeting — ensuring there was direction to the discussion and that
everyone had their say — but it was Harry who’d *led*; who’d made it clear
that he was going to stand beside Remus and the wider agenda Harry wanted for
werewolves. Harry hadn’t faltered under the glares of the older men and the
arguments they marshalled. Instead, Harry had simply cleared his throat and
tersely explained Sirius’s plan of how they were going to deal with the press
and the Wizengamot. After which, the alliance members had all gone away happy.

Remus swirled the amber liquid in his glass. Somehow Harry had taken on the
mantle of leader while he’d been in hiding. But why wouldn’t he, Remus thought
with sudden insight. Harry had believed for a short time that Sirius was dead;
that Harry alone was going to have to lead, to battle evil and find the power
to defeat Voldemort. For those brief days, Harry hadn’t had Sirius to lean on,
to lead the alliance and lead the battle for him. And somehow his old friend
had realised that because Sirius was *allowing* Harry to lead.

It was… disconcerting.

“Something on your mind?” Tonks asked, breaking into his train of thought.

Remus simply glanced at her incredulously.

Tonks flushed and her hair cycled from pink to green and back again. “I know;
stupid question after everything today.”

“Actually, I was thinking about something specific to do with Harry.” Remus
admitted. “He seems to have changed, don’t you think? Become more
authoritative?”

Tonks changed position to look at him fully, her elbow on the back of the sofa
as she propped up her head on her hand, her legs tucked underneath her.
“Maybe.” She admitted. “He was pretty forceful at the alliance meeting but I
wondered if that was something he and Sirius had worked out as a strategy.”

Remus shook his head. “No…” he sighed, “I think being on his own to deal with
his grief at losing Sirius… it changed him.”

Tonks bit her lip. “I guess we really don’t know what happened to Harry during
the days he was alone — what he went through.” She reached for his glass and
he let her have it. She sipped and made a face at the harsh spirit. “I’m more
surprised that Sirius is letting him take so much of a lead.”

Remus nodded slowly, understanding Tonks’s view. Sirius was so protective of
Harry, it was surprising that his old friend had allowed Harry to step forward
in the way he had. But his mind skipped over Sirius’s mention of seeing James
and Lily, how he’d found Harry talking with them (and ignored how his belly
churned with envy again). Perhaps Harry’s newfound leadership had something to
do with that and Sirius would never presume to interfere with something that
James or Lily had said or done. He sighed. “I don’t think it’s easy for Sirius
but he trusts Harry.”

“He trusts you too.” Tonks said quietly.

His lips twisted wryly, knowing she was just trying to make him feel better
about the days of silence after Sirius’s return from the States. “He had every
right to be angry with me, Tonks. I let him down; I let Harry down.”

“You trusted Dumbledore.” Tonks argued. “Most people would say that’s a good
thing.”

“But it isn’t.” Remus replied without thinking.

Tonks’s eyes went wide, a dazed disbelief written all over her face. “Remus…”

He snagged his drink back. “Dumbledore has continually let Harry down in the
choices he’s made for Harry, Tonks. You had to have realised that from
everything that Sirius has told you and your parents since reinstituting the
House last Summer.”

“I guess…” Tonks sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, “it’s still hard
to believe that Dumbledore is fallible, you know? That he can make a wrong
choice?”

“I know.” Remus said softly. Such was Dumbledore’s reputation and legend. It
was difficult to let go of the old ingrained belief that Dumbledore was right;
that he knew everything; that his decision was the best; that he could be
trusted above and beyond all others. And despite all Remus knew about
Dumbledore’s actions and his mistakes, it was still difficult. It had been so
easy to turn to Dumbledore after Sirius had been sent to the Valley clinic, to
ask him to speak to Harry. He rubbed his forehead again.

“You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened.” Tonks said bluntly,
guessing his thoughts fairly accurately. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Remus gave a huff of disagreement but didn’t speak.

Tonks set her glass down and shifted closer to him. She placed her hand on his
arm and stroked downwards, soothing him before tangling their fingers
together. “Do you think Harry and Sirius would have forgiven you if you’d done
something so terrible?”

She had a point.

A small point.

But a point nevertheless.

Harry and Sirius had forgiven him, and he had gotten the impression from Harry
that there was nothing to forgive. Remus sighed. Maybe Tonks was right. He
told her so.

“So if they are going to let it go, are you going to let it go?” Tonks
pressed.

And ultimately there was no choice. Remus would not let Harry or Sirius down
again and to do that he needed to remain strong and face the next few days as
though he wasn’t bothered by the press and the snide remarks at being outed to
the whole of England.

“I guess I will.” Remus said softly. He squeezed her hand and made to let go
as he got to his feet.

She kept hold of him and scrambled to stand. “Remus.”

Before he could protest, her lips were on his and he responded automatically,
sinking into the comfort of the kiss, of being wanted. But he had just enough
sense to pull away when she went to deepen the kiss further.

“Tonks…”

And it felt so wrong to call her by her surname and yet he didn’t want to call
her by a name she hated.

“Dora.” Remus substituted and felt a rush of warmth as her face lit up at his
choice of nickname.

“Remus.” She breathed his name eagerly and leaned forward again.

He quickly placed his hands on her shoulders, halting her. “Dora, we can’t do
this.”

“Sure we can.” Tonks argued. “You’re a consenting adult; I’m a consenting
adult. Sian’s gone and we have the house to ourselves…”

“Tonks.”

The use of her surname had her stilling.

“This is a bad idea.” Remus said quietly. “I’m… not at my best and you… you’re
my protection detail.”

Tonks frowned slightly. “Remus, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course.” He was quick to reassure her. “And that’s why this is a bad idea.
Honestly I don’t know what you see in me! I’m far too old for you and there’s
that fact that I’m a werewolf.”

“I don’t think you’re *that* old.” Tonks’ hair cycled to a bright blue.
“You’re a charming, funny and smart guy, Remus. I like that. I’m attracted to
that. As far as the lycanthropy goes… well, it’s never mattered to you I’m a
metamorph, so why should I care that you have a furry problem once a month?”

Remus couldn’t do anything but stare at her.

“I know I’m not the girl you would want to be with long term, Remus, and
that’s fine,” she raised her hand to stop him protesting, ‘but you’re a good
friend; someone I trust and I like you.’ She shrugged. “I’d like us to be
friends with benefits. You’ve had those in the past, I know you have, and so
have I. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about us.”

Remus shifted away from her and paced a couple of steps, his mind racing
almost as fast as his heart. “I do like you, Dora.” He conceded. ‘But this is
very complicated… no!’ He said firmly when she would have interrupted. “I’m
the steward of your House. Sirius would have every right to fire me if we
started something without asking for his permission.”

Tonks made a face at that and he could understand; the whole thought of having
to ask Sirius if he could have an arrangement with To — *Dora* — was
excruciating.

“So we’ll ask him.” Tonks said bluntly.

“We’d also have to agree that if we stopped being friends with benefits, we’d
remain friends and civil.” Remus hurried out as a counter-argument.

“If Harry and Hermione have managed it, I’m sure we will.” Tonks agreed
eventually.

It was hardly a ringing endorsement and Remus wondered for a moment when he’d
stopped arguing against getting involved with Tonks and started negotiating
terms.

“So, you’ll speak with Sirius?” Tonks asked blithely unaware it seemed about
Remus’s confusion.

“We should sleep on it.” Remus said. “If in the cold light of day we feel the
same then… I’ll talk with Sirius.”

And he had no idea if he was hoping for Tonks to change her mind or not.

He shook himself. “I should head up.”

“Let me come with you.” Tonks said, stepping into his path. “Just to sleep, I
promise.”

Remus sighed and looked away but she closed the gap between them and placed
her hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Hey, no funny stuff.” She reiterated. “But I don’t like the idea of you being
alone after today and… I want to be there for you, Remus; as your friend.”

Remus felt torn. On one hand, he knew it was the height of stupidity not to
turn her away; to reassure her he was fine and go up to his bed alone… but on
the other hand, he yearned for the comfort of pack; of snuggling into another
warm body and knowing he belonged somewhere.

He sighed and held out his hand.

Tonks smiled, her face lighting up with delight at his capitulation.

But as her hand slid into his and she tugged him towards the stairs, Remus
couldn’t help shake the notion he was doing the wrong thing.

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 2
===============================

Sirius’s study within Hogwarts lacked the intimidating feel of the Black
family magic but Hogwarts seemed to have responded to the need for the study
to be a safe place for Sirius, and Albus as the Headmaster could feel the
shift in the ambient magic; Sirius — and Harry — would be defended within the
space even against any action Albus might take. It was a sobering realisation.

Albus tucked his robes around him as he sat on a cosy armchair in the seating
area in front of the fireplace; Cornelius and Amelia had ended up on the small
settee, Croaker had taken the other chair, and Sirius, Remus and Harry had
chosen to stand.

“First things first,” Sirius waved at Harry, “Harry will be joining us from
now on when his schedule allows for it.”

Albus’s gaze sharpened on Sirius but the Head of the House of Black had been
trained well and there was nothing on his expression to give away why Sirius
had changed his mind about including the teen. He thought about protesting for
a moment but determined from the look of satisfaction on the others’ faces
that he would be a lone voice so refrained.

“Secondly, we have a political crisis to deal with before we get to the rest
of the agenda so…” Sirius motioned at Cornelius.

Cornelius smiled grimly. “Wenlock is clearly moving against us.” He waved a
hand almost absently. “Nothing we didn’t plan for but still very annoying to
have to deal with.”

Sirius exchanged a look with Harry and Remus, heavy with the truth that the
reality for Remus was a good deal more than annoying.

“The papers were a good start at a defence.” Bertie said, stepping in before
Cornelius could say something else.

“The international press has been the most supportive.” Sirius nodded, and as
he glanced again at Cornelius, a glimmer of approval returned to his gaze.
“The wireless interview was a stroke of genius. The Prophet is running for
cover this morning.”

It was something of an understatement, Albus thought; the Prophet had
published a full apology to the Houses of Potter and Black in the morning
edition with a full article from Rita claiming she had been duped by incorrect
information from an informant.

Amelia snorted in a very unladylike way. “They claim that Rita found the
information on her desk and after verifying that the incident had taken place
— although they don’t say how she verified it — that she went ahead with the
article.”

“So they don’t know who gave them the information?” Bertie sighed. “That’s
very convenient for them, isn’t it?”

Albus nodded in agreement.

“And not a good thing when I’m trying to pin down the culprit responsible for
giving her the information for criminal charges.” Amelia pointed out dryly.

“It’s a shame Rita can’t be charged.” Sirius muttered — unkindly in Albus’s
opinion and he had no love of the journalist.

“We can’t prove that she was aware the information was illegally gained.”
Amelia said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the check on Remus’s file has only
provided us with two suspects as the source of the information — Diggory and
Dolores Umbridge.”

“Umbridge!” Sirius exclaimed. “I thought she was in the depths of the jungle
somewhere?”

“Oh she is,” Cornelius hastened to assure them, “but she is still a Ministry
employee so she still has some access to Ministry resources.”

“Not to mention that she still has friends, well, *allies* here.” Amelia
added. “Allies such as Clarence Smutter who accessed Remus’s file for Dolores
soon after it was announced that Sirius was Lord Black.”

“She was looking for dirt.” Sirius commented, his disgust evident in his tone.

Albus felt disappointment in Dolores; she hadn’t been the best student but he
expected better from her.

“She found some.” Remus sighed.

“It’s not your fault, Moony.” Harry said softly. “If it hadn’t been this, she
would have found something else.”

“Harry’s right, Remus,” Amelia said, “she also asked Smutter to access the
sealed file on Harry’s placement with the Dursleys. Smutter, of course,
couldn’t access that file without my approval so Dolores agreed he could leave
it.”

“Better my file than Harry’s.” Remus remarked.

Albus noted Harry frowning at the idea that it was better the scandal revolved
around Remus than Harry’s childhood abuse. Sirius, on the other hand, looked
as equally relieved as Remus that Dolores hadn’t gotten her hands on Harry’s
file.

“Unfortunately, all I can prove right now is that Smutter accessed the file
and gave her the information,” Amelia sighed, ‘and as she is still a Ministry
employee I can’t charge Smutter with passing the information to her.’ She
motioned with a free hand. “I’ve sent an Auror to question her but I doubt
she’ll admit to anything and I can’t use truth serum without more evidence
against her.”

“What about Diggory?” Sirius asked, shifting position to glance at Harry and
check he was fine.

“Same issue,” Amelia’s frustration bled into her voice, “he has plausible
deniability given his post means that he has every authority to access Remus’s
file. He readily admitted to it and he has offered to take a vow that he
didn’t give the information to the press.”

“That’s a pretty specific vow.” Harry commented.

Amelia gave him an approving nod. “It certainly doesn’t exclude him giving the
information to someone else who then passed it on.”

“That someone being Wenlock.” The disgust was back in Sirius’s tone.

“But again there is no proof.” Amelia said. “Even if Amos admitted giving the
information to Wenlock, without more evidence I couldn’t accuse a member of
the Wizengamot.”

Sirius sighed.

“So that’s it?” Harry demanded. “They just get away with it?”

Albus felt a rush of nostalgia for the days when he had been as innocent and
passionate; when he hadn’t been jaded by the reality of political wheeling and
dealing.

“We can move Diggory to another department as a response.” Cornelius
suggested. “Move someone with the same agenda as us into his post.”

“We should do that anyway.” Sirius agreed. He rubbed his chin. “Maybe there’s
a way to get Wenlock to admit it during the Wizengamot discussion.”

“He’s probably expecting you to try something.” Remus pointed out. “I mean
more than you already have planned.”

Albus wondered at that especially when Amelia looked amused. “Do we want to
know what you have planned, Sirius?”

“Nothing too wild,” Sirius said evenly, “I promise.”

Remus smiled tightly. “I talked him out of pranking Wenlock naked.”

Cornelius choked on his tea, but then grinned. “That would certainly liven
things up.”

Bertie chuckled. “I take it you are going to give the counter-argument rather
than Daniel?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, ‘and Remus is probably right, Wenlock will expect me to
attempt to manoeuvre him into saying something about the newspaper article and
be on his guard.’ He shrugged. “Still, we might be able to trick him into
saying *something*.”

“You’re going to have to be on guard yourself too.” Remus remonstrated gently.
“Especially as Harry will be in attendance.”

Albus frowned. He didn’t think that was a good idea, but he refrained from
speaking seeing the glee on Cornelius’s face, and immense satisfaction on the
others. It seemed his view that Harry had no business being at the Wizengamot
until he was of age was not shared.

“Albus?”

The sound of his name drew him sharply back into the War Council.

“My apologies,” Albus said smoothly, “I was wool-gathering.”

“We’ve moved on to the tournament since there’s nothing else to say on the
politics front.” Sirius explained without a hint of the impatience that
glimmered in his grey eyes.

Albus motioned at Harry. “My apologies but I do not believe I can speak of it
with Harry present.”

Harry’s face fell but Sirius nodded his agreement to Albus’s concern.

Remus gestured at Harry. “Why don’t you and I get ready that while everyone
else here finishes up?”

Harry glanced at Sirius for permission, Albus observed, and on gaining it,
left immediately with brief if polite goodbyes to the others. Remus followed
him out.

Albus repressed the urge to sigh heavily. He had been hoping for a second
alone with Harry to make an apology. He shook the thought away and refocused
on the discussion. He knew he would also have made an attempt to get Harry to
reconsider attending. A Wizengamot debate was no place for a fourteen year old
boy, even one as accomplished as Harry.

“Albus?” Sirius prompted with enough exasperation that Albus knew it wasn’t
the first time his name had been called again.

Albus nodded sagely to cover his embarrassment. “The preparation for the
second task has already begun. Alastor is in charge of the security and we are
keeping an eye on the Durmstrang ship. Unfortunately this task was made much
more dangerous by Voldemort’s revisions, and I fear he will not have to resort
to sabotage to pose a real threat to Harry’s life.” It was more than likely
that someone would die in the second task outlined by Tom, Albus thought
sadly, despite their best efforts to mediate some of the parameters. “I’ll be
giving the same warning to all the champions.”

Sirius’s face was a dangerous blank. “I see.”

“In terms of security,” Albus continued, “we haven’t been able to provide any
further evidence that young Bartemius and his cohorts are operating from the
Durmstrang ship beyond the obvious relationship Karkaroff has as a liaison —
which is hardly definitive proof.”

“It’s certainly not enough to be able to issue a warrant to search it or ask
formally.” Cornelius said regretfully. “I have spoken with Bogdan though since
Remus approached him off the record, and, unofficially, he tells me he is
making some progress with his fellow Ministers in the Durmstrang pact. He
feels they may make a decision based on the outcome of the second task and
whether there is additional evidence of sabotage.”

“Now I don’t know if I should be hoping for sabotage or not.” Bertie said
wryly.

Albus inclined his head, understanding the sentiment.

Sirius gave Cornelius an approving nod. “Thank you for the behind the scenes
support, Cornelius.”

Cornelius puffed up proudly in response.

“Let’s move on; Tag the Death Eater?” Sirius redirected the meeting with quiet
competence.

“No movement on any front.” Amelia sighed heavily. “None of the tagged Death
Eaters have had any contact with Crouch, Travers or Greyback as far as we can
tell. There have been no sightings of any. Professor Snape has exchanged
messages through Karkaroff, of course, but we don’t know how Karkaroff is
passing the message on; it may be in person, or by an illegal floo
connection.”

“What of the Azkaban lot?” Sirius asked. “Travers Senior and Mulciber?”

“With your account of what happened we managed to find the house you and
Neville were held at,” Amelia said, ‘and we found Rookwood’s and Mulciber’s
remains. Travers Senior is at large.’ She took a sip of tea. “We’ve upgraded
the wards at Azkaban following the breakout at Yule so we don’t expect a
second wave of escapees.”

“I take it the Dementors Crouch had are still missing too?” Sirius asked.

Amelia nodded. “I’m afraid so. It may be that they’ll get hungry enough for
some unexplained catatonic states to appear which will then give us a clue.”
She tapped her fingers lightly against the tea-cup. “Hearing myself report our
lack of progress, I feel we’re being rather ineffectual.”

“You’re doing the best you can.” Sirius reassured her before Albus could
speak. ‘You know Moody told us that ninety per cent of law enforcement was
patience, pain-staking clue gathering and desk work.’ He gave a short laugh.
“Made us do surveillance after surveillance in training so we’d learn.”

“I remember.” Amelia smiled. “He made me watch Florence Parkinson for a whole
week because she was going into Knockturn Alley, and the most suspicious thing
she did was buy an illegal hair dye.”

Albus pursed his lips. He had known that particular shade of blonde couldn’t
have possibly been natural.

“I should also say, Amelia, that you’re not the only one feeling rather
ineffectual.” Bertie broke in. He glanced at Sirius for permission to continue
and received a nod in reply. ‘After our gains in the Summer on the Treasure
Hunt, the Ravenclaw diadem is proving to be very elusive.’ He huffed and
motioned to Albus. “Thanks to Albus’s continuing attempts to talk with the
ghosts, we do know that the Ravenclaw ghost — otherwise known as Ravenclaw’s
daughter — did let Riddle know where the diadem was in Albania.”

Sirius glanced towards Albus and inclined his head slightly. Albus inclined
his own in response, feeling something tight inside of him lessen with the
younger man’s acknowledgement of his efforts.

“The ghosts have also confirmed that Tom brought the diadem back with him when
he returned from Albania to interview for the position at Hogwarts but they
claim they do not have the knowledge of where it is hidden, only that it is at
Hogwarts.” Albus said brightly.

“So we have made some progress,” Bertie said quietly, “we have confirmed that
the diadem is likely the horcrux rather than the other Ravenclaw artefact we
considered.”

“And you’ve confirmed Regulus’s letter that it’s hidden at Hogwarts.” Sirius
said. “We’ll just have to keep searching for it.”

“At least we know it’s not a futile search.” Bertie agreed.

“Well,” Sirius said looking towards the clock, “we should wrap this up since
we all need to get to the Wizengamot.”

There was a flurry of movement as everyone made to leave, but Albus hung back
and it didn’t take long before he was alone with Sirius.

“You need something, Albus?” Sirius asked dryly.

“I wanted to once again apologise to you,” Albus began, “Minerva was quite
right to take me to task. I should not have assumed that I knew best nor
allowed the situation with Hagrid to distract me from completing the task
Remus had asked of me.”

“We’ve covered this ground more than a few times now, Albus.” Sirius said
calmly, his steady grey gaze meeting Albus’s own.

Albus sighed. “I fear I did not realise how difficult it was to change my
thinking, my dear boy.” He paused again. “I truly am sorry for the pain I
inadvertently caused to young Harry.”

“You need to apologise to Harry.” Sirius replied.

“I was hoping for the opportunity to do so.” Albus said.

Sirius seemed torn but he nodded and gestured for Albus to follow him out.
Harry was in the living area with Remus. Both had changed into their formal
robes and Harry was talking rapidly with his honorary uncle.

Albus wondered again if it was the right thing to place the pressure of being
present at the Wizengamot on Harry’s shoulders but he focused on the matter at
hand, jumping in when Harry paused for breath. “Harry, if you have a moment,
please?”

Sirius nudged Remus’s arm. “I need to talk with you. Come and sit with me
while I get changed.”

Remus cast a distrusting look in Albus’s direction but went with Sirius.

Harry had stopped pacing and he gestured for Albus to sit down. “You wanted to
talk me with me, Professor Dumbledore?”

He gathered his robes and sank into a chair; Harry perched on the edge of the
sofa.

“I wanted to personally apologise for not informing you as Remus had asked.”
Albus said solemnly. “I can only imagine what you went through believing
Sirius to have died and I am tremendously sorry that I played a role in you
coming to that conclusion.”

“It’s OK,” Harry sighed and rubbed his nose, ‘well, not OK, but I know you
meant to protect me and… well,’ his cheeks reddened, “I’ve had my own taste of
making decisions I thought would protect others and it not working out the way
I thought it would.”

Albus relaxed with Harry’s welcome benediction. “I will try to do better,
Harry.” He cleared his throat. “With that in mind, I hope you take this in the
caring manner it is meant, Harry; are you certain you should attend the debate
in the Wizengamot?”

Harry’s gaze flickered to him and for a long moment Albus felt as though he
was being weighed and judged. It was a disconcerting feeling. Finally, Harry
spoke. “The alliance is called the Potter alliance. They stand with me on my
agenda. I know I can’t debate because of my age — and I’m grateful for that —
but the least I can do is be there.”

“It is Sirius’s responsibility to represent you until you come of age, Harry.”
Albus pointed out gently.

“Maybe,” Harry conceded, “but…” he paused and his gaze fell to the pictures on
the mantel, “when I lost him…”

Albus had to strain to hear him.

“When I thought I’d lost him, I realised that I was going to have to lead the
alliance and do everything myself… and I accepted it because there was no
other choice and because I know it’s going to be me and Voldemort in the end.”
Harry said simply. ‘I think I always knew it even before we went to hear the
prophecy.’ His green eyes flashed up and caught Albus’s fiercely. “You and I
both know it.”

His heart about broke with the pain that was evident on Harry’s face.

“Now I have Sirius back… Sirius would gladly do everything on my behalf, I
know he would, but I need… I need to take the lead if I’m going to face Tom
again.” Harry concluded.

Albus could do nothing but nod. He had known it for years and still wished
that there was something he could do to change it.

“The thing is,” Harry continued, ‘it’s not like I had someone before.’ His
expression saddened. “It was only me with Quirrell and Voldemort, and only me
with the basilisk and Tom’s shade. So,” his shoulders went back and his chin
went up, “if I can face them, I can face Wenlock.” He smiled suddenly. “And at
least I know Sirius and Remus will do all they can to prepare me and will
cheer me on; that they’re there if I need them now.”

“Not just Sirius and Remus, my boy.” Albus said softly.

Harry nodded slowly.

Suddenly, steps running down the stairs had them both turning to see Sirius
approaching, Remus on his heels. Albus noted that Sirius once again wore
sharply tailored duelling robes over black leather pants and black silk shirt;
dragon hide boots completed the outfit. Remus wore immaculate formal robes in
the same style as Harry, the crests of Potter and Black proudly embroidered on
their chests. They were going to make a definite statement walking into the
Wizengamot together, Albus mused, eager in many ways to see the reaction to
them.

“Right,” Sirius said loudly, “let’s get going, shall we?”

Albus rose from his seat along with Harry and took a moment to let the wild
surge of hopefulness inside of him let loose before he reigned it back.
Because if Harry could face Voldemort in the end with as much dignity and
courage as he had shown in their discussion, Albus had no doubt Voldemort
would lose. And the hapless Wenlock stood no chance.

It was a most satisfying thought, and it was with a spring in his step that
Albus led the way through the floo to the Ministry.

o-O-o

“I’m not surprised that she’s ignoring you.” Draco drawled.

Harry spared a moment from gazing at Hermione, stood with the Tonks’ on the
other side of Cornelius’s office, to glare at him. “That’s very supportive,
Cousin. Thank you.”

The Houses of Potter and Black had been waiting forever in the office. Sirius
wanted to make a showy entrance to the Wizengamot at the very last minute, and
they had arrived with time to spare. Harry looked again towards Hermione, but
her attention was firmly on whatever Amelia was saying. Hermione had politely
greeted Harry but ignored him otherwise.

Draco raised one thin blond eyebrow. “You have to admit you’d be furious if
she’d tossed you back to Hogwarts the way you did her.”

“I was trying to protect her.” Harry bit out.

Draco shrugged. “If you say so.” His pointed features seemed entirely too
gleeful for Harry’s liking. “So are you single now?”

Harry scowled at him. “No! Will you just shut up about it?!”

Draco lifted one hand in supposed surrender. “Would you prefer we talk about
Wenlock and the debate?” He sneered.

In truth, Harry figured they should be talking about the debate. Which maybe
was a sign, Harry mused, that dating was a distraction and he needed to be
focused on other things. Maybe he really should give up on dating until the
whole thing with Voldemort was over — then he wouldn’t have to worry about
protecting his girlfriend nor about upsetting said girlfriend when he
protected them in a way they disagreed with, nor worrying about how to make it
up to them when he had upset them when he should be thinking about how to
defeat Voldemort, or prepare for the second task, or how not to allow Wenlock
provoke him in the debate…

He repressed the urge to sigh and rubbed his forehead trying to ease the
beginning of a nagging headache there. He figured this was one of those
moments where Hermione would berate him if he made a decision alone without
conversing with her. Truthfully, he really didn’t want to give up dating
Hermione although the situation with Remus had distracted him from planning a
way to make it up to her.

Harry belatedly realised Draco was waiting for him to reply. He dragged his
mind back on topic. “Sirius will be great in the debate.” Harry muttered
defensively.

“I’m sure he will but Wenlock be expecting him.” Draco drawled.

He wasn’t wrong, Harry thought, the plan he and Sirius had come up bringing
another flutter of internal butterflies.

“He might make mistakes in the debate underestimating Sirius, but the only way
I can see him confessing anything illegal is to dose him with truth serum or
put him under a truth spell like Sirius did with Father.” Draco continued.

Harry froze, arrested by the germ of an idea that Draco’s words had triggered.
Sirius had used family magic to force Lucius to be truthful. Was it possible
for Harry to call on Wenlock’s family magic to force him to tell him the
truth? If the magic was available to him, he could do it, Harry mused, but
that was the question; would Wenlock’s magic be available to him as the most
powerful in the family magic circle? And how could he do it discreetly?

“Harry?” Hermione’s quiet voice yanked Harry out of his thoughts abruptly and
he started a little when he realised she stood next to him.

Draco smirked at him knowingly.

“Hermione.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Amelia says Sirius is going to try and get Wenlock to confess in the debate?”
Hermione questioned, worry creasing her forehead.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he’s planning to…” his gaze flickered to Draco briefly,
“and Draco’s just given me a brilliant idea.”

“I have?”

“He has?”

They spoke in unison and glared at each other in with identical frowns of
outrage; if the situation wasn’t so important, Harry would have been tempted
to laugh out loud.

“Draco mentioned that he didn’t think Wenlock would give too much away unless
he was under the family magic truth spell.” Harry explained.

Hermione’s frown cleared almost straight away. “So you’re going to see whether
you can call on his family magic?”

Harry nodded. “I need some way to do it without actually saying it though.”

“Why do you think you can call on Wenlock’s family magic?” asked Draco,
puzzled.

“I, uh, managed to call on Neville’s at the World Cup,” Harry admitted,
realising that Draco probably hadn’t been told — he wasn’t sure Sirius had
even told Lucius and Narcissa. The secret of his ability with family magic was
too important to share widely. He’d only told Ron and Hermione, and only
because Neville had witnessed it.

“Really?” Both of Draco’s eyebrows shot upwards. “But… that would mean… I
mean, are you *that* powerful?”

“Well, we don’t really know if it’s a question of power or whether it’s
something to do with Harry’s and Neville’s oaths.” Hermione lectured briskly.
“This would be a good test of that since Wenlock is not allied in any way with
either House.”

“I still need some way of doing it quietly though.” Harry said. “If I shout it
out everyone will know and that would be bad if it got back to Voldemort.”

Hermione turned contemplative. “You couldn’t cast it silently?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry admitted. ‘I don’t think so; I think ritual magic has to
be declared when invoked.’ He glanced toward where Sirius was deep in
conversation with Lucius and frowned. “I can ask Sirius.”

“It’s a shame you can’t use Parseltongue.” Draco said. “Father said you talked
to the family snake the entire time you were at the Wizengamot last. He said
it drove everyone mad trying to guess what you were talking about.”

Harry shrugged, flushing. “The snake likes to gossip.”

Hermione and Draco both gaped at him.

“Ready, Harry?”

Harry almost jumped when he realised that in the few minutes that had passed
from his glance-over, Sirius had moved to stand next to him, along with Remus.
“I think so. Actually, Draco has come up with something.”

Sirius’s eyes flickered to Draco who blushed furiously as Harry quickly
explained.

“…so we don’t know if I can try to invoke it silently or try Parseltongue or…”
Harry shrugged helplessly.

“Well, firstly, I’m not sure if it will work. The truth spell usually only
aligns to the family head who has cast.” Sirius said.

Harry’s face fell and he noticed Hermione and Draco also looked despondent.

“But I guess there’s no harm trying.” Sirius added.

Harry breathed out, gleeful anticipation sending his blood tingling through
his body.

“Now we can invoke some family magic silently, it’s rare but I remember my
Grandfather doing it.” Sirius said contemplatively. “But you’ve only just
started doing silent casting in your lessons so it could be a bit hit and miss
if it works.”

“But you could try it and if that doesn’t work use Parseltongue.” Remus
suggested.

Harry nodded. It was a plan.

“And really it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t work, it’s a good idea to have
thought of it in the first place.” Sirius said approvingly, looking over to
Draco.

“I hope it does work.” Harry said. “It might be the only way to make Wenlock
trip up.”

Sirius patted his shoulder. “Have some faith.” He chided dryly.

Harry flushed. “Sorry, I mean, I know we have the plan, it’s just…”

“It’s going to be difficult to ensure Wenlock hangs himself with the rope
we’re hoping to give him.” Sirius acknowledged. He grinned at Harry suddenly.
“Besides, if it does all goes terribly, I’ll make him lose his pants and
nobody’ll notice the debate.”

Harry chuckled and his spirit lightened. His eyes caught Draco’s for a moment,
before moving onto Hermione’s chocolate gaze. She blushed and looked away.

A curl of satisfaction settled in Harry at the small sign that she still liked
him. So, he thought determinedly; he’d get the debate with Wenlock out of the
way and then he’d plan how to win Hermione back as his girlfriend, and of
course, finally defeat Voldemort.

It was a good plan. Well. It was more of a plan than he usually had at any
rate.

o-O-o

Augusta watched the chattering groups spread all over the Wizengamot with
well-hidden glee. The chamber rang with the verve and energy emanating from
the various groups.

On one side of the chamber, Richard Bones was urgently conferring with Leonard
Abbott, and on the other, an equally passionate exchange seemed to be
happening between Wilkes and Nott. Augusta couldn’t help noticing Wenlock
nodding at some of his allies, a smugness in his manner that had her wondering
what else the wizard had up his sleeves to try and disturb the revamp of the
Creature legislation.

She shook her head and once again mused wistfully that Sirius’s advent as Lord
Black, the steps he’d taken in the protection of Harry, had certainly brought
life back to the legislative body of the magical government. And that was a
good thing, Augusta thought with inward wry acknowledgement of her own
continuing deep-seated guilt that it had taken Sirius to kick the rest of them
into action.

Her eyes landed on Albus, deep in discussion with Dullard. Times had changed
for the Chief Warlock, she mused. He was no longer the foremost authority that
the Light looked to, not after his mistakes with Harry. Oh, Sirius’s plan
wasn’t completely without its delays and its problems — Yule and the incident
with Crouch abducting Sirius was proof of that — but ultimately it was
working.

The DMLE was dynamic; actively and proactively keeping the peace through their
constant vigilance (and Augusta smiled at the latter phrasing of her thought,
her mind drifting absently to Alastor); the Unspeakables in the DOM were
equally vibrant in their pursuit of whatever it was that was the focus of the
Treasure Hunt, and even Cornelius seemed rejuvenated, diving into his
politicking with a new energy and a new direction that was wholly aligned with
the wishes of the Potter alliance.

Augusta fingered her wand and settled back into her chair. It had been a shock
the day before when Harry had attended the alliance meeting but Harry had done
an admirable job. She’d been proud of how he’d listened to them all offer him
advice, (which had ranged from her own supportive ‘whatever you decide the
House of Longbottom will stand with you’ to Doge’s blunt — and very rude
statement since Remus had been right there — ‘you should get some distance
between you and the werewolf’), before he’d straightened his shoulders,
thanked them and then proceeded to tell them that Remus wasn’t going anywhere,
that the best defence was a good offence, and he wasn’t going to allow the
likes of Wenlock to bully them into agreeing to legislation that would only
weaken their society at best and totally undermine it at worst. It had been
easy to see just why so many of their Heirs had sworn fealty to Harry.

Her gaze shifted to the fourth tier of the gallery where those same Heirs were
gathered. She noted Amos Diggory sat near to grandson. Neville sat beside
Hannah, Susan beside her with Diggory beside her. On the other side of her
grandson, a space had been left for the missing but expected members of the
House of Black. Just as she began to consider where they were, the doors to
the chamber floor opened and they all entered.

The Blacks, Augusta thought amused, knew how to make an entrance as the
chamber fell into an almost reverent hush.

Sirius, Harry and Remus entered first; all robes adorned with both Potter and
Black crests. The Tonks’ were next; Nymphadora wore Auror robes and her gait
suggested that she was on duty; her mother and father escorted Hermione
Granger between them. The three Malfoys followed close behind them. The
procession paused at the bottom of the stairs up to the empty seats Neville
had commandeered for them.

Remus gave a bow to Sirius and Harry. Augusta heard the worried murmurs
trickle around the chamber as the werewolf calmly, and with his head held
high, escorted Nymphadora up the stairs. She wasn’t surprised to see that when
he sat down it was with Neville on his right and the Auror on his left. The
House of Black quickly took their places but the chamber’s attention was drawn
back to the Ancient and Noble House tier where Sirius and Harry had arrived.
Sirius was quietly invoking the family magic to protect Harry as he had done
previously on his son’s first visit.

“Seal the doors!” Albus instructed loudly.

The doors to the chamber closed with a sharp bang and Augusta mused ruefully
that she’d been so caught up that she’d failed to even see Cornelius, Amelia,
and Bertie enter.

Sirius made his way unhurriedly to his seat. There was another moment of
acknowledgement as the Houses rose in deference to him (even Wenlock although
his manner was grudging and mocking), and then they were all sat and the
session was upon them.

“Point of order!” Wenlock jumped up just as Dullard opened his mouth to speak
the first order of business. Wenlock pointed over towards Remus. “I demand
that creature be removed immediately!”

The chamber erupted into chaos.

Augusta was on her feet and shouting her objection along with several other
members of the Potter alliance, although she absently noticed Harry didn’t
move an inch after a quick glance at Sirius who remained calm and seated.
Members of Wenlock’s group were yelling back and it was hard to hear what
anyone was saying in the cacophony of noise.

A small bang from Albus’s wand silenced them all.

“Thank you, Chief Warlock.” Sirius said as everyone else subsided. “As the
objection was raised against the steward of my Houses, perhaps I may be
permitted to respond?”

Albus inclined his head, his blue eyes twinkling madly. “Of course, Sirius.
Please proceed.”

“Lord Wenlock,” Sirius said firmly, “I will not take insult with you on this
occasion as I assume the erroneous publicity surrounding my steward’s one time
lapse in judgement has influenced your opinion.”

The threat that he would take insult for a second slur was more than evident
in Sirius’s words and manner. Augusta nodded in approval.

“However,” Sirius continued, “I will reaffirm the statement I made to the
press yesterday; Remus Lupin remains the steward of the Houses of Black and
Potter, and has our trust. While I would not say he isn’t dangerous outside of
the full moon — he is a fully trained wizard after all with excellent
knowledge of Defence of the Dark Arts — he is only a werewolf during the full
moon. As we have some way to go before the full moon this month, I can vouch
for him not turning into a werewolf for the next four hours of this Wizengamot
session.”

The point that Remus was a wizard more than a werewolf had more than one face
turning ashamed in the chamber. Wenlock merely sneered at Sirius.

“I agree with Lord Black,” Albus said calmly, “Mister Lupin is hardly a threat
to anyone and will remain.”

“He’s a werewolf!” Avery said shrilly. The way he looked towards Wenlock for
approval gave away where that thought had come from.

Sirius glared at him and Avery cowered back. Augusta mused that perhaps it was
occurring to Avery that the greater threat wasn’t the werewolf but the Lord of
the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Nott stood up and cleared his throat. “I would like to state that I concur
with Lord Black’s assessment of Mister Lupin as a threat. There is no need for
his removal.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Wenlock responded, “you have a détente with the
House of Black.”

“Yeah, what about those of us who don’t have some kind of détente or
agreement?” asked Tripe scowling as he stood up.

Augusta thought she saw a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he resumed his
seat. It was a trap, she realised suddenly. They had anticipated Remus would
attend the session and had determined a manoeuvre to force Sirius into a
corner. Either he would have to acquiesce to Remus being removed or concede to
conditions on his remaining. Her lips thinned. Well, not on her watch! She was
going to…

“Why don’t you just use the family magic?” Harry’s blunt question broke
through her mental ranting.

She glanced over and found Harry petting the Potter griffin absently as he
pushed his glasses up his nose and regarding Wenlock and Tripe with guarded
wariness.

“I mean,” Harry continued, “Sirius calls ours to protect me while I’m here so
why don’t you call yours to protect you if you’re really all that worried
about Remus?”

Wenlock seemed momentarily speechless.

Tripe got to his feet, red in the face. “I’d remind young Lord Potter that not
all of us have family magic.” He snarled.

Sirius shrugged. “I won’t take offence if for the duration of the session Lord
Wenlock extended his family magic to protect all those in the chamber. I’d
offer to extend my own but I believe some may not believe it would protect
them against a protected member of my Houses.” He smiled darkly.

Augusta frowned. It almost seemed as though Sirius and Harry were baiting
Wenlock into calling his magic.

Dullard sprang up. “There is a precedent,” he said excitedly, “in nineteen
forty-one Lord Lovegood extended his family magic to protect all in the
session from the Goblin entourage that had come to sign the last treaty at his
behest.”

“Well, then,” Albus said firmly, ‘that seems to be the solution.’ He waved his
hand toward Wenlock. “Lord Wenlock?”

Wenlock glowered, clearly unhappy that his grand plan to corner Sirius into
making concessions had been thwarted. He made an impatient gesture and called
his magic. The silver vulture formed slowly and didn’t seem happy to be there
as it immediately flew to the ceiling of the chamber and perched itself on the
chandelier. Wenlock sat down.

The public tier was quiet; hushed by the sight of another family magic avatar
and Albus indicated for Dullard to continue with the notices.

It hardly felt like any time had passed before Dullard called on Dirk
Cresswell to present the suggested revisions to the Werewolf and other Magical
Creature legislation. Augusta had read the legislation and was pleased with it
but she listened intently as the wizard began to make his case.

“Let me first deal with the relatively non contentious item,” Cresswell stood
in the centre of the Wizengamot floor, hands behind his back, his blue robes
of good quality but not ostentatious. “There are currently two rough
categories of Creatures with the easiest being those identified as Benign. The
Benign creatures range from the firefly to the kneazle to the postal owl and
the review of the laws suggests that only minimal changes are required, mainly
to address change in language and terminology since the last laws were
enacted. I’d like these changes to be put immediately to a vote.”

Dullard addressed the chamber. “Does anyone present raise an objection?”

Augusta glanced around at her fellow Wizengamot members but all remained
silent. The following vote was brief and unanimous for passing the changes
into law.

Cresswell returned to the floor. “The second part of the legislation deals
with the remaining Creature category.” He cleared his throat. “Firstly, it is
the view of the Committee responsible for the review of the existing
legislation that the definitions of Magical Races and Magical Creatures have
been allowed to become blurred in our legislature. It is recommended that
those listed in Table 2a of the Committee’s Change Bill be known as Protected
and Dangerous Creatures…”

Augusta tuned out the list as Cresswell read it out loud. She had read it and
agreed with it.

“Again, the proposed changes in regards to these Creatures are mostly minor in
respect to registration and control with the major proposal the establishment
of a new Ministry controlled endangered species reserve in the Highlands.”
Cresswell concluded. “The new reserve would be able to be self-sustaining
within three years and can be funded from the increased registration and
licensing fees that are part of the minor changes. I’d like these changes put
immediately to a vote.”

Selwyn raised his wand and Albus recognised him. “What of those you have
redefined as not a Creature? If we vote this part of the legislature through,
are we not already approving this list as definitive? And if we are, I have a
problem with that since it’s missing a number of creatures you are proposing
to redefine!”

There was a chorus of agreement from a number of seats, mostly those in
Wenlock’s little enclave although Augusta noted a number of Lucius’s group.
Some may have sought a détente with the House of Black but it hadn’t changed
their fundamental politics.

Cresswell raised a hand for silence and surprisingly got it. “Clause 9 clearly
states that the list remains open to the addition of new creatures or
creatures that are re-classified. If this list is voted into legislation it
does not prevent any of those we have yet to discuss from being added to it
later in this session or another.”

Mollified, most of the protesters subsided, with one or two of the Minor
Houses standing up to protest the rise in licensing fees and the breeding
regulations. Their objections were swiftly dealt with — because any sane
person would want the breeding regulations changed and really the licensing
fees have been too low for decades. It didn’t seem like any time at all before
the second vote swiftly moved the Protected and Dangerous Creatures section
into legislation.

Augusta huffed out a satisfied sigh. Two sections of the new law were done,
but there were several further sections to go and she knew neither she nor the
rest of the alliance could be complacent.

“All others previously known as Creatures are now identified as Magical Races
as listed in Table 2b of the Committee’s Change Bill.” Cresswell announced.
“The following sections set out the proposed legislature either repealing
prohibitive rules and regulations in respect of a Creature species now deemed
a Race or Wizards and Witches with Special Circumstances.”

There was an immediate objection from Wilkes. “What are you saying constitutes
a Race and what’s this complete nonsense about Wizards with Special
Circumstances?”

“A Magical Race is redefined in this legislature as a magical species with
recognisable governance, speech and intelligence.” Cresswell stated firmly.
“Wizards and Witches with Special Circumstances refers to situations where
there is a cross-species progeny between another magical Race and our own, or
where those who were born as a Wizard or a Witch are infected with a condition
such as lycanthropy.”

Unsurprisingly, the chamber went into an uproar again.

Augusta glanced over at Sirius and was unsurprised to find him keeping a close
watch on Harry who seemed to be talking with the Black snake.

“Silence!” Albus’s stern declaration finally brought order again and the
session resumed.

The creation of a new Department overseeing Wizard and Magical Race Relations
was proposed and passed with only a minimum of protest. Each Magical Race was
then discussed in brief where the Wizengamot voted that they were a Magical
Race and then determined a course of action. They made quick work of Giants,
Centaurs and Merpeople since there was grudging admission that all three
constituted a Race with their own governing bodies, and as all three Races
simply wished to be granted dominion over their own lands (something the
Wizengamot hadn’t fully conceded before and still didn’t under the new law)
and to be left alone, the sections of the law pertaining to them passed
quickly and without debate. Equally there was no real debate about Vampires
and Veela as neither had real communities within Britain and the sections
simply recognised that they existed and restricted their usage of their
various powers against Wizards and Witches on British soil. The Goblins were
another easily passed section; the Wizengamot agreed that the Goblin Treaties
were not to be touched but the Goblin Liaison Office would attempt to open a
more positive dialogue. The establishment of House-Elves as a Magical Race did
cause some debate (there was no central governing body to engage with) but
ultimately passed along with a new law that protected them from abusive
owners. However, it was the final section everyone was waiting for.

“Firstly, the review stands by the current laws surrounding the progeny of a
Witch or Wizard with a member of a Magical Race as the second parent,”
Cresswell began, “in that the progeny in all cases is considered to be first
and foremost a Wizard or a Witch. However, if dangerous traits are inherited,
such as in the case of Vampires and Veela, then they also need to conform to
the agreed legal restrictions for that Magical Race. If no-one has any
objections, I would like therefore to move onto the second category, namely
the topic of Wizards and Witches infected with lycanthropy.”

There was an expectant hush in the chamber. Augusta could see Wenlock shift
minutely; his body tensing in preparation; his cohorts also subtly changing
their body language. They thought they had an advantage and Augusta wondered
what it was. Sirius would clearly going to have to think on his feet in a
debate if they were going to be surprised…

Get on with it, man, Augusta thought impatiently at Cresswell.

Cresswell though took his time to sweep his audience with a thoughtful gaze,
pausing briefly but significantly on Remus Lupin before continuing. He cleared
his throat. “It is proposed that this section replaces and supersedes all
previously written legislation regarding Wizards and Witches with Lycanthropy,
or as they have been previously referred to: Werewolves.”

A murmur went around the public tier at the blatant renaming of a Dark
creature to something that acknowledged their usual state of being more.

“The Committee has found that the previous legislation to be abhorrent and
more likely to incite dissension and unrest within our society than to provide
protection for its citizens.” Cresswell continued. “Over ninety-eight per cent
of the infected do not actively choose to be infected nor do they actively
seek to harm others, usually securing themselves away during the nights of the
full moon. However, our current laws strip them of all basic rights, restrict
their employment, education and housing options, and allow executions of even
those of minor age. The Committee believes this is a travesty of justice. Yes,
our laws should provide protection for the wider community against those who
have chosen infection and embraced a feral existence, but at the same time,
they should acknowledge the vast majority seek help in managing their
condition, and desire to continue to be productive members of our society.”

Augusta found herself nodding along to Cresswell’s speech. She was impressed
with his eloquence and as she regarded her fellow Wizengamot members she could
see the rest of the Potter alliance was pleased at Cresswell’s performance and
the results of the Committee’s review.

“So,” Cresswell stated firmly, “the proposal is two-fold: firstly,
Identification and Rights: Wizards and Witches infected will no longer be
referred to primarily as Werewolves unless charged and convicted with
knowingly attacking another Wizard or Witch while transformed or partially
transformed. They retain all rights as Wizards and Witches with which they
were originally born. If employed in the Wizarding world, their employers are
encouraged to make all allowances for time off for the day of the full moon
and up to two days beyond it.”

He waited for a second murmur of noise to die away before finishing.

“Secondly, Protection. It is understood that transformed or partially
transformed Werewolves are dangerous creatures. The infected must make every
effort therefore to secure themselves during the nights of the full moon;
parents assume the responsibility for minors. While the State would like to
provide safe houses and make provision for supplying Wolfsbane, currently
there is not enough budget to support this and we ask that this to be deferred
and discussed within the next annual budget review.” Cresswell looked up
again. ‘Any attack by a Werewolf will be investigated by the DMLE. If the
Werewolf is found to have attacked knowingly and with forethought, the
punishment will remain execution. If the Werewolf is found to have attacked
instinctively but to have harmed another, the punishment will be imprisonment.
If no harm was incurred, a warning will be issued. Multiple warnings may lead
to imprisonment.’ He nodded decisively. “This is the Committee’s proposal.”

Wenlock barely waited for Cresswell to sit and Dullard to open the debate
before objecting. Albus sighed and nodded for Wenlock to speak.

He did make an impressive figure, thought Augusta as she took in the finely
tailored robes, the aristocratic features and the impeccable grooming.

Wenlock smiled, and Augusta couldn’t help but think it was a shark smile;
cold, deadly and predatory. “My first point is that the Committee has taken
its remit beyond what it was tasked to do. Review the legislation, yes.
Provide suggestions for improvements, yes. But to redefine Creatures? No. That
is a step too far.” He held up a hand when there was a whisper of protest
heard from the public tiers. ‘But we have acknowledged that perhaps, yes, in
the cases of some such as Centaurs,’ his voice was a sneer, “or Vampires that
redefinition as a Race may be in order. However, there is a substantial
difference between redefining a Creature as a Race and redefining a Creature
as a Wizard with Special Circumstances.”

Augusta frowned. It was unfortunately a good point and she could see it
resonate with some in the room — a few heads nodding along in agreement.

“We can recognise that for those infected with lycanthropy, it is a tragedy.”
Wenlock continued smoothly. “In one instant, their entire lives are redefined.
But to pretend otherwise would be a greater tragedy for our society. Once
infected, they are no longer Wizards but Werewolves. The wolf’s instincts do
not only come out at the full moon and we would be foolish to believe that
they are as dormant in the in-between as the Committee pretends. They seek out
packs. They gather in groups together and the majority seek the dominance of
one they call Alpha. They *identify* as Werewolves. Why should we ignore this
basic fact and suggest they should have the same rights as us?”

More head-nodding and Augusta could see that Wenlock’s rhetoric was swaying
some to his side. Merlin, she could see Doge absently giving an approving head
tilt in Wenlock’s direction. She pursed her lips.

“And there is a more important point here,” Wenlock continued, “because if we
allow ourselves to be swayed into believing these Creatures are not different
to us, then we have no way of recognising that they are. We could sit beside a
werewolf, anger them in ignorance and find ourselves fighting for our lives,
our existence, within one breath and the next. Even a scratch from a
non-transformed werewolf can be deadly. To identify them as werewolves ensures
our protection as a society; ensures that we know to be on guard when one of
them is within our midst; ensures that we can choose to place ourselves at
risk or not. To allow them to identify as us, to roam among us freely… it is
an invitation for the disease to spread and become prevalent.”

He took a breath.

“Werewolves are Creatures. They are a threat. Any attack, whether intended or
not, is an attack and should be met with the full force of the law.” Wenlock
darted a glance at Remus and then at Sirius, and clearly (or clearly to
Augusta if she was any judge of character) reconsidered using Remus in his
argument. “We should be reinstating our previous laws not allowing this weak
and feeble-minded piece of legislation to pass.”

Wenlock sat and his allies broke out into applause, something echoed by a few
in the public tier. Augusta’s heart sank. The unfortunate thing was that
Wenlock’s points were perfectly reasonable and no doubt attractive to many.
Why should everyone run the risk of infection when the simple answer was to
ostracize those from their society and eliminate the threat completely?

Augusta exchanged a look with Richard Bones across the chamber. Both of them
knew Sirius was formidable but Wenlock had been better than they had thought.

Sirius waited for Albus to recognise him and got to his feet. The chamber fell
silent as Sirius cast a serious gaze around the gathered members.

“Lord Wenlock has certainly summed up the view of the opposition succinctly:
maintain the status quo. And it could even be argued that the status quo is
the right state of being. For those of us who are not infected, we can go
about our daily lives and know that there are no werewolves in our schools,
nor key places of employment and government. We know there is the threat of
execution that hangs over every werewolf in the event that they should not
take care to chain themselves up during the full moon, and revel in the small
security that provides us. We can look at the packs with distaste as something
feral and different and wrong. And all is well because we are safe.” Sirius
paused and took a breath. “*We are wrong*.”

A mutter broke out on the public tier. Wenlock’s eyes narrowed trying to
ascertain Sirius’s argument.

“The status quo,” Sirius continued, ‘draws lines: them on one side and us on
the other. It says we are right and good; that they are wrong and evil. The
truth is that who is right and who is wrong, who is good and who is evil,
depends upon which side of the line that you stand.’ He looked around the
hushed chamber. “That is a universal truth. If we were infected, would we not
stand on that side of the line and say: it is not right that I have lost my
home and my job and have to endure that my friends look at me with pity and
fear? Would I not say that the person who would rather kill me than help me is
a monster?”

There was a rustle of movement as people squirmed in their seats, disturbed by
the blunt harsh reality of the picture Sirius was painting.

“So this is the truth: that the status quo has drawn lines and divisions. It
has created the packs in part because where else will an infected wizard or
witch find comfort and kinship and belonging when the rest of society casts
them out? When they are labelled as a Creature and a werewolf — something that
society tells them is no longer even human?”

Sirius took a breath. “As a governing body we are sworn to protect all in our
society: the weak and disadvantaged; the elderly and the sick. And those
infected with lycanthropy carry an illness. It is a condition that gifts them
unusual senses, strength and endurance on one hand, and harshly punishes them
with the torture of changing and losing their mind and sense of self every
month on the other. We have as much a duty to ensure their safety and
protection, to safeguard their rights and interests, as we do to ensure the
safety and protection of those who are not infected.” He looked in the
direction of Wenlock briefly. ‘Execution and exclusion are easy options but
they only make monsters of us all.’ His eyes landed on Harry. “But those of us
who are not monsters, who look at the world through new eyes; it is those
among us who show us that the right option is to protect everyone and never
draw the line that says them and us.”

Harry smiled at his father, at the acknowledgement that it was his political
agenda that Sirius was arguing for.

“My son wants to protect everyone.” Sirius said, his eyes never leaving Harry.

And Sirius would give Harry what he wanted. The unspoken message was as clear
as if Sirius had shouted it from the rooftops.

The chamber erupted.

Augusta found herself on her feet, clapping. All of the alliance was clapping
and a good portion of the public tier had followed suit. It was a good sign
and Augusta breathed out a sigh of relief even as she sat back down as Wenlock
jumped back up.

“Are you seriously arguing that we’re monsters for wanting to protect
ourselves from a threat?” Wenlock sneered.

Sirius smiled in response, his eyes sharp as flint. “When you would rather
kill a wizard than help save him: yes.”

Wenlock jumped, seemingly unable to help himself. “But they’re not wizards!
They’re werewolves!”

“Because we call them that!” Sirius thundered back. ‘How we identify anything
drives our reactions and actions! You call them werewolves and you see them as
something less than human, as dangerous creatures that must be executed.’ He
glared at Wenlock. “Start thinking about what you’d want to be called if you
were bitten!”

Wenlock bristled. “Is that a threat? Will you turn your steward loose on me if
I dare to disagree with you? After all, didn’t you send a school boy rival to
meet a werewolf on the night of a full moon when you were at Hogwarts?” He
looked triumphant.

There was an audible intake of breath around the chamber. Every eye flew to
Sirius’s to see his reaction to the charge.

Sirius raised one eyebrow, a small mocking smile lurking about his lips as
though to say ‘is that the best you can do?’ He gave a shrug. “I was young,
very stupid and I almost fell for a rival setting me up to be expelled and one
of my best friends to be executed.” He glanced apologetically at Remus.
“Luckily, James Potter rescued us all including my rival who knew what he’d
find on the night of a full moon.”

“Young and stupid, indeed!” Wenlock threw back. “So why should we trust your
word on this? You have gathered an army of werewolves all under the leadership
of your steward!”

Pandemonium broke out.

Augusta tried to retain her composure, wondering how Sirius could stand there
and look so unaffected by the accusation as abusive shouts were hurled at him.

It took Albus a long time to bring order back to the session.

“An army,” repeated Sirius dryly. “This is what I was talking about. You say
to-may-to, and I say to-mah-to. You say an army, but I say my son and I are
providing sanctuary and protection for those who want to escape from the
Greyback pack.”

The announcement immediately caused another uproar. Augusta felt hysterical
laughter bubbling in her chest and she tried to contain it as Dullard shouted
ineffectually for order again.

Wenlock was furious. “You are building an army with your steward as Alpha!” He
yelled as soon as the chamber fell silent enough for his voice to be heard.

Sirius looked at him pityingly. “Why would I want an army?” He asked evenly.

“To become the next the Dark Lord!” Wenlock snapped back.

The excited thunder of chatter after that pronouncement was like a roar of
sound. There were yells of disbelief; cries of panic; people shouted at
Wenlock calling him a liar, some at Sirius condemning him, at Cornelius
demanding he do something, with more demands for help directed at Albus.

Augusta was tempted to cover her ears, but just as she began to raise her
hands, Harry rolled his eyes and stood, surprising everyone with the exception
of Sirius.

The noise in the chamber petered out as the crowd settled suddenly, eager to
hear the words of the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Lord Wenlock, you’ve insulted the House of Black and you’ve insulted the
House of Potter.” Harry said bluntly.

Augusta was sure she wasn’t the only one looking stunned at Harry’s impulsive
move. What was the boy thinking calling out the older wizard? And yet… her
eyes flew to Sirius who seemed wholly unsurprised.

“What?” Wenlock almost stuttered over the word, eyes wide with the shock of
actually being called out.

“Not only is my father Lord Black, but he was adopted into and is protected by
the House of Potter. My steward is protected by the Houses of Black and
Potter. The army you talk about are a group of wizards and witches who are
seeking protection and who have it provided by the Houses of Black and
Potter.” Harry responded, his eyes shining anger. “You’ve just insulted both
Houses three times over and as the Lord of the House of Potter I take insult.”

“My dear boy, perhaps Sirius hasn’t had the chance to explain what that
means…” Albus was clearly horrified by the turn of events.

“Actually, he’s explained the matter of House honour to me very clearly, Chief
Warlock,” Harry replied, not taking his eyes off Wenlock who squirmed under
the hard emerald gaze, “and calling my father a Dark Lord is a grievous insult
especially since my last father died at the hands of a real one.”

Albus swung round to face Sirius. “You cannot…”

“Harry seems to have this hand.” Sirius interrupted Albus firmly. He regarded
Harry fondly and sat down.

“But!” spluttered Albus.

Augusta held her breath. They’d planned it, she realised wildly, taking in
Sirius’s calm demeanour. They’d planned it knowing that Wenlock facing off
against a teenage boy would make him appear the villain.

Oh, it was so clever! But so dangerous… if Wenlock suspected and called their
bluff…

Wenlock straightened and glared at Harry. “You cannot expect me to duel you! A
boy!”

Every swivelled back to Harry as though watching some kind of insane tennis
match.

“Why not?” asked Harry, with all the stubbornness of youth. “I duel with
Director Bones all the time.”

Amelia cleared her throat. Augusta could tell that the Head of the DMLE was a
tad bewildered, apparently as much in the dark as the rest of them. “I can
validate that he does, Lord Wenlock.”

Richard Bones stirred in his seat. “Actually hasn’t he beaten you several
times, Director?” His teasing tone eased some of the tension in the room.

Amelia shot him a sardonic look but nodded. “I believe Harry leads our duels
five wins to my three.”

Wenlock paled visibly.

Harry continued to look at him.

“Perhaps an apology, Lord Wenlock?” offered Albus hurriedly, trying
desperately to intervene.

“I’m afraid I won’t accept it,” Harry said before Wenlock could reply, “it’s a
duel or a forfeit.”

Oh Merlin! A forfeit! Augusta had forgotten about that archaic part of House
honour and from the surprised faces around her she could tell most of the
other Ancient and Noble Houses had done the same. A forfeit could be offered
in restitution to an insult but it was a rarity.

Wenlock turned furiously to Sirius. “Are you just going to sit there?! You’re
his Regent and his father! You should stop this!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, calm and collected. “Or you could accept that you
insulted our Houses’ honour and take the forfeit.” He waved a hand vaguely at
Harry. “Unless you want a duel with my son?”

It was clear that Wenlock had no idea how to handle the turn of events. For
some reason he hadn’t planned for his accusation to be taken so seriously;
hadn’t planned for Harry to be the one to challenge him. Oh, those clever
boys. Augusta kept the smile off her face with difficulty.

“I will concede that my words were hasty.” Wenlock muttered. “But surely you
can see that it looks bad!”

Everybody turned to hear Harry’s response, captivated.

“What exactly looks bad?” Harry asked pointedly.

“The army of werewolves!” Wenlock said.

“As Sirius has already said there is no army.” Harry sounded completely
exasperated. ‘We’re providing a sanctuary house for any wizard or witch with
lycanthropy, especially those wanting to escape the Greyback pack. We give
them work and Wolfsbane and somewhere they’re safe during the full moon. It’s
not an army. And,’ he gestured out towards Amelia and Cornelius, “both the
Minister and the Head of the DMLE signed off after Greyback’s attacks last
year.”

Augusta crowed inwardly at the completely flustered expression on Wenlock’s
face and at the way Harry had sold the sanctuary as a good thing.

“Your steward is Alpha and is building a pack from the situation, you cannot
deny that!” Wenlock said desperation creeping into his tone.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Remus already has a pack; he has us.” His gaze turned
fond as he glanced over at Remus. “But he’s also the one we put in charge of
organising everything to do with the sanctuary, and for wizards and witches
with lycanthropy, part of their condition is recognising pack or rather social
hierarchy to an extent. So yes, they view him as their Alpha and Remus has had
to accept the position because he is the one with the most authority within
the group.”

“So you admit werewolves align themselves to pack mentality? That they have
their own government and structure?” Wenlock tried to deflect Harry back to
the original argument.

“They have no choice at the moment.” Harry returned. ‘If the rest of society
casts them out, where would they go? The packs provide a place of safety and
belonging — well, most of them. Greyback uses his for his own violent purposes
and puts them all in danger. That’s why we’re offering sanctuary. If society
accepted those with lycanthropy, Greyback would never have anyone wanting to
follow him apart from those who already have violent tendencies.’ He paused,
allowing the argument to be considered by everyone in the chamber. “But that’s
beside the point: I’m still insulted and awaiting your reply.”

Wenlock scowled furiously. “You should drop this. You’re clearly not old
enough to determine that for yourself.”

“It’s a question of honour, Lord Wenlock.” Harry repeated calmly.

“The boy’s right.” Tiberius Ogden got to his feet. “You insulted the House of
Black and the House of Potter.”

Augusta rose swiftly. “Hear, hear.”

Richard stood. “I don’t think there is anyone in the Potter alliance who feels
you didn’t insult them, Lord Wenlock.”

Augusta was surprised when Nott was the next to get up.

“As much as I am pained to take attention away from the actual debate on
werewolves,” Nott said smoothly, “if you had accused me as you did Lord Black
then I would be insulted and demand restitution. Lord Potter has the right of
it; either accept a duel or a forfeit so we can move on.”

“I am not duelling a fourteen year old boy!” Wenlock said defensively.

Nott nodded his head thoughtfully. “Then a forfeit it is.” He gestured toward
Harry. “Name your price, Lord Potter.”

Augusta resumed her seat along with the others as Harry’s expression turned
contemplative. She was surprised that he didn’t immediately state a forfeit
since she was certain that the move had been planned, but maybe something had
changed since the plan was formed… something had been said in the debate or
not said… she shook her head and refocused on Harry.

There was a ‘blink and miss it’ exchange between Harry and Sirius — a question
that had been answered, Augusta mused, or a confirmation of support. Either
way Harry’s demeanour altered almost imperceptibly.

“One question answered truthfully as sworn on your family magic.” Harry
announced.

Even Augusta could see that Wenlock was sweating profusely. What Harry asked
for on the face of it was wonderfully simple — how could Wenlock refuse
without looking like an arse?

Albus beamed happily. “That sounds like a splendid idea, my boy! Lord
Wenlock?”

All eyes were on Wenlock. The faint sheen of his sweat shone from his brow and
ruined the picture of Lordly perfection he had been so careful to cultivate.

“What is the question?” asked Wenlock stiffly.

“Your sworn oath, Lord Wenlock.” Harry insisted.

Wenlock cast a frantic look about the chamber but he received no support from
any corner including his own allies. He swallowed hard enough that Augusta saw
the movement of his Adam’s apple. He was trapped and he knew it.

“Very well.” Wenlock said between gritted teeth.

“You have permission to draw your wand for the oath.” Albus continued
cheerily.

Wenlock extracted his wand and held it up. “I swear on my family magic that I
will answer Lord Potter’s question truthfully.”

The vulture swooped down and landed close to Wenlock, regarding him seriously.

Harry gave a brisk nod. “Please can you tell me everything you know about how
Remus Lupin’s actions on the night Sirius Black escaped Hogwarts were leaked
to the press.”

Wenlock went bright red, then white, then red. His family avatar stared at him
before making a baleful caw. A gold geas emerged from the vulture and settled
over Wenlock.

It was a version of the truth spell invoked by family magic, Augusta realised;
a demand that Wenlock answer. He would not be able to resist it. Wenlock was
trying though — that was evident from the way he was tightening his lips and
clenching his fists.

Silence dominated the chamber as everyone waited for Wenlock to answer.

“I put Amos Diggory under an imperius spell and commanded him to bring me
Lupin’s file which I then arranged for someone to leave on the desk of a
journalist.” Wenlock finally blurted out.

As the chamber erupted again on a wave of noise. Wenlock moved, snapping his
wand up and across the chamber towards Harry.

A cry of warning was on Augusta’s lips but she knew it would be too late and
yet…

Sirius was already on his feet, casting…

Harry stood firm… wand out and casting a shield…

The Black snake moved… flowing into the Potter griffin whose wings were spread
wide protectively in front of Harry so swiftly that to Augusta it looked like
one moment it wasn’t covering Harry and in the next moment it was…

And Wenlock’s purple curse travelled across the chamber and…

The Potter griffin roared, trebled in size and charged… swallowing the curse…

The red flash of a stunning spell shot across from Sirius’s wand and knocked
Wenlock into his chair unconscious…

And the vulture gave another sad cry and abandoned Wenlock, flying to Harry
and bowing down at his feet before disappearing…

Silence.

Sirius was out of his seat, running to Harry as the griffin returned to guard
him again. Sirius wrapped Harry in a tight hug, before shielding him, pushing
Harry slightly behind him.

“Are you alright?” Sirius demanded.

Harry nodded but didn’t protest Sirius’s presence and protection.

“Aurors!” Amelia yelled. “Take Lord Wenlock into custody now!”

The Aurors hurriedly ran to do the Director’s bidding.

Augusta watched as Amelia walked up to where Amos sat, and Leonard Abbott
hurried to her side.

“Amos.” She said gently.

Amos blinked at them, bewildered. “He said… he said… but wouldn’t I know?”

Leonard took Amos’s elbow and drew him up and off the bench. “Come on, Amos.
We should take you to see a healer.”

A respectful silence filled the chamber as the Department Head was led away by
his friend.

Sirius kept one his arm wrapped around Harry, the other at his side held his
wand. “Chief Warlock, in the circumstances, I suggest a short recess?”

“Yes, yes, quite right, my boy.” Albus raised his voice. “The Wizengamot will
take a short break. Session will resume in one hour. Doors are open!”

Augusta breathed out.

It was over.

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 3
===============================

“Thank you, Remus.” Narcissa carefully tucked her personal quill into her
handbag and gave thanks that the monthly meeting to review the Malfoy
expenditure was over.

It still galled her to have to meet with the werewolf but she was pleased with
Lupin’s business-like but respectful approach. He never made her feel that she
was being interrogated and the questions he did ask were all pertinent. She
was also pleased that he provided her with statements and briefs regarding the
Malfoy estate, and that he asked for her opinions on investments and business
deals. She knew more than she had before when Lucius had handled the finances.
Indeed, it could be argued that the werewolf was doing better than Lucius —
their investment income had already doubled since putting the werewolf in
charge and with their outgoings restricted to a modest level, their savings
were accumulating for the first time in years.

“One final item.” Lupin pulled a sheet of parchment and a small key from his
document pouch. “Sirius has made arrangements for a vault to fund the expenses
for the baby such as a nursery, clothes, toys, and so on.”

Narcissa barely kept her face expressionless. She had wondered how she was
going to manage the baby related shopping on the budget they had agreed for
usual expenditure but had decided to raise it at the next meeting. She took
the parchment warily. “Did the funds come from the main vault? I don’t
remember seeing the deduction on the statement.”

“Sirius has funded this from the Black vaults.” Lupin smiled wolfishly, his
pleasure at disconcerting her all too evident. “He tells me it’s a Black
tradition for the primary House to take care of these things.”

It was but she hadn’t expected Sirius to comply with the tradition. In
hindsight she wasn’t sure why — Sirius had proven to support a number of Black
and pureblood traditions since he’d taken up the Lordship. He was also
teaching them to Harry. It made her wonder whether Sirius really had hated
everything to do with the Blacks or whether he had simply hated the madness
and blood superiority extremism of his mother and father. If only he hadn’t
fallen in with James Potter and gone to Gryffindor…

“I will convey my thanks to my cousin personally.” Narcissa conveyed to Lupin
coolly. She was happy with the vault; it was more than enough for her to
substantially redecorate a suite of rooms and to buy enough new items for the
baby with galleons left over. She folded the parchment, tucked the key away
into her purse and made to leave.

Lupin stood and helped her into her cloak. “I’ll see you out.”

“There’s no need.” Narcissa said firmly. While the pretence of Lupin providing
steward services to the House of Malfoy was enough to stem gossip, she had no
wish to be seen with the werewolf outside of formal family occasions.
Additionally, while fervour had calmed down over Lupin’s lycanthropy with the
Wizengamot session the previous day and the revelations of Wenlock’s
criminality, she wasn’t certain she would be safe in his presence should
someone take exception to him.

As though he’d read her thoughts, Lupin winced. “Yes, probably for the best in
the circumstances. Sirius would not want me to place you in any danger.”

Narcissa waved him back into his seat with a muttered confirmation that she’d
see him later at the family dinner at Hogwarts. She exited the Gringotts
conference room, gave a nod of farewell to her niece who apparently was on
guard duty still, (wondering vaguely why Dora had chosen to remain outside the
room), and headed for the main hall.

She entered to hear the shrill tone of a woman protesting by the farthest
counter. She ignored it. Whatever drama was happening Narcissa would not lower
herself to be interested. She started to draw on her gloves and headed for the
exit with a grimace.

The January weather was rainy, cold and miserable. She’d order one of
Kreacher’s hot chocolates when she got back to the Manor, she mused, but
despite the weather she needed to shop for a while. Her figure was changing
and it was time to invest in some maternity wear; something fashionable but
something that would also enable her to be discreet about her condition.

“Wait!”

Narcissa frowned at the call and turned back slightly, uncertain it was meant
for her. The fast approaching Lady Alexandria Wenlock, clearly heading toward
her, had her freezing in place and fingering her wand although she knew she
couldn’t use it within Gringotts. She caught the hastening figures of a
matronly woman and a young man hurrying behind Alexandria and quickly
identified them as Christopher Wenlock, the Heir and oldest son, and Katherine
de Ware, Alexandria’s sister. Narcissa contemplated leaving but had no wish to
see herself pursued into the alley. She straightened and tilted her chin
upwards a touch.

“Alexandria.” Narcissa coolly greeted the other woman as she came to an abrupt
halt in front of her.

“Don’t Alexandria me as though nothing was wrong! What is the meaning of
this?!” Alexandria waved a parchment in front of Narcissa’s face, obscuring
her view of the otherwise attractive and fashionable brunette whose Slavic
heritage told in her high cheekbones and graceful lines.

Christopher caught hold of the parchment and yanked it out of his mother’s
hands. “My apologies, Madame Malfoy. My mother and I have had some distressing
news and she is overwrought.”

Alexandria huffed and shook off the comforting hand her sister tried to
restrain her with. “I am not overwrought! This is all the fault of that blood
traitor and his horrid boy! I demand justice! I demand…”

“Madame,” the goblin who interrupted her was well-armoured and carried a
spear, “you are disturbing the peace of Gringotts. If you have no further
business I suggest you take this outside!”

Alexandria bristled. “No further business!” Her voice rose shrilly, “No
further business! I’ll have you…”

“Mother!” Christopher snapped. “Remember where we are!”

“And who you insult.” Narcissa said frostily. She may have held similar views
about her cousin and Harry prior to the resurgence of the House of Black but
she was content with their leadership and their power. They had certainly
trounced Wenlock most comprehensively.

“My apologies, Madame Malfoy.” Christopher said, his dark eyes sincere
although his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. “My mother did not mean
her remarks.”

“Do not…”

“Quiet, Mother.” Christopher demanded sharply, and the order of an Heir rang
out in his tone as he turned to glare her into submission. She subsided with a
glower. Christopher turned back to Narcissa. “Once again, I offer my
apologies, Madame Malfoy, and I realise my House owes you no favours but
perhaps you could assist us in locating Lord Black? It seems yesterday’s
events concerning my father had consequences that we could not foresee.” He
handed her the parchment.

Narcissa stared at him for a long moment, determining whether to even look at
the missive. But she could see nothing sly in his expression and so dropped
her gaze to read the parchment with well-hidden curiosity.

“*Gringotts has registered the magical surrender of the House of Wenlock to
the Houses of Potter and Black. All vaults and property have been seized.
Further inquiries should be directed to the Steward for the Houses of Potter
and Black.”*

Merlin.

She’d heard of magical surrender in the traditional folk lore that her father,
mother and tutors had crammed into the heads of the Black sisters but she had
never witnessed it. Until now, Narcissa reminded herself. An image of the
silver vulture of Wenlock bowing to Harry the day before flitted through her
mind. It was monumental and had the potential to give them a political and
magical advantage like no other.

She glanced back up at the young man in front of her. “Come with me.” She
didn’t wait for him nor did she pay attention to the hissed protest of
Alexandria which was once again overruled by her son. She strode back into the
hall, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of nosy on-loookers and the goblins’
grumpy disgust at the whole affair. She made her way back to the antechamber
Remus occupied.

Dora straightened immediately as they approached and Narcissa could see her
training in the easy fighting stance. “What’s this about?”

“The Wenlocks need to see the Potter and Black Steward.” Narcissa said
crisply.

“He’s with Madame Tonks.” Dora replied a little uncomfortably.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow at the news that her sister was with Lupin. It made
her wonder whether her sister and her husband had been subjected to the same
financial restrictions as the Malfoys but that seemed unlikely since they had
committed no crimes against the House of Black in Sirius’s eyes. Perhaps
Andromeda was simply taking advantage of the House steward to get some
business tips. But why was Dora still outside the room? Some antiquated notion
of professionalism no doubt, she surmised.

“Give him this.” Narcissa pushed the parchment into Dora’s hand. She was
almost impressed by the scathing glare her niece aimed at her before she bent
her head and read the parchment. The immediate response of knocking swiftly on
the door and entering on Lupin’s calm command was proof of the missive’s
explosive content.

The door closed and Narcissa found herself standing in the corridor with the
Wenlocks. She briefly considered leaving but a part of her was too curious at
the outcome; too tempted into staying to influence events.

“This is unacceptable!” Alexandria hissed at her son.

“Alexandria, please do stop making a scene.” Her sister reprimanded her
softly. “We are fortunate Narcissa was willing to parley on our behalf
especially after the irreprehensible actions of your husband.” Her tone gave
away that she knew they now owed the Malfoys and the House of Black for such
and Narcissa felt a curl of satisfaction. The de Wares were European nobility
and had connections throughout a number of countries; it could only be to the
benefit of the House of Black.

The door reopened and Dora ushered them inside. Narcissa’s eyes widened almost
imperceptibly. The room was no longer the small cosy office that she had
occupied during her review but a larger space. The small table she and Lupin
had shared was extended into a full conference table and Lupin directed the
Wenlocks to the far side. Narcissa made her way swiftly to her sister’s side,
greeting her smoothly and inwardly approving of the neat bronze robes
Andromeda was wearing.

Lupin cleared his throat as Dora made to step outside. “You are welcome to
remain inside, Auror Tonks?”

“It’s best I guard the entry to the room, Steward Lupin.” Dora said firmly and
stepped out once again.

The formality had Andromeda and Narcissa exchanging sisterly looks of concern.
The werewolf and her niece usually had a warm flirtatious relationship. Had
they argued?

Lupin motioned at Narcissa. “May I prevail upon you to perform the
introductions?”

She inclined her head and smartly announced everyone.

Lupin gestured for them all to sit. “I have requested Auror Tonks sends for
Lord Black.” He tapped the parchment in front of him. ‘I believe only he has
the authority to make any kind of decision regarding this.’ He looked
chagrined. “I’m afraid the official Potter and Black copy must be in my
correspondence folder. Kipbold handed me a stack of parchment this morning but
I’ve been in meetings all morning.”

“While we wait for Lord Black, perhaps some refreshments?” Andromeda stepped
in smoothly.

A moment later, a house elf arrived with a silver tea tray filled with a
matching pot, sugar bowl and milk jug. A stack of delicate china cups stamped
with the Potter crest were balanced precariously alongside them.

Narcissa gave thanks that her niece hadn’t been required to carry it in. The
girl was clumsy on a good day. She sat politely as Andromeda played Mother and
poured. The tea occupied Narcissa’s hands and gave her a focus other than
Alexandria’s pinched white face.

She felt a flicker of sympathy for the woman. Sirius and Harry had decimated
Wenlock’s political career and Wenlock’s own criminality had ensured the rest
of his downfall. Of course, if he’d done it correctly he would never have been
caught. Lucius had at least mostly covered his tracks until pinned down by the
House of Black primacy and a Lord Black he’d never anticipated.

But then no-one ever anticipated Sirius, Narcissa thought with a twinge of
amusement.

Talk of the Devil…

Sirius swept into the room with an air of implacable authority that Arcturus
would have been proud of; dressed head to toe in black, his open robes
revealed the leather trouser, black shirt combination that had the witches of
the Wizengamot drooling and the wizards remembering they were in the presence
of a battle mage.

Lupin immediately handed over the parchment while making a set of
introductions that Sirius barely attended to since he was reading.

“Well, this is unexpected.” Sirius said as he took his seat at the top of
table. “Have any of us heard of this before?”

Narcissa exchanged a quick glance with her sister and gave way at Andromeda’s
signal that she would answer.

“Father told us of an old tradition which had similar themes of Houses
surrendering their magic to the will of another but it was usually a Head of
House’s explicit consensual and considered actions that led to such a state.”
Andromeda said crisply, a slight lecturing air to her demeanour which had
Narcissa nostalgic for her childhood and feeling a pang of grief that Bella
wasn’t there to roll her eyes at in shared amusement and indulgence of their
sister.

“It could be argued that Lord Wenlock did undertake such an action yesterday.”
Narcissa cut in before Sirius replied.

Sirius motioned for her to continue, his grey eyes flinty and narrowed.

“Lord Wenlock swore upon his family magic to answer Lord Potter’s question
truthfully.” Narcissa reminded Sirius quickly. “He effectively placed the
House of Wenlock under the authority of the House of Potter when he did so — a
pseudo-surrender so to speak.”

“So when Wenlock attempted to lie and the magic forced him to speak
truthfully, the family magic deemed he’d actually surrendered?” Sirius nodded
briefly. “It’s an explanation.” He ignored the bristling indignation of the
Wenlocks on his right, and glanced toward Lupin, silently asking for his
opinion.

“It’s a good theory. It would explain why the vulture bowed to Harry.” Lupin
commented, his finger tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d forgotten about that.”

Narcissa sipped her own tea. It was a working theory.

Christopher squirmed in his chair and raised a hand to catch their attention.
“I just want to say, Lord Black, that the rest of the family had no idea of my
father’s criminal actions. We knew Father wasn’t happy about the move to
review the laws on Creatures but we never considered he would go further than
the usual political manoeuvrings.”

Sirius’s grey gaze landed on the Heir of Wenlock speculatively. “How old are
you, Mister Wenlock?”

“Seventeen.” Christopher replied, red darkening his cheeks even as his chin
lifted a little in stubborn challenge.

Lupin frowned. “Aren’t you part of the Durmstrang delegation for the
tournament?”

“Yes,” Christopher nodded, “myself, my brother and sister are all at
Durmstrang. In fact that’s one of the reasons why we were so surprised about
Father. He has always been somewhat dismissive of his obligations and duties
here in Britain.”

“We have determined as a family to return to our home abroad.” Alexandria
broke in sharply. “We came to organise our finances with the goblins and…” she
motioned at the parchment.

Lupin turned again to Christopher. “Have you tried to invoke your family magic
since yesterday?”

It looked for a long moment that Christopher would ignore Lupin, or worse
insult him, but finally he settled for violently shaking his head.

“Right.” Sirius sighed. He gestured at the Heir ring. “You should try.”

Christopher took a deep breath and called on his family magic.

Nothing happened.

“You try, Sirius.” Lupin suggested.

Sirius pushed back from the table and directed his ring to the floor beside
him. “Familius magicus.”

Three totems shimmered into being; the snake of the House of Black, the
griffin of the House of Potter, and the vulture of the House of Wenlock.

“Well, that’s new.” Sirius said, staring at the silver vulture.

“So you have stolen the family magic of my children; denied them their
legacy.” Alexandria said bitterly.

Sirius drew himself up and she shrank back, dropping her gaze as a dull flush
coloured her cheeks. Narcissa hid her smile, pleased at Sirius’s silent
chastisement of the woman.

“Forgive my mother, please.” Christopher jumped in hurriedly. “It is a
stressful time.”

“Very well; I won’t take insult this time as I realise you’re all under a lot
of pressure after Lord Wenlock’s behaviour came to light yesterday and this
entire experience cannot be easy for you.” Sirius said sternly. “But let’s be
straight here: there is nobody to blame for this state of affairs but him.
Clearly your family magic no longer wants to align itself with your line.”

“What does that actually mean?” asked Christopher.

Sirius glanced over at Lupin. “Remus?”

“I’m only speculating as there is more unknown about family magic than known
in truth but…” Lupin lifted the parchment, ‘Lord Wenlock had taken a vow to
protect all in the Wizengamot but forced under a family magic truth spell he
revealed he’d harmed someone present.’ He explained. “That coupled with the
belief we have that family magic originated in an oath to protect the
wizarding world, and I believe the magic determined he was an oath-breaker.”

Narcissa could not disagree with Lupin’s theory; it had merit and not just
because it was in line with her own thinking.

“Judgement.” Sirius said briskly. “If the family magic decided in that moment
to Judge…” he shrugged, “the most common punishment is to strip magic from
those found guilty of oath-breaking.”

“We should probably check in with Amelia and see whether Lord Wenlock has any
magic today.” Lupin said quietly.

The Wenlocks sat looking perfectly horrified.

“I can believe that you’re right but Judgement is usually limited is it not to
the guilty? Why did the family magic surrender to the House of Potter? Why not
simply skip to the next generation?” asked Andromeda, waving at Christopher.

“I think my sister and nephew would like to know the answers to those
questions too.” Katherine spoke up again. She had placed a comforting and
restraining hand on her sister’s shoulder as Lupin had expounded on his
theory.

“That I don’t know.” Lupin admitted. “It’s possibly a combination of Judgement
and Lord Wenlock being under oath to Harry at the time he was Judged.”

Narcissa understood immediately. “When Lord Wenlock broke faith the family
magic determined that the surrender was owed to Harry.”

Lupin frowned and nodded. “But it’s all conjecture. Either way this is not an
outcome any of us could have foreseen.”

“The question is what now?” asked Katherine. She waved at the parchment Lupin
still held. “That suggests that effectively the House of Wenlock has been
placed in service to the House of Potter.”

“I’m afraid that’s the upshot.” Lupin said succinctly. He managed to sound
apologetic.

Alexandria maintained her composure but only just; she went white as a sheet.
Christopher remained composed though and contemplative.

“I’ll need to check but I would assume that the Wizengamot has received a
similar notification from magic.” Lupin continued. “I suspect the proxy for
the House of Wenlock will fall to the House of Potter.”

Narcissa sipped her tea, another curl of satisfaction in her belly at just how
thoroughly the House of Wenlock had been defeated by Harry.

“This cannot be considered just!” Alexandria exclaimed, slapping the table.
“It strips the entire family of everything!”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Sirius answered sharply, “the sins of one man
should not be paid for by his entire family.”

Narcissa stopped herself from the eye-roll. Sirius still could be such a
Gryffindor.

“However, clearly magic does not agree with either of us.” Sirius finished,
surprising Narcissa and everyone else in the room. “Even if I had a mind to
reverse this, I wouldn’t know how to convince magic to do it.”

Christopher cleared his throat. “I am not averse to swearing an oath of
service in truth to the House of Potter.”

Narcissa only just managed to conceal her surprise. Andromeda raised an
eyebrow. Sirius looked faintly amused at the turn of the events while Lupin
looked suitably shocked.

“Christopher!” Alexandria looked horrified.

“No, Mother.” Christopher raised a hand when she would have continued to
berate him. ‘My politics are not Father’s. I am not interested in becoming the
next political powerhouse in British society.’ He grimaced. “Why would I? You
and Father have never spent time here beyond what is necessary and Alexander,
Anne and I are schooled elsewhere.”

Alexandria frowned heavily. “But your legacy?” She demanded tightly. “And what
of your sister and brother? Are they to be cast out of school and into service
too?”

“Alex!” Katherine regarded her nephew carefully. “I believe Christopher is
trying to safeguard all of you if you will let him speak.”

Christopher nodded in gratitude to his aunt and turned back to Sirius. “Lord
Black, as I have stated, I have no political ambition. I had already spoken to
my siblings some months ago when Father became enthralled with gaining more
power within the Wizengamot. We are agreed; we have no interest in making
England our home. We are planning to make our lives in Switzerland where we
have spent the majority of our childhood.” He paused. “I had determined that
upon Father’s death I would decline the seat in the Wizengamot and send it to
the floor.”

“Interesting,” commented Lupin, “it’s possible that magic knew of your intent
and that coupled with your father’s oath-breaking decided the fate of your
family magic.”

Narcissa nodded slowly. She thought Lupin was correct. Why would family magic
designed to protect the wizarding population stay loyal to a family who
clearly had no intent of following the original oath?

“As you have mentioned I am also part of the Durmstrang contingent at
Hogwarts, and I have spent a lot of time with Theodore Nott recently in
preparation of our Champions’ next task.” Christopher continued. “He and I
share a number of political views. He speaks highly of the Houses of Potter
and Black. I have observed for myself the power of the Head of the House of
Potter in the execution of the first task. I will happily swear service on two
conditions; one, that my mother is provided with a home and a living allowance
which will provide her with the same lifestyle as she is accustomed to living
with my father.”

Alexandria stared at her son.

“And two?” prompted Lupin.

Christopher raised his chin. “Our education is protected and my sister is
provided with a dowry for her future marriage.”

Sirius regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment.

Narcissa found herself holding her breath wondering which way Sirius would
decide. He could be so unpredictable…

Sirius leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table top and ignoring the
cooling cup of tea beside him. “You will swear a lifetime of service to the
House of Potter.” He said sternly. “Your brother will be in service for a year
following his education. Your sister will be considered to be under the
protection of the House of Potter until such time as she marries. The House
will provide an adequate dowry at that time. You’ll all return to Durmstrang
to finish your education. Your conditions regarding your mother will be met.”

Christopher breathed out audibly. “Thank you, Lord Black.”

Narcissa allowed an approving smile to curve her lips. Sirius had guaranteed
the young man’s loyalty and he would make a good, intelligent addition to the
House of Potter.

“We’ll take the oath before the end of the day.” Sirius said crisply. “But for
now, Remus will see about sorting out the practicalities of your money and
housing. We’ll leave you to it.”

A moment later, there was a flurry of hurried goodbyes and Narcissa found
herself once again outside the room, pulling on her gloves as she readied
herself for the outside world.

Sirius hovered beside her, helping Andromeda into her cloak. “Well, that was
fun.”

“Sirius.” Andromeda said chidingly, pulling on a brightly coloured scarf.

“Why did the bloody vulture have to surrender?” Sirius complained loudly, his
voice verging perilously on a whine.

Narcissa exchanged a sisterly look of exasperation at Sirius’s antics with
Andromeda, which drew a snort of amusement from Dora. Narcissa took a moment
to savour that they were reconciled and could have such a moment.

“At least Wenlock’s service to the House of Potter will give you a valid
excuse for the vulture answering to your call.” Narcissa pointed out calmly.
“Politically, this is well done. Wenlock serves the House of Potter and you
hold the proxy. Its alliances are now all in disarray. The Minor Houses
associated and allied with it will be scrambling.”

“She’s right.” Andromeda said briskly when Sirius gave nothing but a
disgruntled harrumph. She patted Sirius’s arm. “Try not to sulk too much,
Sirius.” She kissed his cheek before turning to Narcissa.

Andromeda hugged her briefly, did the same to her daughter much to Dora’s
horror, and hurried out with a murmur about already being late for her next
appointment.

“I’ll escort you out, Cousin.” Sirius offered, winking at Dora in goodbye.

Narcissa accepted his arm.

“How are you, Cissy?” Sirius asked.

“I’m well. Thank you, Cousin.” She said. “I was going to thank you for the
baby vault when I saw you this evening for the family meal.”

“Just don’t paint the nursery silver and green.” Sirius sniffed with fake
imperiousness, taking her back to the Summers at the Black estate and their
childhood — when Sirius had been her favourite cousin, funny and witty and
protective.

“How is the baby?” Sirius asked tentatively as they made it into the main hall
and started to thread a path through the waiting customers to the outside.

Narcissa smiled at him softly, allowing her awe and love to spill over into
her expression, knowing Sirius would never use it against her. “Regina is
doing well.”

Sirius’s eyes softened. “Regina, huh? You settled on the name.”

“I wanted to honour Regulus.” Narcissa confirmed as they stepped out into the
sunshine. “This seemed right.”

“What does Lucius think?” Sirius asked, as he cast a warming charm at her,
along with a number of privacy spells, and drew her to a halt on the bottom
step.

It wasn’t an idle question despite the casual nature of Sirius’s demeanour.

“He is happy to abide my wish in this as he is in all things to do with this
pregnancy.” Narcissa replied, knowing that her cousin would understand the
subtleties of what she wasn’t saying as well as what she was. Lucius’s only
interest in the child she carried was in its ability to keep her biddable
within their marriage. She was under no illusion about that. “He’ll be pleased
about today’s news. The House of Malfoy is the obvious choice to act as an
intermediary between the Wenlocks’ allies and the House of Black.”

He snorted but with a resigned tilt of his head. “It seems I might have a bit
more politicking to do today than I anticipated. Cornelius will be thrilled.”

Narcissa hummed an agreement. The Minister thrived on political machinations
and he’d be over the moon with the turn of events. “What is the position on
Diggory?”

“They found the evidence they needed of the imperius curse. They also think
he’s been under the influence of suggestion potions for a while.” Sirius
straightened, a sober expression on his face. “The Healers said possibly he’d
been under them since before Hallowe’en. The Aurors found evidence his alcohol
had been spiked.”

“They took advantage of his weakness.” Narcissa commented, her nose wrinkling
with disgust for Diggory’s lack of character and feeble mind.

“Appears so.” Sirius concurred mildly. ‘His wife confessed to Amelia that Amos
has had an ongoing problem with drink. He sobered up when Cedric was born.’ He
shrugged. “It came back after he didn’t get the seat and then with the
pressures of the Committee review and Cedric competing against Harry…”

“Do they believe Wenlock was responsible for the potions?” asked Narcissa.

Sirius shook his head. “They’ve questioned Wenlock with veritaserum. He used
an Unforgiveable but he didn’t do the potioning.” He scowled. “They think
Crouch did that and Wenlock just took advantage once Crouch couldn’t get back
to the Ministry.”

“I assume Diggory is at Saint Mungo’s receiving treatment?” Narcissa enquired.

Sirius nodded. “They’re trying to assess if he’s been given a sleeper spell.”

An old trick of hiding a compulsion deep in the mind that would be triggered
upon a key word. It was an ingenious spell, one that was tricky to do but
extremely effective.

“Cornelius has placed him on sick leave and put Dirk in charge of the
Department for now.” Sirius continued.

Narcissa inclined her head. She didn’t approve of the majority of the new
Creature laws but she had to admit the man who’d spearheaded the review was
probably best placed to lead the Department until Diggory returned — if
Diggory returned.

“The publicity in this morning’s press was positive to us.” Narcissa
commented, changing the subject a touch. The publicity had not been kind to
the Diggorys or the Wenlocks. The newspapers had gushed over Harry’s
performance at the Wizengamot and there had been more than one respectful note
of admiration for Sirius.

Sirius sighed. “I’m just pleased the worst of it is over.”

The furore surrounding Lupin and the werewolf sanctuary was yesterday’s news.

“How long will Nymphadora continue to provide him with protection?” Narcissa
asked, adjusting the hold on her purse.

“For as long as it takes.” Sirius said with a glare which asked her why she
was probing that particular angle.

Narcissa inclined her head. “Dora seemed very cool towards him today.”

“You noticed that?” Sirius gave a huff. ‘Of course you noticed that. They’re
not exactly subtle, are they?’ He made a dismissive gesture. “She asked and he
turned her down again, *I think*, but they’re both being remarkably
close-mouthed about the details.”

Dora’s pursuit of the werewolf was something Narcissa couldn’t understand. She
could not see why her niece was so enthralled with him. Lupin wasn’t
unattractive but his lycanthropy was a severe disadvantage and her niece could
do better. At least it seemed Lupin knew that.

“Well, I should take my leave and head back to Harry.” Sirius sighed. “He’s
probably wearing the floor out wondering what’s going on.”

“Is Harry eager to resume his lessons?” Narcissa asked politely. Draco had
spent much of the holidays consolidating his alliances with the younger Nott
and Zabini. She was pleased.

“Eager to get back to some kind of normality after everything that’s
happened.” Sirius said.

Narcissa nodded slowly. “I am pleased you are not dead, Cousin. You need to
take better care. Our Heir needs you.” It was a mild chastisement for Sirius
putting himself at risk; for putting his son through the trial of thinking he
was dead.

Sirius’s grey eyes flashed with something akin to amusement but he gave her a
brisk nod and kissed her hand. “See you later, Cissy.”

Narcissa watched him go with well-hidden fondness. She smoothed a hand over
her abdomen and the swell of her body. Sirius’s return had granted her a gift
she had never thought she would have and she was determined that she would do
all she could to help him rebuild the House of Black.

She shivered, the warming charm dissipating with Sirius’s departure and
abruptly decided against shopping. She made her way to the Leaky Cauldron to
floo home.

Kreacher popped in beside her as soon as she exited the floo. “Mistress
Cissy’s husband returns.”

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Narcissa watched as Kreacher disappeared taking her
outerwear with him. She smoothed a hand over her hair made her way to Lucius’s
study.

Lucius frowned slightly at the sight of her, even as he discarded his
correspondence and rose to greet her. “I thought you intended to spend the day
shopping?”

“An unexpected Black family meeting was held at Gringotts because of the
Wenlocks.” Narcissa commented dryly. She brought him up to speed with
efficient brevity. She saw his eyes light up at the revelation of the Wenlock
proxy.

“My, my.” Lucius said smoothly as he resumed his place behind his desk. “This
does open up some possibilities, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps we should invite Benjamin and Norman for breakfast tomorrow?”
Narcissa suggested.

“An excellent idea. I’ll invite Stewart too.” Lucius caught on immediately to
her plan to brief and discuss the turn of affairs with their closest allies.
He turned back to his correspondence. “See to the arrangements; I’ll owl them
now.”

The order rankled but Narcissa kept her expression calm as she headed back
toward her own study where she’d call for the house elves. She’d allow Lucius
his small victories. She had what she wanted — her fingers brushed against her
child.

Her future was secure.

o-O-o

Harry sat down next to Daphne as Moody directed and shot her a quick grin. She
rolled her eyes at him in response but he knew that she had no real objection
to him being placed with her as a partner. Harry’s good humour died a little
as he caught sight of his former girlfriend across the aisle shooting Draco an
admonishing look as he sniffed imperiously and sat beside her.

The start of the new term and Hermione still hadn’t agreed to resume their
dating. Harry had tried flowers which she’d thanked him for but nothing more,
and another sincere written apology which she’d accepted gracefully but hadn’t
made any further comment upon. She was perfectly friendly; happy to discuss
their holiday homework and to help him prepare for the second task but… no
dates; no holding hands; no kissing.

Harry poked morosely at his parchment with his quill. He was out of ideas on
how to win her back — well, there was the one idea but both Ron and Neville
had pointed out he’d likely be grounded for a month by his Aunt Minnie if he
did it…

“Stop brooding, Potter, and focus on the assignment.” Daphne hissed, her wand
weaving a modified privacy ward around them to prevent others from copying
their work.

“Sorry.” Harry muttered, a tinge of heat on his cheeks. He turned his
attention to the blackboard again.

With the New Year, Moody had moved on from recognising threats and situational
awareness to actual defence. On the board were a list of ten threats and their
assignments were to come up with one solid defence against each. It amused
Harry to see that in usual Moody style, there were only two acknowledged Dark
creatures on it. The rest were thought provoking including ‘a friend’ which
made Harry think of Pettigrew, and ‘a man/woman obsessed with you.’ Harry
wondered if his continuing pursuit of Hermione would be counted by her as a
threat.

“Very well,” Daphne said with an exasperated sigh, “out with it.”

Harry turned to look at her confused.

“You’re clearly not going to focus on our assignment until you’ve gotten the
current state of affairs with Granger off your chest; so out with it.” Daphne
said impatiently, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Harry didn’t try to hide his wince. He sighed heavily and rubbed his cheek. “I
just… I don’t know how to convince her that I’m sorry about what happened.”

Daphne folded her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers restlessly. “What
has she said?”

“Said?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Yes, Potter; what has she *said* about forgiving
you?”

“Um, not much?” Which was true. Harry quailed a little under the disbelieving
stare of Daphne and pulled his thoughts together, remembering the first time
he and Hermione had met after Sirius’s return and his own. “She told me she
understood that I thought I was protecting her but that she couldn’t be with
me again until I could demonstrate that I trusted her to make her own
decisions about her security and protection.”

“Those were her exact words?” checked Daphne, a considering expression
drifting across her face that Harry knew meant she was thinking.

He nodded.

“Well, it’s clear why the apologies haven’t worked so far,” she said crisply,
“Granger’s not going to believe you until you actually *show her* you trust
her. Saying you’re sorry isn’t doing that.”

“Oh.” And suddenly Harry realised the fine line Daphne was pointing out for
him; all of his apologies had been showing Hermione that he cared for her and
still wanted to be with her, but they hadn’t showed her that she was trusted.
He frowned. How could he show her?

Daphne sighed as he said the final words out loud. “Well, you have two
options.”

Harry raised an eyebrow waiting for her to expand her statement.

“Either you contrive some kind of circumstance where Granger realises you
trust her —”

Harry was already shaking his head. “Hermione will see right through that.”

“Probably,” Daphne conceded, “and she values honesty so you’d be in worse
dragon dung with her than you already are.”

“Thank you.” Harry said dryly. He could always count on Daphne to tell him how
it was in blunt no-nonsense terms.

Daphne shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “So you’re stuck then because the
only other way to regain her favour is to actually trust her and wait for a
moment to demonstrate that to her.”

Harry sighed again, unwilling to accept her words but knowing they were the
truth. “I guess.” He shook himself a touch as though that would shake away the
melancholy of the realisation and picked up his quill again. ‘We should get on
with this.’ He pursed his lips. “How do you deal with a drunk but well-meaning
bystander?”

“Sobering charm?” Daphne suggested immediately.

And he was inordinately grateful to her for allowing him to change the
subject. The rest of the Defence lesson flew by and before he knew it school
was over for the day.

He fell into step with Daphne as they made their way to the Room of
Requirement where they were due to meet up with the rest of the Potter
alliance and his other friends for his second task preparations. Daphne
remained quiet beside him as though she understood he needed the silence to
consider what they had discussed.

The Room opened into its usual formation for the task discussions and Harry
made his way to the dais where Draco, Neville and Hermione all joined him.
Bill, who was ostensibly performing guard duty, entered at the end of the
stream of Hogwarts students and closed the door behind him.

Harry’s scar itched and he rubbed it before he cleared his throat noisily. The
crowd in front of him settled down instantly. He smiled at them all; humbled
and honoured at having so many people prepared to help him. “It’s January now
and the second task will happen in February so we only have a month and a bit
to go now. I’d like us to regroup on where we are right from the start.”

Hermione levitated the board with the clues to the front to remind everyone.

“*Water, water, everywhere; of your prized possession take great care; for
prisoners rarely work together; and time will not last forever.”*

“Right,” Hermione said briskly, “let’s begin from the top: location.”

“There’s activity around the Lake.” Blaise answered promptly. “They’re
definitely preparing something.”

“He’s right.” Natalie Warren asserted. “Robert and I have both been informed
that the patrols are to keep students away from the Lake.”

Bill nodded. “They’ve masked the whole area with an illusion that makes it
appear that the Lake is undisturbed but it is.”

“Is the illusion restricted to above or below the lake?” Theo asked calmly.

“Both.” Bill cocked his head to the side. “Good point.”

“So, we know it’s the Lake, and we think that it’s likely to be have both a
below and above component.” Hermione made a note, chewing her lips
thoughtfully.

“The above component could be nothing more than a landing stage.” Daphne
pointed out.

“Or it could be integral to the task.” Draco countered. “We don’t know
enough.”

“So we find out.” Neville responded. “What if we find a way to get around the
illusion or break it?”

“I doubt any of us have the magical power to do that except for Harry.”
Hermione said before Draco could answer sneeringly.

“But Neville has the right idea.” Blaise said, shooting the Gryffindor a quick
grin. “We need to find out exactly what they’re building.”

“Bill, I’m guessing that you don’t actually know what they’re building?” Harry
asked, leaning back against the table behind him.

“No. The security here have been told that they’re building but not what.”
Bill said regretfully.

“Who exactly is building?” asked Daphne shrewdly.

“And can they be bought or bribed into giving the information over?” Theo
nodded. “It would be a good plan.”

“It’s a Gringotts’ team so I doubt it’s feasible.” Bill said thoughtfully.
“But I do know that the illusion allows animals and mer-people to see through
it without incident.”

“A spy.” Ron proclaimed, pointing a figure at his brother. “We can get Remus
to talk one of the mer-people into spying for us!”

“I doubt the mer-people are going to be open to telling us what’s going on.”
Draco drawled.

“He’s right.” Hermione sent Ron a quick look of apology for siding with Draco.
“We have no idea if Remus would agree and even if he does, convincing someone
in the mer-people to do it and then relying on them…”

“Fine,” Ron threw up his hands, “it was a bad idea!”

“Not a wholly bad idea, Ron.” Harry comforted his first friend with a grin. “A
spy is a good idea, and we can try. If it doesn’t work, we just have to think
of some other means except Remus convincing a mer-person.”

Ron seemed mollified by that.

Hermione took advantage of the silence and jumped in. “Right, we’ll need to
ask Remus and if that’s not a go, we’ll think of something else.”

Harry nodded gratefully at her. “Thank you.”

She blushed prettily and tapped the blackboard. “In the meantime, we have a
list of spells to learn for above the water and below it. We need to step up
practicing these.” She tapped the blackboard again and it changed to the next
topic. “Have we made any progress on what will be taken?”

Theo shifted. “In one of the study sessions, I found a draft letter from a
student to a parent saying that Karkaroff apparently has told Krum’s lot about
the details of the original task before it was altered.”

Harry inwardly flinched at the reminder that Voldemort had altered the tasks
to make them more dangerous. He absently touched his scar.

“And?” prompted Ron impatiently.

Theo altered his stance. “The original task chose the person in closest
proximity to the Champion at the moment that the Champion signed their name on
the parchment that they used to enter into the tournament on the assumption
they would be the most important person to the Champion. Krum apparently
believes his original hostage might have been someone random in the library at
the time he signed his name as that’s where he was.”

“Cedric’s original hostage would have been Cho then.” Susan broke in. “She was
sitting right next to him when he signed the parchment before he went and
entered his name.”

“You must have been observing him closely to determine that.” Blaise teased.

Susan shot him a dirty look but her cheeks had gone bright red.

“Well, that doesn’t really tell us which of us would have ended up as Harry’s
hostage, does it?” Ron muttered. “He didn’t enter himself! Who knows when he
signed that parchment?!”

“Well, it’s probably something I signed officially.” Harry murmured. “It’s
pretty likely either Sirius or Remus would be the hostage.” It made his heart
ache to think of Sirius being used as a hostage against him after the events
at Christmas.

“But we know it’s unlikely that Voldemort continued with the same plan.”
Hermione said briskly. “He may have taken the principle of hostages but turned
it into something completely different.”

“And we know that Crouch at least knew using the person closest to the
Champion when he’d signed the parchment wasn’t going to accurately target
Harry’s hostage enough for whatever they have planned.” Daphne added.

“That’s it!” Ron proclaimed passionately. ‘We’ve got to think about this like
Crouch! Who would he want to put in danger?’ He started to pace. “I mean, he’s
a Death Eater so he hates muggleborns and goes with the pureblood crap, and he
hates Harry and Sirius that’s a given, so…”

“Me.” Hermione’s chin lifted a touch.

Harry’s heart dropped to his feet. No! Hermione couldn’t be in danger! She
couldn’t! “You weren’t my girlfriend at the time he gave the parameters to the
cup though.” He pointed out.

“But she is a likely candidate.” Theo noted dispassionately. “She was
announced as a Daughter of the House of Black, she’s a muggleborn, one of your
closest friends, and clearly someone who Lord Black favours. Crouch might have
figured that was enough.”

Hermione had paled and Harry wanted to reach out and catch hold of her hand to
reassure them both that everything was going to be alright; that he wouldn’t
let her be harmed. The urge to send her away somewhere safe rose through him
again but he wrestled it back. Sending her to a different country wouldn’t
help. The magic of the Goblet would simply return her to the competition and
besides… it had been made clear to him that Harry had to trust Hermione could
decide for herself.

“I guess I should practice all these spells with you.” Hermione commented
bravely, her brown eyes meeting his challengingly even though a flicker of
fear was still there lurking in their depths.

“You’d do that anyway.” Ron said oblivious to the undercurrent between his
friends.

Harry nudged his glasses up and tried a smile. “You’ll probably get them
before me.”

“Weasley should practice too.” Draco commented.

Ron spun round and glared at the Slytherin. “What?”

Draco scowled at him. “Given the timing of when Crouch had to have put the
parameters to choose in the Goblet, you are the other likely candidate, are
you not? A blood traitor to the Dark Lord’s cause, Potter’s best friend,
responsible for ensuring Lord Black was exonerated and also favoured by him
given the alliance of friendship with your family and Potter?”

Ron went white under his freckles. “Blimey!”

“Malfoy’s right, Ron.” Bill said. “You are the other most likely candidate.”

“I would think the other candidate is Lord Black.” Theo said. “Crouch could
have included him.”

“I think it’s unlikely that he would put Sirius into the task.” Ron said,
making a clear effort to move past the news that he was one of the most likely
candidates to be taken as Harry’s hostage. “He wouldn’t want to risk putting
someone who knew what they were doing in there.”

“That makes sense.” Harry agreed, relief seeping through him with the thought
that Sirius wouldn’t be targeted.

“Me and Hermione.” Ron said bravely. “We’re the most likely candidates.”

And that worried Harry but in some ways it seemed right. It had always been
the three of them getting into trouble and getting out of trouble. His gaze
slipped to Hermione who stared back at him challengingly.

“So, we plan on that basis.” Harry said abruptly, holding Hermione’s gaze.
‘And you guys practice.’ He let his tone soften. “Wouldn’t be the first time
we had an adventure, would it?”

Hermione gave a sharp nod and breathed in deeply. “At least we have time to
plan.”

Ron grinned at him. “Let’s just hope there’s no spiders.”

The whole room seemed to relax as Harry smiled reluctantly back at his best
friends.

“What about the rest of the Champions?” Hermione asked suddenly. “I mean, if
Crouch is targeting either me or Ron he’s bound to have targeted the hostages
for the other Champions with the same criteria.”

“Which is likely to be best friend, or something to do with the sponsorship or
alliances.” Theo agreed.

It went unsaid that he’d find some way to inform the others but everyone
nodded, understanding that Theo was couching his words given the clear
instruction for Harry not to confer with his fellow Champions.

“Are we definitely saying that the prized possession then will not be an item
of importance?” Blaise asked.

“It’s unlikely.” Harry said simply. “Voldemort changed the first task just
enough to increase the danger but Professor Dumbledore confirmed that the
original first task was to retrieve a golden egg from a dragon’s nest.”

“So going on that basis, the second task was going to be retrieving someone
from the Lake, it’s likely that he won’t have strayed too far from that just
ramped up the danger quotient.” Blaise nodded far too cheerfully. “Got you.”

“Right,” Harry said, “I think we’ve exhausted talking about the task unless
anyone else has anything?”

Nobody spoke up.

Harry raised his wand. “Defence practice then. Everyone split into pairs,
we’re playing dodge-spell!”

It always surprised him how quickly everyone moved. Within moments, they were
all practising in small duelling domes that Harry had the Room construct. He
and Bill walked around the various pairs providing instruction and guidance.
The rules of the game were pretty simple: one person practiced hitting the
other with a spell and the other person dodged. Once they’d been hit three
times they swapped or when Harry whistled to signal a change in role.

There had been some muttering about using a game for instruction when they’d
first started but as everyone had seen how effective it was at improving their
aim and their ability to avoid being hit with spells, they’d all started to
really enjoy it.

Harry helped Connor Sapworthy adjust his aim against his friend before
wandering over to where Hermione and Luna were practicing. Both girls were
quick and fierce.

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe she could take care of herself. Or at least,
maybe Harry should trust her to take care of herself more than he had been
doing before.

Bill tapped Harry on the shoulder. “You alright there, Harry?”

Before he could reply, a chime sounded in the room. Instantly everyone stopped
and more than a few groans punctuated the silence.

“Session’s over!” Harry called out briskly. “You’ll need to get moving for
dinner.”

There was an immediate steady trickle of students heading to the door. Draco
nodded imperiously at Harry before leaving with Theo and Blaise. Hermione
smiled at Harry briefly but didn’t speak to him as she fell into step with Ron
and Ginny.

Harry watched her leaving with a heavy heart. It wasn’t too long before he and
Bill were the only ones left inside the room. Harry swished his wand absently
and the room melted away into a facsimile of Harry’s room at Griffin House.

“Wow.” Bill said impressed. “The room really can be anything you want it to
be, huh? I’m guessing you’re feeling a little homesick?”

“Things were simpler in the Summer.” Harry grumbled. He threw himself down on
his bed, sitting on the edge feeling very morose. He wasn’t surprised when
Bill pulled up the spare chair to sit in front of him.

“You want to talk about it?” offered Bill.

For a long moment, Harry wanted to brush off the oldest Weasley brother’s
concern, pretend everything was fine and wallow in his own misery. But the
comfort of the familiar room, of a room that was truly his for the first time
in his life, took him back to all the chats he and Bill had had in the Summer,
and within moments the whole mess tumbled out including his conversation with
Daphne.

Bill listened carefully without asking questions until eventually Harry fell
silent a little mortified that he’d unburdened himself so much to the eldest
Weasley. Bill simply reached over and patted Harry’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Girl trouble, huh.” Bill gave an exaggerated wince. “If it helps every guy
goes through it.”

A faint look of empathy flittered in and out of his blue eyes but it was
enough to ease Harry’s discomfort and tell him that maybe Bill had something
of his own to brood about.

“Uh, are you and Alicia OK?” asked Harry tentatively.

Bill’s gaze sharpened and Harry almost squirmed under the hard look he was
subjected to before Bill sighed heavily.

“Coming to the end of the road, I reckon.” Bill admitted with a grimace.

“If you want to talk about it…” Harry offered uncertainly.

Bill smiled. “That’s a good offer but I’ll pass. I’m sure you don’t want me to
bore you with the details of my love life.”

“I bored you with the details of mine.” Harry pointed out wryly. “I mean, you
listened to me.”

Bill laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, since you put it that
way…” he shrugged. “It’s not really a big deal. You know my Mum is really keen
on me and Alicia settling down?”

Harry nodded, thrilled that Bill was going to allow him to return the favour
and be a listening board. He felt for Bill; Molly wasn’t exactly subtle with
her attempts to get Bill to consider marrying Alicia.

“Well, neither of us is ready for that.” Bill stated without prevarication.
‘So when Alicia and I first talked about how Mum was, I promised to ask Mum to
tone it down, which I did, and she promised she would, and it was fine for a
while.’ Bill explained. “But you know my Mum.”

Harry winced because he did. Ron’s stubbornness had to come from somewhere.

“So it’s awkward at times and… I guess both of us are wondering if seeing each
other still is worth the hassle.” Bill shrugged, surprisingly calm about the
impending break-up of his relationship. “I’m predicting that I’m going to get
the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech any day now from Alicia.”

“Are relationships always this difficult?” Harry asked a touch grumpily. Remus
and Tonks seemed at odds too lately with Tonks being very cold to Remus.
Sirius had warned him to keep out of it, saying whatever argument the pair had
had, they had to work it out themselves.

“They’re always hard work.” Bill confirmed. He tilted his head. “The first
thing you’ve got to ask yourself is this: is what you and Hermione have worth
the effort of fixing things with her?”

“Yes.” Harry didn’t even have to think about it. He really liked Hermione and
he still wanted to be with her. He was prepared to do anything to make it
right between them again.

“Do you understand what Hermione’s problem with you is enough to fix it?”
pressed Bill.

“I think so. Hermione’s annoyed with me because I made a decision to push her
away without talking with her first.” He bit his lip. “Not so much the thing
with sending her and the others back to Hogwarts because I was, uh, really
upset and she understood that but, you know, after. Thinking staying away from
everyone would protect them better, and telling her again we were over because
I wanted to protect her.” His cheeks heated again at the memory of what he’d
done. He’d been so stupid…

“You were upset and grieving and your ability to make rational decisions was
compromised.” Bill said comfortingly. “Everyone understands that, including
Hermione.”

“But she hasn’t forgiven me like everyone else has.” Harry replied miserable.

Bill nudged him. “Why do you think that is?”

Harry sighed heavily again. “I really hurt her.”

“And what do you think will fix that?”

“I think Daphne’s right.” Harry said. ‘Hermione knows I’m sorry but she’s not
going to think about getting back together until I’ve *shown* her that I trust
her.’ He rubbed his head again. “She’s not going to trust me not to do what I
did again until she feels I trust her I guess.”

“I think that’s a good guess.” Bill patted his shoulder again.

“So I’m stuck waiting until I somehow prove to Hermione that I trust her.”
Harry mumbled unhappily, and he’d known that before they’d started talking in
truth — he’d just been hoping for a different answer.

Bill nudged him again. “Based on tonight’s discussion about the task, I think
you’re going to get your opportunity sooner rather than later.”

“He’s going to target her isn’t he?” Harry sighed and flopped back on the bed.
“I just… I don’t want anyone hurt because of me. Is that so much to ask?”

“It’s not your fault, Harry.” Bill said firmly. ‘Who knows what insanity is
going through Crouch and You-Know-Who’s head?’ He tapped Harry’s knee and
waited until Harry got upright again before continuing. “Nobody disagreed with
you sending your friends out of danger and I get why you did what you did at
Christmas. But I know you know that it wasn’t the best way to handle things.
You remember that first meeting with the alliance kids? You told them you were
stronger if you all stuck together and you were right.”

“I know.” Harry said, plucking at the coverlet on the bed absently. “I just…
it feels like everyone gets hurt because of me and that sucks.”

“You have to keep in mind that it’s not because of you; it’s because of Crouch
and You-Know-Who.” Bill reiterated. “Nobody blames you.”

Harry nodded slowly. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had the same conversation
with Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore and… pretty much everyone. Maybe he should
start believing it. His parents had told him the same thing hadn’t they? His
heart ached at the memory of seeing them in the cemetery but underneath the
pain was the solace that they loved him; loved each other; that they believed
in him.

“So I make sure Hermione — and Ron — both practice like mad and can take care
of themselves.” Harry said out loud.

Bill nodded.

Harry grimaced and absently rubbed at his scar again. He was going to have to
wait for Hermione to fully forgive him that was clear. It was a disappointing
conclusion but he guessed one he had to live with since he was serious about
her. He looked back up at Bill.

“What about you and Alicia?” He asked curiously. “I guess you’re not planning
to fix things?”

The oldest Weasley shook his head. “As quick as you were to say you and
Hermione was worth fighting for, I’d say the opposite about me and Alicia.” He
shrugged, an amused glint in his eye. ‘We’re good together and we’ve had fun,
and Merlin knows, I will always be grateful for her helping to heal me after
the duel with Crouch… but I don’t think we’re meant to be together forever
otherwise neither of us would be resisting my Mum so much.’ He shrugged again.
“So I’ll let her break up with me and I’ll find someone else.” He poked Harry
in the knee. “You may want to consider that you’re young yet too. Hermione
might seem like the be-all and end-all of everything right now but there are
other girls out there.”

Harry shook his head. He *liked* Hermione. Besides, if he did go out with
someone else during whatever this was — a break, a pause, a test? — then
Hermione could go out with other blokes and he definitely didn’t like the idea
of that.

Bill smiled, amused indulgence all over his face before it melted away to
concern. “Do you have a headache?”

Harry froze and frowned at him. “No. Why?”

“You keep rubbing your scar.” Bill waved at his forehead.

Harry realised his hand had drifted up again. He yanked his hand down. “It
just… it always kind of itches in here.”

Bill’s expression sobered immediately. “Really?”

Harry nodded.

“You know curse scars usually react in the presence of Dark magic?” Bill
commented as he got to his feet, his wand already in his hand as he scanned
the room suspiciously.

“Or the presence of the one who…” Harry blanched and leaped up, his wand
falling into his hand. He took a breath and calmed himself. It was very
unlikely Voldemort was hiding out in the Room of Requirement. But if not
Voldemort…

“The horcrux!” Harry blurted out. “He hid the horxcrux here!”

“Bloody smart wanker, isn’t he?” grumbled Bill, twirling his wand. “How do we
know what kind of room he stored it in?”

Harry frowned. “Well, maybe if we both try exiting the room and thinking of
somewhere to hide something?”

Bill nodded thoughtfully. “Might work.”

They made their way into the corridor.

Bill looked back at the blank wall. “You want to give it a go?”

Harry considered all the possible options and shook himself. He was making it
too complicated. He paced in front of the wall…

*I want somewhere to hide something important… I want somewhere to hide
something important… I want somewhere to hide something important…*

The door appeared.

Bill waved Harry back and Harry bit down on his want to protest knowing Sirius
would give him grief for not allowing the fully trained curse-breaker to go
first. Bill opened the door and entered.

“You can come in.”

Harry stepped inside eagerly and stopped abruptly beside a similarly shocked
Bill. He took in the towering piles of books and trunks and broomsticks and…
everything and anything! There were rows upon rows upon rows! Piles upon piles
upon…

“Accio Ravenclaw’s diadem!” Bill called out, weaving his wand through the
spell movements almost unconsciously.

Nothing happened.

“Bugger.” Bill swore roundly before grinning sheepishly at Harry. “It was
never going to be that easy, was it?”

Harry shook his head and looked back at the seemingly endless room.

It wasn’t going to be easy.

It was going to take a while and be hard work but he thought with furious
satisfaction, they were closer to finding the elusive horcrux than they had
been before, and he would only ever consider that a win.

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 4
===============================

Hermione scribbled another note to herself in the small notebook she kept for
her ongoing list of things to do. Sitting cross-legged in the centre of her
bed, she raised her eyes to gaze around the Gryffindor dorm and mentally
compared it to her childhood bedroom she’d just left a few days before.

The solid dark oak beds, wardrobes and dressers might have made the tower room
gloomy but they shined and gleamed with polish; the sunlight pouring in
through the wide windows to highlight the wonderful gold grain buried in the
wood. The bright red and gold Gryffindor colours blazed in the hangings and
the linen; in the woven rugs of a griffin and a unicorn. It was wonderful and
homey in a way her bedroom at home had ceased to be.

She grimaced. Crookshanks snored from his place at the bottom of the bed and
Hermione looked at him fondly. Maybe, she considered, she should try asking
for a redecoration of her bedroom at home for her next birthday or Christmas
present. It would be nice to get it looking like the bedroom of the young
woman she was rather than the child she’d left behind when she’d started
Hogwarts.

She shook her hair and reread her notes. Daphne and Luna had done a great job
at compiling the list of useful spells and she needed to ensure that she, Ron
and Harry mastered them all. She tapped the quill against her chin and pursed
her lips. Harry had already hated the idea of someone getting held hostage
because of him and the fact that it was most likely her or Ron wasn’t going to
help.

Harry.

Hermione frowned.

She’d retreated to the dorm to work after dinner because their split was the
talk of the Hogwarts’ grapevine. If she had thought it was difficult dealing
with the stares and attention when they were together, it was much worse with
them being apart. Still, Harry had been a complete gentleman, letting it be
known that he was to blame and that he still wanted to be with her once she
had forgiven him.

She bit her lip, remembering the holidays.

It had been awful when Harry had been missing. She’d been so worried about
him, alone and grieving for Sirius. And yet so angry. He’d physically and
magically pushed her away. He’d broken up with her to protect her. He’d been a
stupid, arrogant arse!

Hermione sniffed and then sighed heavily.

Despite everything, she understood. She did. Harry hadn’t been thinking; he’d
been devastated and he’d reacted on instinct in the moment he’d magically sent
them back to Hogwarts. She could forgive him for that — had forgiven him for
that.

It was the letter he’d sent after that she couldn’t quite forgive him for when
he’d continued to insist that he was protecting them all by staying away, and
protecting her especially by no longer being her boyfriend. It had been a
planned and deliberate statement, and one that had hurt her tremendously. All
she’d known in the instant of reading it was that he didn’t want her anymore.
It had only worsened during the days of silence that followed the letter when
they’d known Sirius was back and had found Harry. Then she had wondered if it
was maybe all an excuse to break up with her.

Harry had denied that when he’d come over to apologise. He’d been properly
contrite and remorseful but she couldn’t forgive him for hurting her. But she
hadn’t wanted him to see how wounded she was and had covered her hurt with
anger for his assuming he had the right to make decisions about her safety and
protection without talking with her; for using that as the basis of their
break up. She’d briskly informed him that he’d have to do better than a few
flowery words before she’d forgive him and consider going out with him again.
She’d told him she’d only consider it if he could prove that he trusted her to
make her own decisions.

Hermione sighed.

She’d been so determined not to just give in that she’d rejected his every
attempt at apologising. She absently ran a finger down the edge of the folded
letter she’d put at the back of the notebook. She wondered now if sticking to
her guns had been a mistake as her mother had warned her…

“*You have to ask yourself, Hermione, what does Harry need to do before you’ll
forgive him?” Her mother tapped the half-written reply that Hermione was in
the middle of writing. “You say you need him to prove he trusts you but you
don’t say how he can prove it.” She sat down beside Hermione.*

“*Well, I don’t know how exactly.” Hermione replied angrily.*

“*You should be careful you’re not asking him to do something that he has no
hope of actually achieving.” Her mother said. “If he doesn’t know how to prove
his trust in you, it may take him a long time to do it, and then you’ll find
that you’re broken up for a lot longer than a few days. Is that what you
want?”*

“*I just… he trusted me to go with him and help him rescue Sirius at the end
of our third year without question — that’s what I want!”*

“*Seriously?” Her mother countered, a hint of annoyance creeping into her
voice before she took a deep breath. “Look, darling, he made a mistake in
breaking up with you and pushing you away but he’s apologised. If you can’t
set this aside and move forward without testing his sincerity then perhaps you
shouldn’t be with him.”*

“*I can’t believe you’re taking his side!” Hermione said, folding her arms and
glaring at her mother.*

*Her mother countered her glare with one of her own. “Believe me when I say
I’m on your side. I don’t like that he hurt you and he knows it. But he’s
apologised very sincerely and even if I didn’t think he deserves a second
chance, right at this moment I’m attempting to advise you as your mother and
stop you from making a mistake you’ll regret.” She got to her feet. “Honestly,
I’m not happy you want to put yourself in another dangerous situation in order
for him to prove himself to you! You have to consider why you’re really doing
this, Hermione. Is this a way of punishing him for hurting you? A retaliation?
Because right now, I think it is no matter that you’re fooling yourself into
believing it’s justified.”*

Maybe her mother had been right.

It was just…

Not being trusted to help him with his grief and with being his girlfriend was
in some respects the last straw; the final confirmation that Harry had stopped
trusting in her and Ron. And she understood that he had Sirius in his life and
that Sirius had drawn up rules around what they could and couldn’t know about
Harry’s struggle with Voldemort and the people who wanted to hurt Harry. She
even appreciated that perhaps there were reasons why Harry himself kept things
from them. But it just all conspired to make her feel that he didn’t trust her
anymore.

The night of the Yule Ball she’d known something was going on with Snape and
that Harry was worried, but he’d said nothing to her and both Neville and
Sirius had been kidnapped and hurt. Yes, he’d taken them to London with him to
find Sirius but only when they’d insisted — and he’d soon sent them back to
Hogwarts. And he’d shut her out until Sirius had returned and brought him home
again.

But he had been grief-stricken a small voice inside of her head reminded her
briskly.

But Harry hadn’t even confided the way he and Sirius intended to double-team
Wenlock, she countered immediately. The Wenlock take-down had been nothing
short of brilliant. Slytherin, mused Hermione with a hint of amusement.

Ah, said the voice in her head again, maybe if she’d forgiven Harry, he would
have told her the strategy.

She poked the notebook with her quill.

Was she punishing Harry?

Hermione sighed.

Maybe.

Just a tad.

If she was honest with herself.

But her anger was mostly gone after seeing him again at the Wizengamot, the
few family occasions they’d had, and since they’d been back at school. He was
clearly sorry and he’d been really good at her respecting her wishes to remain
civil and friendly. But it had also been so awkward between them. It was the
last thing she wanted.

What she wanted was to go back to being Harry’s girlfriend and for him to
confide in her. But she didn’t know how she did that after the stand she’d
taken with him. She didn’t want to cave and roll over on her position because
that would make her look like an idiot… but on the other hand, did she really
want to wait until Harry did something that she could say proved he trusted
her? And her mother had a point; just how was he supposed to prove his trust
in her without them being in danger somehow?

It was a mess, she thought morosely.

The door of the dorm flew open and Lavender rushed in, barrelling over to
Hermione and squeezing her tightly in a lopsided hug before dancing around the
dorm with glee, a letter clutched in one hand. Parvati followed after her more
sedately and sat down on Hermione’s bed with a sigh as Lavender continued
cavorting around.

“What’s going on?” asked Hermione curious.

“Ron asked her out.” Parvati said. “Sent her a proper invitation by postal
owl.”

“Oh.” Hermione felt her belly flutter unexpectedly at the news. She hadn’t
known Ron was going to do that but then the boys had all banded together since
they’d come back to the school.

Maybe it wasn’t just Harry who had stopped confiding in her, Hermione thought
unhappily. She pinned a smile on for Lavender who had finally stopped whirling
about.

“That’s good news!” Hermione said brightly.

“Isn’t it?” Lavender clutched the letter close to her bosom. “I mean, after
the Ball I thought I’d blown it! But he says he doesn’t blame me for choosing
to go with Dean and he was an idiot for not asking me sooner.”

Hermione hummed.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade!” Lavender gushed. “Oh, what am I going to wear! I
have to go get that catalogue from Katie!” She ran off again before Hermione
could speak to inform her Ron wouldn’t care about her outfit.

Parvati gave a sigh. “She’s going to be like this until the date.”

Hermione gave a small sound of sympathy. “What about you? Is there anybody
you’re interested in?”

“Neville,” responded Parvati immediately, “but he and Hannah seem to be pretty
entrenched so…” she sighed and looked over at Hermione with suddenly sharp
eyes. “How are things going with you and Harry? You both seemed alright at the
session tonight.”

Hermione grimaced. “I was thinking I should have listened to my mother and not
been so adamant about not forgiving him straight away.”

“What did he do anyway?” asked Parvati. “You’re all so tight-lipped about
things…”

Hermione considered what to tell Parvati. She didn’t want to tell her
everything but surely she could say something?

“You know Neville was kidnapped and Sirius was injured?”

Parvati nodded.

“Well, Harry got it into his head that he was to blame and that it was better
for people not to be his friends and…”

“And he broke up with you to protect you.” Parvati concluded.

“Without even talking with me about it!” Hermione complained loudly before
subsiding. “He’s apologised and everything; told me he wants to get back
together but…”

“But you don’t know if you trust him anymore?” Parvati completed.

“No!” Hermione stared at her. “No! I trust Harry!”

“Then why…” Parvati began, perplexed.

“He didn’t trust *me*!” Hermione said fiercely. “He should have talked with
me! Let me decide for myself!”

“Hermione,” Parvati remonstrated, “the one thing you can’t say is that Harry
doesn’t trust you! He lets you lead the research into the task and to tell him
what it all means — and he really does check with you when he doesn’t
understand something. He lets you show others how to do things when we
practice! He trusts you!”

“It hasn’t felt like it this past year.” Hermione grumbled, flushing. “He used
to tell me everything and now…”

“And now he’s the Head of an Ancient and Noble House, Heir to another, and has
a parent and other adult allies he can to turn to; grown-ups who’ve probably
told him what he can and can’t say about things.” Parvati’s expression wasn’t
unsympathetic but Hermione winced at the direct hits.

“I know, and I know it’s not fair to expect him to still tell me everything
when things have changed so much it’s just…” Hermione sighed and brushed her
hair out of her face. “I miss how it used to be.”

“You could just tell him you’ve changed your mind and you forgive him.”
Parvati pointed out. “He’s still crazy about you. Anybody can see that.”

Hermione shook her head, her lips thinning. “I know I could do that but it
just feels…”

“Like you’d be losing the argument if you did?” asked Parvati shrewdly.

Hermione nodded her head, her curls bouncing. “I’ve made such a big deal about
him trusting me that if I went back on it…”

“So I guess you have to decide which is more important.” Parvati said bluntly.
“Your pride and winning the argument, or being with Harry.”

Before Hermione could formulate an answer to that, Lavender burst back in and
grabbed Parvati, hustling her out of the room again with the babbled
explanation that Katie would only allow her to look at the catalogue in
Katie’s dorm, and she just absolutely needed Parvati to help her decide a
perfect outfit for the Hogsmeade weekend date with Ron.

Hermione shook her head in bemusement.

She was just contemplating whether to change for bed despite the early hour
when a faint tapping noise came from the window. She hurried over thinking it
was an owl and almost froze when she saw a black raven instead.

It was Harry!

She almost fell over in her haste to get the window open and usher him inside.
He transformed as soon as he cleared the window. She immediately punched his
arm hard.

“What are you thinking!” Hermione hissed. “This is the girls’ dormitory!
You’re going to get into so much trouble!”

Harry yelped, clutched at his arm and glared at her. “What was I supposed to
do? Ron said you’d gone up to your room and I needed to talk with you!”

“You could have asked Lavender or Parvati to come and get me!” Hermione
pointed out furiously.

“I didn’t think you’d want to discuss *us* in front of the entire Gryffindor
common room!” Harry retorted, still rubbing his arm.

Hermione folded her arms and conceded the point with a sigh. With her
immediate ire draining away, nerves stampeded through her as she realised
Harry had come to talk with her and here was her opportunity to make things
right with him. Her mouth went dry and the words she wanted to say seemed to
get jumbled in her head…

He took her silence as an opening. “Look,” he reached inside his robe and drew
out a pink rose, ‘I just wanted to apologise. Again.’ He pushed his glasses up
his nose. “I know I was wrong pushing you away like I did and I realise that
I, uh, hurt you, and I’m really, really sorry because the last thing I ever
want to do is hurt you and I know I did.”

Hermione took the rose and bit her lip. “Harry…”

“So you said you need time and for me to show that I trust you and I…” Harry
straightened his shoulders and looked at her earnestly, “I don’t know how I
can do that exactly but I do trust you and I just want you to know that even
if it takes a while, I’ll wait and do whatever it takes.”

All Hermione could see suddenly was how much Harry was hurting about their
break-up underneath his sincere words of apology and regret; how much her
insistence on staying apart was hurting him. And it was the very last thing he
needed with the pressure of the tournament and the death threats and…

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione lurched forward and hugged him.

He froze for a moment before he returned her hug.

“I’m sorry too, Harry.” Hermione pushed herself back a touch to look at him.
“You don’t need to prove anything to me. I — I just… it’s been hard knowing
there’s things you’re not confiding in Ron and I — and I know you can’t, I
know, it’s just… it sometimes feels like you don’t trust us and you clearly
knew something was going to happen with Sirius and Professor Snape at the Yule
Ball…”

“I’m sorry.” Harry repeated. “I maybe should have told you about that but…
it’s not like before when it was just us sneaking about on our own. A lot of
what I can’t tell you is confidential stuff I’ve been asked not to tell. It
doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you.”

“And I don’t want you to get into trouble with Sirius, it’s just… it’s
different.” Hermione hurried out.

“But maybe I could discuss with Sirius telling you more.” Harry offered. “It’s
worth a try anyway.”

“Thank you.” Hermione smiled at him, pleased at the gesture. ‘And I want you
to know that I understand why you did what you did pushing everyone away but,
well, it’s just,’ her gaze dropped, “you did hurt me. *A lot*.” She raised a
hand to stop him interrupting her. “I know you didn’t mean to and I know
you’re sorry and… I know you won’t do it again?”

Her voice couldn’t help rising at the end, making her statement a question
that Harry hurried to answer.

“I won’t. I promise.” Harry said fervently. His green eyes shined with hope.
“Does this mean…?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes; you’re forgiven and,” she felt her cheeks heat with a
blush, “and if you still want to go out with me…”

“Of course I do!” Harry broke in, smiling goofily.

She smiled back. “OK, then. I guess we’re back together.” She didn’t protest
as he leaned in for a kiss.

It was chaste; just a press of his lips on hers but it was perfect.

They smiled happily at each other as they held hands.

Hermione glanced at the open window and shook her head. “I still can’t believe
you flew up here!”

Harry shrugged. “Well, when I was wanting ideas on how to get you back, Ron
had this idea of me flying up here on my broomstick and trying to get you to
come fly with me and I… well, I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

Hermione chuckled; her fear of flying was well known. “I don’t know,” she
teased, remembering their flight on Buckbeak, ‘it might have worked.’ She
nodded towards the outside. “It’s just as well you didn’t try it. It says in
‘Hogwarts: A History’ that there’s an old magical shield around the windows
which prevents anyone from entering from the outside by broomstick as part of
the defence measures. It also prevents people from just jumping out of a
window too unless there’s a fire detected.”

Harry nodded. “Remus mentioned that.” He grimaced. “He overheard Ron. Said my
Dad tried to get into my Mum’s dorm by broom once and failed miserably.”

Hermione hummed. “It’s a bit of a flaw that the shield lets in an animagus if
you think about it.”

“You’re right about…”

“HARRY!” Lavender and Parvati shrieked as they stumbled into the dorm.

Hermione flushed as they took in how close she and Harry were standing along
with their clasped hands.

Parvati smiled. “You two make-up?”

They nodded.

Lavender bounced happily. “That’s so great! You know what this means? Now Ron
has asked me out, we can double-date!”

And as much as she had grown to appreciate Lavender more over the past school
year, Hermione felt her insides turn over a little with horror and she didn’t
dare look at Harry.

“MISTER POTTER!”

They all froze and turned to the doorway where an irate Professor McGonagall
stood.

“Professor McGonagall, Harry was only visiting…” Hermione began before she was
drowned out by twin shrieks.

“It isn’t what it looks like!”

“We swear they were only holding hands!”

Lavender and Parvati babbled out.

Hermione was caught between amusement at Harry’s predicament and worry about
his getting caught.

“I just want to say Hermione knew nothing about this, Professor. It was all my
idea.” Harry said courageously.

“NEVER IN ALL MY YEARS! NOT EVEN YOUR FATHER…” Professor McGonagall slapped
her wand at the wall, switching off the protection where the stairs would turn
into slides. “DOWN THE STAIRS NOW!”

Harry grimaced and gave a small sigh. He squeezed Hermione’s hand. “I’ll see
you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Hermione answered softly.

He let go of her and hurried over to the fuming Deputy Headmistress who pushed
him bodily out of the room.

Hermione hurried to the doorway until they disappeared from view, the
Professor continuing to harangue Harry all the way down, her voice echoing
back up the stairwell.

The whistles and cheers in the common room as the gathered students realised
what Harry had done was loud and audible. Hermione couldn’t suppress a grin as
Fred and George’s yell of approval floated back up the stairwell…

“WAY TO GO, HARRY!”

o-O-o

*2**nd* *February 1995*

“…and I’d like to conclude with the announcement of a new schedule of
knowledge sharing conferences between what the muggles refer to as scientists
and our own Unspeakables who are now serving in the Muggle Counter-spell
team.” Arthur smiled brightly. “We anticipate this will give us both more
understanding across both groups and enable us to maintain the Statute of
Secrecy much better.”

Sirius resisted the urge to squirm in his seat like an impatient child. The
session had been intractably boring with even the transition of the Wenlock
alliances to the House of Malfoy and the announcement that the House of Potter
now held the Wenlock proxy anticlimactic. The reports from both Arthur’s new
Department and Dirk’s had provided good evidence that the new approaches to
muggles and creatures were making inroads into the prejudices that were
embedded in the wizarding world but they hadn’t exactly been the stuff of
excitement.

Dullard cleared his throat. “The announcement is so noted.” He turned to the
Chief Warlock. “We have nothing more on the session agenda for today.”

Albus beamed. “That concludes the February session of the Wizengamot. Unseal
the doors!”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t surprised when Richard Bones
leaned across to him.

“And now you know what a relatively normal session feels like!” Richard joked
with a teasing smile.

“Who knew taking over the wizarding world would be so boring?” Sirius
complained good-naturedly.

Richard laughed. “You think if we told You-Know-Who he’d have a rethink?”

“It’s a plan.” Sirius dead-panned.

They got to their feet and started to make their way down the stairs where
Amelia was waiting for them.

“What has you two you giggling like errant school-boys?” She asked dryly.

“Taking over the wizarding world.” Sirius rejoined immediately.

Amelia shot him an amused look. “At least it’s still not about how your son
got into the Gryffindor girls’ dorm room!”

“I didn’t talk about it that much and it was a month ago now!” Sirius
proclaimed defensively. “I don’t know why people are still going on about it.”

“Possibly because he’s the only male in the history of Hogwarts to do it?”
Richard commented. “And something to do with the fact that apparently you
congratulated him for the feat when Minerva took him to you for punishment?”

Sirius battled with the flush that threatened to rise on his cheeks because
praising Harry’s ingenuity for accomplishing something the Marauders had never
managed had been his first response. He glanced at Richard and they both broke
down into another set of chuckles.

“You should have seen her face!” Sirius said. “I don’t think even the
Marauders had her looking so furious!”

Amelia gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Don’t worry, Amelia,” Sirius said, noting her disapproval, “Minnie clouted me
over the ear and then stood over me while I gave Harry an appropriate
punishment and a lecture about how he could have damaged Hermione’s
reputation.”

“Susan tells me every guy in the school is trying to get in the girls’ dorms
now?” Amelia pointed out. “That’s hardly a good outcome.”

“The Weasley twins started a competition a couple of weeks ago.” Sirius said
dismissively. “It’s all done in good humour. Apparently there’s a sizeable
book and Moody thinks it’s good practice for the defences.”

“Harry was sworn to secrecy presumably on how he’d done it?” asked Amelia,
digging for information on the how anyway.

“Yes,” Sirius said, “he was sworn to secrecy and he also had to promise to
never use that method to gain entry into the girls’ dorm again. Not that he
can now. Alastor’s had the security teams warding the castle against Harry’s
method since he did prove it was a bit of a gap in the defences.”

Amelia led them past her secretary, absently picking up the messages the other
witch offered her, and into the inner sanctum of her office. She took her desk
chair and waved the men into the seats in front of her.

Sirius automatically put a privacy ward and grinned at Amelia’s exasperation.
“You know it’s necessary…”

“Constant vigilance!” They all chimed, smiling.

“So I got your owl earlier saying you both wanted to talk to me after the
session?” prompted Amelia. “Is this about the second task?”

“Actually, no,” Sirius said, waving a hand, ‘the kids seem to have that under
control.’ He grinned. “Between Hermione’s lesson plan, Harry’s training
regime, and Theo’s clandestine meetings with the other Champions’ friends… I
think they have it covered.”

“I still can’t believe Nott’s son is so serious about his service.” Richard
commented, settling into his chair with a shuffling squirm.

“He’s doing a good job.” Sirius said. ‘He’s got all of his father’s cunning
and ambition just for our side except for the whole pureblood thing, and I
think having to interact more with Harry and Hermione directly is changing
some of his preconceptions about *that*.’ He grimaced. “Truthfully, he
sometimes reminds me of Regulus.”

“Well, I have to admit I’m grateful Harry’s giving them all tuition.” Richard
said. “Susan’s DADA grades have shot up.”

Amelia nodded. “All of the alliance members involved in Harry’s group have
matured in their duelling ability. I had difficulty against Hermione last
week.”

Sirius’s lips twitched but he successfully suppressed the smile figuring
Amelia would hex him if he didn’t.

“So if this isn’t about the second task, and I know it isn’t about the
progress or lack thereof in finding our hidden bunch of Death Eaters…” Amelia
prompted again.

“You know I’ve been dealing with a French antiques dealer on behalf of the
House of Black?” Richard began. “Well, yesterday I received a worrying
communication from him.”

Sirius cut to the chase. “Fevrier is insisting he’ll only deal with me at a
meeting in Italy to buy the Lumiere parchment, which makes me think there’s
something else behind his request since he’s been content to date to deal with
Richard and Augusta.”

“You think this is a trap.” Amelia quickly surmised.

Sirius nodded. “Fevrier would sell his grandmother out for a quick deal.”

Amelia tapped her fingers on her desk. “They must have made contact with one
of our missing Death Eaters. How else could they have received the mission to
entrap you?”

“There are a few Death Eaters who escaped abroad.” Sirius pointed out. ‘They
could be acting independently trying to gain favour after hearing rumours of
what’s happened in Britain, or they could be tasked to capture me.’ He
grimaced. “I don’t mind being bait but given what happened last time…” he
sighed, “I don’t want to put Harry through a repeat.”

“And presumably we still want the document.” Richard murmured, frowning as his
mind turned over the problem.

“And we have the problem of being on foreign soil.” Sirius pointed out.

“How long do we have before we need to set up a sting?” Amelia questioned
bluntly.

Sirius shrugged and exchanged a brief look with Richard. “We can probably keep
him dangling for another month maybe? Between the protest at me being part of
the deal personally and the price he wants and the commission…”

“It should be easy to stall for that length of time.” Richard agreed.

Amelia nodded. “I think I have a plan but it’ll need that long to pull
together. I’ll also need to talk to Bertie, Alastor and Cornelius.”

“We’ve also got the second task as a good delaying tactic.” Richard commented.
“Anyone who knows you knows you’re never going to leave Britain in the
run-up.”

Sirius nodded. He had absolutely no intention of going anywhere until Harry
was done with the task.

“Let’s work with that.” Amelia smiled and Sirius was glad he’d never truly had
her as an enemy. “I’ll let you know once I’ve got the big things pinned down.”

“That’s fine with me.” Sirius said firmly, trusting her to take the
information and run with it. “I’d better head back.”

Both Amelia and Richard said goodbye to him at the office and Sirius was glad
of the solitude as he made his way out of the Ministry. Between his Wizengamot
duties, the politicking with Cornelius, the estate responsibilities for
numerous Houses, the Potter alliance, the War Council, and being a father, he
hardly got any time alone.

That was probably a good thing, Sirius thought wryly. He didn’t really do the
whole alone thing well. And everything he was doing was important and
interconnected.

As much as he hated the politicking with Cornelius, he’d grown to have a solid
respect for the Minister’s political acumen. It was still too self-serving for
Sirius’s taste but Cornelius had thrown himself into supporting the new regime
with vigour. It was Cornelius who had advised which of Wenlock’s alliances
would provide the Malfoy House and its alliances with enough weight that
they’d provide an effective counter-balance to the Potter alliance. And
Cornelius had argued successfully about why they needed a counter-balance,
Sirius considered grudgingly.

The Potter alliance held a majority; Harry’s agenda of equality for all and
respect for wizarding traditions was established and could only continue
apace. But they needed a strong minority to force compromise when the alliance
wanted to go too fast or too far. Sirius grumbled a little at that but
politically he could see the need for decent democratic debate and more
importantly for it not to appear that the House of Potter was establishing a
tyranny. There was also the fact that as much as it would be nice to wave a
wand and have their agenda immediately made reality, the wizarding world at
large wasn’t ready for that. Slow, steady progress was the way to go if it was
going to be long-lasting.

Critically though the new political landscape made it difficult for Voldemort
to gain a foothold as Sirius had intended all those months before when he’d
constructed his ‘taking over the wizarding world’ plan. Voldemort’s old
cronies were relegated to the minority; they couldn’t force through
legislation any longer that married with Voldemort’s aims or provided the old
snake with an advantage.

Still, the last month had been hard work and the resulting session had been
interminably boring. He’d persevere though. Making the world a better place
for his son was worth doing and it was good that one element of the original
plan was working when the others were struggling.

Tag the Death Eater had stalled with the search for Voldemort, Peter, Crouch
and the escaped father and son Travers duo going nowhere. All they knew for
certain was that one of them was probably on the Durmstrang ship keeping
Karkaroff under control. They still didn’t have enough to force an official
warrant to search the ship and Bogdan’s unofficial efforts were taking time.
There’d been no further communication to Snape except a cryptic note from
Crouch partially congratulating him for surviving, and partially telling him
again to stall on the antidote creation that would awake the sleeping Crouch
elf and the pregnant Summers woman. Fenrir was also still in the wind and much
of his former pack had sought sanctuary at the Black farm in Bulgaria. Maybe
the trap with Fevrier would be helpful.

Finding the Lost and Found room, as Bertie had called it, had helped the
Treasure Hunt. They knew for certain the diadem was somewhere buried in the
collective junk, they just had to find it. Bill and Caro were still working
their way through the mess and Sirius figured he’d stop in and check on their
progress.

Sirius frowned as he tossed some powder into the floo and stepped into the
flames. He exited into the cosy rooms he and Harry shared at Hogwarts. A brief
check with Dobby provided him with Harry’s location — down by the lake
practicing spells with the rest of the alliance kids.

He almost decided to go to the Lost and Found room straight away but he
decided to change and took the stairs up to his room. Within moments, his
Wizengamot robes had been discarded for less formal wear — black boots, black
jeans, white t-shirt and a black leather blazer. He took a moment to release
his hair, running his fingers through it and allowing it loose. He reholstered
his wands and deeming himself presentable enough for Hogwarts skipped
downstairs only to slow as the sounds of Remus and Tonks arguing reached his
ears.

They’d been at odds for weeks and he was certain something had happened
between them in early January just after the newspaper article — not that
either had confided in him when he’d asked. Tonks had barely been civil when
she’d told him to keep his nose out of it and Remus avoided every attempt to
pin him down. He’d held his tongue figuring they were both adults and could
sort it out on their own. Maybe, he considered with a wince as they got even
louder, that had been a mistake, although hopefully this was them clearing the
air. He hovered on the stairs, torn between going back up and letting them
have it out finally or continuing down and potentially interrupting.

“…and I told you I don’t want to talk!” Remus gestured passionately.

“I know you don’t want to but I need to talk to you!” Tonks argued, her hair
changing to an angry red.

“I tried talking to you weeks ago and you gave me the cold shoulder!”

“Because we spent one night together and then you changed your mind about
asking Sirius for permission to date me for no good reason!”

“Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t a good reason!”
Remus retorted furiously. “And I would expect you to respect my choices as I
respected your choice not to talk to me for the last few weeks!”

“I want to talk to you now!” Tonks pointed out with a fair amount of
exasperation.

Remus folded his arms over his chest and raised his chin belligerently. “And
now I’m not interested in talking to you!”

“OH! Could you be more childish!” Tonks yelled.

“I’m not the one being childish!” Remus snapped. “What possible reason would I
have for agreeing to talk to you now?”

“BECAUSE I’M PREGNANT, YOU FUZZBALL!”

And with that revelation, Sirius determined that it was time to stage an
intervention. He marched down the stairs and into the shocked silence.

Both Remus and Tonks paled and went red before paling again as they realised
they’d been overheard.

“Padfoot…” Remus began, a note of pleading in his voice that Sirius hardened
himself against reacting to since he needed to deal with the situation as Lord
Black, not as Remus’s old school friend.

“Don’t.” Sirius ordered gruffly. “You know what I need to do here after what I
just heard. Wait for me in the study, Remus.”

Remus stiffened, but a darting glance at Tonks who ignored him had his
shoulders slumping in defeat. He nodded and left the room.

Sirius gestured for his cousin to take a seat on the sofa. He stood in front
of her with the chagrined thought that he looked like a disapproving father
and settled into the nearby chair as a compromise.

“This is what’s going to happen, Nymphadora…” he ignored her glare at using
her given name, “you are going to explain to me exactly what happened between
you and Remus…”

“It’s none of your business!” Tonks proclaimed.

Sirius met her glare for glare. “It is my business! I’m your Head of House! I
know you weren’t raised with the protocols, but you have to know that when a
member of the House falls pregnant out of wedlock to the steward, it’s not
something the Head of House can just bloody ignore!”

Tonks flushed bright red, her hair cycling through a number of colours before
it settled into its original brunette. She turned away from him. “I don’t know
for certain that I am.” She mumbled miserably.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly and prayed for patience. He opened them again.
“Look: when you started all this I thought you and Remus could be a good
couple. He needs some fun and laughter in his life and, well, frankly, you
need some maturity and I figured being with Remus would force you to grow up a
bit…”

“Thank you so much!” Tonks snapped.

Sirius glared her back down. “But clearly recent events have me reconsidering.
Now, I have been patient and kept out of it as you both requested and I’ve
given you both plenty of time to resolve things on your own but that’s not
happening. So, you’re going to calmly tell me what happened between the two of
you before I rush to snap decisions which won’t benefit anyone.”

Tonks glanced back up at him and whatever she saw in his expression must have
convinced her to concede. She slumped back against the sofa cushions and
fidgeted with the edging on her red robe.

“You remember the day the article came out?” Tonks said quietly.

“I remember.” Sirius said. He bit down the retort that he was hardly likely to
forget.

“Well, that night we — Remus and me — we were back at the School House and we
were alone for the first time since Sian had gone to the sanctuary.”

Ah. All became clear.

“So you made your move.” Sirius stated.

Poor Remus. He’d been a mess the day of the article; guilty and horrified
because of the political impact for Harry and Sirius; and mortified on his own
behalf at the attention. Sirius had thought about staying at the School House
himself that night and having an evening of drinking and commiserating with
his old friend. But Sirius had had Harry to think about and he hadn’t wanted
to leave his son alone so soon after Harry had believed Sirius had died. Harry
would always come first but Sirius realised his choice had left Remus lonely
and seeking solace.

“Anyway, he turned me down at first but eventually I got him to agree to give
us a go as a couple. We even agreed him talking to you for permission.” Tonks
continued.

“All sounds pretty positive.” Sirius commented as Tonks fell silent.

“Yes, well, uh,” she looked up at the ceiling avoiding his gaze, “I offered to
sleep with him — not sex! Just sleep for comfort.”

“And I’m going to guess that it didn’t remain just sleeping.” Sirius surmised
with a heavy sigh.

Tonks shook her head and he saw the shine of tears before she ruthlessly
suppressed them. “It was me, my idea. Once we were in bed and…”

Sirius held up his hands. “I don’t need details.”

Tonks flushed but nodded unhappily. She sniffed. “In the morning we were late
and he said we’d talk about what happened when we got back from the
Wizengamot, and we did.” She looked heartbroken. “Which is when he told me
that after everything that had happened, he couldn’t take the risk of
politically embarrassing the House further by getting involved with one of its
daughters right then.”

The last part sounded like a direct quote and Sirius could well believe Remus.
Poor honourable Remus…

“So I yelled at him and…” Tonks grimaced, ‘I stopped talking with him except
when we needed to discuss something professionally as part of my guard duty.’
She squirmed and sat forward, hunching over. “Then yesterday I realised I was
late.” She blushed furiously. “I’ve been trying to get him to stop and talk to
me since and, well, you heard the last attempt.”

Sirius sighed. It was a mess. He’d been wrong about them, Sirius realised.
Tonks was too young; too immature. She’d seduced Remus when he’d been
vulnerable, and maybe she’d done it with the best of intentions to comfort him
but he figured he was being generous to her. Not that Remus was blameless —
the wolf could have said no and having said yes only to take it back because
of noble loyalty to the House’s reputation — Sirius could understand why Tonks
had gotten hurt and mad at Remus.

“What are the chances that you are pregnant?” asked Sirius bluntly.

Tonks sighed and pushed her hair out of her face as she turned to look at him
fully. “I’m a metamorphmagus, Sirius. I know my body and I can already feel
the changes small as they are. I haven’t had the official say-so but I’m
sure.”

Sirius nodded. “You have options. Will you…”

“I’m keeping the baby.” Tonks said immediately. She looked away from him
again, shame written all over her face. “It’s not how I wanted to have a kid
but I’m not sorry it’s happened.”

“You know Remus will offer to marry you.” Sirius said almost idly.

Tonks’ eyes widened, emotions flitting through them and telling Sirius
everything he needed to know even as she started to protest it wasn’t
necessary. She really was crazy about the wolf.

Sirius held up a hand. “For the sake of the House’s reputation, you should
consider accepting.” He saw the glint of rebellion and glared at her
forestalling her reply. “I know you haven’t given the House any thought in
your actions because that’s pretty evident in everything you’ve said. And I
can give you a pass on not understanding some of the implications because you
haven’t been raised under the protection of a House, and while Andy’s taught
you some of the protocols, she hasn’t taught you the politics.”

Sirius got to his feet and paced to the mantel-piece and back as he considered
what he was going to say.

“You know everyone got caught up with what happened with Wenlock in January
but the important and key thing was that we got the new creature and race
classifications through. A classification that means Remus is no longer
considered a Dark Creature with no rights, someone an auror shouldn’t even
consort with, never mind date, marry or have a child with. It means that
werewolves are no longer restricted as they were but only restricted in
ensuring they harm no-one during their transformations.” Sirius began. ‘Even
then the law passed by the slimmest of margins and only with the enforcement
of the Potter alliance, where there were even a few members who still didn’t
agree but complied with their oath to support Harry’s agenda. So: the law
changed in January.’ He paused and made sure he had Tonks’ full attention.
“But our society’s culture and perceptions did not.”

“Sod them! Isn’t that all the more reason…” Tonks cut in heatedly.

“Shut up and listen!” Sirius barked. He gestured an apology for his curtness
but he didn’t back down. “What Remus noted in January at the session was that
we had barely held it together in the court of public opinion. The tide turned
in our favour thanks to Wenlock making such a huge mistake that there was no
other way for it to turn. And with that, we got the law through, everyone
accepted Remus had made a mistake the night he didn’t take his Wolfsbane, and
grudgingly allowed that maybe we are providing sanctuary and not building a
werewolf army as Wenlock wanted them to believe. But it was close!”

Tonks frowned, puzzlement written across her young face.

“And Remus realised that should it be made public that the same werewolf who’d
made such a mistake had started to openly date a daughter of the House, that
attention wouldn’t shift from him; the Prophet would continue to focus their
attention on him. More publicity and attention and focus, and maybe the
wizarding public would consider that we were rubbing their noses in the change
we’d forced through. The potential for us to lose political ground and public
opinion was huge.” Sirius pointed a finger at her. “That’s why he told you
‘not now’.”

“It shouldn’t matter what people think!” Tonks said stubbornly.

“And there speaks the voice of youth.” Sirius replied smoothly. ‘I can’t even
begin to tell you how many times I said the same thing to Remus at school, or
even after school before it all went tits up.’ He gestured. “I’d tell him,
‘Bollocks to the lot of them!’ and rage against the laws even as I didn’t do a
thing truly to change them and I knew even then if our side won the war it
wouldn’t be much better for him. I resented the hell out of Remus for spending
time with the packs and I wanted him to pretend to be normal.” He held her
gaze. “I was an idiot.”

The implication she was acting just as idiotically led to a dull flush
spreading over her face and down her neck.

“Of course, I was rebelling against my family and against my training in
politics. So I forgot that my Grandfather who spent years grooming me as his
Heir taught me that you have to remember society is more often a tortoise
rather than a hare.”

“What?” Tonks muttered, confused.

Sirius sat back down. “Ever heard of The Hare and the Tortoise? No? The hare
was an arrogant cocky son of a bitch — actually a bit like me as a youth,” he
smiled ruefully, “he’s the fastest and the best, can run rings round the rest
of the animals. And he bullies the tortoise who is slow and steady. So the
tortoise challenges the hare to a race. The hare agrees and they set off and
the hare speeds into the lead. Only he gets a little complacent being so far
out in front and decides to have a nap. While he’s sleeping, the tortoise wins
the race.”

It was, Sirius mused, exactly what had happened with him and Peter back in
’eighty-one; Sirius had been too damned cocky and Peter had won.

Tonks frowned. “I don’t know what this has to do with the price of eggs.”

Sirius sighed. “Right now you’re a hare just like I was and you want
everything to happen *now*, for people to treat Remus the right way *now*, for
you to be able to date without repercussions *now*. Now, now, now.” He
gestured at her. ‘Only society is the tortoise — it’s nowhere near that finish
line. It’ll get there eventually but not today and not tomorrow, and maybe not
soon enough for you to date and have a child with Remus without any backlash.
And if we’re too hare-ish, if we are perceived as being arrogant, as taunting
and bullying the tortoise, we take the risk of pissing off the tortoise and
may find ourselves challenged in return.’ He paused as he didn’t think keeping
up the analogy was useful. “Do you understand?”

Tonks nodded slowly. “So I’ve stuffed it up is what you’re saying.” There was
a look of creeping comprehension across her natural face; its sharp angles and
grey eyes so reminiscent of the face he saw in the mirror every morning.

“You’ve made mistakes but so have I.” Sirius said firmly. ‘I shouldn’t have
indulged your pursuit of Remus. I found it funny, thought you’d make a good
couple in the abstract and figured there’d be no trouble *within* the House if
there was flirtation and a bit of a dalliance,’ which he’d been wrong about
given the frosty atmosphere of the past month, “but I gave it no more serious
thought than that, when really I should have thought about the bigger picture
and stepped in.”

“Remus thought about the bigger picture.” Tonks said miserably. She hunched
forward again. “I am an idiot. I pushed him into this and… now there’s a baby
and he doesn’t even want to talk to me…” her voice went thick with tears.

Sirius pulled her into a hug and roughly rubbed her back. “Hey. It’s going to
be OK.” He gave her a squeeze as she sniffed audibly. “Remus is one of the
good guys you know.”

“I know.” Tonks said. “That’s why I like him.”

Sirius conjured up a handkerchief and offered to her. She took it and blew her
nose loudly.

“What happens now?” Tonks asked, sounding utterly depressed.

“Right,” said Sirius, “I’m going to go and talk with Remus. You can stay here
and have a mug of hot chocolate. It’ll make you feel better. And after Remus
and I are done talking, the three of us are going to work out what to do
next.” He patted her on the back and disentangled himself from her.

He walked over to his study and taking a moment to breathe in deeply and
centre himself, opened the door and entered. Remus sat in the chair by the
fire, head in his hands.

Sirius sighed and made his way over, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

Remus dropped his hands and raised his eyes to examine Sirius’s face
searchingly. “Is she really…”

“Yes.” Sirius said simply.

“I’ll resign immediately, of course and…”

“Oh will you stop doing that every time something goes wrong!” Sirius said
snappishly. “You’re not resigning.”

Remus gave a shaky laugh that bordered on the hysterical. “I just knocked up
an unmarried daughter of the House I serve, Sirius, if that’s not a reason to
demand I resign…”

“She admits it was mostly her idea.” Sirius said exasperated. “And I can well
believe it since she caught you at a vulnerable time.”

“I didn’t exactly say no.” Remus said, his face turning a violent red.

“And didn’t remember a contraception charm either!” Sirius said dryly. “Bloody
Merlin’s balls, Moony! After the whole talk we did with Harry, how could you
just forget!?”

Remus dropped his eyes, shame-faced. “I’ll marry her, of course.”

“Do you want to marry her?” asked Sirius bluntly. “Because I’ve never had the
impression that you were that keen on pursuing something with her despite her
interest.”

Remus stiffened and nodded jerkily. “I can see why you have that impression
but…” he motioned towards the study door and the woman on the other side,
“that night, I mean before, uh, we’d discussed my concerns and she had an
answer for every one of them. And I do like her. She’s smart and funny and she
accepts me. I still don’t think I’m good enough for her but I do care about
her, Padfoot.”

Sirius believed him. Remus had never been the type to sleep with someone
without genuine feelings being involved.

“And the baby?” questioned Sirius soberly. “Are you prepared for fatherhood?
Is it something you’ve even thought about?”

Remus shook his head as Sirius knew he would. “You know I’ve never considered
it with my lycanthropy.” He frowned heavily. “What do I know about being a
Dad?”

“You don’t do badly with Harry.” Sirius pointed out. In fact, most of the time
he thought Remus did better with Harry than he did.

“It’s not the same,” Remus said hysteria edging into his voice, “you’re
responsible for Harry not me and… I don’t know how to be a Dad.”

“And I’ll tell you what I told James when he fell through the floo half-pissed
on firewhiskey and saying the same thing: you do know. You had a great Dad,”
unlike Sirius, “and you’re not alone. You have us — me and Harry to help — and
you have, well, Tonks will be around as Mum even if you two don’t make it as a
couple.”

“I… I’m not even sure the pregnancy is medically sound, Sirius. I could have
transmitted my lycanthropy to the foetus and…”

It was a valid concern.

Sirius sighed. “Come on.” He got to his feet. “I don’t want to leave Tonks
alone for too long; she was pretty upset especially once I shoved the wider
political implications of you two being in a relationship right now down her
throat.”

Remus paled again but obediently followed Sirius back into the main living
area.

Tonks got to her feet as they approached, her natural silver gaze on Remus,
Sirius’s conjured handkerchief still clutched in one hand. “I’m really sorry,
Remus. This is all my fault and…”

Remus took a couple of quick steps to her side and reached for her free hand.
He picked it up and held it gently. “It takes two to duel as they say, Dora,
and you were right before; I was being childish and I’m sorry I wouldn’t
listen to you.”

“Good.” Sirius said, feeling a rush of relief as the two of them smiled shyly
at each other. Maybe the two of them together wouldn’t be a complete disaster.
“Now you’ve apologised and you’re talking to each other again, I suggest a
visit to Madame Pomfrey to get it confirmed officially and to allay any
concerns regarding the effect of the lycanthropy on the newest member of the
Black family. Then, you can both sit down and work out what you want to do and
how you suggest we handle this publically.”

Tonks stared at him. “You — you want *us* to decide?”

Sirius smiled at her. “I might be your Head of House but I do remember making
your mother a promise that you would decide who you’d marry.” He gestured at
their clasped hands. “Your lives, your baby: you get to make some decisions.
Two things: one, I won’t be disowning you or firing Remus; two, I need you to
consider in making your decisions the potential impact on the House’s
reputation. I think it goes without saying that I’m not going to be happy if
your decision publically embarrasses us and trashes Harry’s political agenda.”

Remus squeezed Tonks’ hand and nodded. “We understand, Sirius. Do you have any
suggestions?”

“I’m not keen on rushing either of you down the aisle at wand-point just
because of a baby.” Sirius commented. ‘On the other hand, I’d like to mitigate
the scandal as much as possible.’ He sighed. “You might want to consider
leaving Britain and moving to the sanctuary for a while the two of you. It’d
keep you out of the public eye and provide a measure of safety since
Greyback’s still after Remus and if he gets wind of a child…”

Remus blanched and Tonks looked more serious than he’d ever seen her.

“Now, shoo!” Sirius made wafting gestures towards the door. “Go get checked
out, go home and discuss everything. Come back after dinner and let me know
what you’ve decided.”

He waited until they’d left before he made his own way out, easily navigating
Hogwarts to the seventh floor corridor housing the Lost and Found room.

Sirius stepped inside and almost barrelled straight into Caro. “Sorry!”

Caro grinned and winked. “Not a problem, Sirius.”

“The pleasure would have been all mine.” Sirius flirted, enjoying Caro’s
light-heartedness after the situation with Remus and Tonks.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” Caro blatantly looked him over.

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. “You,” he wagged his finger at her, “are going
to get me into trouble!”

“She gets me in enough of it.” Bill’s amused voice had them both turning to
see him levitating another dozen broomsticks to the front of the room.

He placed them on a wooden platform and they disappeared.

“Amazing contraption.” Sirius commented. “It transports it all straight into a
Gringotts’ vault?”

Bill smiled. “It makes getting the treasure out of inaccessible places a lot
quicker.”

“All I can say is thank Merlin we have some way of clearing this place.” Caro
commented. “Croaker’s down that aisle there. He found some old books and got
distracted.” She pointed to the furthermost row.

Sirius gave her a mock salute and went to find the Head of the DOM.

Bertie had found an old leather chair and had made himself comfortable reading
a huge book with beautifully painted letters on parchment etched in gold. He
didn’t look up as Sirius approached, his attention completely subsumed by his
find.

“Interesting book?” asked Sirius dryly.

Bertie hummed. It took another moment before he jerked his head upwards,
blinking wildly as he suddenly mentally made the connection between the
question and Sirius’s presence. “Sirius!”

“I see you’ve found… something.” Sirius said, staring at the book dubiously.

“One of the first potion books written by Slytherin!” Bertie shook his head.
“It’s remarkable!”

“What was it doing in here?” asked Sirius, glancing around the still
never-ending piles of stuff around them.

“This item I rather suspect was hidden away by Riddle.” Bertie murmured. “I
suspect its original home was the Chamber of Secrets.”

“That would make sense.” Sirius commented. He motioned down the aisle. “Any
luck with the diadem then?”

“It’s not in this vicinity.” Bertie said with a sigh, closing the book. “We
have an accurate picture of the diadem, it is just a matter of locating it.”

“He can’t have come too far into the Lost and Found room.” Sirius said.
“Whether he stowed it on the way in or the way out, he was pressed for time.”

“Indeed, although I suspect he cast something stronger than a notice-me-not
charm so people wouldn’t take note of it.” Bertie said. “And, by the way, the
elves have told me off; apparently this room is designated as the Come and Go
room or the Room of Hidden Things depending on which elf you speak to.”

Sirius waved away the discussion on the room name. “Perhaps Voldemort cast
something that means the searchers get distracted by other interesting finds.”
He suggested good-humouredly, pointing back at the book Bertie still held.

Bertie grinned back at him. “Perhaps. Even so, I have hopes it’ll be found
this side of Easter with the system Caro has devised.” He smiled. “Albus might
want to argue for Caro and Bill staying on and clearing the room completely.
There are some valuable finds here — both historical, sentimental and
monetary. Some of the latter might very well help the Hogwarts budget.”

Sirius nodded his agreement. “Once we have the diadem, there’s only the
snake.”

“And Voldemort himself.” Bertie said grimly. “We are going to have to start
thinking of strategies to trap him and turn the tables once and for all.”

“We haven’t made too much progress on the whole ‘power he knows not’ thing.”
Sirius sighed. “I would really like to make the acquaintance of a Veela who
can introduce me to Lumiere’s descendent so I can try for the original story
of the Hallows.”

“You know it may not even be that.” Bertie pointed out crisply. “There’s time
yet.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I just came to see how it was going.” Sirius
said. “I should get back. I’m expecting Harry home for dinner.”

“How’s he getting on?” Bertie asked with genuine interest.

“Good,” Sirius said with a fair amount of pride, “he’s mastering magic above
his year on a daily basis. His theory knowledge is still an issue but he’s
keeping pace with his year mates. Once we get this whole Voldemort thing out
of the way, he might be able to sit OWLs in the core wand subjects by
Christmas.” He was suddenly eager to get back to his suite of rooms and his
son.

Bertie waved him away with a knowing look.

Sirius changed back into Padfoot on the way back, happily scampering through
the corridors and up the stairs in his Grim form and ignoring the occasional
shriek of a student.

Dobby greeted him as he walked back in the doors. “Master Harry Potter being
upstairs.”

Sirius thanked the elf and bounded up to greet Harry, a little surprised that
he was alone since there was still some time before dinner.

He found Harry sat on the window seat staring out into the darkening sky. He
shifted his legs so Sirius could join him on the same seat.

It was clear from the frown lines creasing Harry’s brow and the pensive
expression pinching his face into tense angles that there was something
bothering Harry. Sirius hoped it wasn’t girl trouble again. He’d been more
than thankful when Harry and Hermione had made up and he’d had enough drama
after the shenanigans with Remus and Tonks.

“You want to talk about it?” prodded Sirius gently, nudging Harry’s knee with
his own.

Harry nudged back and turned his gaze to meet Sirius’s. “Ron can’t sustain the
Bubblehead charm.”

“It’s a tricky one.” Sirius agreed. “I’m pants at it myself.”

“If it is Ron who gets chosen for the second task…” Harry trailed off, worry
shining from his green eyes as he bit down on his bottom lip. “Out at the lake
there was this moment where I thought it would be better if it was Hermione or
Neville because then at least I know they can do the charm and be fine which
is mental. I shouldn’t even be thinking that.”

Sirius hummed. “There was a time in our fifth year when the Marauders got
caught out in the grounds by a pack of seventh year Slytherins. One of them
went to use Crucio on your Dad and Remus pushed him out the way and took the
curse. After, I was pleased it was Remus and not your Dad because Remus knows
pain and can take it whereas your Dad was innocent that way right then. No one
had ever tortured him with pain before. Of course I felt rightly bad about
thinking it was better that it was Remus so I know how you feel.”

Harry’s tension had eased with the story and he sighed. “It’s a bit ironic,
isn’t it? I mean, a month ago I was dreading Hermione being part of the task
and now I’m thinking better her than Ron.”

“You know she’s a better witch than he is a wizard. You know she’s going to be
more prepared and have more in her arsenal to help her deal with the
unexpected.” Sirius shrugged. ‘Ron’s a good mate, surprisingly excellent at
strategy and always willing to throw himself into a challenge, but he’s
lacking in her smarts and her power. I think you should want the person best
qualified to survive be the one picked and not the one who is more likely to
struggle.’ He pushed Harry’s knee again. “The trick is not to feel guilty for
the thought when it’s not your fault that either of them might be picked.”

Harry sighed but he nodded, his messy black hair bobbing up and down. “I just
wish I knew more about what they were building on the lake.”

Sirius nodded. The attempts to find out what was being done by the lake hadn’t
been that successful. Despite animals being able to see through the illusion,
an animagus could not. A casual approach to the merfolk had also been turned
down.

Harry gestured at Sirius. “How was your day? Did it go OK at the Wizengamot?”

Sirius made a show of pulling a face. “I complained to Richard that taking
over the world was boring.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, it’s good it’s settling down now though.”

“You’re right,” Sirius conceded cheerfully, “and I have to admit a session
without the family totems showing up unexpectedly and criminal confessions was
slightly more relaxing. The most excitement we had was Griselda threatening to
strangle Albus with his beard.”

“What did he do?” Harry asked, amused.

“Complained again about the House of Potter holding the Wenlock proxy.” Sirius
said unconcerned; Albus’s disapproval didn’t matter to him. ‘I think Griselda
and Tiberius are planning on calling him out one of these days.’ He shifted,
poking Harry in the knee with a finger. “The more exciting drama happened
after I came home.” He proceeded to fill Harry in on what had happened with
Remus and Tonks.

“She’s pregnant?!” Harry was wide-eyed, his mouth falling slightly open before
he snapped it shut again. “But you and Remus lectured Nev and me for *hours*.”

“It wasn’t hours,” Sirius said defensively, before sighing, “and you have a
point. He wasn’t responsible and now you’re going to get a real life lesson
about living with the consequences. I’ve already told Remus that I don’t
approve of his teaching technique.”

“Are they going to get married?” asked Harry, contemplating the issue.

“Probably.” Sirius expected that they would. He understood from conversations
he’d had with Hermione’s parents, among others, that single parenthood and
unwed pregnancy was losing the stigma it had once had in the muggle world. The
wizarding world was still fairly old-fashioned in its mores though, and while
Sirius wasn’t going to force his oldest friend and his cousin down the aisle,
he expected a backlash if they didn’t wed.

“Stacey Polkiss — Dudley’s friend’s sister — she had to when she got knocked
up.” Harry mused out loud. “Aunt Petunia called it a shotgun wedding.”

“We usually call them wand marriages,” Sirius said, “because they take place
with the groom held at wand-point by the father of the bride.”

“It was a huge scandal on Privet Drive — kept the neighbours talking for
*months*.” Harry said. “Is it…?”

“It will be.” Sirius confirmed. “But we’ll just have to weather it.” He hoped
the pair would take his advice and go abroad. It was an old-fashioned solution
to the problem — he remembered talk of the Head Girl Justine Markby leaving
Hogwarts suddenly to go to France back when he was a third year; he’d ran into
her a few years later in Diagon Alley and she’d had an adorable child attached
to her hip. It had been fairly easy to put two and two together.

“Well, we can let Moony and Tonks know they’ve got us, can’t we?” Harry said
firmly. “You said they’re coming back after dinner?”

Sirius nodded and smiled proudly at Harry. “You’re a good man, Harry; a good
friend. Both Moony and Tonks are lucky to have you.”

Harry coloured a touch at the praise but he poked Sirius back. “Dinner?”

Before Sirius could reply, his stomach growled loudly and both Harry and
Sirius laughed as they clambered off the window seat.

“Come on then, Padfoot,” Harry said brightly, “let’s get you fed!”

Sirius slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder in happy camaraderie. “Hey! I’ll
have you know I deserve a feast; I’ve had a very hard day!”

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 5
===============================

*24**th* *February 1995*

*Dear Harry,*

*Remus is going to mirror-call you later to say good luck but my Mum always
sent me a letter when I was at Hogwarts and I thought I’d do the same.*

*As Remus has probably told you, life at Black Farm aka the Potter-Black
Werewolf Sanctuary is settling back down after our arrival. I guess our
turning up as a couple and with me up the spout really was like a boulder
being tossed into a pond.*

*All the pack have pretty much accepted me now and I’ve heard no grumblings
for over a week — not even from Sian!*

*Clara is fantastic. She and I have just clicked. We’re best buds and she’s
appointed me as a teacher in the school they’ve set up here. It’s mostly basic
charms and transfiguration but it’s keeping me busy.*

*Patrick, Remus’s beta, is also a good laugh. He reminds me a bit of the
Weasley twins — he’s quite mischievous but very likeable. We’re conspiring to
cheer the place up a bit and ensure there’s some fun every day.*

*The entire pack — and Gregor’s pack — have gone crazy about the baby anyway.
I’ve had to threaten hexing anyone who dares to refer to the kid as a cub but
that’s really what the pack considers the sprog. Martha, Gregor’s wife, has
started knitting up a storm which is good as neither Mum nor I can knit to
save our lives.*

*Dad tells me Mum is still cross with me but will have come round by the
wedding at Easter —*

*Speaking of the wedding, I’ve got to tell you this!*

*We had the Minister of Bulgaria over for tea the other night — apparently
Bogdan and Remus get on like a house on fire — and Remus asked him if he knew
of anybody willing to officiate and the next thing I know Bogdan himself is
saying he’ll do the honours! Remus has had to allow Gregor to make some kind
of speech otherwise there’d be hurt feelings what with Gregor being the Alpha
wolf in these parts (apart from Remus himself).*

*I really love Bogdan and his wife Hilde. They’re really lovely. Hilde even
told me that in old alliance relationships here it was traditional for the
woman to prove her fertility before the union was given the official seal of
approval with a marriage, and so nobody’ll blink an eye around these parts at
my walking up the aisle with a bump!* *And* *I have an open offer of a room at
their estate every full moon which has relieved Remus I think since he was
nervous of me about on the grounds of the farm even as protected as I would
have been.*

*Well, that’s my news exhausted for now. Sorry for rambling on!*

*Hope it all goes well with the second task! I’m sure you’re going to knock
’em dead! And* *really, really, really* *sorry again, Harry, that we can’t be
there to cheer you on in person.*

*Keep your head above water if you can and in a Bubblehead if not!*

*Tonks xx*

Harry set the letter aside on his desk and stroked Hedwig’s feathers as she
nuzzled into his hand. He missed Tonks and Remus although, if he was honest,
he missed Remus more. He’d gotten used to the older man being there and there
was a definite Moony-shaped hole in his and Sirius’s every-day life. It was
weird coming back from classes and not seeing Remus in Sirius’s study
discussing something to do with the estates or with the alliance or the
tournament plan or just musings in general. While Remus hadn’t joined them for
every meal, his absence was even more noticeable at the dining table,
especially at the family meals. But, the main problem with Remus being gone
was that his absence meant that Sirius was lonely. It was obvious to all that
Padfoot missed Moony despite the daily mirror calls between the two.

He heaved a sigh and pushed his chair back from his desk. Hedwig had arrived
early that morning and there was still a couple of hours to go before he was
expected to head down to the lake for the beginning of the second task.

He opened his door and stopped short at the sight of the black Grim curled up
on the landing, snoring. Harry’s lips twitched even as a flood of affection
swamped him. Sometimes he wondered which of them worried more about the
tournament — him or Padfoot. Probably Padfoot, Harry determined. He stepped
over the Grim and happily entered the bathroom first.

He missed Griffin House and their individual bathrooms more than he had ever
thought he would. Not that he minded sharing with Sirius but Merlin knew that
Sirius could take forever in a morning.

After making use of the facilities, Harry tapped the shower with his wand and
a waterfall of water at exactly the right temperature rained down on him. He
tilted his face up to the water and let it course over him for a long moment
before he set about the actual task of washing his hair and body. He muttered
over his favourite shower gel depleting again due to Sirius’s liberal use.

It would be good to visit the farm at Easter, he mused. Not only for the
wedding (which in truth he wasn’t looking forward to attending much) but to
see the sanctuary and to meet Remus’s pack. It would also be his first holiday
anywhere in Europe and he was keen to see how Bulgarian wizarding society
differed from British. Viktor had offered to show him the Bulgarian Quidditch
headquarters and stadium which he was really looking forward to seeing. Sirius
had also mentioned that they might pop to another couple of countries during
the holiday and spend the entire break abroad rather than at home in England.
Harry figured it was Sirius’s way of providing him with an incentive to look
beyond the second task.

Doing a final rinse, he shook himself lightly and tapped the shower to shut it
off again. He grabbed hold of one of the big fluffy robes and went over to the
sink and mirror.

“You’re looking pale this morning.” The mirror tsked loudly.

Harry grimaced. He brushed his fingers along his jawline and did the shaving
charm Sirius had taught him to remove any hint of bristles. He still didn’t
need to shave often but it was good to know he was developing in the right
direction. He dried his hair and tried to style it before giving up on it.

When he reopened the bathroom door, Padfoot was missing from the landing and
Harry figured Sirius had woken with the noise of the shower.

“Bathroom’s free!” He called out loudly before diving into his own room to
pull on a robe for breakfast.

He skipped down the stairs and settled himself at the table. Dobby immediately
popped in and put down a large bowl of porridge with berries thick in their
syrup.

Harry’s mouth pouted as he’d been planning on plain toast but Dobby looked at
him sternly. “Master’s Paddy bes telling Dobby yous be needing the energy in
the cold water.”

Yeah… he wasn’t getting out of the porridge. He picked up his spoon dutifully
and began eating. It was a stunningly good porridge; creamy and warm and with
just a hint of ginger and cinnamon. He pulled over the Prophet and pushed it
away when he realised the front page was dedicated to excitement about the
task that day. Sirius’s footsteps on the stairs had him lifting his gaze from
his bowl momentarily.

“Morning.”

“Morning, Pronglet.” Sirius presented a hand mirror with a flourish. “For
you.”

Harry took it eagerly and smiled widely at the sight of Moony. “Morning,
Remus! Tonks said you’d be calling in her letter.”

“I’m glad it reached you alright.” Remus said, his face blurring for a moment
as the mirror stabilised. “She was worried.”

“She said the Bulgarian Minister is going to officiate your wedding?” Harry
commented.

Across the table, Sirius choked on his coffee.

“Bogdan has offered and we’ve graciously accepted.” Remus confirmed. ‘Gregor
will play Master of Ceremonies. Padfoot will be Best Man and you’ll be a
groomsman along with Patrick.’ He paused. “It was supposed to be a small
affair.” He sounded somewhat bewildered.

Sirius grabbed the Prophet and gave a snort of disgust.

Remus cleared his throat. “Anyway, I called about you not about me. Are you
all prepared for today?”

Harry nodded. “I’m just waiting to see who is picked as my hostage. Apparently
there’s going to be some kind of ceremony to begin the task and we all think
that’s when the Goblet will choose them.”

“I know you and whoever is chosen will do their best.” Remus said calmly.
“Just remember that Voldemort is bound to have stacked the deck somehow like
he did with the Horntail. It’s not going to be over until you’re back inside
the castle.”

“I’ll remember.”

Remus’s expression turned sad. “I’m so sorry I can’t be with you.”

“It’s OK.” Harry assured him.

“No, it’s not,” Remus contradicted him, “but Tonks and I need to stay out the
public eye right now until we’re respectable so… it can’t be helped. I expect
to hear all about it right after it’s over though.”

“I’ll mirror call you afterwards.” Harry promised.

“Stay safe, Snitch.”

And with that the mirror went dark.

Harry handed it back to Sirius who placed it down on the table gently. Harry
went back to his porridge and wasn’t surprised when the empty bowl was
replaced by a plate of waffles, crispy bacon and maple syrup. He made a good
attempt but couldn’t stomach anything more than a few bites. He pushed his
plate away.

Sirius discarded the Prophet, sipped his cup of coffee and regarded Harry over
the rim of the cup. “How are you holding up?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over.” He fingered the cutlery
lightly. “Did you see the Prophet?”

“Rita’s not been kind to Diggory.” Sirius agreed. “She can be a total bitch.
Hopefully Cedric will be able to ignore it all.”

Harry knew the bad publicity surrounding his father had distracted Cedric in
his preparations through scuttlebutt in the Hogwarts’ corridors. He just hoped
it hadn’t distracted the Hufflepuff too much.

“I’d best get ready.” Harry allowed morosely.

Sirius nodded tensely, and Harry wished again that Remus wasn’t abroad if only
so Sirius would have someone to lean on.

He headed back up, paid another visit to the bathroom since his task outfit
was going to make any further visits difficult and went back into his room
where Dobby had laid out the clothes.

The first item was a thermal under-suit made of leggings and t-shirt, followed
by a muggle dry-suit used for cold water diving which had been modified by
magic to be as thin and as light as it could possibly be. He was assured that
all the alliance would be wearing something similar on the off chance that
they could be chosen as his hostage. It was a bit of a struggle to get into
the garment but Dobby helpfully popped in to help zip him up.

Harry completed the outfit with a woolly hat, gloves and heavy winter cloak
that covered him neck to toe. He shoved his feet into footwear made of the
same materials as the diving suit but with a pliable rubber sole. All the
outer-wear had been bespelled with in-built warming charms and staved off the
cold.

He made his way back downstairs and wasn’t too surprised to find Andy and Ted
waiting for him along with Sirius.

“Cissy sends on her and her family’s well wishes,” Andy said as she greeted
him with a hug, “they wanted to get a good seat. Shall we?”

Harry gently let himself be led out. Andy kept up a stream of light
conversation which never touched upon Tonks, Remus and the baby or anything to
do with the task. It wasn’t too long before they got to the edge of the Lake.

“Champions over here, please!” Bagman yelled jovially.

Sirius was the last to hug him. “Good luck, Pronglet.”

Harry nodded an acknowledgement, too choked up to reply. His nerves had his
belly churning and he regretted the porridge. He should have stuck with toast…
he yanked his mind off his nausea and took the opportunity to look around him
finally.

Almost the entire lake had been edged with stands and they were filled to the
brim with spectators. The Durmstrang ship had been moved to the far side of
the lake out of the way and visitors for Durmstrang were housed on its deck.
The lakeside closest to the castle had been transformed with a massive landing
platform jutting out across the lake; the judges’ desk sat to one side with
the Goblet upon it, a VIP section to the other. Out in the centre of the lake
there appeared to be a floating wooden cabin.

Bagman waved Harry forward and lined him up next to a white-faced Cedric whose
eyes were pinned on the Champions’ box which was right next to the landing
platform.

Harry glanced over and saw Amos Diggory sat next to his wife. “It’s good to
see your Dad looking better and out and about again, Cedric.”

Cedric relaxed a touch. “Thanks, Harry.”

Fleur shivered. “Weell they not get on wiz eet?”

Viktor nodded his grim agreement.

It took another ten minutes though with the judges taking their seats before
Bagman finally performed the sonorus spell to make himself heard.

“Good morning distinguished guests, professors, students and, of course, our
four Champions!” Bagman began.

There was a loud cheer.

“Now, some housekeeping before we start. Today’s task is going to take place
in and upon this fine body of water in the construction you see in the centre
and a matching one underneath. A magical barrier has been placed around the
stands to prevent any spectators from interfering. However as we are aware it
is difficult to see what is going on, events within the structures will be
projected above the lake in the same manner as some of the more expensive
memory pensieves, although unfortunately we haven’t been able to get the audio
to work.”

There was another roar from the crowd. Harry wondered whether seeing what was
happening was going to make it better or worse for Sirius.

“Right, now to business!” Bagman said. ‘The task today involves each Champion
rescuing a hostage, more specifically the one who they have thought of most
between Yule and the second task. Who this hostage will be has to be
determined by the Goblet itself. Once they have been chosen, the Goblet’s
magic will transport them into the task.’ He whirled around to the judges’
table and smiled widely and falsely at Madame Maxime. “Perhaps it should be
ladies first?”

“In that case it should be Karkaroff.” Viktor muttered under his breath.

The Champions exchanged amused looks.

“My dear Headmistress if you’d be so kind to tap your wand against the Goblet,
it will display the name of the hostage for your Champion in flame.” Bagman
continued cheerfully.

The Headmistress followed the instructions. The Goblet surged to life and
bright blue flames erupted into the sky. They danced for a moment before
spreading out and forming letters… *Gabrielle Delacour.*

“NON!” Fleur said hysterically. “Non, ma petite soeur!”

But it was too late. There was a shriek from the Champions’ box and the
magical projection shot into being in the centre of the lake showing a
bewildered miniature Fleur arriving into a room where a brief glance at the
windows with fish swimming beyond the panes of glass, clearly showed it was on
the bottom of the lake.

Harry frowned as he tried to ignore Fleur’s panic; he tried to memorise the
projection — the shape and size of the room, the details he could see…

“Headmaster Karkaroff,” Bagman’s smile had dimmed after the revelation of the
Beauxbatons’ hostage, “please do the honours.”

Karkaroff immediately tapped the Goblet and it flared to life once more. The
flames were purple but they immediately formed a name… *Natalie Warren.*

Harry’s eyes shot to Viktor’s stony visage as the name of the Hogwarts’ Head
Girl blazed and the magic took her into the room. Fleur settled as the
projection showed Natalie immediately moving to calm a visibly crying
Gabrielle.

“I am courting Miz Varren.” Viktor said quietly, providing an explanation.

Cedric grimaced and tensed. “I think I know who my hostage is likely to be.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Mine too.” He muttered.

Dumbledore tapped the Goblet and because he represented both Harry and Cedric,
he called out Cedric’s name clearly. A brilliant yellow flame shot into the
air and slowly transformed into words… *Susan Bones.*

Cedric went bright red. “Cho is going to kill me!” He hissed. “I mean, Sue’s
been great about my Dad and spending time letting me rant at her but I didn’t
realise I was thinking about her that much!”

Harry could only nod dumbly. His attention was back on the Goblet; his flame
was a brilliant red which immediately turned into… *Hermione Granger*. It took
less than a second for her to join the others in the underwater room. He
wasn’t surprised when he saw her immediately take control and start to
organise the others. He smiled ruefully; that was his Hermione.

“Mon Dieu! She speaks French!” Fleur babbled relieved at the sight of
Gabrielle’s face brightening as Hermione crouched down and talked with her.

“Yes. She loves France. She and her parents often holiday there.” Harry said.

Bagman cleared his throat and wrenched his eyes away from the projection where
Hermione, Susan and Natalie had all discarded their outerwear to reveal the
form-fitting dry-suits. The sight of the three witches had many young wizards
in the crowd wolf-whistling and shouting appreciation.

Harry decided the best thing to do was reveal his own matching outfit so he
removed his own outerwear without any fanfare.

The realisation that the Potter alliance had planned, planned together, and
planned well settled on the crowd.

Bagman jumped into the hushed silence. “Right! The rules of this task are
fairly simple. Each Champion must exchange places with one of their opponents’
hostages by performing a task within the uppermost structure. As soon as the
first Champion is exchanged, the underwater room will begin to fill with
water. If a Champion decides to leave the underwater room ahead of the other
Champions, they will flood the room and face an underwater obstacle path back
to this landing deck where upon standing safely upon it, their hostage will be
magically transported to them and the other Champions will be deemed to have
lost and the hostages, uh, eliminated from the competition.”

Well, that didn’t sound ominous, Harry thought grimly. Knowing Voldemort,
elimination was probably something permanent.

Bagman hurried on. “If the Champions leave the room together, they will need
to be back here within an hour for all their hostages to be deemed safe and
transported here. Any questions?”

“Do the hostages know what’s involved?” asked Cedric pre-empting both Harry
and Viktor — Fleur’s attention was pinned to the projection where the three
older girls had transfigured her sister’s clothing into something close to the
suits they wore.

“Yes. There is a copy pinned to the wall in both rooms.” Bagman assured them.
“If you’re ready?”

The Champions all nodded.

Bagman waved his wand at the Goblet and a rush of sparkles gushed forth. “We
begin!”

A surge of gold rushed around the Champions obscuring them and Harry felt the
world melt away as the magic took him away.

o-O-o

Hermione smiled reassuringly at Gabrielle who was now decked out in a dry suit
that would keep her warm and would assist her buoyancy if they went
underwater. *“You look very beautiful.”* She said in French.

“*But of course.”* Gabrielle agreed with a Gallic shrug.

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. *“A moment, please,
Gabrielle. The others and I need to confirm what we are doing here and how our
Champions are going to rescue us.”*

Gabrielle nodded but she slid her hand into Hermione’s.

Hermione led them over to the wall where Susan and Natalie were already
considering the task description.

“Right,” Natalie said briskly, ‘we’re in the structure below; they’re in an
identical structure above.’ She pointed with her wand at the diagram. “They’ll
get a clue and instructions which will give them the information they need to
proceed. There are four spells. A Champion must cast a spell upon another
Champion. Each spell will handicap that Champion to some degree but the hexed
Champion is exchanged with a hostage.” She frowned. “No statement that they’re
exchanged with their own hostage though.”

“It’s possible each spell would be linked to a specific hostage though.”
Hermione mused out loud. “Cast the one that makes you vomit slugs, for
instance, and be exchanged with me. Or cast the one that makes your skin
purple and be exchanged with Sue.”

“Somehow I don’t think these spells are going to be that benign.” Sue pointed
out.

“There’s nothing to say either way but this part of the task is clearly
designed to encourage the Champions into hexing each other in order to get
their hostages exchanged.” Natalie said crisply. “Are we certain that they’ll
work together?”

“Unless one of them panics.” Hermione confirmed with a nod. Theo had done a
really excellent job at ensuring information was passed in a way that didn’t
contravene the instruction for the Champions not to collaborate in preparing
for the task.

“Right then.” Natalie continued. ‘So, we expect them to work out a way for
them all to get down here. As soon as the first hostage is exchanged, this
place will start to fill up with water.’ She glanced down at the young French
girl. “Hopefully they’ll take her topside first.”

Hermione translated the discussion to Gabrielle, who unsurprisingly looked
fearful about what would happen if she was in the room when it filled with
water.

“*Do not worry I can cast a Bubblehead charm on you to make sure you
breathe.”* Hermione reassured her.

“Let’s hope they take me next because I’m pants at the Bubblehead.” Sue
commented with dismay.

“Didn’t you bring the back-up Gillyweed?” Natalie asked.

Sue shook her head despondently. “I didn’t think I’d get picked. I mean, I was
so far down the list for Harry and I never considered…” she coloured
profusely. She grimaced. “Forget this task, Cho is going to kill me.”

Natalie and Hermione exchanged a semi-amused look.

“Let’s worry about that once we’re out of this.” Natalie said firmly.

“Harry knows about your problem with the charm.” Hermione reminded Sue. “I’m
sure he’ll make sure you get exchanged second.”

“And either Hermione or I can cast it on you if you are stuck down here for a
while.” Natalie said. She turned back to the wall. ‘If a Champion leaves
before all of the hostages are exchanged, this room floods, and there’s an
obstacle course back to the landing deck. Let’s assume that’s not going to
happen so once all the Champions leave they need to reach the landing deck
within the hour of the task starting to trigger the magic that takes us from
the room above back to the deck.’ She nodded. “All fairly straightforward.”

“We should be on our guard though.” Hermione pointed out. “The last task was
sabotaged and we don’t know how else this one might be.”

“True.” Natalie twirled her wand. “Right. Wands out then.”

Sue nodded grimly. “And we protect the little one.”

“Agreed.” Hermione turned back to Gabrielle and translated the discussion
again, finishing with their promise to look after Gabrielle until she could be
returned safely to her sister.

They’d just finished when Viktor popped in and in a swirl of blue flames,
Gabrielle disappeared.

o-O-o

Harry had landed in the task room and had been relieved to see he wasn’t the
only one who had stumbled. They had quickly agreed to working together and
saving everybody. Harry still hadn’t acknowledged that he had taken charge
with no conscious thought about doing so nor that the others had let him
despite him being the youngest. Having reviewed the instructions, it had been
simple enough to find a clue under the statue of four monkeys.

“*Speak no evil, brings the oldest monkey. See no evil, brings the smartest.*

*Hear no evil, brings the youngest monkey. Think no evil, brings the
kindest.”*

A list of associated hexes had been showed up on the wall as soon as they
spoke the clue out loud. Having established which hostage was linked with each
hex, they’d all agreed on the disability that they could each cope with best.

With Viktor hexed and gone, he and Cedric swapped relieved smiles at the sight
of Fleur hugging Gabrielle and reassuring her in a torrent of French.

Cedric coughed. *“Apologies,”* he said in slow accented French, *“we need to
continue the exchange or we will run out of time.”* He pointed at a conjured
alarm clock that Viktor had conjured up.

“OK,” Harry said, “so it looks like we were right about the hexes and how
they’re linked with the hostages.”

“Viktor should be deaf now. That got us Gabrielle. We need to get Sue which
means you’re next Cedric since you’re the one who can deal best with the happy
hex and we think she’s the kindest, uh, monkey.”

“You mean I’m the only one who can’t do blind, deaf or muteness.” Cedric
grimaced. “OK. Let’s get on with it. Just…” he grimaced, “can you let Sue know
I’m sorry about this?”

Harry nodded quickly, too aware that they were running out of time. He braced
himself and performed the happy hex otherwise known as the Fool’s curse. Until
Cedric received the counter-hex nothing would faze him; a poisonous snake
would be treated as his best friend, a sharp knife like a favourite teddy
bear. It was a dangerous state of being and Cedric was going to have to rely
on the rest of the Champions keeping him from putting himself in danger.

As soon as the hex hit, Cedric popped away and there was a rush of yellow
flames as Susan appeared.

“Harry!” Sue hurried over leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor, and
Harry hugged her briefly.

“You OK?” He asked, urgency creeping into his tone.

Sue nodded, rubbing her upper arms briskly to keep warm. He fired a warming
charm at her and she smiled back appreciatively.

“Cedric said sorry.” Harry murmured.

Sue blushed. “It’s not his fault.”

Harry simply nodded back in absent agreement. “Fleur and I have to get on with
this.”

“Don’t worry,” Sue said firmly, “all of us hostages know the score. We’ll take
care of each other.”

“Zank you.” Fleur led her sister over to them. She crouched in front of her
sister and said something in a stream of French which sounded reassuring and
comforting. She wiped away Gabrielle’s tears and nudged her sister over to
Susan. “Pleez, look avter her.”

Sue wrapped an arm around the youngest hostage and nodded. “We will.”

Harry and Fleur stepped away so they were both clear of the other two. Neither
wanted to hit one of the hostages by accident.

“We’ll cast together on the count of three.” Harry said, struggling to keep
his tone calm as his nerves shot up. In a moment he’d be mute and Fleur would
be blind. He pointed his wand. “One, two, three.”

Spells of lilac and pink snapped through the air and landed with precision.

For the second time that day Harry felt his world disappear.

o-O-o

Hermione sighed with disappointment as the red flames cleared and she found
herself in the uppermost room with the other hostages. She had been up to her
waist in water in the room below and it dripped down on the floor where she
stood. She quickly did a drying charm and shivered.

She’d hoped that she and Harry would be able to spend a few moments together
but because she had guessed that the final two Champions would have to hex
each other at the same time, she’d known it was unlikely.

She gazed out of the small windows at the blue sky. A small hand crept into
hers. She turned and smiled at Gabrielle. *“OK?”*

“*My sister is very brave and she will rescue us all.”* Gabrielle replied with
a certainty only youth could provide.

“*Certainly.”* Hermione agreed lightly, glad that Gabrielle at least had had
the opportunity to be reassured by her Champion. She repressed another sigh
and looked at the concerned faces of her fellow Hogwarts’ students. “I guess
now we wait.”

“Well, this just sucks monkey balls.” Natalie said bluntly. “Are we just
supposed to sit here like helpless idiots waiting for them to rescue us?”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Hermione, suspecting she already knew.

“They should all be swimming now for the deck, right? And no-one on the
outside of the magical barrier surrounding the lake can help them.” Natalie
waved a hand around the room. “We’re on the inside.”

“But we’re locked in.” Sue protested.

“So let’s find a way out.” Hermione countered, seeing where the Head Girl was
going immediately. “Professor Moody did say in his lesson on being in a
hostage situation that if you are left alone, it’s only sensible to check your
environment thoroughly and ensure that there’s no way to escape. And if we can
leave the room, like Natalie says we can provide Harry and the others with
support in the lake and — oh, they’re all going to be swimming with a handicap
so it’ll be much harder for them! — and we can make sure that we’re free in
case of any sabotage!”

Sue’s face settled into determined lines that reminded Hermione of the
Director of the DMLE. “I’m in.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed on Hermione.

“What?” Hermione asked nervously.

Sue reached out and grabbed something in Hermione’s hair, tugging at it
slightly and making Hermione wince. Sue immediately clapped her other hand
over the one holding the something to keep it from escaping. “It’s some kind
of bug. Maybe I should just crush it but…”

“Let me see.” Hermione asked.

Sue carefully opened her hands just enough for Hermione and the others to peek
inside.

Hermione started grinning. “It’s Luna’s beetle! She’s seen it a couple of
times. It’s a shame we haven’t got something to put it in.”

Natalie looked around and picked up the figurine of the four monkeys. “I can
use this.” She transfigured it into a jar and pierced the lid with some
breathing holes.

Sue carefully transferred the beetle into it. “I’ll hang onto it.”

“Thank you.” Hermione said, grateful since Gabrielle was once again holding
her hand and clutching onto her.

Natalie grinned. “Alright. Now that’s done. Let’s start checking this place
out for weak points.”

o-O-o

In the box, Alastor gave an amused snort capturing Sirius’s ear. “I’ll have to
give those girls some points. They’re doing a good job! Damsels in distress,
my arse!”

“Alastor!” Andy complained half-heartedly.

Sirius’s attention wasn’t following the girls though; he was tracking the
second projection which was following the Champions. His throat was too closed
up with fear to speak. He was right at the front of the box, hanging onto the
railing in front of him so tightly he figured there would be dents in the
metal when he let go.

His son couldn’t speak. Harry had been hit with a hex that took away his
voice.

Harry was good with non-verbal casting, Sirius reminded himself for the
umpteenth time since the hex had been cast. Ever since Harry had learned it
was very useful in a duel, he had focused on making himself good at silent
casting. He’d even managed the complicated Bubblehead charm non-verbally which
was horrendously difficult.

Natalie had done the honours for Viktor (who apparently was just as pants at
the charm as Sirius himself was) and Cedric (who was absolutely loopy under
the influence of the Fool’s curse) before she’d been transported away.

Ted breathed out heavily beside Sirius. “It’s good to see they’ve employed a
buddy system for the swim.”

Sirius nodded jerkily.

Cedric had been teamed with Viktor. The Durmstrang student had cast a
translation spell which enabled Viktor to see what Cedric spoke in Bulgarian,
words appearing in the air above Cedric’s head. The burly Quidditch player was
able to keep Cedric in check, quickly pulling him back on track when Cedric’s
non-existent attention span had him distracted by something at the bottom of
the lake.

More importantly to him, Harry and Fleur had been teamed together. Harry had
cast a spell which enabled him to act as Fleur’s eyes and they kept in synch
with each other as they swam through the murky waters.

Viktor and Harry were using Quidditch hand signals to communicate. It was an
excellent example of intra-school cooperation and Sirius wondered vaguely how
the judges were going to score it.

A flash of something in the corner of the projection caught Sirius’s eye and
he reared back. “Isn’t that…?”

Andy gave a horrified cry at the sight of an attacking sea snake. “I thought
the swim was supposed to be without obstacle if they went together?!”

“It was.” Alastor said grimly. “But looks like we’ve got another case of
sabotage!”

Sirius swore under his breath; his eyes pinned to the sight of his son
stopping and turning to meet the newest threat to his young life…

o-O-o

Harry heard the snake before he saw it.

“*Tasty, tasty snacks!”* The sea snake sounded vaguely Scottish.

He whirled around immediately, bringing his wand up. Fleur grabbed at him,
horror written all over her face as she saw the threat through his eyes;
easily the same size as the basilisk he’d faced, the snake was a silvery grey,
its mouth was filled with a million sharp looking teeth, with black eyes dead
and dull, razor sharp fins covered its entire spine.

Viktor swam up beside Harry. He signalled a ‘what attack?’ query and Harry
shook his head. He pointed at Cedric who was clapping his hands with glee and
cooing at the charging snake. Harry signalled for Viktor to take both the
other Champions and to make a run for it. For a split second it looked as
though Viktor would argue but he gave a sharp nod instead. He snagged Cedric,
who had started toward the snake, with one hand, and Fleur with the other.

Harry turned his attention to the snake, missing the moment where Viktor
directed Fleur onto his back and began swimming away. Instead, his attention
was on the approaching monster. He swallowed hard, gripping his wand as he
considered his options. He bet anything the snake’s skin was magically
resistant. The last time he’d had Fawkes but a phoenix couldn’t appear
underwater…

He could blind it though.

He cast quickly, sending the spell first into one eye and then into the other.
The snake thrashed wildly, an underwater ripple bombarding Harry and pushing
him away momentarily.

But Harry regained his position and swam against the push of the water. He
wondered how he was going to finish the snake off as it readied itself to
charge again.

And suddenly there was a white mist between him and the snake…

The form of a woman took shape, translucent and beautiful… ethereal with her
old-fashioned robes, hair in ringlets that floated in the water, a warm and
friendly smile… it wasn’t Morgana but someone who looked very like her. More
importantly, she held out a real gleaming silver sword with an ornate hilt.

Harry took it from her with a nod of thanks and saw a flame of writing appear
along its blade… *Take me up.*

The woman dissipated into nothingness, revealing an angry snake in the water
behind where she’d manifested.

Harry grasped the sword and dived out of the way as the snake made its first
strike…

Tail, he remembered frantically, and pushed himself upwards just before it
could hit him.

The snake circled him. *“I can’t see you but I can taste you! Give up little
prey and let me have you!”*

Harry adjusted his position, grateful more than ever that Sirius had taught
him not only to swim but how to play pranks in the water. He manoeuvred
himself with slow movements, first one way then the other…

Slowly…

Carefully…

The snake circled again, its tongue flickering out to taste the water… to
scent Harry…

Slowly…

Its left eye so close…

An inch more…

Just a smidgeon…

Harry thrust the sword into the beast’s eye and into its brain!

It screamed and thrashed tossing Harry away on a wave of water.

Harry stabilised himself hurriedly, trying to prevent the sword from dragging
him down. He looked back and saw a stream of blackish red mixing with the
murky green of the lake water. A rush of nausea almost caught him but he
turned away and forced the snake from his mind.

He was running out of time!

He quickly got his bearings and struck out again for the landing deck. The
sword seemed lighter somehow and he swam holding it out in front of him
horizontally as though it was a floatation device. It gave his legs a lot of
power that way and he could kick forcefully. He saw the bottom of the lake
start to incline and his feet suddenly connected with the rocky ground. He was
pleased with his rubber boots that kept his feet protected as he got his
footing and stood, striding the rest of the way through the shallows until a
goofily beaming Cedric and a sombre looking Viktor helped him up onto the
landing deck, Fleur immediately moving to cover him with a warm towel.

As one they turned back to the upper structure and their hostages…

o-O-o

The search of the room hadn’t been fruitful.

There was no visible door — Hermione had even tried the way to get into the
Room of Requirement, it hadn’t worked — and the windows were magically warded.
Magic bounced off them as they’d found the one time Natalie had tried
shattering it. The glass was also unbreakable as Hermione had discovered when
she’d transfigured a shoe into a rock and tried to throw it through the pane.

Eventually with all their efforts exhausted, Natalie conjured up some string
and the three older girls tried to distract Gabrielle by playing an elaborate
game of Cat’s Cradle. Unfortunately the room suddenly rocking violently as the
usually tranquil lake turned as rough as the open sea, put paid to their
attempt.

Gabrielle screamed and threw herself at Hermione.

“*It’s alright, Gabrielle,”* Hermione hugged the little girl to her, *“the
room floats and is very secure. We will be fine.”*

“What do you think caused that?” asked Natalie, shivering. For the first time
since the task began the Head Girl looked disconcerted.

“Maybe the Squid?” Sue offered, touching Natalie’s arm gently to comfort the
older girl.

“Right,” Natalie nodded, “I mean there’s no need to assume anything bad.”

“How much time do you think we have left in here?” Sue asked.

Hermione brushed her hair away from her face and cast a tempus spell. It was
just gone nine o’clock. “The task started at eight, so allowing for our
selection and the task officially beginning, they all need to make it back by
around quarter past I think.”

The room rocked again and Hermione tightened her grip on the little French
girl. It was frightening and she wished with all her heart that Harry could
have been beside her. She would have been scared — she always was — but
somehow having Harry around made it all seem possible that they’d survive
their adventures.

“Zou should tell, um, *book*.” Gabrielle said suddenly in heavily accented
English.

“A story?” Hermione asked softly.

“When I ’ave ze nightmare Maman et Fleur read to me.” Gabrielle explained; the
imperious command that Hermione should follow their example implicit in her
tone.

Sue and Natalie exchanged amused looks with Hermione over the little girl’s
head which was buried in Hermione’s shoulder.

“I guess I could tell a story.” Hermione agreed. Her mind raced with ideas
before settling on one. “Once upon a time, there was a young girl called
Hermione and she was a witch. And she was so excited to be a witch that she
read all she could and practised her magic all the time until she could go to
school with other witches and wizards. Only because Hermione was very smart
about books, she sometimes wasn’t smart about other things like making
friends.”

She ignored the sympathetic and, what she assumed to be pitying, gazes of the
other two girls. “One day she felt so very lonely that she spent all day
crying in the bathroom. But because she was in the bathroom, she didn’t know
that an evil wizard had brought a huge troll into the school until it entered
the bathroom.”

“Was zee scared?” Gabrielle asked.

“Very scared.” Hermione said, the memory of it sending a shiver through her,
“but just before the troll could hurt her, two boys suddenly appeared, one
with hair which was as dark as the night called Harry, and one with hair as
red as a fire called Ron. Harry jumped on the troll’s back and told Hermione
to run but she was very scared and couldn’t move. But just as she thought all
was lost, Ron managed to use his magic and knocked the troll out with its own
club!”

“Ron?” asked Sue a little sceptical.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” Hermione said dryly. ‘He actually got the pronunciation
right.’ She turned back to Gabrielle. “And ever since that day Hermione has
always remembered that books and cleverness are all very well, but what
matters most is…”

Flames surrounded them suddenly and the world melted away…

o-O-o

“…friendship, bravery and… oh!”

Harry grinned at the sight of Hermione, none the worse for wear standing on
the deck beside him wearing one shoe, and without even hesitating he wrapped
her up in a hug, transferring his warm towel to her.

“Harry!” Hermione hugged him back hard. “Are you alright? I take it you had no
problems with the Bubblehead charm and what disability did you…”

Harry pointed at his throat.

Viktor’s conjured alarm clock began to ring…

“Oh, you can’t talk!” Hermione proclaimed almost excitedly. “That’s so…”

BOOM!

Harry spun around, his wand in his hand and the sword at the ready.

“Oh God.” Hermione murmured, grabbing hold of his arm.

The floating wooden structure that had housed the hostages had blown up,
wooden splinters littered the lake and the debris was aflame.

“Look at the pretty fire!” Cedric said cheerily, clapping his hands. “We
should have marshmallows!”

Hermione tried not to smile, biting her lip in sympathy for Cedric’s
unwittingly amusing commentary.

Dumbledore stood and waved his wand.

“Merlin!” Cedric sagged. “That was… weird.” He suddenly caught Sue’s gaze and
they both went bright red.

Harry hid his smile at their discomfort.

“Merci, Professor, I can see again!” Fleur said, clutching her little sister
close.

“Und I can hear.” Viktor tenderly held Natalie’s hand.

“And I can speak.” Harry said with relief.

Dumbledore smiled at them all benevolently.

“Excellent!” Bagman said with more false bonhomie. “If the judges would take a
moment to confer…”

They all turned back to the scene in the middle of the lake. The still burning
debris had them all sobering quickly.

“Wow.” Hermione said softly. “If you hadn’t…”

“Don’t even think about it,” advised Harry, wrapping his wand arm around her
waist and taking comfort in the fact that she was alive and breathing and
fine, “it’ll only drive you insane.” And be the stuff of nightmares, thought
Harry grimly.

Bagman’s voice suddenly echoed loudly around the lake. “The scores are in! As
all our Champions and hostages displayed honour in working together to bravely
navigate this task, they are all awarded full and equal points!”

A huge roar went up from the crowd and there was thunderous applause. Harry
broke out into a pleased grin and he happily accepted handshakes from his
fellow male Champions and Gallic kisses from Fleur and her sister. Finally, he
drew Hermione close again and grinned at the sight of Viktor being crushed in
a Gabrielle hug.

“Harry.” Hermione murmured.

“Hmmm?”

“Why have you got a sword?”

And Harry suddenly remembered the blade he held in his hand. He raised it to
his eye level and gazed at it anew.

It was beautiful.

Shining silver with a pommel of bronze and silver and gold.

“Where did you get that sword, Harry?” Cedric asked, moving to stand next to
Hermione as he realised what they were discussing.

Fleur and Viktor moved to stand beside Harry.

“Eet is very magnificent.” Fleur commented.

“Vou defeated the snake vith it.” Viktor stated with certainty.

“Snake?” asked Sue, her voice rising.

Harry shrugged. “Don’t worry, the snake’s dead now.” He raised the sword a
touch, turning the blade so it caught the light. “It’s why I needed this
though.”

Words suddenly ran along the blade in flame and Hermione gasped.

“Take me up. Cast me away.” She repeated. “Oh Harry, do you *know* what sword
this is?”

*My first name has been lost to Time but the last was Excalibur*, the words
whispered into his mind.

Harry almost flinched and there was a distinctly masculine chuckle that
followed.

*Well met, Child of Merlin and Heir of Peverell, but unlike the Hallows that
are of your blood, I am not meant for you, Wizard. Cast me away so I can one
day serve our King again.*

*Thank you*, Harry thought loudly, hoping the sword heard him somehow.

“Harry?” prompted Hermione.

He was unaware of the crowd’s attention; the preternatural silence that had
hushed every single witch and wizard, every single creature looking on…

“It’s meant for the King,” Harry said, oblivious to the glow of power in his
eyes, the magic flowing around him, “not for me.” He took a step forward to
the edge of the deck and raised the sword above his head. He flung it as hard
as he could towards the body of water.

The sword arched across the sky, turning and turning…

A hand rose from the lake to claim it, plucking it from the air with grace and
surety…

The hand and the sword sank beneath the water.

And suddenly there was noise unlike anything Harry had ever heard as the crowd
yelled and cheered and applauded and stamped their feet and whistled…

Harry searched out Sirius and grinned at his proudly beaming father who was
clapping as though his life depended upon it. Satisfaction settled on Harry
like a cloak. The second task was over and Voldemort hadn’t won; he was still
alive, Hermione was still alive, everyone had lived.

o-O-o

*5**th* *March 1995*

*Dear Snitch,*

*Apologies for the password but security is key regardless that I’ve been
nagged into writing a proper letter. Apparently Dora is of the opinion that a
letter trumps a mirror call, and remembering how I often I have savoured notes
and correspondence from loved ones, perhaps she has a point.*

*Firstly, I have to tell you that whatever Narcissa said to Andromeda it has
worked a treat. Dora is fairly giddy at her mother’s turn around. I have an
idea that a Slytherin sly hint that Hilde was stepping in as Mother of the
Bride and expectant Grandmother might have something to do with it — but don’t
ever tell anyone I said that!*

*I’m glad Hermione is pleased with her role as Bridesmaid. It seems as though
the wedding party will almost be an entirely Black affair since I have you and
Sirius, and Dora invited Anna to be Matron of Honour and she accepted (Simeon
apparently is really looking forward to your anticipated trip to the Quidditch
stadium).*

*Gregor has advised me to send invites to the other Alpha wolves so they’ll be
attending and Sirius mentioned the other day about inviting more of our allies
since with Bogdan officiating we’ve had to invite Cornelius. So much for a
small quiet wedding!*

*Luckily Dora is taking care of the details. I remember it was much the same
with your Mum and Dad’s wedding. Lily organised everything and James just
nodded in the right places. He was just chuffed she’d said yes! Bit different
with Dora and myself, but I want to assure you we’re committed to making this
work, and I count myself lucky.*

*On the pack side, I have to admit that living day to day at the farm has
given me new insight, not only into our pack dynamics but the individual
characters and the benefits of pack life. I confess suddenly being thrust into
my Alpha role full time has been challenging but surprisingly much more
rewarding than I expected. Clara and Patrick are wonderful and I couldn’t run
the pack without them. They’ve been brilliant with Dora, and Patrick has taken
Sian in hand so I don’t have to worry about her making Dora uncomfortable here
anymore.*

*I’m glad Ron liked his birthday present. The Bulgarian Quidditch World Cup
Journey was apparently a best seller here right after the event. It was very
nice of Viktor to sign it for him. I hope the final match of the season goes
well for him and Ginny and that Gryffindor wins next week!*

*Speaking of fortuitous events it’s an amazing stroke of luck Fleur’s mother
being able to provide an introduction to her “Grande-Tante” Vivien. After all
the searching we did to find someone who could introduce us to Lumiere’s last
descendant and Fleur was right under our noses all along! Of course it
probably helped that her mother was so grateful for the way you and Hermione
helped save both her daughters! And yes, I think Sirius knew exactly what he
was doing when he asked the Delacours if they knew Vivien when they joined you
for the ‘We Survived the Second Task’ celebration meal — he’s sneaky that
way.*

*I’ve attached my suggested training and lesson plan for the final task for
you to compare with Hermione’s. Stay safe. And don’t worry about Padfoot — I
talk with him every day, I promise.*

*Love, Moony x*

Hermione handed Harry the letter back and perused the plan with pursed lips,
settling back into the comfortable cushions of the sofa in the quarters Harry
and Sirius occupied in Gryffindor tower. She pushed a hand through her hair,
her fingers tangling in curls before Harry gently extricated them. She tossed
him an absent-minded smile and continued reading.

Much of Remus’s plan involved physical training to build stamina, Dark
creature spells — defensive and offensive — curse-breaking spells, and general
navigation. Hermione nodded, pleased.

It all correlated with the research group’s findings that the third task
invariably was some kind of all-round challenge through some kind of obstacle
course. Variations of mazes and gauntlets had been used several times, the
surrounding countryside around a school was another popular choice (there was
a historical record of the Forbidden Forest being used which was just
mind-boggling), the inside of a school on very rare occasions, and an
underground labyrinth just the once.

“This is very comprehensive.” Hermione said, handing it back to Harry. “I have
a similar list the research group has compiled. We’ll go through them next
week at the alliance session.”

She hid a smile as Harry read through the plan himself. Just a year before he
would have discarded it, uninterested and simply trusting her to tell him what
was needed. She did miss that note of absolute trust, she acknowledged
honestly, but she had decided she was more pleased about Harry’s improved
academic performance and his maturity too much to miss it all that much. She
pressed into his side.

“Have you and the other Champions discussed working together again?” Hermione
asked as Harry carefully folded Remus’s plan and put it back in the envelope.

“We figure Voldemort and his cronies are going to make everything as lethal as
they can so we’re agreed that we’ll help each other out if we see one of us is
in trouble and needing aid but that’s it.” Harry shifted so he could place his
arm around her and she snuggled into his side.

Harry and Hermione had arranged a date in Hogsmeade that day, so Hermione had
also obtained permission to eat with Harry that night. Sirius, who was
effectively playing chaperone as far as Professor McGonagall knew, had winked
at them and retired to the study leaving them alone.

“I guess it is a competition.” Hermione said wryly, reaching up and linking
their hands together.

“Hmmm.” Harry’s hold on her tightened imperceptibly and she guessed he was
thinking back to the second task. “And we are all very competitive.” He said
dryly.

Hermione grinned at him. Harry for all his humility hated losing; Krum was an
international Quidditch player with competition in his blood; Cedric was a
sportsman with the same, and Fleur had made herself the best of the best to
combat preconceptions. He was right; they were all very competitive. In some
ways it made the fact that they had worked together on the second task even
more remarkable.

“I still wish we’d been able to do more than just sit around and wait for you
to rescue us.” Hermione complained lightly. It smarted that she’d been unable
to rescue herself.

Harry shook his head. “You did everything right. You kept your head, didn’t
panic when the room started flooding when you were down below, and you kept
everyone’s spirits up when you were waiting. You were brilliant.”

“Hnmph.” Hermione sighed.

“And you caught an illegal animagus.” Harry pointed out, gleeful laughter
suppressed in the statement but evident nonetheless.

“That was Sue more than me.” Hermione admitted. “And we didn’t even know what
we had until Professor Moody turned up.”

He’d crashed the after-party celebration the Potter alliance had held in
Sirius and Harry’s rooms wanting to know who the additional animagus was that
he could see in the wards. According to Harry, who’d gotten the story from
Sirius, Rita Skeeter had been forced back to her original form and then some
kind of deal had been worked out between an irate Director of the DMLE, the
paranoid professor and Sirius himself.

“Moody would never have given you and the others points if you hadn’t
impressed him.” Harry pointed out.

“Cho has been saying she could have gotten out of the room.” Hermione admitted
to what was really irritating her.

Harry shook his head again. “I don’t see how and she’s just sore still about
Susan.”

Hermione grimaced. She did feel for Cho. Finding out your boyfriend had been
thinking more about another girl had to have been mortifying. Within a day of
the task, the couple had a furious break-up which had had the school gossiping
for days and it had even made the front page of the Prophet. It was no wonder
Cho was being slightly less than gracious about things if Hermione thought
about it enough, and presumably Hermione wasn’t the target of her ire but Sue.

Poor Sue had gotten hate mail. Hermione had been horrified that someone had
laced one of the letters with bubotuber pus. That had led to an official
investigation — really sending a malicious letter to the niece of the Director
of the DMLE was very stupid — and they’d managed to track down the sale of
bubotuber pus to Marietta Edgecomb’s mother who had confessed to sending the
letter. Marietta was Cho’s best friend and there was a rumour it had really
been her but her mother had taken the fall for the stunt so that Marietta
wouldn’t be expelled. Mrs Edgecomb had lost her job and had to pay damages to
the House of Bones.

Sue and Cedric were still dancing around each other. It was very evident that
they liked each other but the way their feelings had been revealed and the
fallout had effectively made it very difficult for them to progress.

Unlike Ron and Lavender who had leaped into couple-dom with enthusiasm.

Hermione’s lips thinned.

As much as she appreciated that as she had predicted Ron finding a girlfriend
had given her and Harry more time together, she really didn’t approve of Ron
and Lavender’s very public displays of affection. It had been worse in the
first week, and she had quietly been relieved when Fred and George had taken
their youngest brother aside and warned if he continued groping a girl *that
way* in public their mother would be informed. Parvati had performed the same
role for Lavender, taking her friend aside and lecturing her about
reputations. The couple had toned things down since but most evenings they
could be found in the Gryffindor Common Room with Lavender on Ron’s lap, and
thanks to sharing a dorm, Hermione knew exactly how far Ron had gone with
Lavender in a broom cupboard of all places.

Hermione wondered if she and Harry were weird for not being all over each
other and eschewing broom cupboards…

“You’re thinking too hard.” Harry said.

She blushed furiously as she considered exactly what she had been thinking
about and was insanely pleased Harry couldn’t read her mind. But the question
nagged at her. “Do you ever wish we were more like Ron and Lavender?”

Harry tensed beside her and shifted so they could look at each other fully.
Hermione instantly regretted the inches of space that opened up between them.

“Are you… unhappy with…” Harry began tentatively.

“No!” Hermione immediately reassured him, and the uncertainty that hovered in
his green eyes fled. ‘I’m very happy!’ She said firmly. “Very.” She blushed
again. “It’s just… well, we’ve been going out longer than Ron and Lavender
and…”

“They’re a lot more further along with the physical side than we are.” Harry
finished bluntly.

“I’m not saying I want to be like them,” Hermione reiterated, ‘I like the fact
that I don’t have to wonder about your hands wandering and I like how we kiss
each other,’ she ignored her hot cheeks, “and I don’t see the need for any of
what we do *do* to be in public. I mean, this is nice; snuggling on a settee
in front of a fire and holding hands, but I wouldn’t want… you know.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, laughter lightening his words although his cheeks were
as red as hers, ‘I like what we have too.’ He hesitated for a moment before
continuing, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. “I have thought about
doing, uh, *more* but… I figure when you want more you’ll let me know. But I
definitely don’t want to do it in public like Ron. Merlin knows with my luck
it’d be on the front page of the Prophet the next day no matter what Sirius
has cooked up with Skeeter.” He peeked up at her.

Hermione smiled at him, filled to the brim with fond affection. She leaned in
and kissed him sweetly. They settled back into their previous position.

Hermione gave a soft sigh. “You know the wizarding world confuses me
sometimes.”

“Confuses me *all* the time.” Harry rejoined.

She poked him in the ribs. “I mean, Tonks slept with Remus and Lavender is all
over Ron, but on the surface of it, wizarding culture is very conservative. I
thought they’d be more of an emphasis on waiting, you know, until you were
married.”

“I don’t think it’s that much different from the muggle world.” Harry
countered. “I mean, it’s still frowned on, isn’t it? Especially babies before
marriage?”

“Yes, but Tonks wouldn’t *have to* get married in the muggle world.” Hermione
pointed out. “And Lavender, well, she and Ron might get a few comments from
the older generation, but you have to admit most muggle people our age would
probably not think anything of it. Parvati told her she was in danger of
painting herself as a scarlet woman!”

Harry shrugged, the movement rolling her slightly into him. “The only muggle
kid of our age I really know is Dudley and the thought of him and any girl…”

They both said it at the same time. “EW!”

They chuckled and squirmed ever so slightly closer.

“I just think it’s a shame Tonks has to get married.” Hermione commented. “I
mean, I’m happy to be a bridesmaid but I’m not sure what to say to her. It’s
not exactly a love match so the usual congratulations seem inappropriate.” And
Andy had been very upset with her daughter. It was good they’d moved past the
breach but it had been a doozy.

“I don’t think they *have to* get married,” Harry said, ‘Sirius wouldn’t have
insisted and I mean, sure, there’d have been a really big scandal when it came
out about the baby but it would have died down eventually.’ He paused for a
moment as though thinking and sighed. “Sirius said to look at it as though
Moony had an arranged marriage, and since he and Tonks do like each other, it
means that they have a good chance of the marriage working out.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t made the press yet.” Hermione said.

“It’s going to come out a lot sooner than they want if they keep inviting
people to the wedding.” Harry said grumpily. “It was supposed to be just
family.”

“I’m really looking forward to seeing Bulgaria.” Hermione said
enthusiastically, changing the subject.

“Me too.” Harry said. “Sirius said he’d try and ensure we weren’t too bogged
down with wedding stuff.”

Hermione relaxed happily, content. She let her mind drift, thoughts of
homework flitting by and being replaced with thoughts of the third task and
back to Remus’s letter. She frowned.

“You know Remus’s letter?” She asked.

“I’m familiar.” Harry answered teasingly.

She poked him in the ribs again and there was a brief tickling match before
they resumed their snuggling.

“No, seriously,” Hermione said, “what was Remus going on about with that thing
about Lumiere and Fleur’s mother introducing you all to some descendant?”

Harry tensed and she knew without asking that she’d hit on one of the topics
he wasn’t meant to talk to her about. She reminded herself of the lecture
Sirius had given her not long after she and Harry had made up as a result of
Harry’s promise to ask Sirius if they could tell her more. Her cheeks burned
just thinking about it; she had been told briskly that Sirius had given Harry
permission to confide in her using his own judgement but she wasn’t going to
be told everything and she wasn’t to put pressure on Harry to talk about the
things if he didn’t want to; that Sirius had expected her to act more maturely
not make Harry feel guilty or make it a requirement of their being together.
She’d come away feeling slightly ashamed of her previous demand to be confided
in more and had apologised to Harry.

“You don’t have to tell me!” She assured Harry quickly.

She felt his tension seep away, his frame relaxing again. Her eyes widened
when he performed a privacy charm, his eyes flickering to the closed study
door.

“Harry…” she began, torn between not wanting him to get into trouble with
Sirius and simply wanting to know.

“I don’t think there’s too much of a problem telling this.” Harry assured her.
“You remember how I told you the Headmaster’s wand used to belong to an old
ancestor of mine?”

She nodded, possibly too eagerly because his eyes lit up with amusement.

“Right, so, there’s this wizarding children’s tale called the Three Brothers.”
Harry explained. “There are a lot of variations and the most popular is in a
book called the Tales of Beedle the Bard and yes, you can borrow my copy.”

Hermione shot him a look but she had been about to ask so didn’t argue about
it.

“In the story, three brothers Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus come to a raging
river and they know to cross it means certain death.” Harry continued. “But
the three brothers were clever and they took a nearby elder tree and made a
bridge. They all crossed safely to the other side only to be met by Death
himself who was a little put out that he’d been thwarted.”

Hermione found herself captivated as the story unravelled; Death, his
relationship with the three brothers and the gifts they’d received from him.

“Eventually, the three artefacts became known as the Hallows and the legend
that was passed down was that should all three be united, the owner would
become the Master of Death.” Harry finished.

“It sounds like a fable,” Hermione commented, “with the lesson being slightly
obscure.”

Harry smiled at her. “The three brothers had a last name, Peverell. Ignotus
Peverell is my late ancestor.”

“Oh my goodness, Harry!” Hermione sat upright, pulling out of his embrace.
‘But then… your cloak!’ Her eyes widened even further. “And the wand!”

He hushed her. “So, Sirius’s grandfather did a whole stack of research into
the Hallows. Everyone believes that the story is just that a story but it was
based on a real life event of the three brothers inventing the three artefacts
in order to defeat an evil wizard.”

Hermione subsided. “Logically,” she admitted, ‘that makes a lot more sense.’
She considered everything for a long moment, facts and information aligning
themselves in her head. “You think they could be useful in defeating
Voldemort.” She concluded.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged, tangling their fingers together again, “we really
don’t know. I doubt very much that just owning the artefacts makes you Master
of Death and besides while they’re each kind of cool, none of them really
scream Awesome Weapon of Doom except maybe the wand. I mean, my Dad used the
cloak for pranks.”

“I guess you’re right.” Hermione agreed.

“Anyway Lumiere had a written account apparently told to him by Ignotus of how
the artefacts were created.” Harry explained. “The only real copy that isn’t
buried in an archive is owned by his descendant, Vivien Verte. She’s a Veela
living in a protected colony…”

“And Fleur’s mother can provide an introduction.” Hermione said, suddenly
understanding that part of the letter fully.

“But we’re not really making it widely known that we’re after it, although we
had to hire a French antiquities dealer to track down the other lead and we
think he might have already given the game away so that’s why I don’t think it
matters telling you but even so…” Harry said.

Hermione understood that immediately. “I won’t say a thing.” She mimed zipping
her mouth closed. She settled back into her previous position and cuddled
closer to Harry who with a flick of his wrist dismantled the privacy bubble.

Obviously Harry was right and the whole Master of Death thing was wrong but if
the three artefacts did have power enough to finish a Dark Lord… they were a
fantastic weapon. Of course, even if the Hallows were powerful, someone still
needed to know where they were. Harry presumably had the cloak, and the
Headmaster the wand, which only left the stone unaccounted for…

Hermione sneaked a look at Harry. Did he know where it was? She bit her lip
and considered asking him but he’d told her about the Hallows and that was
enough. If he did know where the stone was, well, maybe it was safer that
knowledge stayed with as few people as possible. She suddenly realised how
Harry must have felt about keeping things secret…

Sirius had been right to lecture her, Hermione mused. She’d stop nagging Harry
for details and just continue supporting him. She shuffled closer, pressing
into the warmth of his body, before kissing him sweetly.

Harry blinked at her bemused. “Not that I’m complaining but what was that
for?”

“For being you.” Hermione said.

Harry smiled at her a touch goofily. “OK, then.”

Hermione settled back against him. “So,” she began, “about the third task…”

o-O-o

*12**th* *March 1995*

Sirius was somehow unsurprised to find Harry waiting for him at the breakfast
table despite the insanely early hour. He knew Harry wasn’t happy about
Sirius’s trip to Italy.

“You didn’t have to get up.” He admonished his son, even as he ruffled Harry’s
impressive bed-head and dropped a kiss on the messy nest of dark hair.

“I wanted to see you off and say goodbye.” Harry said, nibbling on his toast.

There was no sign of any other breakfast in front of Harry and Sirius frowned.
“That’s not all you’re having.”

Harry shrugged and stared at his plate.

Sirius sighed, knowing the cause of Harry’s lack of appetite was worry. “I’m
going to be fine, Harry.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Harry argued, his green eyes flashing up to glare
at Sirius.

“No,” Sirius conceded raising a hand in supplication, “but this isn’t me
walking into a trap with only Snape at my side. Amelia has set this up so I’m
going to be perfectly safe — both me and Richard.”

The plan to get Fevrier and whoever was pulling his strings had been well
thought out and Amelia had pulled in the Italian authorities, some of the Rat
Squad and Moody to ensure everything ran smoothly. The ambush was scheduled to
happen in Italy and Sirius had an international portkey waiting for him at the
Ministry.

“I just…” Harry sighed heavily, “I keep remembering the last time and how
badly injured you were and…”

And how Harry had felt when he’d thought Sirius was dead, Sirius concluded.

Sirius got up and rounded the table, tugging Harry out of his chair and into a
tight hug. “I’m going to be fine. There is absolutely no danger of my being
hurt, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you again.”

Harry held onto Sirius for a long moment before his head jerked into an
acknowledging nod.

Sirius squeezed him gently again before easing back. He stroked a hand through
Harry’s hair. “I’ll mirror call you when I get to Italy.”

“And when it’s over.” Harry requested immediately.

“And when it’s over.” Sirius promised. “The very minute.”

Harry sighed and stepped away. “You’ll be back tonight?”

“Yes, and Minnie should be here any minute.” Sirius confirmed. He gestured at
Harry’s fetching dressing gown and pyjamas. “You may want to get dressed
before your animagus lesson.” It would be the first one the irate Head of
Gryffindor had allowed since Harry had used his crow form to access the girls’
dorm.

Harry nodded. He lurched forward and hugged Sirius hard again but letting go,
heading to the stairs. “Good luck in Italy!”

Sirius gave a bemused nod of thanks and sat down to eat his own meagre
breakfast — Harry wasn’t the only one with nerves. He thanked Dobby as he set
down a simple breakfast of boiled egg and toast. He’d just finished when the
door to the suite opened and Minnie stepped through.

He waved at her to join him at the table and wasn’t surprised when Dobby
immediately popped up to provide her with a strong pot of tea and a breakfast
of kippers and freshly baked bread.

“Thanks for coming over, Minerva.” Sirius said, folding the Prophet and
setting it aside. “I know Harry feels too old for a babysitter but I feel
better knowing someone’s here keeping an eye on him.”

“It’ll be good to resume our lessons.” Minnie replied, pouring herself a cup
of tea. “Perhaps I was a little harsh insisting on such a long suspension.”

“He won’t be doing it again.” Sirius assured her, keeping his opinion that the
two month suspension was far too severe for the transgression to himself. He
had actually continued the lessons in Minnie’s absence but both Harry and he
had agreed that they’d keep that little secret to themselves.

“I have asked Hermione and Ronald to join us later.” Minnie informed him
briskly, setting to her breakfast with enthusiasm.

“Ron still stuck on the paw?” asked Sirius idly.

“He has a whole foot now but can’t seem to get any further.” Minnie said with
a sigh. “It’s still better progress than Miss Granger who has yet to identify
her form.”

“Maybe she should use the potion.” Sirius suggested. “It would at least get
her a form to try.”

“You may be right.” Minnie agreed. ‘I will see how today’s session goes.’ She
smiled. “I thought I might see if Harry wanted to try one of his other forms.”

That would keep Harry’s mind occupied for sure, Sirius thought with a touch of
amusement.

She suddenly pinned him with a frank look that made Sirius feel he was a
Hogwarts’ student again. He repressed the urge to squirm in his chair.

“Are you certain that today is necessary?” asked Minnie pointedly.

“It’s a good plan Amelia’s put together.” Sirius countered. ‘There’s a chance
that whoever put Fevrier up to this has some idea about the whereabouts of
Riddle and company,’ his lips twisted as the thought that Peter was one of
that company flitted through his consciousness, “that alone makes it
necessary.”

“Very well.” Minnie said, but waved her knife at him. “Just make sure you
return. No-one wants a repeat of what happened during the Christmas break.”

“Me included.” Sirius retorted, feeling a little testy at the chastisement.

Minnie sighed. “You do realise that we worry about you for your own sake and
not just for Harry’s, Sirius?”

Sirius didn’t know what to say to that. He’d just assumed everyone’s concern
was for his son because, if he was truthful with himself, that was where his
own concern was focused. “Oh.”

Minnie rolled her eyes and shooed him away from the table. “Stay safe,
Sirius.”

“I will.” Sirius stood. It was time for him to travel to the Ministry. He
sketched a salute at Minnie, glanced back up the stairs to where Harry was
currently occupied, and with mixed feelings headed out.

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 6
===============================

Amelia lowered the omniculars and glared at the ancient wand shop across the
narrow and uneven Roman street. She was secreted away in a small room on the
second floor of a guest house opposite to the shop which they were staking
out. The air was a touch chilly despite the early morning sunshine and she was
glad of her comfortable battle robes. She reached for the small cup at her
elbow and breathed in the bitter scent of espresso coffee. She sipped
appreciatively.

“I don’t know how you can drink that muck.” Alastor grumbled behind her.

“Remind me why I invited you along again?” Amelia said dryly.

“Harrumph.” Alastor retorted. He plucked the omniculars out of her grasp,
raised them and grunted. ‘We’ve got movement at the bottom of the alley.’ He
tutted. “It’s a cat.”

“I’ll alert the others.” Amelia snarked.

Alastor shot her a disgruntled look. “When’s Black’s appointment?”

“Eight.” Amelia checked the time. “It’s coming up on seven.” Nerves fluttered
in her belly but years of operations and missions had her controlling them
with steely practice. She took a deep breath.

There had been weeks of planning for the op, Amelia reminded herself, and a
great deal of diplomatic cooperation between England and Italy to work out the
details. It was just as well Hatter was back in charge of the Department for
International Cooperation because Merlin knew Crouch would have bollixed it
up. She felt a pang for thinking bad of the dead but pushed it away
dismissively. She hadn’t been fond of Crouch Senior when he was alive and she
wasn’t going to pretend because he’d passed on — especially given the mess
he’d left behind with his son.

Alastor hummed beside her and tapped on the communication mirror. “This is
Eagle’s Nest. Position check.”

“Italian Stallions are in position.”

The crisp response only held a hint of an Italian accent. Marco Morello, the
Head Italian Auror, was highly educated and intelligent, a force to be
reckoned with. He was also familiar with Sirius having worked with him in the
war, apparently had a similar sense of humour, and was eager to assist. It
helped that the Italians had been tracking Cavietti for years but had never
gotten enough evidence of illegal activities to make any charges stick. The
Italians had staked out the café next door to the wand shop as their
hidey-hole; two experienced Aurors had replaced the usual waiters while the
rest of the team had taken over a back-room.

“Rat One in position.” Keith Brooks replied.

Amelia pressed her lips together. Brooks was positioned in the alley behind
the wand-shop disguised as a homeless beggar huddled into the walls.

“Rat Two in position.” Marina Ambrey confirmed, her visage floated over the
mirror and she was making faces as though pretending to check her appearance
as she was stationed by the apparition point in the Roman courtyard just
around the corner.

“Rat Three, the Dog and Bone are in position.” Tim Chambers confirmed although
the mirror stayed dark. He was back in England, watching over the exit point
at the portkey office.

And that was the last of the Rat Squad involved with the op. Wood and
Cambridge had been left out to keep following up any leads in England on
Voldemort and the others’ whereabouts.

“Next position check in fifteen minutes unless the buggers turn up.” Alastor
ordered. “Eagle One out.”

“Shouldn’t I be Eagle One?” Amelia complained good-naturedly.

“I still beat you out on age, lass.” Alastor wagged his finger at her and
picked up his flask. He took a swig of his drink and smacked his lips
exaggeratedly. “Nothing like a good cup of tea.”

“If that’s just tea in your flask, I’m a monkey’s uncle.” Amelia commented.
She tapped her cup with her wand and it refilled with more aromatic coffee.

“So,” Alastor said brightly, “I heard you put Tonks on a sabbatical so she
could guard Lupin abroad.”

Amelia darted a quick look at him and wasn’t fooled by the patently false
innocent look he’d plastered on his misshapen face. “She invited you to the
wedding, didn’t she?”

“No sense of discretion that one; didn’t even have security spells on the
letter.” Alastor agreed. “Rita might be watching herself now but it’s only
going to be a matter of time before another one of those vultures gets wind of
it if Tonks doesn’t smarten up.”

“She’s driving Sirius to distraction.” Amelia sighed heavily. “If she wasn’t
on a sabbatical, I’d call her on the carpet.”

Alastor grunted. “Didn’t stop me. I sent her a Howler. You should do the same.
Might knock some sense into her. Getting herself up the duff’s no excuse for
becoming an idiot.”

“Alastor!” Amelia admonished him even though she inwardly agreed with his
assessment.

She was disappointed in Tonks; she’d had such high hopes for the young Auror.
Despite Tonks’ family connection and her skills, Amelia knew the unplanned and
out of wedlock pregnancy would impact the young woman’s career and her future
prospects, particularly with her male superiors. The fact that it had happened
with a werewolf regardless of who he was and the position he held…

Amelia grimaced, shamefully recognising her own prejudicial bias but unable to
completely suppress her horror at the thought of intimacy with someone who
carried the lycanthropy disease. If he bit her in a moment of passion… it
didn’t bear thinking about.

But Remus was a good man and an honourable wizard. He was doing right by Tonks
in marrying her and had taken the sensible approach of taking them both abroad
to hopefully delay the revelation of the union and prospective addition to the
House of Black until Sirius and the Potter alliance had done enough to
minimise the political fallout.

It would be a shame for Lupin, Amelia thought, if the consequence of the
dalliance undid every positive measure Sirius had secured for his oldest
friend. Quite honestly, Amelia could hex both Tonks and Lupin for their
selfish behaviour. What had they been thinking?

Maybe Alastor had the right of it, Amelia mused; maybe she should send Tonks a
sharp reminder not to be idiot.

“We have movement.” Alastor said suddenly.

Amelia snatched up the omniculars and scanned the street. Cavietti was
approaching from the North end. With his small stout stature Cavietti appeared
to roll rather than walk. She sniffed in disgust at the oily black hair and
overly groomed moustache. The wand-maker barrelled up to the café and went
inside for his usual morning double espresso.

Ten minutes later, he barrelled back out and made for the door of his shop. He
had tucked the morning paper he had snagged from the café counter for their
customers under his arm.

“Thief.” Amelia muttered under her breath.

Cavietti weaved his wand in a complex pattern to unlock the wards and a moment
later he was in the door.

The mirror flared to life. “Fevrier’s arrived and on his way.” Ambrey reported
crisply, even as she mimed checking her lipstick. “Two others with him; man
and woman.” The mirror went black again.

“Got them at the South end.” Alastor said. “Coming up the street now.”

The mirror flared again. “I’ve got company. Black cat; unusual markings;
sitting on the wall outside of Cavietti’s. Going silent.” Brooks said tersely.

“An animagus?” Amelia wondered out loud. There was no record of any of the
missing Death Eaters being an animagus apart from Pettigrew, but then there’d
been no record of Sirius either.

Alastor grimaced. “Could be a familiar. Kneazle could spy well enough.”

They watched as Cavietti greeted Fevrier and ushered the French antiquities
dealer and the unknown couple inside.

“Trap’s set then.” Alastor said darkly.

Amelia checked the time again. Only thirty minutes to go before the op began
in earnest. She tapped her fingers restlessly.

“Rat Three reporting.” Chambers’ voice drifted out of the mirror. ‘Dog and
Bone are on the way.’ There was a pause. “I’ve got an interested party who
watched them leave. I’m following up.”

“Call for back-up.” Amelia ordered.

Alastor glared at the mirror as it winked out. “They’re travelling early.”

“Timing is everything.” Amelia corrected. “Don’t forget they have to have
cleared customs, before apparating and walking up to the shop.”

Alastor subsided. Amelia frowned. She wished in some ways that they could have
had everyone in Italy overnight but the security considerations had ruled that
out. She took a gulp of hot coffee and almost choked as it burned its way down
her throat. With her mind occupied with whether everything would go as planned
at the Italian Ministry she almost missed Alastor’s flinch.

“What?” asked Amelia sharply.

“Flash of green inside the wand shop.” Alastor said darkly.

Amelia’s heart seemed to stutter in her chest. “The Killing Curse?”

“I would say so.” Alastor frowned. “If we assume the unknown man and woman are
Death Eaters then it’s either Fevrier or Cavietti.”

“Fevrier.” Amelia said. “They don’t need him anymore. Maybe they had him under
Imperio.”

“Well, we’ll get them for murder.” Alastor said with satisfaction.

The mirror buzzed.

“Cat’s been let in the back door.” Brooks reported tensely.

So the Death Eaters had secured the shop.

Amelia tapped the mirror. “Eagle’s Nest to Italian Stallions. We have
circumstantial evidence a murder has taken place in the wand shop.
Jurisdiction is yours. Do you wish to abort operation and attempt arrest now
or continue?”

“Continue.” Marco appeared in the mirror; he was a stunningly beautiful man;
clear olive skin, dark brown hair cut into a fashionable style, twinkling
green eyes and a mobile mouth that could smile disarmingly.

“Acknowledged.” Amelia said crisply and closed the connection. She would not
have made the same decision but it was not hers to make.

Alastor grunted beside her. “He’s after Cavietti, remember?”

“Cavietti could be the one murdered.” Amelia rejoined.

“You and I know that’s not bloody likely.” Alastor remonstrated.

Amelia sighed. She hoped Chambers was having better luck.

o-O-o

It only took a quick mirror call to have the rest of the Rat Squad in England
on their way to support Chambers as he unhurriedly tracked the ambling figure
of a non-descript Caucasian man with balding hair and in a cheap everyday robe
down Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron.

There was no doubt in Chambers’ mind that the guy was suspicious. The suspect
had been lurking around the international portkey office since early that
morning ever since a Disillusioned Chambers had arrived as part of the
surveillance duties. The guy had made a show of making enquiries about the
price of international portkeys to Russia but he hadn’t made notes, had
discarded the pamphlets the ever helpful Beryl Pootle had given him in
response and had continued to lurk. He’d also almost snapped to attention when
Chambers’ charges had arrived to await their portkey allocation and departure.
But the most suspicious act had been to press *his left arm* momentarily as
soon as the portkey for Italy had activated and leave without further ado.

The guy wasn’t tagged as a Death Eater which meant either he was a new recruit
or he was one of the missing prisoners. Either way Chambers was determined to
get him as a matter of pride for the Squad.

They were working their arses off, Chambers thought a touch belligerently, but
the only real successes that they’d had were the arrests at the World Cup and
tracking down the Summers woman in the crypt — and even those successes had
been tempered by Travers’ escape and the lack of progress on waking the two
hostages they’d rescued.

Ahead, his unhurried suspect got to the Leaky and tapped on the wall to open
up the entrance. Chambers sped up as the wall closed again, and hurried to
catch up. He made himself visible, tapped the wall and entered as though
unconcerned, sliding to the left and casting a tempus charm with a scowl as
though waiting for someone.

His suspect was at the bar talking to Tom and retrieving a key, there was a
flash of the number eight when Chambers glimpsed the fob. Chambers slid
further into the shadows as Bald Guy went up the stairs to a Leaky room.

Just as he got out of sight, Wood and Cambridge stepped into the Leaky from
the alley. Chambers caught their attention.

“He’s upstairs in room eight.” He reported crisply.

Wood, the senior most member of the Squad, nodded. “Good work, Tim. Darren,
you stay down here, get the anti-transportation wards up, close the floo down,
and get Tom to quietly evacuate as many people as possible through the exits.”

“Right-o.” Cambridge sent a quick grin to Chambers.

Chambers rolled his eyes and followed Wood up the stairs. They both drew their
wands and took a position either side of the door. Wood signalled with one
hand that they’d go on a count of three. Chambers gave a nod.

Wood held up one finger.

Two.

Three.

Wood swept his wand at the door, unlocking and slamming it open in one fell
swoop. Chambers charged in.

“Aurors!” Chambers shouted at the balding man by the bed. “Surrender your wand
NOW!”

The man swallowed hard, his eyes darting about the room looking for an escape.
Chambers had his wand levelled on the suspect and knew Wood had his back.

“What… what is the meaning of this?” Bald Guy stuttered, his gaze still
sliding about; his wand still held tightly in his grip.

Chambers gritted his teeth. “Put down the wand. We will fire on you.”

Bald Guy made as though he was going to place the wand on the bed but at the
last moment he whirled away and grabbed something off the dresser.

Chambers and Wood fired.

Their stunning spells slammed into Bald Guy who dropped like a stone to the
hardwood floor. Woods cast an immediate binding spell on his hands and feet.

Chambers made his way over and kicked the comb the Bald Guy had grabbed.
Portkey, Chambers realised. It failed due to the wards, but it could elicit
information on a safe house for the Death Eaters or Voldemort’s location. He
levitated it into a conjured evidence bag.

“Well, well, well.” Wood said with immense satisfaction capturing Chambers’
attention.

“What?” Chambers looked down at their captive and grimaced at the flexing
features as they morphed out of their polyjuiced state. ‘Well, well, well,
indeed.’ He grinned at Wood before crouching down to poke the still stunned
Death Eater at their feet. “Nice to see you again, Dennis the Elder. Don’t you
worry; we’ll soon have your sorry carcass back in Azkaban.”

o-O-o

“Dog and Bone on their way.” Ambrey’s disembodied voice sounding from the
mirror had Amelia jumping and Alastor sending Amelia such a look of
chastisement she flashed back to her Auror training.

She raised her omniculars just in time to see the figures of Sirius and her
own brother enter the street. Her heart seemed lodged in her throat as she
tracked them to the shop. Why had she thought this was a good idea?

“Steady, lass.” Alastor said under his breath, not unkindly.

The two wizards drew level with the wand shop. Her brother’s gait was missing
its usual joie de vivre and there was no excited hand gestures to accompany
his speech as the two men discussed something briefly. They approached the
door and rang the bell.

Amelia drew a quick breath as Cavietti answered the door and ushered them
inside. As they had thought, Fevrier was likely dead. “It’s going to be two
against four.” She said under her breath.

“They’re both capable wizards.” Alastor stated without hesitation.

“Italian Stallions reporting to all: wards have gone up. We have erected our
own.”

Amelia settled back but she couldn’t hide the flinch when almost immediately
there were flashes of light in the wand shop. She tapped the mirror urgently.

“Spell fire! Back-up needed NOW!” Amelia ordered.

Immediately, the two Aurors masquerading as waiters rushed to the shop and
blew open the door, another two rushed out of the café to support their
colleagues.

Alastor was already moving and Amelia dimly heard the sound of the door as he
left, the clop of his leg as he charged down the stairs. She kept her gaze
pinned to the shop, poised to report any sign of escape.

“I’ve got the cat going out the back.” Brooks reported suddenly. “Pursuit in
progress. He’s heading to the apparition point.”

“I’m on it.” Ambrey confirmed.

Amelia watched as Alastor hurried across the street, he paused taking a
position to the side of the door momentarily as he drew two wands, and having
glanced through the opening, he went inside.

“One cat animagus captured.” Brooks reported, smug satisfaction dripping from
every word. “Ambrey took him down at the apparition point; we have Boris
Dolohov?”

Amelia frowned. Antonin Dolohov in Azkaban and Boris was his younger brother.
Boris had fled to the Continent and they had been unable to argue for his
extradition when Romania had declared him to have been under the Imperius and
innocent.

Alastor’s voice suddenly crackled over the mirror. “We’re all clear. Looks
like we’ve got a team of newbies.”

Amelia didn’t wait. She grabbed the mirror and charged out. Her descent down
the stairs and across the tiny street was a blur. She met a grinning Marco at
the door of the shop.

“Director. Ladies first, of course.” Marco swept his arm out, inviting her
into the wand shop.

Amelia pushed through, noticed absently that the four Italians had each taken
a corner of the room to cover which was almost text book Auror standard
procedure, and hurried over to the centre where Alastor stood with the other
two Brits in the room — their wands all pointing downwards at the bound and
gagged witch and wizard they’d disarmed, and an unconscious Cavietti.

She ran her eyes over the two man who’d played bait; their clothing was a bit
ruffled, there were a couple of tears in the material, but neither looked
harmed in any way.

“Alright?” She asked anyway.

Sirius’s face contorted into a sneer. “A little singed…”

Marco immediately drew his wand and pointed it at Sirius. “You are NOT Sirius
Black!”

Amelia placed herself between them hurriedly, both hands up. “Neither of these
men are who they appear to be. Both are part of the team for this operation.”

Marco’s eyes flashed with displeasure but he lowered his wand. “Polyjuice?”

“Yes.” Amelia said. “My apologies for the deception but we could not risk this
detail leaking in anyway. Lord Black was adamant that he could not participate
in person and I would not risk a civilian such as my brother. The real Lord
Black and Lord Bones never left the Italian Ministry.”

“Then I suggest we adjourn there with our prisoners.” Marco said shortly.

Amelia had a feeling she was going to get lectured about keeping information
from him as Head Auror — she wouldn’t be pleased in his position either — but
that Marco was sensible enough not to make a bigger deal of the deception than
what was required.

“Search the shop.” Marco grinned at his gleeful Aurors. “We will have much to
discuss with Cavietti.”

The mirror buzzed in her hand.

“Eagle, here.” Amelia responded.

Chambers grinned back at her. “We got Travers Senior, ma’am.”

Amelia smiled darkly. “Get him into a holding cell. Rat Squad only as his
guard. Tell Fudge and Scrimgeour that they’ll answer to me if they go anywhere
near him before I get back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chambers blinked out.

Amelia exchanged a gleeful look with Alastor. It had been a very good day.

o-O-o

Sirius couldn’t quite prevent the blush which crept up his neck and across his
cheeks as Marco stepped out of their farewell hug and grinned at him wickedly.

“It was good to see you, Siri.” Marco said softly. “Bring your son to visit. I
would love to host you both.”

Sirius was touched at the sincerity. “It was good to see you again, Marco.”

Marco’s grin dropped away as he shifted position and bowed sharply to Richard,
Amelia and Alastor who were looking on with glee.

“I present the Minister’s thanks on bringing this criminal activity to our
attention, Director Bones.” Marco said formally.

“We present our Minister’s thanks on your cooperation in this matter.” Amelia
replied.

“I will leave you. Your portkey will activate in a few minutes.” Marco said.
“Until next time.”

His eyes searched out Sirius one last time and he was gone, stepping out of
the privacy bubble Alastor had conjured up as soon as they had arrived in the
small Ministry transportation room.

“So you and Marco *worked* together during the last war?” Richard enquired
teasingly.

Sirius inwardly sighed but showed no sign of his dismay knowing it would only
lead to more teasing. “He was undercover for the Italians with the Death
Eaters in the same gang I was. We were both made aware of each other in case
we needed assistance.” He said with a straight face.

“And?” prompted Amelia dryly, getting her own back for all the times he’d
teased her about Brian no doubt.

“And nothing.” Sirius said firmly. He wasn’t ashamed of his past relationship
with Marco, which in truth had been more about simple companionship with
someone who understood in the midst of the Death Eater horror they’d both
faced undercover, but it was past and it was nobody else’s business.

“Well, you would have been better warming blankets with him than Kelp.”
Alastor said bluntly. “She was cold enough to freeze a man’s d…”

“Alastor!” Amelia snapped before he could complete the insult.

Sirius snorted with amusement. “He’s not wrong.”

“You should floo him when we get back.” Richard said. “He’s clearly still
interested.”

Sirius shook his head. As flattering as it had been to see the regard and
affection still in Marco’s gaze, Sirius had his hands full with Harry. “*I’m*
not interested.”

“You could do with some fun in your life.” Richard coaxed. “And a partner
would be able to give you a lot of support with Harry.”

Sirius shook his head. “I’m happy as I am, so; thanks but no thanks.” He
wagged a finger at his friend. ‘No match-making.’ He turned to Alastor.
“Thanks by the way for whatever you said to Tonks. She mirror-called last
night and apologised for the lapse in security.”

“Sent her a Howler.” Alastor said with satisfaction.

“You still planning on making the announcement at the April session?” Amelia
jumped in, continuing the subject and cutting off her brother.

“Yes.” Sirius nodded. He, Daniel Greengrass and Cornelius had been over the
political ramifications until they were all exhausted. It had been a hugely
lucky stroke finding out Rita’s secret just after the second task. Really he
owed Susan and Hermione some kind of present for that.

“I can’t believe her behaviour.” Amelia commented with a touch of
exasperation. “She’s always been so level-headed.”

“I think Bogdan offering to do the wedding made it suddenly a Big Thing rather
than a quiet family occasion, and it made her a bit giddy.” Sirius offered
diplomatically. It was either that or hormones, and he wasn’t going to suggest
the latter in front of a woman; he valued his life too much to risk it.

“Giddy, my arse.” Alastor huffed.

“She has acted without considering her House and the consequences at all.”
Richard said soberly. “She’s lucky you’re so understanding, Sirius. Another
Head of House would have disowned her.”

“She wasn’t raised to consider the House and she’s very young.” Sirius said,
feeling a little defensive on his cousin’s behalf. “This whole thing has been
one very big life lesson for her.”

“Well, there’s nothing like parenthood to make you grow up fast.” Richard
said. “Flick and I found that out with Sue.”

“Portkey.” Alastor reminded them.

They all reached forward and grabbed the ticket that had appeared in front of
them.

Sirius felt the pull of the transportation and gathered himself for the
landing. The reception room at the Ministry of Magic was non-descript but it
was manned by an official who checked their wands and identities.

“Geoffrey,” Amelia greeted him by name, “did the others return alright?”

“No problems, Director.” Geoffrey doffed an imaginary cap and bowed his head
at the sight of Sirius and Richard. “M’Lords.”

Amelia led the way out and into the Ministry. Sirius followed, ignoring the
tiredness — it had been an extremely early morning — and the slight nausea
caused by the international portkey.

The holding cells were below the Auror Department and they arrived to find
Rufus Scrimgeour pacing his office like a caged lion.

“I’d best deal with this one on one.” Amelia said briskly. “Why don’t you head
down there? Alastor knows the way.”

Richard held up his hands. “I’ll say goodbye here. Flick’s expecting me for
lunch.” He shook hands with Sirius. “I’ll see you on Monday at the alliance
tea?”

Sirius nodded his agreement. “Thanks for all your help today, Richard.”

Richard grinned. “I did nothing but sit with you in a wonderfully comfortable
office and eat lots of those amazing almond biscotti. Shacklebolt did the hard
work.”

It had been Kingsley who’d taken Richard’s form and face as part of the
operation, while Dawlish had taken Sirius’s. It had been slightly
disconcerting seeing someone else wear his own features, Sirius considered
wryly.

Sirius shook himself at Alastor’s sharp admonishment to stop lollygagging. He
returned Richard’s wave of goodbye and followed his old mentor. Sirius was
pleased he’d remembered to mirror call Harry before they’d returned from Italy
and hadn’t deferred it to until he’d gotten back to England. Harry’s relief at
the op being over had been visible and Sirius was assured his son was no
longer wearing out Minnie with nervous energy.

The path down to the cells held some nostalgic memories of his time as a Hit
Wizard; of working with James. Sirius was glad of the silence as Alastor and
he made their way to where Travers Senior was being held.

Cambridge and Wood were outside the door; one positioned to the left of the
door so it would offer cover if opened; one positioned on the wall opposite
just off centre to the door.

“Director’s on her way.” Alastor said as the two men straightened. “Where’s
Chambers?”

“Scrimgeour wanted his report written up straight away.” Wood replied.

Alastor grunted.

Sirius sighed. The Head Auror could be petty and pernickety at times, but then
Amelia had cut him out of the Italian operation so it was perhaps
understandable that he wasn’t too pleased by her riding roughshod over him on
interrogating a recaptured prisoner.

“How did the Italian job go, sir?” Cambridge asked eagerly.

“Boris Dolohov cracked like an egg. Least his brother had some gumption about
him.” Alastor said bluntly. “Had a visit from his brother’s old friend
Greyback who’d put him onto the return of their master. There’d been rumours
in the criminal world of Fevrier and Cavietti running a scam on Black so
Dolohov invited himself along.”

“He intended capturing me and offering me to Voldemort in return for his
brother being rescued from Azkaban.” Sirius added, conjuring up a chair and
sitting down.

Alastor eyed the chair and called him a wimp under his breath before
continuing. “His wife Gorgonia killed Fevrier and tried to kill Shack when he
was Lord Bones.”

“Her brother tried to kidnap Dawlish who was pretending to be me.” Sirius
said.

Wood started chuckling. “And Dawlish left him alive?”

“Watch what you say, Wood.” Alastor said sharply. “Dawlish may be a pain in
the arse but he is one of ours.”

Wood held up his hands. “No digs intended. Just can’t see my old partner
taking to almost being kidnapped kindly.”

“And to answer your question,” Sirius stepped in before they could argue about
Dawlish any further, ‘he wasn’t impressed but the bad guys are all alive and
in Italian custody. They’ll be tried for their crimes there. Unfortunately
they had limited knowledge of what was going on back here. According to
Dolohov when he was under truth potion, Greyback put them in touch with our
friend in there,’ he waved at the cell door, “to provide them with notice of
mine and Lord Bones’ departure. Travers Senior apparently owed the Dolohovs a
favour and agreed to do it because of that. Dolohov had no idea if Voldemort
even knew of his effort.”

There was a sound from the bottom of the corridor and they all turned, wands
out, to see the approaching forms of Amelia, Cornelius and Rufus. Chambers
brought up the rear.

Sirius stood up and dismissed the chair with an absent-minded wave. He greeted
Cornelius who praised them all effusively.

Amelia finally broke into the Minister’s ramble. “Rufus has convinced me it
would be better for me to focus on the prosecution without being associated
with the questioning of the prisoner so he’ll be taking lead here.”

“I’d appreciate you sitting in, Moody.” Rufus said gruffly.

Alastor nodded.

“Cambridge, Wood; you’ll continue to guard the outside of the cell.” Rufus
ordered briskly. He unlocked the cell and marched inside without further ado;
Alastor at his heels. The door clanged shut behind them.

“The rest of us will observe.” Amelia motioned to the next door along and they
all trooped in. Amelia tapped the adjoining wall and it became transparent.

Rufus sat with his back to the observers; Dennis Travers Senior sat bound up
in ropes to a chair on the opposite side of the table. Alastor stood behind
him, a looming threatening presence.

Rufus reached into his robes and brought out parchment, quill and a vial of
veritaserum.

“I’m not going to tell you anything.” Travers snarled angrily. “I know my
rights! I want a solicitor!”

Rufus bared his teeth in a simile of a smile. “You have no rights, Travers.
You’re an escaped prisoner. If I wanted to I could send you straight back to
Azkaban, no questions asked.” He pulled another parchment from his inner
pocket. “This here is a special warrant giving me the authority to use any
force necessary in your questioning due to your involvement in terrorist
activity which is a direct threat to the security of the wizarding world.”

Travers stiffened.

Rufus nodded at Alastor and in a swift couple of motions, Travers had been
frozen, his mouth yanked open and the requisite dosage of veritaserum dropped
down his throat.

They waited a moment for the truth potion to take effect.

Rufus set the quill to record. “Name.”

“Dennis Travers.”

“How did you escape from Azkaban?” Rufus asked briskly.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior disguised as the Minister released myself, Mulciber
and Rookwood into his custody.” Travers droned in a monotone detached voice.

Sirius shivered.

“Where have you been hiding since your escape?” Rufus continued.

“On the Durmstrang ship docked in the Black Lake at Hogwarts.” Travers
immediately replied.

“Who knows you are there?” Rufus asked, shifting with barely concealed
excitement.

“My Lord and Master, the traitor Karkaroff, Bartemius Crouch Junior, Peter
Pettigrew, the Lord and Master’s familiar, and my son.” Travers recited.

Sirius exchanged a brief look with Amelia and Cornelius; the confession was a
good enough to secure an official move to search the ship. Hopefully combined
with all Bogdan had already done unofficially they could be aboard within a
few hours.

“What contact have you had with your Lord and Master?” Rufus asked.

“I met with him on the first night of my escape; I have met with him every
other week since my escape to make my report.” Travers was clearly regaining
some awareness because sweat had broken out on his brow — a sign he was
resisting.

“How do you meet with him?” asked Alastor.

“I go through the Vanishing Cabinet aboard the Durmstrang ship and exit
through the matching one in the cottage where my Lord and Master resides.”
Travers gasped.

“This cottage is where?” Rufus pressed.

Travers struggled against the serum furiously, turning a shocking shade of
purple before he stuttered out a location; a village in the Lake District.

It was enough.

Amelia whirled away immediately just as Rufus was getting to his feet in the
cell. They would have a search and a raid to prepare and get in motion. Sirius
silently refused Amelia’s offer to join them. He wanted to hear the rest of
the interrogation.

Alastor slid into Rufus’s place. “Why were you at the Ministry today?”

“To assist Boris Dolohov in his attempt to capture Sirius Black.” Travers
confessed to that easily enough. “I was to ensure Black left for Italy on
schedule and contact them if there was any delay.”

“What else did you know of the plot?”

“Only the timings.” Travers said, struggling against the potion again.

“How did you get into the Ministry?” Alastor demanded.

“I ran the Department governing transportation for a number of years. I have
back doors into transportation system including the floo network. I flooed
into my old office without being detected.” A bead of sweat ran down the side
of his face.

“Tell me everything you know about the plot to return your Dark Lord to a body
and to kill Harry Potter.”

Travers gulped and looked anywhere but at the ruined face in front of him.
“The last task.” He said finally. “He’ll take the boy during the last task as
the final part of some ritual. He wants Snape to do the potion because he
thinks Pettigrew will screw it up. That’s all I know.”

“And what will your Dark Lord do to ensure that he takes the boy?” Alastor
pressed.

“I don’t know.” Travers stuttered out. “Crouch is the only one who knows.” He
slumped over suddenly.

Alastor raised his wand and ran a diagnostic spell on him. He sniffed. He
packed up the parchment, quill and serum, and leaving Travers unconscious in
the chair left the room.

Sirius met him in the corridor. “Shouldn’t we get a healer?”

Alastor shook his head as he started walking. “Passed out. He’ll come to
eventually.”

A vague sense of déjà vu swept over Sirius and he frowned as he remembered a
fairly similar occurrence in his training.

“You said that about Kevin Mucky back in ’eighty-one and he’d had a heart
attack.” Sirius reminded him.

Alastor stopped walking and turned back. “Oy, Cambridge! Do another diagnostic
on the prisoner. Might have had a heart attack.” His eye whirled. “Nice catch,
Black. I always did get those results confused.”

Sirius shook his head and repressed the urge to smile despite his twitching
lips.

“You should think about signing back on.” Alastor said as they made their way
back up to the main level. “You and Potter were my best students.”

“I’m happy enough doing what I’m doing.” Sirius insisted, ignoring the small
pang of disappointment that he couldn’t sign back on as a Hit Wizard. Harry,
he reminded himself; he was playing politics and looking after the estates for
Harry.

“Harrumph.” Alastor said and pushed open the double doors to enter the Auror
department.

“There you are.” Amelia snagged hold of Sirius and waved a hand at Alastor.
“Rufus wants your advice on searching Cumbria.”

Alastor limped away and Sirius allowed Amelia to hustle him out of the Auror
department and through the Ministry corridors to her own office.

She sat him down and had an elf bring them coffee. She produced a box of
biscotti from the pockets of her robes and set it down on the desk between
them.

“I’ve been ordered to keep you out of it.” Amelia told him baldly. “Cornelius
is flooing Bogdan to push for an immediate raid on the ship and Rufus is
leading on the Lake District angle.”

“And by giving you the job of keeping me out of it, they’re…”

“Also keeping me out of it too.” Amelia picked up her coffee. “I annoyed both
of them with keeping control of the Italian operation but I have no regrets.
I’ll let them have this.”

Because it was unlikely that either situation would result in more arrests,
Sirius surmised. The instant Travers had been arrested, it was likely
Voldemort’s lot had been informed in some way if only by Travers’ absence. But
it was possible that they’d find something at either location and Amelia was
generous enough to step back and allow her colleagues some of the glory.

Sirius watched in amusement as Amelia drained her cup and looked longingly at
the coffee pot. “You’re going to be bouncing off the walls if you have
another.”

Amelia set her cup down and simply smiled back at him. She picked up one of
the almond biscotti from the box in front of them. “These are fabulous.”

“Italians have some of the best cuisine in the world.” Sirius agreed. “You and
Brian should have a holiday out there. Harry has a villa in Tuscany and I have
an apartment in Rome. You’re welcome to make use of both.”

“That might be one of your better ideas.” Amelia said, brushing the crumbs
from her robes. ‘I could do with a break.’ She smiled again. “I might even
have earned it today.” Her gaze narrowed on Sirius. “You know Richard wasn’t
wrong about Marco’s interest. You could go back to Italy yourself with Harry
for a holiday and renew old acquaintances.”

Sirius sighed heavily and raised his eyebrows. “You’re not seriously trying to
fix me up, Amelia?”

Amelia grimaced exaggeratedly. “Merlin forbid.” She held up a single hand. “I
just…” she sighed and sat back in her chair, holding his gaze. “We’re worried
about you, Sirius. We’re all your friends and I think you know we support
you.”

Sirius nodded bemused.

“So we’re all aware that Remus Lupin is your closest friend and confidante.”
Amelia continued. ‘And that you have lost his supportive counsel and presence
because of his relationship with young Tonks and that impacts on you.’ She
didn’t expand on the thought but Sirius got the gist of her concern. “A
romantic partner would provide you with, perhaps not a replacement for Remus
but an additional support for you.”

“I appreciate the concern.” Sirius said, after a long moment trying to
organise his thoughts into a coherent reply. “Look, Remus and I talk every
day, and no, it’s not the same, but it’s enough. Believe me when I say I have
no interest in and no time for a romantic relationship of any kind right now.”

Amelia nodded slowly. “I don’t think Harry would object though should…”

“Harry,” Sirius cut in, ‘has already given me pseudo-permission to date when
we talked about it last year. But,’ he regarded her soberly, “you and I both
know that underneath Harry’s mature Champion of the Light and Leader of the
Potter alliance exterior, is a scared fourteen year old who has already faced
unimaginable horrors, who is prophesised to face more in his future, and who
has spent the majority of his life being emotionally abused and physically
neglected.”

Her expression melted into comprehension. “And the last thing he needs right
now is to feel in competition for your time and attention.”

“He deserves to be put first for once in his life and to know it, to never
doubt it.” Sirius said simply. ‘And while Remus isn’t available as much these
days, I do have you and Richard and Daniel and many others to talk to when I
need to talk or vent or whatever.’ He’d spent the night of the second task
curled up with Minnie on the rug in front of the fire, the two of them in
their animagus forms. Even as Padfoot he’d had nightmares of Harry being
swallowed whole by the snake he’d faced. “I’m not without support.”

“I won’t say anything more about it then.” Amelia said.

Sirius nodded with gratitude. He shifted position, readying himself to rise.
“Well, as you can definitely claim to have kept me out of the latest
operations, I’m going to head back to Hogwarts. I’ll inform Albus about the
probable raid on the ship and make sure I keep my son and his friends
distracted from it.”

Amelia’s eyes widened with the sudden realisation of how the imminent raid
might be foiled by a group of curious students. “Good plan.”

He smirked at her slightly panicked expression and headed for the door. He
paused in the doorway, tossing her a look over his shoulder. “Thanks, Amelia.”

She waved him off dismissively and he shook away the feelings their
conversation had stirred, the faint memories of another time, the remembered
excitement of his old job, of being part of the team on an important mission.
He had an important mission, Sirius reminded himself, and suddenly he couldn’t
wait to return home to Hogwarts and see his son.

o-O-o

“HEAR THIS!” Alastor’s voice boomed through the school. “ALL STUDENTS TO
COMMON ROOMS! ALL STUDENTS TO COMMON ROOMS!”

Harry morphed back into his human form and glanced immediately at his honorary
Aunt.

The Deputy Headmistress frowned and motioned for Ron and Hermione to remain
seated on the settee. She conjured up a messenger patronus and sent it off to
Dumbledore politely requesting information.

“I think it would be prudent for us to remain where we are.” Minerva said
firmly. “I’m certain there is nothing to worry about.”

The unspoken implication that it was possibly one of Alastor’s ‘constant
vigilance’ tests relaxed them all a touch.

Ron began laughing and pointed at Harry with his one paw.

Harry looked down at his fur-covered skin and sighed heavily. “I was
distracted!”

Hermione’s eyes were alight with amusement but she was valiantly keeping her
laughter to herself. “At least you have fur.” She sighed.

Her Head of House grimaced. “It may be time to admit defeat on the meditation
process, Miss Granger, and find your form through a potion.”

“I just don’t understand why I can’t see it.” Hermione complained. “I do
achieve a meditative state now but it’s just cloudy! I can’t see anything!”

“It’s entirely possible that your age may be hindering the assumption of a
form.” Minerva said crisply. “Our teenage years are a key period in which our
identity is formed and solidified. It may be that your own subconscious view
of yourself is currently in flux and hence the cloudy view, as your inner self
is changing, the animagus form is not known.”

“I don’t understand why Ron and Harry have forms though if that’s case.”
Hermione questioned, folding her arms over her chest. She glared at both boys.

“They are not questioning their inner selves in the same way you are.” Minerva
held up a hand. ‘There is no right and wrong about that. Boys are more
inclined to be definitive about their identities and less inclined to ponder
their own personalities and behaviour; girls are more inclined to
self-awareness and questioning of these things. It is not a failure on your
part, Miss Granger. It is quite normal.’ Her eyes found Harry’s and she
smiled. “Harry’s mother was unable to achieve an animagus form during her
Hogwarts’ years for similar reasons.”

Hermione’s lips drooped into a miserable frown. “So I’m not going to be able
to become an animagus?”

“There’s the potion.” Harry said quickly, trying to cheer her up.

“There is but without a commitment to the animal shown by the potion, it will
be incredibly difficult to transform into it.” Minerva cautioned.

A white shining patronus shimmied through the door and flew over to the group.
The phoenix patronus opened its mouth…

“Aurors are currently preparing for a sanctioned raid on the Durmstrang ship.”
Dumbledore’s voice said calmly. “Please stay with Harry. I will have another
teacher look in on Gryffindor.”

Harry tensed. Sirius had called him to assure him that the Italian operation
had been a success and that he was fine, but he’d heard nothing since. Perhaps
the prisoners had confessed to the location of the conspirators who had
sabotaged the Tri-Wizard tournament or given up Karkaroff.

Minerva hummed as the patronus dissipated. “Perhaps we should all revert to
our human forms and have a snack.” She waved her wand and Ron’s hand morphed
back.

Harry briefly closed his eyes and willed the fur away; he visualised his own
skin and when he reopened his eyes the fur was gone.

“It’s not fair,” Hermione complained, “you have two forms and I can’t even
find one!”

“Talk to your parents and Sirius about the potion.” Harry replied. “I’m sure
they’ll agree to you trying it.”

Hermione sighed and nodded. She pushed her bushy hair back over her shoulders.
“I wish I could do it your way though.”

Ron shrugged. “It is really difficult.” But his eyes gave away his inner
delight and smugness that he had achieved something she had not.

Harry slipped his hand into Hermione’s to support her. “You’ll get it. I know
you will.” He reassured her.

Hermione sighed and squeezed his hand in a silent thank you.

The portrait door opened suddenly and Harry’s wand was in his hand and pointed
at the intruder immediately, Minerva spun around a split-second later with her
wand ready too. They both glared at an unrepentant Sirius as the portrait door
swung shut behind him.

Sirius winked at them but returned his attention to the hand mirror he held.
“Thanks for the assist, Remus. Whatever you said to Bogdan worked because
there’s a dozen Bulgarian aurors who’ve turned up.” He nodded absently. ‘As
soon as I know anything. Padfoot out.’ He lowered his mirror. “Hi!”

“Really, Sirius,” Minerva sniffed, “you could have let us know you were on
your way. The school is in lockdown!”

“I know,” Sirius said calmly, “Alastor almost wouldn’t let me in.” He opened
his arms to Harry and they hugged hello briefly.

“What’s going on?” asked Ron, curiosity written all over his face. “Are they
really raiding the Durmstrang ship?”

Sirius nodded again. “Well, in about ten minutes or so.” He gestured at the
sofas.

Minerva excused herself to check on Gryffindor personally but Harry and his
two friends took seats. Dobby popped in with refreshments and Sirius picked up
a cup of tea with an appreciative sigh.

“Travers Senior was caught by the Rat Squad in the Leaky Cauldron this
morning.” Sirius waved vaguely in the air. “He was the look-out man here to
make sure Richard and I were on our way to Italy; Chambers picked up on him,
followed him and captured him.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he quickly deduced what had happened. “He’s confessed
they’re using the ship.”

“Of course!” Hermione said excitedly. “The Ministry would finally have enough
cause to request an international warrant!”

Sirius smiled at them proudly. “Exactly.” He motioned in the general direction
of the Black Lake. “We’ve got a team of aurors and Bulgaria has sent some.
They’re going to be boarding shortly.”

“What’ll happen with Travers?” asked Ron, picking up a large chocolate biscuit
and dunking it into a mug of hot chocolate.

“At the moment he’s in the Prisoner’s Ward at Saint Mungo’s.” Sirius winced
visibly. “He really resisted the veritserum and put a lot of pressure on his
heart. He had a heart attack and the Healers aren’t optimistic.”

“He probably wasn’t in the best physical condition after being in Azkaban so
long.” Hermione murmured.

“It’s not the best place for healthy living.” Sirius agreed dryly. “I was
lucky that I had my animagus form to shift into.”

“I still don’t have an animagus form!” Hermione repeated what had been said
earlier about her identity being in flux.

Sirius nodded understandingly. “Lily had the same problem when she meditated
in seventh year in an attempt to join us. She had to go with the potion in the
end and she only took that after she and James had been married a while.”

“What was she?” asked Harry eagerly.

“A doe.” Sirius smiled sadly, his eyes unfocused as though staring back into
the past. ‘She knew Prongs’ form by then, of course, and as James’ wife… magic
pushed her into a complementary form. I think if she’d had the chance to do it
properly she’d have been something else.’ He shrugged. “Either way she didn’t
ever master the transformation. Soon after she took the potion, she discovered
she was pregnant with you.”

Harry breathed in deeply, settling his emotions and his magic. He loved
hearing about his parents and there was so much he still didn’t know about
them.

“Can I do the potion?” asked Hermione.

“You have to make it yourself.” Sirius cautioned.

“She made polyjuice in our second year.” Ron said, munching through his
biscuit. “She’ll be fine.”

“I think it’s just as well Minnie left.” Sirius teased. “Otherwise you’d be in
hot water.” He pointed at Hermione who blushed.

“It was for a good cause.” Hermione muttered sheepishly.

“Yes,” Sirius said dryly, “breaking into the Slytherin Common Room and trying
to find out if Draco was actually the Heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione and Ron turned accusing eyes on Harry who held his hands up.

“I didn’t tell him!” He protested before relenting enough to admit he had
confessed all but only after Sirius had made it clear he had already known.

“Your brothers spilled all to Remus.” Sirius said cheerfully to Ron.

Hermione huffed.

Ron looked appalled. “I didn’t think they knew!”

“They must have overheard us talking or something.” Harry said. Or maybe
they’d realised the trio were constantly holed up in Myrtle’s bathroom because
they’d had the map and had investigated.

“I’ll talk to your parents.” Sirius offered. “If they say yes then I’ll teach
you how to make the potion.”

Hermione’s face brightened. “Thank you.”

“So what happened this morning in Italy?” asked Harry, eager for details now
the operation was over and done with, and Sirius was standing in front of him,
uninjured.

Sirius grinned and launched into the tale to his captivated audience.

He was just explaining about the Italian Justice system the captured criminals
would be faced with when he was interrupted by another announcement.

“ALL CLEAR!” Alastor’s voice boomed. “COMMON ROOMS ARE NOW OPEN!”

“Does this mean the raid’s over?” asked Ron excitedly.

Sirius took one look at their curious faces and sighed. He called Dobby who
went to collect outerwear for Ron and Hermione. “Get your cloaks on. We’ll go
take a gander.”

Harry smiled widely and raced upstairs to get his own cloak. Five minutes
later they were out of the rooms and walking the still quiet corridors of
Hogwarts. Most of the students had stayed in the common rooms despite
Professor Moody’s announcement.

Sirius herded them out of the entrance. As soon as they rounded the corner to
the lake, they could see the bank filled with people; the team of British
aurors were distinctive by their red cloaks but Harry could make out Bill and
Caro talking with them. Amelia Bones stood off to one side in conference with
the team of international aurors, Moody, Snape, a Durmstrang professor, and
the Headmaster.

“I guess Amelia couldn’t stay away,” murmured Sirius.

Moody caught sight of them and waved them over. Harry glanced at Sirius who
grimaced but nodded.

Hermione tucked her arm around his as they made their way over the muddy grass
to lurk close to the group. Snape shot them an annoyed sneer as Moody made
room for them all to join the huddle.

Dumbledore frowned at them a little but his attention was mostly on the
Durmstrang professor who was protesting that he knew nothing.

“Igor vould not let anyone into his office all this time!” The small man
blustered in a heavy Germanic accent. “He vould lock ze door and vould refuse
us entry!”

Amelia sighed heavily. She looked worn and Harry felt a moment’s sympathy as
he remembered she’d been in Italy that morning with Sirius. “Thank you,
Professor von Humberg. We’ll let you return to your students.”

“Gunther,” Dumbledore interjected, “please convey our condolences to the
students for the sudden death of your Headmaster. If there’s anything we can
do…”

Harry bit his lip. Did that mean Karkaroff was dead?!

Amelia cleared her throat. “Director Hatter will be here shortly to help you
make all the necessary arrangements.”

“The Minister will also be in touch. We will stay and provide additional
support and security for the remainder of the tournament.” The Bulgarian auror
stood next to her said.

“Tank you.” Professor von Humberg departed with the Bulgarians in tow.

“Karkaroff’s dead?” queried Sirius soberly.

“As a doornail.” Moody agreed brusquely. “They left him in his office. Any
sign of the others is gone. They cleared it out.”

“If the Dark Lord believed the ship and Karkaroff’s involvement to be
compromised, he would have ordered Karkaroff to be killed. He held no further
value.” Snape said evenly.

“Has the secondary team found anything?” asked Sirius.

“Secondary team?” asked Harry sotto voce to Sirius.

“Ah, Travers also mentioned where Voldemort was hiding.” Sirius grimaced.
“Didn’t I say that?”

“No.” Harry said, trying to hide his irritation. “I think I might have
remembered if you had.”

Sirius slung an arm over his shoulders. “I’m getting old; forgetting things.
Truthfully, I didn’t think much would come of it. Once Travers didn’t make it
back from his morning activities…”

“They would have ran.” Harry sighed. “So we’re back to square one.”

“And a very nice square it is too.” Sirius said brightly.

Snape snorted again in the background and Harry found it horrifying that he
agreed with him.

Amelia shook her head. “They identified the cottage where we think Riddle and
his gang holed up but, again, cleared out of anything useful.” She shivered
and huddled into her cloak. “We’ll put forensics onto both the ship and the
cottage. We might turn up something.”

Snape huffed loudly. “The Dark Lord is not stupid. He will have left nothing.”

“Doesn’t hurt to double check, lad.” Moody countered.

Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh. “It is a pity Igor did not reach out for help.
We could have perhaps saved his life.”

“Unlikely.” Snape said.

“He’d have gone back to Azkaban for conspiracy to terrorise, attempted murder,
premeditated manslaughter with the death caused by the dragon, and harbouring
fugitives and terrorists.” Moody barked at Dumbledore. “His life was over
either way.”

And that was a depressing thought, mused Harry, feeling colder than ever. He
had very little sympathy with Karkaroff — the man had made his own choices —
but ultimately he had been doomed.

“If he’s dead, does this mean the tournament is over now?” asked Ron, bemused.

“I’m afraid not, Mister Weasley,” Dumbledore said briskly, “the tournament is
only over if there is a winner.”

“Or the contestants are all dead.” Moody added.

Dumbledore sent him a reproachful look. “We are doing our best to circumvent
the strictures of the revised parameters.”

“It was good to know that there would have been a protective shield for anyone
left in the cabin at the time of the explosion.” Hermione offered
supportively.

Harry held back his own snort at that. Bagman had cheerfully told them about
the protective shield after the task had finished; Dumbledore had set it into
the walls of the cabin and it would have flared into being had life been
detected within the walls at the time the explosive hex was detonated. It was
still dubious whether it would have worked or not.

Dumbledore beamed at Hermione and turned back to Ron. “We shall have to confer
with Durmstrang once they have dealt with the initial aftermath of Igor’s
death. They will no doubt appoint a new Headmaster or Headmistress in time but
it may be that someone like Professor von Humberg steps in as their judge for
the final task.”

“The tournament is the least of their worries right now.” Amelia agreed.
“Speaking of which; are we certain that anyone hiding out on the ship has gone
and hasn’t just assumed a new identity here at Hogwarts?”

“The Bulgarians are doing identity checks on this lot.” Moody pointed his
thumb behind him at the ship. “We may get permission to do the French again
with this as evidence of foul play.”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll get Hatter onto it.”

“If I were them I’d pretend to be a Hogwarts’ student.” Ron said casually.
“Nobody ever checks our identities.”

They all stared at him.

“That’s brilliant, Ron.” Harry congratulated him, thumping Ron on the arm.

“It is very insightful.” Amelia agreed.

Sirius smiled proudly at the youngest Weasley male who was now as red as his
hair.

“Hmnph.” Moody said. “Take ten points for Gryffindor, lad.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore said.

Snape rolled his eyes behind Moody and Harry felt his lips twitch into a smile
as he took in Snape’s disgusted expression.

“Well, can we do a student check?” asked Amelia.

Dumbledore frowned. “Not without parental permission, I fear. The Board of
Governors is also likely to have an opinion.”

“What about the map?” pondered Harry. “Professor Moody could take the map for
a day or two, and check all the students coming into his class are who they
say they are?”

“An excellent idea.” Dumbledore said brightly. “I’d give you points but alas
you’re not in the House system.”

“Thank Merlin.” Snape muttered under his breath before he cleared his throat
and raised his voice. “It has merit as a plan but we would need to cover more
than one subject at NEWT level as not all sixth and seventh years take one
particular class.”

“Are we sure there isn’t a way to fool the map?” Moody asked gruffly.

Sirius considered the question for a long moment before he shook his head. “I
don’t think so but Remus would be the best person to ask. He did a lot of the
charms work.”

“So, we do a spot check with the map this week,” Moody said, “and in the
meantime, the Director and the Headmaster will approach the Board and the
parents to get permission for a full blood check.”

Both Dumbledore and Amelia grimaced.

“Sounds like a plan.” Sirius said. “We’ll get the map to you for tomorrow
morning.”

“You best get yourself back to HQ, lass.” Moody pointed at Amelia. “Nothing
more for you to do here.”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll be in touch if there’s anything else.” She walked away
towards the British aurors and Harry glanced back at the ship.

He shivered.

“Let’s get back inside.” Sirius suggested, his hand clasping Harry’s shoulder
comfortingly. “There’s nothing to be done here.”

They all fell into step with each other as they walked back towards Hogwarts.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron broke the silence as they passed the Quidditch pitch, “can
you spend some time with Ginny on some seeker moves?”

Harry nodded. Ginny was doing a lot better at being a friend rather than a
stalker and, besides, he really wanted Gryffindor to win the cup. They’d
managed to win their second match against Hufflepuff and they were facing
Slytherin in the last match of the year. It would decide the cup since
Slytherin had also managed wins against the other teams.

“I wish you could play.” Ron complained. “Ginny’s alright but she’s no you,
and Malfoy’s improved a lot this year.”

Harry was warmed by the offhand praise and comforted to know he would be
welcomed back to the team.

“I’ve been telling him that for weeks.” Hermione complained lightly without
any anger or irritation in her tone. She grinned and winked at Harry who stuck
his tongue out at her.

“Hot chocolate, I think.” Sirius said as they made it inside.

“And biscuits?” asked Ron hopefully.

“You just had some!” protested Hermione.

“I’m a growing lad!” Ron retorted.

Harry chuckled, exchanging an amused glance with Sirius.

Maybe there was someone already in the castle waiting to strike; maybe
Voldemort had shown his ruthlessness in killing Karkaroff; maybe there was
still a trial and a final task to be faced… but it didn’t matter.

With the familiar camaraderie of his best friends filling him to the brim as
he listened to their usual bickering, and with Sirius’s steady presence at his
back, Harry knew he wasn’t alone.

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 7
===============================

*18**th* *March 1995*

Hermione picked at her breakfast, not really interested in eating. She had
received permission from her parents to try the animagus potion but she was
wondering whether she should go ahead or not. She had woken early and decided
to ponder the matter over food before anyone else got up. She frowned as she
scooped up more muesli.

A motion beside her had her half-turning, irritated at being disturbed, but
the sight of Luna sliding onto the bench forestalled any remark Hermione might
have made to be left alone.

“Morning.” Hermione said instead, watching bemusedly as Luna helped herself to
a full English and half-wondering where the small waif of a girl put that
amount of food.

“Good morning.” Luna said cheerfully. “You look pensive this morning.”

Hermione explained the ongoing problem with finding her animagus form and her
internal debate on whether to use the potion. She was careful to keep her
voice low; Harry’s animagus form was a secret as were the lessons but she knew
Luna knew and was a safe confidante.

Luna tilted her head as she sliced up a sausage. “Why are you so against using
the potion?”

“I think it’s because all the material states that you’re not given a choice
and once you’ve taken the potion, that’s it; that’s your form.” Hermione
sighed. “I mean, I understand why Harry’s father and Sirius took the potion
back in school. It is expedient and they needed something to work with quickly
to help Remus but there isn’t the same argument for me. This is something that
Harry invited us to share with him and just because it’s taking me longer…”
She huffed out another breath, annoyance filling her again. “I just don’t
understand why I can’t see my form when Ron and Harry can! Taking the potion
feels like I’ve failed and that’s unacceptable! And I know Professor
McGonagall explained about self-awareness and questioning of identity but…”

“But it sucks that they can do something and you can’t.” Luna said bluntly.
“Especially Ron.”

Hermione deflated. She felt like a really terrible person. It was OK that the
boys were good fliers and into Quidditch because it was physical and sports
and not Hermione’s thing. It was just… being smart and the first to spell was
her thing. She’d had to adjust to the realisation that Harry was better than
she was in school, although she’d managed to comfort herself that it was
because his power levels made his practicals easy, and that he still checked
with her on the theory. “I’m horrible.”

“Animagus transformation isn’t just another spell and knowing the theory.”
Luna pointed out. “It’s more than that and that’s why you’re not getting it.”

Professor McGonagall had pretty much said the same thing when Hermione had
cornered her after Transfiguration to talk about it again.

Hermione stirred her soggy breakfast despondently.

Luna cleared her throat. “What else is bothering you about the potion?”

Hermione squirmed under the sharp silver gaze and sighed. “Sirius told us that
Harry’s mother took the potion because she had similar difficulties to me in
school. Only when she took it she ended up with a form that complemented
Harry’s father; he was a stag and she was a doe.”

Luna hummed. “And this disturbs you because you don’t just want to be seen as
Harry Potter’s girlfriend.”

“Exactly.” Hermione pushed her half-eaten muesli away and reached for a
banana. “I’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“Maybe you can’t see your form because you’re afraid you won’t like it.” Luna
stated. “You’ve called yourself a terrible person and a terrible girlfriend.
Maybe *you* don’t like *you* enough to see it.”

And that was remarkably insightful. Hermione flinched at the accuracy of
Luna’s comment. Maybe she really didn’t like herself enough to see the truth
of herself and maybe her ambivalence to taking the potion was because she
wasn’t sure she was ready to see her form at all.

“I don’t think you are terrible.” Luna said comfortingly.

Hermione glanced at her. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t want to be a raven just because my boyfriend was one.” Luna said
matter-of-factly, her eyes on her bacon. “I want to be whatever I am.”

Hermione nodded. “Me too.” She gestured with the unpeeled fruit she held. “I
think it scares me that Lily Potter ended up with a form that so mirrored her
husband’s. By all accounts she was… well…”

“Your equivalent,” Luna said lightly, “the smartest witch of her generation.”

“Yes.” Hermione flushed bright red, feeling a little arrogant at her own
presumption in comparing herself. “But if she took a form so closely to her
husband’s… then what are my chances?”

“Much better I would have thought.” Luna said simply. “She was a wife in the
late Seventies. Society would have driven her to think of herself primarily in
terms of her husband and family.”

Hermione brightened and started to unpeel her banana. “Right.”

“And you’re not married to Harry.” Luna pointed out the very obvious
difference and Hermione blushed again.

She and Harry were a long way off marriage for all the jokes that had been
made about them since Remus and Tonks started to organise their wedding. But
sometimes Hermione daydreamed and she wasn’t ruling it out for the future even
if the logical side of her argued it was unlikely that they’d stay together.
First loves rarely did.

And wasn’t that a depressing thought? One that made her heart ache a little
because she really did love Harry.

“You think too much.” Luna said, without even looking at her.

Hermione rubbed her forehead and took a bite of the fruit to refrain from a
reply.

“Harry’s mother took the potion when she was married to Harry’s father and
considered herself primarily in those terms.” Luna waved her knife. “You’re
worried that since you started going out with Harry, you’re only seen as
Harry’s girlfriend and you have enough ambition and smarts to want to be known
for yourself first. You’re worried that if the potion is a raven it means
you’re identity is being suborned by Harry, but you’re also worried that if
you aren’t a raven that Harry will be upset since his mother was so clearly
aligned with his father.”

Hermione nodded, her mouth full of banana. “I think you’ve managed to put
what’s been bothering me into words.” She admitted once she’d swallowed. ‘It’s
one of the main reasons why I don’t want to take the potion.’ She sighed. “But
I’m also worried that even if my form isn’t something to do with Harry and
it’s just me, then l still get stuck with that form when I’m still learning
and growing and… what if the form influences me away from that learning and
growing? I can’t imagine Sirius being anything other than his form.”

“Hmmm.” Luna’s gaze went unfocused for a long moment. “It’s unlikely Sirius
would ever have been anything other than a grim. It was his destiny to guard
Harry.”

There was a dreamy quality to the statement and Hermione guessed Luna’s gift
was making an appearance. She pressed her lips together.

“It’s still a concern.” Hermione insisted. “I mean, Pettigrew’s a rat. Maybe
if his form hadn’t been stuck…”

Luna shook her head a touch as though to shake away whatever vision she had
seen or maybe to disagree with Hermione’s half-finished thought. “The potion
forms are valid representations of the primary character traits of the
animagus at the time the potion is consumed. Pettigrew was always going to
leave a ship he thought was sinking. Sirius was always the defender of the
innocent. Harry’s father was the leader of his herd.”

“Maybe I’m not ready to see what that is right now.” Hermione confessed out
loud, dropping her gaze to the table.

Luna gazed at her, another half-dreamy look upon her face. “You will embrace
your form when you are ready to see who you really are.”

At least that sounded promising.

“I just don’t understand why it was so easy for Ron and Harry.” Hermione
muttered.

“Harry had a lot of healing over the Summer to know who he truly is and to
know who he is has worth.” Luna pointed out kindly, scraping up scrambled eggs
from a pool of brown sauce. “I would guess that Ron has never questioned
himself much.”

That was true. And it explained a lot. Hermione chewed on the last of her
banana. She knew she was a good person. Yes, she had her pride and her ego,
but she believed she was caring and compassionate; a strong defender for right
and honour; a loyal, trustworthy, dependable friend and a loving supporting
girlfriend. But if she was being honest with herself, in many ways, Hermione
knew she didn’t like her outward persona much; a bossy bookworm was the
kindest description many had given her in the past and Ron’s past teasing that
she didn’t know how to have fun had hit uncomfortably close to the mark at
times. She guessed she had some thinking to do about accepting her own
character before she would be able to find her animagus self.

Hermione put down the banana skin in her half-finished bowl. “I don’t think
I’m going to take the potion. I think I’m going to persevere with the
meditation. It may take longer but I think it will be better that way.”

Luna nodded sagely and changed the subject to runes.

Hermione happily went with the topic and they were in the midst of a spirited
discussion about the origins of runic magic when Ron showed up along with the
rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ginny was pale under her freckles and
Hermione didn’t envy the younger woman the pressure she was under. Everyone in
the school knew the outcome of the Quidditch cup rested on the game, and as
always the seeker was the one under the most pressure to perform.

It wasn’t long before breakfast was over, cloaks and gloves were gathered, and
the majority of the school headed for the Quidditch stands.

Hermione met Harry outside of the tower and they walked hand in hand outside.
Harry was almost vibrating with tension and Hermione appreciated it was
difficult for him to simply watch a game that he’d had no choice in not
playing thanks to the tournament rules.

“Sirius isn’t coming?” asked Hermione as they trudged up the steps to get a
good seat.

“He’s in the parents’ block with the Weasleys.” Harry explained. “He invited
them for lunch.”

“That’s nice.” Hermione said.

“The Malfoys arrived just before,” Harry retorted, “it was like a car crash.”

Hermione winced sympathetically. She could only imagine how the two couples
must have reacted to each other.

“Well, they can’t expect us to support Draco just because he’s family.”
Hermione said. “We are Gryffindors.”

“Lucy made the argument that I’m not actually a Gryffindor at present.” Harry
scowled. “Ponce.”

“Language.” Hermione remonstrated, more because it was expected than anything
else. “You know if you’re not careful you’re going to end up calling him that
to his face.”

“Ponce or Lucy?” asked Harry cheekily.

She laughed and poked him in the arm. Neville waved madly at them from a row
just ahead and they made their way to him, sliding into the seats next to him
and beside Lavender and Parvati.

“No Hannah?” Hermione looked around just in case she’d missed her.

“She’s keeping Sue company.” Neville said evenly.

But Hermione could sense the disgruntlement he was repressing and lifted her
eyebrows knowingly.

Neville flushed. “We’d said this was going to be a date but…” he shrugged away
the rest of the sentence.

Harry gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It’ll get better. Sue just
needs to get some confidence back after the letter thing. That was nasty.”

“I hope you’re right.” Neville said. “It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s
just Hannah and I haven’t had a date just the two of us since the second
task.”

“Here come the teams!” Someone yelled excitedly.

They turned their attention to cheering and clapping as the teams strode out
onto the field and took to the skies as they were announced.

Neville thrust two thumbs up as Ginny buzzed them. “GOOD LUCK!”

“How much money do you have riding on this with Zabini?” asked Harry amused.

“Enough.” Neville admitted sheepishly.

Hermione shook her head. Betting! She pursed her lips with disapproval and
kept her gaze on the match as Harry and Neville quietly spoke about tactics.
She bit her lip. She was regretting not bringing a book.

Harry shifted beside her and bumped her slightly. She turned inquisitively and
he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“The snitch is up by the Slytherin stands.”

Hermione frowned and squinted in the general direction. She couldn’t see
anything! How had Harry seen it?

“Shiny objects.” He said with a deadpan tone.

She slapped his arm and smiled at him affectionately. “Harry?”

“Hmmm?” Harry blew out a frustrated breath as Draco feinted and fooled Ginny
into following him into a fruitless dive well away from where the snitch was
lurking.

“I’m thinking I’m not going to take the potion.” Hermione said in a rush. “I
want to do it properly.”

It took a moment for Harry to connect the dots on what she was talking about
but his expression cleared and he shrugged.

“Meditation is better according to all the theory.” He said.

“Exactly.” Hermione agreed. “And I want to do it right. There’s no rush is
there?”

Harry shook his head. “I thought it’d be good for us to have something to do
together and we are so…” he smiled his shy smile, the one that reminded her
for all of the changes in his life, he was still Harry.

A yell went up and they both dragged their attention back to the action on the
field. Hermione looped her arm through Harry’s and leaned against him. Maybe
she didn’t need the book after all.

o-O-o

Harry sipped on the butter beer that Fred had sneaked into his hand and
watched as the Gryffindor Common Room partied in celebration.

The cup had been given to their extremely proud Head of House and Harry
wouldn’t put it past his Aunt Minnie to be happily ensconced in her private
rooms polishing the silver trophy and raising a toast to it with a dram or two
of whiskey.

He gazed around the room. He felt slightly awkward being there. He’d rarely
been back to the tower since he and Sirius had moved in to their own suite of
rooms. Apart from a couple of occasions to see Ron and the one memorable trip
to Hermione’s dorm room that had gone down in Hogwarts’ history, Harry hadn’t
been by very much at all.

Some of it, he mused, was his own reticence at being around crowds of people.
Even now, tucked into a corner seating group with Ron holding court retelling
the story of the match to a captivated Lavender and Parvati one side of him,
and Hermione chattering away to Neville on the other, he was too aware that
everyone kept throwing surreptitious glances in their direction.

Of course, he might just be paranoid.

Just because he was visiting, it didn’t mean he was the centre of attention,
and wasn’t it arrogant to think that he was especially when Ron, a key member
of the cup-winning team, was right there? Harry repressed the urge to sigh and
instead sipped his butter beer.

Alright, maybe he wasn’t the centre of attention, he still felt awkward
though.

Like he didn’t belong in the Gryffindor Common Room anymore.

Harry tried to dismiss the thought and watched as Ron gestured with his bottle
demonstrating a save he’d made. Ron had been a hero at the hoops. He’d made
save after save after save. It had allowed the Gryffindor chasers to rack up a
high score and the game had finished 260-250 to Gryffindor when Draco had
mis-timed grabbing the snitch.

He tried to listen to Ron’s tale but his mind kept dwelling on the feeling of
not belonging that was getting stronger with every moment he stayed there. At
least he was due to leave soon because of his curfew anyway…

It wasn’t just the length of time he’d been away from Gryffindor or the way
some people were staring, Harry thought tiredly, it was also the knowledge
that in truth his power levels and training were pulling him away from his
peers — from his friends. In class, Hermione and some of the Ravenclaws still
outdid him where the theory was concerned but nobody could touch him on the
practical side. He usually managed complex spell work in a matter of moments.
It made him different and he hated it. At least Hermione was top of the class
for the fourth year material and had, thanks to her helping him with the
tournament, also mastered some fifth and sixth year spells. It eased something
in him to know he wasn’t completely leaving her behind.

If he hadn’t promised Sirius he’d do his best…

If he didn’t need to be his best to survive the tournament…

He couldn’t go back.

He would just have to deal with the changes his power and his training wrought
when he returned to Hogwarts for his fifth year. If he returned…

His mouth pressed into a thin line. He was determined Tom wasn’t going to win
another victory but the reality was that he was still a long way off knowing
how to defeat his nemesis. But he was certain that the next time they met, it
would be over one way or another. In fact, he felt the inevitability of a
confrontation sooner rather than later deep down in his bones.

Harry sighed and took another gulp of his drink.

A flash of red in the corner of his vision had him frowning and he turned his
head just in time to see Ginny slipping out of the portrait hole. He fidgeted
for a long moment before turning to inform Ron — only to find Ron immersed in
a snog session with Lavender. Parvati had disappeared.

Harry winced. He really didn’t need such an up close view of his best friend’s
tongue…

“You should go talk to Ginny.” Hermione whispered in Harry’s ear, her breath
skating over his skin.

Harry looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Who better than you? You’re a seeker. You know how she’s feeling.” Hermione
whispered.

“We could both go.” Harry pointed out, careful to keep his own voice low.

Hermione shook her head and jerked it pointedly toward where Neville was
staring despondently into his butter beer. Hermione would obviously deal with
Neville and Harry was nominated to deal with Ginny. He squeezed Hermione’s
hand gently. Her compassion and generosity was one of the things he loved
about her.

He set his beer down and slipped out of his seat. He wished he had the map but
Moody still had it. He hoped Ginny hadn’t gone far — Hogwarts wasn’t safe if
someone was masquerading as a student. He got through the portrait door
without anyone stopping him and paused as he found Ginny immediately.

Ginny glanced up from her position hunched up by the wall near to the portrait
door. She flushed bright red and made to get up but Harry waved her back down
and lowered himself to the floor beside her.

He nudged his glasses back up his nose. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Ginny shrugged and looked down at her feet. “I messed up.”

“How?” asked Harry gently.

Ginny’s gaze flashed to his in disbelief. “I didn’t catch the snitch!”

“No,” Harry agreed, “Draco had the edge on you since he saw it first and has a
faster broom. But you pushed him; you were right behind him when he grabbed it
and he knew if he didn’t get it, you would. He made the choice to catch it
despite knowing the score. He knew if he didn’t, you’d catch it and they’d
lose by a massive amount and not just ten. You forced his hand because you
were on his tail. You did good.”

She frowned but her gaze seemed contemplative. “I thought a successful seeker
was meant to catch the snitch.”

“Or force their opponent into making a mistake.” Harry corrected. “Sometimes
the score is even and it’s a direct race. Sometimes it’s not and it’s more
complicated. Draco needed to time catching it correctly or they’d lose, and he
misjudged it. At the World Cup, Viktor knew his team would never catch-up with
the Irish — their chasers just didn’t have it in them — so he chose to end it
knowing his catch would mean defeat not winning.”

“I never looked at being a seeker that way.” Ginny murmured, wrapping her arms
around her knees and hugging them to her.

“Well, you kind of want to be a chaser really, right?” Harry pointed out. “And
you really helped with that out there today. A lot more than I would have done
because I don’t have the same understanding of chasing that you do.”

Ginny gave a small smile. “I was so busy helping the chasers, I forgot about
the snitch.”

Harry bumped her shoulder with his own. “So you won’t make that mistake
again.”

She grimaced but nodded. “At least you know your place is safe next year.”

If he survived. Harry shook himself. He had to stop thinking that way.

“Well, you never know,” Harry joked, ‘we might both get shown up by some kind
of Quidditch prodigy.’ He smiled at her. “You’re a shoo-in though for
Angelina’s place on the chaser line.”

Her grip on her knees relaxed and she shifted position, her shoulders dropping
as she grinned at him. “Thank you.” She glanced back at the portrait hole.
“I’m sorry to drag you away from everyone.”

Harry shrugged. “Parties aren’t really my thing plus your brother and
Lavender…”

“Say no more.” She said hurriedly, pretending a full body shudder.

Harry grinned at her.

“I think I’m going to tell Fred to go ahead and write to Mum about Ron.” Ginny
pondered out loud. “If it were any of us acting the way he is he’d go spare.”

Harry figured it was probably just Ginny Ron would have issues with but he
nodded anyway.

“Well, if you’re not upset at leaving the party, I’m sorry I dragged you away
from Hermione.” Ginny said.

“Actually she was the one who sent me after you.” Harry informed her briskly.

Ginny blushed and looked away. “She’s a really good friend.”

“Yes,” said Harry with proud contentment, “she really is.”

Ginny regarded him for a long moment and just as he began to feel
uncomfortable, she began to speak.

“I’ve never really apologised for behaving the way I did, have I?”

“Yes, you did.” Harry frowned.

“Not about Hermione,” Ginny contradicted him quickly, “I know I apologised
about *that*. No, I mean, about how I was with you. How I was at the beginning
of the year before the whole thing with Hermione.”

Harry felt as though his tongue was tied in a knot. He had no idea what to say
to her.

“I am sorry, Harry.” Ginny said sincerely.

He jerked his head in a nod of acknowledgement. “It’s OK…”

“No, it’s not.” Ginny said. ‘I was terrible.’ She shook her head. “I wasn’t
very much of a friend.” She sighed. “You know Hermione told me that it was
more likely that you’d choose someone who was a friend to go out with and… and
I didn’t believe her. I thought she was just warning me off, you know?”

Harry couldn’t speak again, unsure what to say.

“But she was right.” Ginny continued, clearly not needing his input anyway. “I
see you and her together and… and it works because you’re friends more than
anything else.”

“I know she likes me for me.” Harry said quietly. He fidgeted with the laces
on his shoes. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

Ginny nodded quickly, a blush stealing over her cheeks again. “You make a
great couple.” She paused. “Matt’s asked me on a practice date.”

Matt as in Matthew Inglebee.

“Is Lydia OK with that?” asked Harry, wondering if it was going to cause
problems with Ginny’s friendship with the other girl.

“Yeah,” Ginny grinned, “she prodded Matt into it, I think, because his friend
Albert asked her out.”

Harry refrained from shaking his head at the antics of the lower year
students. His year didn’t exactly hold any moral high ground with all the soap
opera break-ups and get-togethers that had happened.

“I like Matt.” Ginny admitted quietly.

“So, go for it.” Harry encouraged her. He nudged her shoulder again. “I
promise I won’t tell Ron.”

Ginny smiled at him and nudged him back. “Thanks, Harry. You’re a good
friend.” She hesitated again before rushing the words out. “I hope you think
I’m a better friend too now.”

“I do.” Harry hastened to reassure her.

The quiet pad of paws had Harry turning his head and he wasn’t surprised to
find Padfoot walking around the corner. He cast a quick tempus charm and
grimaced at the time. No wonder Sirius had come looking for him. He was past
the time he’d said he’d be back.

Padfoot shifted into Sirius as Ginny and Harry scrambled to their feet.

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly, “I know I’m late.”

“It was my fault,” said Ginny, “he was giving me a pep talk for missing the
snitch.”

Sirius held up both hands and smiled reassuringly. “Apologies accepted.”

Harry turned to Ginny, feeling awkward again. “Can you let Hermione know
Sirius came for me and I’ll meet her as usual tomorrow?”

Ginny nodded, her red hair flying everywhere. “I will. Thanks again, Harry.”
She mumbled the password to the Fat Lady, who was glaring at Sirius, and
disappeared into the tower.

Sirius slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and they fell into a comfortable
pace as they walked back to their own quarters.

“So,” Sirius began, a teasing lilt to his tone, “sitting out with a girl who
isn’t your girlfriend? If I didn’t overhear you talking about her going out
with Matt I might have been a little worried.”

Harry shot him a look. “Hermione sent me out to talk to her.”

“Very trusting girl, your girlfriend.” Sirius continued to tease.

“I’m not interested in anyone else.” Harry said with a shrug. “She knows
that.”

Sirius hummed. “You’re a good boyfriend and a good friend, Pronglet. It was a
good thing you did back there with Ginny.”

“She’s not bad when she’s not being all stalkerish.” Harry admitted.

Sirius gave a bark of laughter as they reached the portrait guarding their
door. “High praise indeed.”

They walked into the cosy warmth and Harry felt the tension drain out of him.
He really did love having his own rooms. It was going to be difficult going
back to the dorms in his fifth year.

“You alright, Pronglet?” asked Sirius.

Harry turned around and found his father standing just inside the door looking
at him with concern. “I’m fine,” he immediately said to reassure him, “I
just…” he sighed and rubbed his head tiredly, “it feels odd being in the tower
now? I was just thinking that it’s going to be weird next year.”

“And?” prompted Sirius, guessing that there was more that was bothering him.

“And I guess I was wondering if I’ll fit in.” Harry admitted. He slumped back
against the dining table. “I’m miles ahead on practical work and… then there’s
Quidditch. They won without me.” He ducked his head, shamefaced at the
pettiness of hating that they had won without him.

Sirius crossed the space between them and tugged him into a quick hug before
ruffling his hair and easing back as though knowing Harry wouldn’t tolerate
the comfort very long. “It’s only natural to feel left out. When I was banned
from Quidditch, I hated that they won games without me and I didn’t even want
to play.”

His confession made Harry feel a touch better.

“Maybe you should spend some more time with Hermione and Ron over there next
term?” suggested Sirius. “Minnie won’t mind as long as you’re not using the
girls’ dorm as the way in…”

Harry snorted.

“…and it’ll get you comfortable being there again.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Harry admitted, stepping away and stopping as he caught
sight of the map on the table. “Moody brought the map back?” His fingers
touched the battered parchment carefully.

Sirius nodded, accepting the change in subject although it was obvious he
wanted to say something more. “Neither Moody nor Snape have managed to catch
any of the students not being exactly who they’re supposed to be.” He frowned.
‘Remus can’t say for certain that Peter doesn’t know a way around the map and
neither can I. Either way checking the map now is pretty pointless when they
could have gone completely and have plans to sneak someone back in after
Easter.’ He pointed at it. “You can take it back for the rest of term. We’ll
take it to Bulgaria with us and have Remus take a look at it.”

Harry nodded, happy to have the map back in his possession if not with the
news that the map checks had been a pointless exercise. “I’m going to head to
bed.”

“Try not to worry, Pronglet.” Sirius advised, alluding back to their previous
conversation. “Things will work out.”

Harry attempted a smile but as he made for the stairs he couldn’t help
thinking that his life was never that simple.

o-O-o

*6**th* *April 1995*

“…and I have the latest plans from Tomas on the security for the wedding in
the folder.” Clara tapped it for emphasis. “They’ve provided the general
layout of the Minister’s home which is great and gives us some idea of how we
can ensure we close the gaps.”

Remus nodded, surprised at Bogdan’s generosity again that he had opened up his
official home for the wedding and was allowing such sensitive security
information to be shared with them. He wasn’t disregarding the honour he was
being afforded. But then as well as he got along with Bogdan, Dora had hit it
off with Hilde even more so, and Bogdan’s wife was a force of nature.

“They’ve suggested we team up the lycanthrope guards.” Patrick said
cheerfully. “Gregor’s putting together a detail and I’ll take a look at it
then. It makes sense to have one of theirs with one of ours and since Gregor’s
comfortable with that arrangement we should go with it.”

Another honour since it simply wasn’t done for an Alpha to cede territorial
duties to another pack and yet Gregor was allowing it for Remus’s.

Remus reached for his glass of water, taking a long cool sip to lubricate his
suddenly overly dry mouth. “That’s good news.” He set the folder to one side.
“Anything more on the wedding?”

Clara looked down at her ubiquitous notebook. She tucked a strand of red hair
behind an ear and sighed. “We’ve got a room ready for Dora’s mother and
father. They’re due to arrive by portkey first thing in the morning around six
at the Ministry. I understand you’re going to pick them up?”

“I will.” Remus said evenly, hiding his own discomfort at the thought of
seeing Andromeda and Ted for the first time since they’d broken the news of
the baby and plans for marriage.

It had been a hell of a fight between mother and daughter. They’d reconciled
over mirrors and floos; in long letters that had had Dora weeping and
laughing. It had been emotional for Dora losing her mother’s regard and only
Ted’s steadfast support had seen Dora through it. Even now, he knew Dora was
uncertain of her mother’s reactions and was dreading the visit.

He wasn’t looking forward to it himself. He had deserved more than Ted’s
disappointed glare and Andromeda’s scathing dressing-down. He’d probably feel
better if Ted or Andy had simply cursed him or punched him. He deserved it.

He had known as soon as he’d given in to the first kiss what was going to
happen and he hadn’t stopped it, grateful for the comfort the intimacy of sex
had given him in the wake of Skeeter’s article and the fallout. He’d also
known it had been a mistake. He’d tried to get Dora to see reason the day
after when they’d returned from the Wizengamot but she had been intractable,
unwilling to see his reasons. He’d hurt her, Remus told himself briskly. He’d
hurt her and he’d deserved the cold shoulder she’d given him for a month.

But the baby changed everything.

Truthfully, Dora had been hesitant, truly not wanting him to be trapped, but
he’d assured her that he did want to marry her. It had been a kind lie — he
did truly care for her, he would never have slept with her if he hadn’t, but
the want to marry… that had been the lie and still was.

No… he really wasn’t looking forward to playing host to his imminent in-laws
but Sirius had been keen to get them out of Britain and away from the
inevitable fallout of the announcements that had been made to the Wizengamot
earlier that day. Remus couldn’t blame him for that. The wireless had been
filled with commentary already and he had eventually switched it off rather
than continue to listen to it.

“Nothing else on the wedding from me.” Patrick chipped in, drawing Remus’s
attention back to the meeting.

“Pack news?” inquired Remus delicately, hearing Patrick’s unspoken hint that
there was something to speak about.

“Everyone is generally happy,” Patrick began, “Tonks is very easy-going so
that has helped everybody feel comfortable with welcoming her. A lot of us are
excited about the cub…” he grinned as Remus grimaced at the term, “and we’re
all enjoying the fact that our Alpha is here and that Harry and Sirius are
going to visit with the wedding.”

“But?” prompted Remus.

“But there is some unrest.” Clara stepped in briskly. “Sian is disgruntled and
some are listening.”

“What’s she saying that’s resonating?” Remus wasn’t unsurprised at the news;
Sian had been less than welcoming to Dora since their arrival. Patrick and
Clara had seemingly helped to curtail the worst of her jealousy and spite but
the resurgence as the wedding drew closer wasn’t unexpected.

Clara and Patrick exchanged a telling glance.

Remus heaved a sigh. “This is going to be one of those pack things that I
don’t understand isn’t it?”

“Sian thinks Dora shouldn’t be regarded as pack even though she’s your fiancée
and the mother of your child.” Clara explained. “That’s resonating with those
who’d like to keep the pack to wolves.”

“The pack already has Harry and Sirius.” Remus said exasperated. “It’s not an
exclusively wolf pack anyway.”

“Well you know how Sian feels about Sirius and Harry.” Patrick quipped, a
smirk softening the truth of his words. ‘She wants a wolf pack.’ He shrugged.
“Most of us accept that your pack began with Harry and Sirius and accept them
as pack-mates. I don’t deny I’m a little antsy about their arrival because
they’re your human betas. But then from everything you’ve said they won’t
challenge me for the position on the wolf side so I’m teaching my wolf to be
cool with it. Some of us aren’t so great at compartmentalising or drawing a
distinction between the wolf instinct and our own intellect.”

Clara nodded in agreement. “Sian is targeting those most likely to agree with
her. The rest are giving her short shrift.”

“Anyone who has a problem with Harry, Sirius and Dora being part of the pack
are more than welcome to find another more suited to their tastes.” Remus
snapped out, frustrated and feeling defensive.

Clara and Patrick both subsided into their chairs and lowered their gazes,
allowing Remus’s wolf to feel their submission and acceptance of his words.

Remus took a steadying breath. The moments where his wolf would make himself
known were growing the more time he spent with the pack. It worried him that
he was losing himself to the wolf but at the same time there was something
settling within him; a discontent that was being erased day by day.

“We’ll take that message back.” Patrick said seriously. “It will deter most
people from giving Sian the time of day.”

“I’ll talk with Sian.” Clara offered. “If she wants to stay, she has to settle
down and accept your choice of mate.”

“Which brings us onto the second part of what she’s been saying.” Patrick
murmured.

Remus’s eyes narrowed at his beta. “What?”

“That even if Dora and the cub stay, you should take a second wolf-mate, or at
least keep your marriage open to the possibility of liaisons with the pack
women.” Patrick continued, fulfilling his role as beta to not be afraid to
give Remus the bad news.

“Bugger.” Remus swore and slumped back in the comfortable leather chair. It
wasn’t unheard of for Alphas to have free reign with the women in the pack —
or the men for that matter — Greyback hadn’t been that discriminating over who
he screwed. Gregor and Robert were happily married but Remus was aware that
wasn’t true for the others.

“It’s gotten some mixed reactions.” Clara inserted smoothly. “Some are
traditional and believe a marriage is sacrosanct; others, well, some of the
single women joined because they were attracted to the idea of you as their
Alpha and mate. They’re bitterly disappointed in the same way Sian is that
you’ve chosen someone else outside the pack to settle down with.”

Remus bit back the words that he hadn’t truly chosen at all since it would be
a lie on several levels even if that was the way he felt.

“I’m making traditional marriage vows.” Remus stated firmly. “Dora will be my
wife and I will honour and respect her with fidelity.”

Patrick grinned at him. “You’re a good man, Remus.” He puffed up his chest.
“More for me then.”

Remus laughed at his beta’s antics.

Clara smiled widely too. “We’ll let the others know.” She got to her feet and
Patrick followed.

Remus dismissed them with a simple nod and sighed as they left him alone. The
study at the Black Farm had become his refuge; somewhere for him to retreat
when the situation with Dora became too much or the pack felt claustrophobic.
But as he looked around the comfortable cosy room, shadowed and lit
alternatively with the flickering flames in the hearth, Remus felt loneliness
creep into his soul.

He missed the School House. More, he missed Griffin House. He missed Sirius
and Harry so much some days his bones ached with it.

Especially Sirius.

The two of them spoke daily on the mirror but it wasn’t the same. He’d gotten
used to having his friend back in his life again and it felt far too like
losing him again for it to sit easily with Remus.

“You haven’t lost him,” Remus told himself sternly, “he’s alive and he’s well
and he’s not imprisoned in Azkaban. You just talked to him!”

He rolled his eyes before closing them. He kneaded his forehead gently.

“And now you’re losing your mind.” Remus muttered. “Talking with yourself.”

He sighed. He had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. He focused his
mind on business enough to double check that his work for the day was done. He
tidied his desk, banked the flames and locked up the study on his way up to
the master suite.

He hesitated by the door next to his and with a shake of his head as though to
dislodge the nerves that had set up home there, he knocked gently.

Dora opened the door a moment later and ushered him inside, darting a look
down the hallway to see if anyone had noticed his entry. He was amused at her
discretion. They were the only ones living in the family wing.

He stood a touch awkwardly inside her sitting room. The Blacks had somewhat
conveniently created a suite of rooms for the Lord and a suite of rooms for
the Lady. They were connected via an inner door but both could be kept
distinct if necessary. He and Dora had taken the decision to sleep apart until
their marriage when they’d arrived. Perhaps it was closing the door once the
horse had bolted but Remus was glad of the privacy his own rooms afforded him.
He wasn’t looking forward to losing that once the wedding had taken place.

“I just wanted to check in.” Remus said hesitantly. They hadn’t seen each
other since lunch time. “Gilby said at dinner that you weren’t feeling well?”

Dora grimaced and waved him into a seat as she settled back onto the sofa. “I
have no idea why they call it morning sickness.”

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Remus feeling guilty and concerned.

Dora shook her hair — strangely in its natural state — and waved a hand at the
discarded tray of food the elf had presumably brought her. “I’ve managed to
eat some soup and crackers.” She sighed. “You know our wedding breakfast is
going to be fantastic but if sprog here keeps up his routine I’m not going to
be able to taste a morsel of it.”

Remus reached over and picked up her hand. “I’ll have whatever you end up
with.”

Dora smiled appreciatively at him, her grey eyes alight with affection.
“That’s sweet.”

He smiled back at her.

Her expression turned mischievous. “So did Clara and Patrick finally spill the
beans about the rest of the women feeling all bereft of your manly charms?”

Remus rolled his eyes expressively. “I have no intention of sleeping with
anyone but you for the rest of my life.”

Dora’s face brightened. “I’d understand if…”

Remus waved her tentative offer away. “We’re going to be married, Dora. My own
parents were very happily married all of their lives by being dedicated to
each other and their family. I want that.”

“Me too.” Dora admitted. She sighed. “I guess I just feel a touch guilty about
trapping you into this.”

“You didn’t trap me.” Remus denied it automatically although a small voice in
his head was agreeing with her. He cared for her, he thought to himself
sternly; he truly cared for her and she cared for him. They were friends.
There were worst starts to a marriage, worst foundations than theirs.

“That’s not what Sian thinks.” Dora said dryly.

“Sian can get stuffed.” Remus said decisively.

She laughed and he was pleased that he’d managed to raise her spirits a
little.

“I should get to bed.” Remus said, standing.

Dora stood up again. “You could stay.” She offered, a hopeful smile softening
her features into a welcome that tempted Remus.

He shook his head. “I have to leave early to collect your parents from the
Ministry and I’d like to do that with a clear conscience.”

“Right.” Her face crumpled, first with disappointment and then with horror at
remembering the imminent arrival of her mother and father.

“It’ll be alright, Dora.” Remus assured her. “Andy loves you and Ted’s been
very good about this whole business.”

“I know,” Dora rallied and smiled at him, “you get some rest. I’ll see you in
the morning.”

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. She moved into his space and
deepened the kiss. He was so tempted to wrap himself around her and take
comfort in her. Remus drew away reluctantly, reminding himself that it had
been that kind of thinking that had led them to the current state of affairs.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Remus said gently. “’Night, Dora.”

“’Night, Wolfy.” Dora replied with a hint of her old spirit.

He used the connecting door to walk into his own rooms and for a long moment
he stood in the dark, his mind racing. He shook himself. He had an early start
and he had absolutely no wish to greet the parents of the woman he’d knocked
up on little or no sleep. But even as he readied himself for bed, he had a
feeling sleep would be a long time coming.

o-O-o

*7**th* *April 1995*

Bill dropped the latest lot of brooms onto the transportation device and
watched them zap away. He shook his head. By his reckoning, that batch brought
the number of brooms found to an astonishing one hundred and eleven. Some of
them were beautiful old classics, some of them were broken and unusable, and
some of them were the very latest version. Bill couldn’t help but wonder at
the latter. Were some of the kids so spoilt rotten that they didn’t notice
when they lost their top of the line broom?

He shook his head sadly.

Perhaps it had been out of necessity but one thing his parents had taught him
was to value every galleon, sickle and knut he earned, and by extension
everything he bought with said money. It was a philosophy that had won him
points with the goblins.

He made his way back down the aisle he was clearing and started in on a stack
of books. He absently separated them into old and valuable, usable, broken
needing repair and beyond hope.

He had found himself wondering again whether he’d return to Gringotts after
his service was finished, his mind drifting back to the conversation he’d had
with Sirius the previous Summer. In many ways, Bill mused, he had only become
stronger in his conviction that the life he had previously planned for himself
was no longer the one that he would live.

He watched Sirius and Harry; he watched the Potter alliance; and, more than
anything he wanted to be part of the future they were building for their
world, to be an equal voice in shaping that future.

An equal voice.

That was important.

Because he had a voice in it already. Sirius and Harry both took time to ask
for his opinion; considered his thoughts; included his suggestions as part of
their plans. He knew he was lucky that their view of service was not
subservience, but active and vigorous participation in making the House he was
sworn to serve a success. Sirius had regular meetings one-on-one with Bill;
Harry sought him out more than his own brothers did. He was tremendously lucky
that they ignored the actual reality of his position, of the Ancient and Noble
House of Weasley’s position, and simply followed their own path. But he
wanted, more than ever, to have earned a real position of authority; of
responsibility.

It was probably time to take up Sirius’s offer to speak with him about his
future and map out some kind of plan. He wanted to get his family seat back on
the Wizengamot. It might take years so Bill’s focus had to be on building up
the alliances and reputation needed to win a nomination. He wondered if
curse-breaking was something he could incorporate into that; there was a
lingering sense of duty urging him to complete his contract with Gringotts.

The door to the room opened and Bill barely paid any attention knowing the
magic wouldn’t allow anyone but those who were allowed to enter.

“Bill!” Caro’s call echoed through the vast space.

He raised his wand and sent up a spray of red sparks as a reply.

She found him a few minutes later. “Wow, what time did you get up? You look
like you got an early start!”

Bill flipped a pristine and unused copy of Gilderoy Lockhart’s book on
werewolves to the ‘beyond hope’ pile. He shot her a teasing grin. “Maybe
you’re late.”

Caro snorted and tossed him the newspaper. “Five minutes,” she admitted, “but
I had a good excuse. Got caught up reading Skeeter’s latest article.” She
rolled up the sleeves of her plain blue robe and took over the book sorting as
Bill unfolded the paper and began to read.

“***HOUSE OF BLACK SEALS ALLIANCE WITH WEREWOLVES WITH MARRIAGE!***

***BABY BOOM FOR THE HOUSE OF BLACK!***

*The April Wizengamot session started with a joyous announcement from Lord
Black concerning its Werewolf Steward Remus Lupin and the daughter of
Andromeda Tonks nee Black, Nymphadora; a marriage!*

*Nymphadora Tonks was assigned back in January as protection detail for Remus
Lupin following public unrest after the details of his accidental attack on
Lords Potter and Black were maliciously leaked through an unsuspecting press
as part of a vicious attempt by the former Lord Wenlock (now residing in
Azkaban) to derail the new Creature laws. In February, the pair went abroad to
continue Lord Potter’s work in building a sanctuary for all werewolves.*

*It appears time spent in each other’s company has led to a wondrous whirlwind
romance between the two culminating in the announcement of a spring wedding to
be held on April 17**th* *in Bulgaria where Lupin is a known close friend of
the current Bulgarian Minister Bogdan Oblansk.*

*Lord Black made this official comment: “I am tremendously thrilled that a
wizard I have long considered to be a brother will formally become part of our
family and an official son of the House of Black, and, of course, that my
cousin has found happiness.”*

*Of course, the marriage of the pair would not have been allowed under the
previous Werewolf Laws. Minister Cornelius Fudge remarked: “It is truly a
wondrous day for our society when we can acknowledge that our new laws are
fair and equitable for all. Government should not interfere with the personal
lives of our citizens in matters of the heart and we celebrate this union as
one of the first for those Wizards and Witches infected with Lycanthropy.”*

*Others are not on sanguine about this societal shift. Lord Selwyn commented:
“While the Steward of the Houses of Black and Potter is a learned and
knowledgeable wizard in addition to his unfortunate status as a lycanthrope,
we cannot help but feel he is an exception to the rule. Perhaps this union
will be the first but I rather feel it will and should be a rarity; how many
lycanthropes have the control required to never bite or turn their loved
one?”*

*Dolores Umbridge, currently serving as an Ambassador for the British Ministry
abroad and original author of the old Werewolf laws, contacted this journalist
to state in the most vulgar language possible that the planned union was
“disgusting, abhorrent and abnormal.” She also made comments regarding the
lifespan of any progeny of the union which have been passed to the DMLE for
further investigation.*

*Speaking of progeny, it was a somewhat sheepish Lord Black who admitted in
his announcement that the love-struck couple had “jumped the wand rather” and
a new addition to the House of Black was already on its way with an expected
birth in the Summer. He reported that the baby has already been confirmed as
free of lycanthropy, and Nymphadora is blooming in her pregnancy. With the
news announced some months ago that Narcissa Malfoy nee Black is also
expecting her second child, it would seem that the House of Black is
splendidly resurgent and will have much to celebrate in the coming months. We
look forward to covering what will be the society wedding of the year!”*

Bill huffed out an exasperated sigh at Skeeter’s obsequious tone but nodded in
relief. “It looks like it went better than expected.”

“I’d like to know just how much Sirius had to pay Rita for her to spin it that
way.” Caro remarked.

Bill kept silent. He knew something had happened between Sirius, Skeeter,
Bones and Moody just after the second task but he wasn’t aware of the details
and he figured it was better for his health to ignore it.

“I’m glad for Remus and Tonks though; they don’t need the stress.” Caro
continued. “I’m pretty sure they’ll still get a heap of Howlers anyway.”

She probably wasn’t wrong, Bill mused. His father had only just managed to
stop his mother from sending one after they’d been told. At least it was out
in the open with the announcement though. The whole imminent marriage and baby
had been the worst kept secret of British wizarding society ever since Tonks
had started sending out invites.

Bill refolded the Prophet and put it aside. He started to help again. “What do
you think about it?” He asked. “I mean, honestly?”

Caro shot his a suspicious look and waved her wand at him. “Why are you
asking?”

Bill shrugged, the movement pulling his black t-shirt taut — he refused to
wear robes for physical work. “Maybe I just want your view of the society
wedding of the year?”

They both smirked at each other.

Caro sneaked another peek at him as they settled back to the task of sorting
the books. “Honestly, I guess my view is skewed because I know them both…” she
frowned as she considered the question seriously.

He liked that about Caro. She always took the time to properly answer a
question even when she didn’t fully understand why he was asking it.

“I can see why most people will think her being with a werewolf is squicky. I
mean, some of the young girls may think it tragically romantic in a Beauty and
Beast kind of way, but there’s no denying that she’s living with a man who is
carrying a horrifying disease. Maybe a bite or a scratch when they’re, uh,
intimate won’t infect her but the risk…” Caro sighed. “She’s got to either be
fearless about it or just head over heels for Remus.”

“I think it’s the latter.” Bill said. Tonks had pursued Remus as soon as she’d
had a signal that he was looking for a relationship.

“Me too.” Caro agreed. “And I understand her attraction to Remus as a wizard
and a man; he’s an attractive bloke, powerful even though he hides it behind
his mild-mannered steward persona; knowledgeable and very intelligent. And
he’s funny. He has the driest sense of humour of anyone I’ve ever known. And,
of course, there’s his friendship with Sirius and Harry. It’s sweet and
adorable how much he loves them, and…”

“And I may need a sick bucket.” Bill joked. He glanced at Caro wonderingly.
She had joked about fancying Remus and Sirius in the past; had even flirted a
bit with both of them. Maybe it had been more truth than fiction?

“All I’m saying is that I see the attraction from Tonks’ viewpoint.” Caro said
firmly. ‘And so because I also know Remus, I know he’ll take every precaution
and be extremely careful never to scratch Tonks ever, never mind bite her, and
while I do tend to find the whole being with a werewolf thing squicky in the
abstract, I can see and understand why it’s not a consideration for Tonks with
Remus.’ She placed another book in the repair pile. “On a social political
level, I worry that young girls might romanticise this particular situation
too much and find themselves out of their depth with werewolves who don’t have
the same sense of honour or care that Remus has.”

It was a good point even if it did come close to parroting Selwyn. But Bill
figured it wouldn’t hurt to raise it with Sirius as something they needed to
consider in the political arena going forward.

“As far as the unplanned sprog is concerned,” Caro shrugged, ‘it’s their
business that they had sex and forgot to take precautions. I think everyone’s
sex life is private. Society should keep their noses out of it.’ She sighed.
“I guess the thing that jars with me most from what I’ve overheard so far is
that Tonks is being singled out for criticism. But then I’m not really
surprised that there’s a double standard which paints the woman as a hussy
who’s trapped the poor bloke into marriage.”

Bill nodded. “Harry cornered me a couple of weeks ago and asked me what was
acceptable and not about sex before marriage and babies out of wedlock in the
wizarding world since he was getting a lot of conflicting messages from
reactions to the news just in the Potter alliance circle.” He frowned at a
book and set it on the old and valuable stack carefully.

“I can understand why since he’s been mostly raised in the muggle world.” Caro
agreed. ‘As a muggleborn it’s not easy traversing the culture. Normally you
don’t even realise you’ve put your foot in it until your foot’s already in it
and sinking fast.’ She stopped sorting for a moment and rubbed her wrist.
“What did you tell him?”

Bill grimaced and paused himself. He crossed his arms. “You have to promise
never to tell my mother.”

Caro grinned at him. “It’s hardly likely that your mother and I will ever
speak enough to…”

“Caro!”

“Fine!” Caro raised her wand as though taking a vow. “Promise.”

“I told Harry that he had to remember that the wizarding world would always
react a bit like my mother where sex and marriage were concerned.” Bill
admitted chagrined. “Namely that as far as my mother, and therefore wizarding
society in general is concerned, sex and babies don’t happen outside of a
marriage, and they happily have hypocritical self-imposed amnesia of any sex
they had before they got a ring on their finger.”

Caro’s eyes widened and she burst into laughter. She bent over double before
heaving herself back into a standing position. “Oh, that’s priceless!”

Bill sighed but he couldn’t blame her. “Harry commented the view was very
old-fashioned.”

“It is.” Caro agreed cheerfully, resuming her book sorting. “And let me guess;
the man is supposed to have the requisite amount of experience to make it
wonderful for his wife on their wedding night — never mind how he’s supposed
to get that experience if all the women are meant to remain pure and
innocent?”

“Nobody said it was realistic.” Bill commented dryly. “Like I said to Harry,
most wizards *and* witches have *some* experience by the time they get married
these days, although some do wait for the wedding to go the whole way, but the
decision is a personal one.” And one Harry didn’t have to make for a while,
Bill concluded in his own head.

“But society as a whole still paints the witch as morally deficient if she
does decide to have a sex life outside of marriage.” Caro shook her head. ‘The
muggle world isn’t that much better. It’s just as patriarchal and male-biased.
It’s improving though all the time.’ She sighed. “I have to admit I was
surprised at Andromeda Tonks. I thought she’d be more sympathetic.”

Bill raised his eyebrow questioningly.

“Didn’t she elope with her husband as a school-girl?” Caro pointed out.

“She did and it was huge scandal from what everyone remembers,” Bill said,
“but she ran off with Ted to escape getting trapped into a loveless arranged
marriage and I get the impression Andy probably did wait for marriage for, um,
you know.”

“Ah.” Caro grimaced.

Bill rubbed his nose with the back of one forearm. “I haven’t said anything to
anyone else but I overheard her and Ted arguing back when she and Tonks
weren’t speaking and she was upset rather than angry.” He frowned. “She said
because of the baby Tonks had effectively tied herself into marrying Remus
just as though there was a marriage contract and she’d wanted Tonks to have a
choice about who she married.”

He also figured Andy was upset that Tonks’ choices had unthinkingly made life
politically difficult for Sirius after he had welcomed them back to the House
of Black.

Caro pulled a small face; features distorting briefly before inclining her
head to the side like her sparrow-form. “I get the impression that if they
weren’t getting married, jumping the wand with the baby wouldn’t have been
forgiven so easily. In the muggle world it wouldn’t be such a big deal these
days although some old biddies might disapprove.”

“Harry mentioned Hermione had said something similar.” Bill stretched, easing
the kinks out of his back.

“I guess that’s where I do get kind of get concerned.” Caro said with a sigh.
“I’m a little worried Tonks’ so wild about him and he’s…” she struggled to
find a way to express herself but finally heaved out a sigh, “not so
invested?”

Bill nodded slowly. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had the same thought
himself.

“Add to that most people are coming down on her like a tonne of bricks as
though she was the only one who had sex…” Caro continued, disgusted.

“You can see why though.” Bill said and had to take a quick step back from the
furious glare Caro pointed in his direction. He raised his hand in surrender.
“Look, all I’m saying is from the outside, she was the one pursuing him and
suddenly she’s pregnant and they’re having to get married. You have to admit
that to most people it looks like she set her cap at him and trapped him into
it.”

Caro wagged her wand at him. “That came direct from your mother, didn’t it?”

“Told you she was a good barometer of what the general reaction usually is.”
Bill quipped. In fact, the Howler his father had intercepted had all but said
the same thing but in stringent and harsh language.

“But you don’t think that, do you?” Caro checked.

Bill shot her a look. “Give me some credit, would you?”

“Sorry.” Caro said quickly. “It’s just… I guess I’m more racked off than I
thought about how everyone’s blaming her when he could have kept it in his
pants or remembered the charm himself.”

“You’re not wrong.” Bill admitted. ‘Remus is as responsible as Tonks for the
baby and he knows it too.’ He slapped another Lockhart book into the ‘beyond
hope’ pile. “I hope for both their sakes the marriage works out.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Changed your mind about coming with me then?” asked Bill lightly.

Caro gave a throaty laugh. “And miss out on the society wedding of the year?”

They grinned at each other.

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite that pretty Veela who’s following you around
still.” Caro said, a question lurking in the statement that Bill didn’t
ignore.

“She’s still at school.” Bill said firmly.

“She’s of age, but I guess at least she won’t have your Mum blaming her for
breaking up your relationship with Alicia like she does me.” Caro said dryly.

“She doesn’t blame you.” Bill said automatically. But inwardly he was wincing
because his Mum had automatically placed the blame on Caro despite Bill’s
denials and he had a fair idea going to the wedding with Caro would mean that
his Mum would continue to put two and two together and get five. He’d need to
talk to her before the wedding; head her off. His split with Alicia had been
very mutual and amicable.

Caro levitated a decrepit looking *Hogwarts, A History*. “Repair or bin?”

“Bin.” Bill advised.

And they were done with the latest pile of books.

“Accio book storage trunks!” Caro called out.

The trunks arrived and one packing spell later and trip to the transportation
device, the books were gone.

Caro eyed the next pile of junk with a weary eye; it was a towering stack of
chairs. “Remind me why we’re going through this room item by item and not just
searching out something that looks like the Ravenclaw diadem?”

“Because we have no guarantee that You-Know-Who didn’t transfigure it into
something else or create a decoy?” Bill offered eventually.

She gave a huff. “You know Brooks has been insufferable since the Rat Squad
caught Travers and Dolohov?”

He was a little thrown by the change in subject but figured she wanted a win
to shove back in Brooks’ face.

“Brooks is a wanker. The arrests didn’t lead to much, did they?” Bill pointed
out. “Dolohov and his frankly scarier sister were doing their own thing, and
Travers ended up dead with his information old news.” He shook his head
remembering the latter. Moody was unrepentant at his mis-diagnosis and lack of
concern over the prisoner’s collapse during the interrogation.

“They did find that cottage in the Lake District.” Caro retorted. “And they
got the proof they needed to raid the Durmstrang ship.”

“Both of which were abandoned by the Death Eaters well before the Squad showed
up.” Bill said.

“I can’t believe Karkaroff was killed off.” Caro said quietly, shoving a stray
strand of hair back behind her ear.

Bill grimaced with disgust. Karkaroff had been badly tortured before he’d had
his throat sliced open. “I can’t believe they left him in his office for some
poor kid to find.” It had been pure chance that the Aurors had gotten to the
office first.

“They’re Death Eaters, Bill. I’m sure they didn’t think anything about it at
all.” Caro said, grimacing as she started sorting the chairs in a similar way
to the books. “I’m not going to lose sleep over them killing one of their own
but it’s a damn shame they took the vanishing cabinets with them, I would have
liked a look at them. They’re very rare.”

Something tugged in his memory and Bill paused in examining a rather odd
wooden chair painted a rather lurid green to chase after it. A half-formed
picture formed in his head.

“Caro, I think we might have a vanishing cabinet in here somewhere.” Bill
said, trying to remember whereabouts it was.

“Yeah?” Her entire face brightened. “Where?”

Bill pursed his lips and turned slowly. “Over there.” He pointed to his left.
“It’s a couple of rows back.”

Caro gave a small cry of excitement and grabbed Bill’s hand. “Come on!”

He rolled his eyes and let her drag him through the aisles. “I can’t believe
you’re this excited about a piece of furniture.”

She mock-punched his arm and continued dragging him. “I can’t believe you
remembered where you’d seen it in here.” She slid him a considering look. “You
should think about joining the Unspeakables when you finish your service with
the House of Potter. Croaker would snap you up.”

Bill rubbed his forehead. “I don’t think that’s going to be on the cards.” He
peered at the furniture they were passing, trying to find a landmark that
would — ah! There. He pointed at a dilapidated wooden cabinet. “Is that it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be on the cards?” asked Caro, tugging him over but turning to
face him rather than cooing over the delights of their find.

“I’ve been thinking about the future and…” Bill shrugged, a touch embarrassed
about speaking about his motivations. “The Weasleys are an Ancient and Noble
House. If my Great-Grandfather hadn’t gambled away our seat and the money, we
might have been helping Harry and Sirius the way Richard Bones and Augusta
Longbottom are helping instead of helping through service and friendship. If
you believe the origin stories of the family magic, we took an oath just as
they did to protect the wizarding world and I guess having seen Sirius and
Harry put that oath into action, I want to do that too. I don’t know whether I
should continue with what I thought I wanted to do before or…” he sighed, “I
just know that I want to make sure our world is safe.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment.” Caro said seriously, without a hint of teasing.

A faint glow of light caught their attention.

Caro gasped and grabbed at Bill’s arm. “Is that…”

Bill’s eyes widened at the sight of the Weasley family totem atop the cabinet.
The golden owl blinked back at him, almost proudly, and with a flare of its
wings and a soft hoot, it disappeared…

And the Ravenclaw diadem sat where the owl had been a moment before.

Pronglet Fights Back: Chapter 8
===============================

Peter sighed at the latest front page of the Daily Prophet and thanked Merlin
he’d been sent out on surveillance duties and would not have to deal with the
latest Dark Lord rant.

It had not been a pleasant few weeks, or rather months.

Firstly, there had been the unmitigated disaster of the second task when the
Champions had apparently rallied together to overcome the task’s constraints
ensuring there was no loss of life. That, combined with the heroic images of
Potter wielding Excalibur had led to days of Dark Lord ranting, including many
hours spent planning how the Black Lake could be dredged so the Dark Lord
could make the infamous sword his own.

Recent events still stung more though.

Such was his devotion to their master, Dennis Travers had been the first to
report his father’s absence, handing over without delay the small missive his
father had left him. The letter had been brief; Boris Dolohov had contacted
him and was attempting an abduction that would please the Dark Lord; Travers
Senior was off to help him as he owed Dolohov a favour; that he would return
within a couple of hours.

When noon had passed without any sign of his missing follower, the Dark Lord
had immediately ordered them to move locations; for Travers to kill Karkaroff,
and for Barty, who had long since taken on a new identity to provide a spy at
Hogwarts, to relocate their vanishing cabinet to another part of the school.
Travers had disguised himself once more as a Durmstrang student and escaped
through the cabinet back to the cottage.

As soon as he’d arrived, the second vanishing cabinet had been shrunk down and
packed along with everything else. They’d moved back to London, settling back
into the flat above the apothecary — the Dark Lord proclaiming that if Fenrir
had meant to betray the location in a fit of pique, he’d already have done it.

The Dark Lord was not pleased at having to relocate again though. Travers had
taken the brunt of the punishment on behalf of his absent father, but had been
spared permanent injury because of his own devotion to the Dark Lord. When the
news of Travers Senior’s death had been announced in the papers, the Dark Lord
had even allowed Travers a day without punishment to mourn. Still, Travers was
still healing from the punishments inflicted from the Dark Lord’s fury and
with Fenrir searching Europe for Remus, and Barty hidden away at Hogwarts in
his latest persona, there was only Peter left to gather intelligence.

Possibly the Dark Lord had assumed Peter would spy in his usual form as a rat
but Barty had made plenty of the modified polyjuice and Peter had taken
advantage of the stash Barty had left with the Dark Lord. He’d also helped
himself to some of the petty cash Barty had stowed in the flat for
emergencies.

It was nice, Peter mused, to walk down Diagon Alley without anyone giving him
a second look. To be among people again rather than stuck in the cottage
hide-away in the middle of nowhere. And Peter had chosen the perfect place for
his eavesdropping — the Leaky Cauldron, heaving with the lunch time rush.

Peter thanked Tom as he placed a steaming plate of steak and ale pie with a
mountain of vegetables and a liberal amount of gravy in front of him. He took
a large bite of food and almost moaned in pleasure. It was wonderful to eat
something with flavour; there was a shambolically small number of meals he was
capable of cooking and none of them were very successful for all that they
were edible.

“…I think it’s disgusting!” A woman remarked at the table behind him. “A
werewolf really!”

“I don’t know,” her companion twittered, “have you seen the photo of Lupin? He
is a fine specimen and his position with Lord Black would mean his wife would
be granted access to the highest echelon!”

“Cynthia, there are times when I don’t think you have the sense Merlin gave a
goose.” The other woman remonstrated. “You’d never catch *me* allowing a
werewolf to so much as look at me.”

“What self-respecting werewolf would want to look at her?” A young man on
another table whispered to his date who giggled.

Peter allowed himself a small smile and tucked into the beautifully prepared
cabbage, peppered with tangy bits of bacon and buttery onions.

“…no, I’m telling you, it was Moody who was last with ’im.” A lunching Auror
sank the last of his beer down his throat and set the empty glass forcefully
on the wooden bar.

It amused Peter that not once did they look in his direction.

“You’re just jealous at the Squad, Jones.” His colleague complained. “Everyone
here knows it was the Squad that took him in. I was here meself taking witness
accounts from anyone present.”

“Padraig is right, Jimmy.” The female Auror with them dipped a chip in a pool
of brown sauce and ate it with gusto. “Chambers, Wood and Cambridge took down
Travers Senior.”

“Ah but, Lucy, my love, it was Mad-Eye who was the one to interrogate him.”
Jimmy crowed. “‘e was the one who left him ’avin’ an ’eart attack in the
cell!”

Jimmy ordered up another beer and Peter felt a momentary flitting pang of a
citizen’s disapproval at the Auror’s lunch-time drinking, before he drowned
the impulse with the more amusing thought that Dennis would be pleased to know
who he could hold responsible for his father’s death.

“Whatever, Jimmy.” Padraig, a curly haired twenty-something year old, picked
up his bacon sandwich and focused on eating for a bite. “The Squad still
deserves the catch.”

“Yeah,” Lucy complained, waving a chip, “and least Chambers doesn’t use it to
get in a girls’ knickers like Brooks.”

“’as ’e got in yours then?” leered Jimmy, as he handed over money for his
beer.

“Leave off.” Lucy poked him.

“Probably got in Tonks’ though, right? Seein’ as she likes to drop them for
the beastie!” Jimmy laughed.

“Oy!” Lucy shifted upright, her brown eyes glaring at her partner. “You leave
Tonks alone! Don’t think I don’t know what happened on your date with her, you
tosser!”

“She can’t expect to be a metamorphmagus and expect a bloke not to ask if she
can make her tits more than a handful!” blustered the ill-mannered Jimmy.

Peter wondered if he shouldn’t try and discern a surname so he could provide
it to Sirius for retribution of some sort. There had been one rare occasion
back in the old days when Sirius had dragged him around to his cousin’s for
tea. The bright wide-eyed little girl in his memory definitely didn’t need to
be so publicly disparaged.

“And people wonder why she had to look to a werewolf to find a decent bloke!”
Lucy snapped up her cloak and stormed off.

Padraig looked after her, set the rest of his bacon sandwich down and slid off
his stool.

“Where are you going?” demanded Jimmy.

“To catch up with her before she decides to hex my stuff along with yours.”
Padraig said wearily.

Jimmy paled, downed his beer and set off after his colleague. “’ey! Wait up,
Padraig!”

With that the entertainment was over and the lunchtime crowd in the pub went
back to their own conversations.

Peter listened for a while, letting the discussions on potion prices and the
standard of wizarding portkeys drift over him. He slid a final piece of pastry
through the last drop of gravy and made a moue of disappointment that his meal
was over.

Tom beamed at him as he scooped up the debris of the meal. “Nice to see a
clean plate!”

“It was wonderful.” Peter agreed easily.

“Dessert?” Tom offered. “We’ve a nice Summer pudding with cream or there’s
Spotted Dick with custard.”

Peter was tempted but the crowd was already thinning out and he knew with that
morning’s news the Dark Lord would be impatient. “Alas, I have to return to
work. My employer likes to crucio latecomers.”

Tom laughed heartily at what he supposed was a joke and bustled away.

Peter drank down the rest of his pint and left a few knuts on the table for
Tom. It had been a delicious meal. He ambled out of the Leaky, timing his
departure just right to slide out behind someone else saving him having to use
his borrowed wand.

He took a direct route back to the flat but kept his pace unhurried and was
satisfied when he reached the apothecary that no-one had followed him. He used
the wand to unlock the door and stepped inside full and content, nerves
beginning to rise for his anticipated debrief.

“You’ve been at the polyjuice again.” Barty’s sing-song voice accused him
sharply. “I don’t make it for you!”

“No,” Peter agreed, turning to face Barty who wore the face of the seventh
year Ravenclaw he was masquerading as, “you make it for our Dark Lord.”

“He does, indeed.” The Dark Lord’s voice had them both spinning around.

Travers carried the Dark Lord in and placed him reverently onto a chair piled
high with a stack of pillows.

Barty immediately kneeled at the side of the chair. “Father, I bring news from
Hogwarts.”

“Then you shall begin.” The Dark Lord said silkily, his small hand carding
through the sandy blond locks of the boy Barty pretended to be.

Peter lowered his eyes to hide his instinctive roll at Barty’s simpering son
act.

“The school has been let out early by the old fool for an Easter celebratory
feast.” Barty said with the right amount of sneering snobbery at such
frivolity. “The Express will leave tomorrow and arrive in King’s Cross as
usual. However, the Potter boy will once again not travel upon it.”

“He is remaining within the castle?”

“He is going abroad, Father.” Barty eagerly reported. “Both he and the
treacherous Black. They are intending a small European tour from the little I
was able to overhear from his gossiping school mates, culminating in Bulgaria
with the wedding of the werewolf.”

“Yes,” the Dark Lord purred, “it would appear that our young nemesis is
determined to sway the werewolves to his cause although I doubt many will want
to marry the foul beasts.”

“As you say, Father.” Barty agreed eagerly.

“Your cover is secure?” The Dark Lord posed the question idly but Peter knew
better than to think the answer didn’t matter to him — so did Barty.

“My cover is secure.” Barty confirmed. “They did an attempt a check with the
map Peter described. I spotted it in the Potions class I attended but the
masking charm was able to confuse it into believing I am who the polyjuice
says I am.”

The Dark Lord hummed. “Well done, Peter, for informing us of the risk of the
map and the way to circumvent it.”

Peter felt a bolt of satisfaction as the Dark Lord’s praise warmed him. The
others scowled at him and Peter ignored them.

“And what of our spy, Bartemius? Is Severus well?” The Dark Lord said softly.

“Severus has agreed to meet with his lover during the break.” Barty said
before pouting. “He claims in his letter that the antidote is progressing to
the schedule he originally outlined and that Dumbledore watches him too
closely for him to sabotage it.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes flashed angrily, the childish features showing a hideous
fury before it was quickly masked. “I want you to press upon him that I will
be most displeased should the woman wake. If he cannot find a way to prevent
the antidote from working then he must find a way to prevent her from
speaking.”

“As you wish, Father.”

“We will need to arrange a location so he can begin the next phase of the
ritual potion.” The Dark Lord murmured. “Not *here*. Severus will not find
this worthy of a Potions Master.”

“The LeStrange Manor stands empty, Father.” Barty murmured. “It has a
wonderful Potions lab.”

“No,” the Dark Lord said, “they know of you and of your association. They
would have taken care to lay a trap. No. We must choose somewhere they would
not suspect…” his cold gaze turned to Peter who immediately prostrated
himself.

“My Lord.”

“My faithful servant, Peter.” The Dark Lord said smoothly. ‘You will continue
to use the polyjuice and return to the place we visited for the ingredient of
my ancestor.’ He smiled nastily. “The Potions lab in the west wing of the
mansion will suffice for Severus’s needs, it simply needs to be cleaned. You
will see to this.”

“Yes, Master.” Peter replied immediately.

“I will place it under the Fidelius charm.” The Dark Lord said with
satisfaction.

Peter prayed he wouldn’t be made the Secret Keeper.

“You may tell us all you learned today now, Peter.”

His mouth dry, Peter took a moment to wet his lips. “I discovered the
identities of those who captured your fallen follower, my Lord.”

Travers started forward but contained himself after a swift glance at the Dark
Lord.

“Who?” asked the Dark Lord, a glint of madness flaring again.

“Three of the team they call the Rat Squad.” Peter explained hurriedly.
“Chambers, Wood and Cambridge were responsible for the arrest.”

The Dark Lord hissed angrily.

“However, my Lord,” Peter continued, “it was our old enemy Moody who was
responsible for his heart attack.”

The Dark Lord snapped his wand up and a small ornament blew up, coating the
mantelpiece with dust. He settled back in his throne of pillows and glowered.
“Dennis…”

Travers kneeled beside him, pain coming and going on his face so quickly that
Peter was almost convinced he hadn’t seen it. “My Lord.”

“Faithful Dennis.” The Dark Lord said slowly. “You have been so good and taken
your father’s punishment with such grace. You deserve a reward.”

“I live to serve, my Lord.” Travers said, devotion dripping from his tongue
with every word.

Peter considered that if he himself was to die, it was likely that Travers
would take the place of the servant in the ritual.

“Then all those our dear rat has named are yours.” The Dark Lord said. “Kill
one or kill them all. I leave it with you.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Travers said with a deferential nod.

Peter deduced that Travers would kill them all or die trying — the latter was
not an impossibility given Moody’s long history of paranoia and prowess with a
wand.

“Anything else?” asked the Dark Lord impatiently.

“The masses are diverted by the news of the wedding, my Lord.” Peter said
quickly.

The Dark Lord hummed. “Your old friend must be lauded by his fellow lupines.”
He said eventually. “His relationship with Black has given him the power to
suggest normality is a possibility for the pitiful creatures.”

“But hardly socially acceptable yet,” Peter said, “most of the remarks I
overheard were not sympathetic to a witch, especially one with the gift of a
metamorphmagus, aligning herself with a werewolf.”

“Indeed not.” The Dark Lord agreed. “But if this marriage were to occur, it
would send too much hope into the werewolf community. You do not set your dog
at your dinner table and dress it in fine clothes.”

Peter thought of his mother’s yapping Yorkie with its winter woollies and dog
boots, and said nothing.

“No, dogs are good for guarding and terrorising but they should still be
treated like dogs.” The Dark Lord sighed. ‘We cannot allow this marriage to
happen.’ His eyes narrowed on Peter again. “You said the witch had the ability
of a metamorphmagus?”

Peter nodded swiftly.

“Then she may be an interesting specimen to keep.” The Dark Lord said coldly.
“Perhaps the child she carries would have the same value of examination.”

“My Lord.” Peter said prostrating himself again to hide his shudder of
revulsion. He could imagine the horrors the Dark Lord’s examination would form
and he would not wish it on his worst enemy never mind a young woman such as
Nymphadora Tonks.

The Dark Lord sighed. “Fetch parchment and a quill.”

Peter rushed to do his bidding, laying them out in easy reach of the Dark
Lord’s tiny hands.

“While I did not want to provide Fenrir an advantage as part of his
punishment, I fear I must change my plans.” He grimaced. “I had thought Fenrir
would have tracked Lupin down and killed him by now. He was once a capable
asset.”

“Hopefully, the old wolf will realise Lupin will be in Bulgaria for his own
wedding, Father.” Barty offered dryly.

Manic laughter erupted from the small child and the Dark Lord patted Barty’s
head. “You do amuse me.” He waved around the room. “Leave. I have letters to
write to old associates.”

Vaguely aware that Barty headed for the vanishing cabinet to return to
Hogwarts, Peter bowed and made for the door to fulfil the other mission his
master had given him. He would need to apparate to Little Hangleton and assess
the situation with the lab. And if on his way he stopped at the owl post
office and offered his old friend Moony an early wedding present of a warning,
well, he was only fulfilling his master’s original wish and instructions on
the matter of Fenrir, after all.

Satisfied with his justification, Peter hit the street and safely out of
earshot of the tiny flat above the apothecary, he began whistling. Maybe there
would also be time for a Spotted Dick and custard…

o-O-o

The news of the diadem being found had Albus settling into the comfortable
chintzy armchair he had conjured for himself with a squirm of glee. He took in
the arriving teachers with a sense of satisfaction. He nodded to the four
Heads of Houses as they made their way into the room.

Their fourth staff meeting was about to commence and Albus felt that they had
made many improvements since the start of the year — the debacle of Harry
being entered in the tournament notwithstanding nor the ongoing sabotage of
the tasks. The teachers seemed happier and more engaged; the students brimming
with enthusiasm… Hogwarts hummed with happiness at the energy, both spiritual
and magical.

He smiled a welcome as Irma, Matilda and Septima took their usual seats. The
librarian, the historian and the Arithmancy Professor had become a tight
threesome during the previous months. As had the next trio; Bathesda, Alison
and Rolanda were not far behind the other ladies. The Ancient Runes Professor,
the Muggle Studies Professor and the Flying Instructor were all Quidditch mad
it transpired. There was a heated debate about the last match of the season
taking place from what Albus could overhear.

He turned his attention to the unlikely duo lurking in their usual corner;
Alastor and Severus. Both were watching everyone else. Albus hid a smile as
Firenze entered deep in discussion with Aurora and Tobias. The duelling
contest had concluded with a win for Beauxbatons but Hogwarts had performed
well especially given the lack of formal training in prior years. Opening it
up to the lower years had made for a fascinating competition; Daphne
Greengrass’s prowess had been a definite revelation.

Hagrid arrived carrying an injured owl and took a seat next to Pomona. Sybill
arrived in her usual flurry of scarves and finally Helen entered briskly,
providing apologies for Poppy who was treating a student in the infirmary.
Argus took his place at the door, glowering as usual. Albus sighed inwardly.
He feared the caretaker was seeing his last year at Hogwarts.

Minerva cleared her throat pointedly; they were ready to begin.

Albus greeted them warmly. “It is good to see us all here again for another
round-up.” He said cheerily. “Perhaps we shall begin with the academics?”

He listened with half an ear as Minerva covered the best and worst performers
in each year, with each Head of House chiming in as required. It was only as
she reached Harry’s year that he tuned back in as the conversation turned to
the boy himself.

“…I think it’s clear that Mister Potter will require an individualised lesson
plan next year.” Minerva sighed.

“If he returns.” Severus inserted snidely.

Minerva glared at him. “There is no suggestion currently that he will not.”

“He does have to survive the tournament.” Severus rejoined.

Albus cast a warning look in Severus’s direction. “Let us all hope that he
will and that he will resume his studies here with us formally next year.”

“An individualised lesson plan will be the way forward.” Filius agreed with
Minerva. “He has mastered most of the spell-work required to achieve his
NEWTs.”

“But not in every subject.” Pomona objected.

“And his theoretical understanding is still somewhat behind NEWT level.”
Severus sneered.

“With some tutoring, I believe he could pass his OWLs in the wand subjects
early with Exceeds Expectations if not Outstandings.” Minerva took a breath.
‘He could also easily achieve NEWTS in the wand subjects the following year
focusing on theory as opposed to the practical work which he is already
performing well. In all other subjects, bar Runes where he is already a year
ahead, I would propose to keep him with his year group.’ She paused. “He could
begin a Mastery in one of the wand subjects post completing his NEWT.”

Albus wondered if she was hoping Harry would choose her subject.

“It seems a sensible and balanced plan.” Helen commented. “He doesn’t need the
isolation of being completely separated from his peers and his friends, but
this recognises that he has different educational needs without making him too
different.”

Severus snorted quietly from his corner but he remained thankfully silent
otherwise.

“What does Lord Black think?” asked Matilda, leaning forward. “Has this been
discussed with him?”

Minerva inclined her head. “Sirius and I had a brief discussion just this
morning. He is happy with my proposal. He is concerned Mister Potter is
becoming increasingly disassociated with Hogwarts and his peers as the year
progresses and would like to encourage him to strengthen his ties with his
friends and year group.” She pursed her lips. “He has requested that, subject
to some additional security, next term Mister Potter be granted to spend the
occasional night in the Gryffindor boys’ dorm with his friends. I have granted
the request.”

Albus was pleased with the news. He had been a touch worried that Harry would
not wish to return to Hogwarts for his fifth year or that Sirius would decide
that Harry would be home-schooled instead. If there were plans to ensure Harry
continued to feel a part of the Hogwarts student body then his small concern
was appeased.

“Can we continue or are we to assume Potter is our only student?” inquired
Severus pointedly.

Minerva sent him a quelling look but she picked up the parchment she had
discarded and continued with the academic performances of the other years.

Albus subsided, content to hear that Natalie Warren was currently top of the
seventh year and destined to graduate with a full set of Outstandings.

Minerva set one parchment and picked up another. “I shall move onto the points
system. I am pleased to say that all professors are complying with the
guidelines set out at the start of the year. The Houses remain fairly equal
although Gryffindor currently leads due to our success in the Quidditch cup.”

Severus glowered in the background as Minerva once again accepted the
congratulations of her colleagues.

“Shall we move on?” suggested Albus smoothly inserting himself into a pause.
“Helen, perhaps a report from the infirmary?”

Helen nodded. “We have two second year students currently in the infirmary,
Amy Addison and Larry Cable.”

Pomona sat forward and Albus was reminded that the students in question were
Hufflepuffs.

“Both mis-timed the stairs yesterday and had a bit of a nasty fall.” Helen
continued. ‘They should be fine for the Express tomorrow.’ She cleared her
throat. “Generally, we have had a good term. A few minor accidents and
mis-spells but no major outbreak of illness. The at-risk children are all
doing well, I’m pleased to say. Two have been removed from their current
living situations due to the evidence and have been placed with either close
relatives or godparents. There was one report of bullying but Professor
Flitwick was quick to step in.”

“An attempt at theft.” Filius reported with a disapproving scowl. “The culprit
has been issued with a first warning.”

“Poppy is doing duty over the Easter break as I have a return to the States
planned. That’s all from the infirmary.” Helen concluded.

Albus smiled at her benevolently. “And that does neatly bring us onto the
arrangements for the upcoming holiday. Alastor, if I can prevail upon you?”

“Security will be maintained over the holiday.” Alastor said firmly. “We will
maintain constant vigilance.”

Albus ignored Minerva rolling her eyes.

“What about during the Lupin wedding?” asked Septima seriously. She leaned
forward attentive and curious.

Alastor glowered. “Bloody stupid timing but we have it covered.” He nodded at
Minerva. “Those with personal invites will attend. Minnie will be away for the
entire weekend of the wedding; the Headmaster for the day before and of the
wedding; me, I’m going just for the day.”

“The invitation was extended to all Remus’s former colleagues,” Albus
explained hurriedly, ‘but clearly we need to maintain a quorum of teachers
given the students remaining within the castle.’ He nodded at the Head of
Ravenclaw. “Filius will assume overall responsibility for the school in my
absence with able assistance from Professors Snape and Sprout.”

“There’ll be a group of aurors patrolling during the period an’ all.” Alastor
said firmly.

“That’s reassuring.” Alison commented. “There are rumours going around the
school that a former follower of Voldemort may be masquerading as a student.”

There was an evident question in her tone and Alastor snorted while Albus shot
her a faintly disapproving look.

“It is a suggestion that perhaps those with ill intent who had hidden on the
Durmstrang ship and killed Headmaster Karkaroff have entered the school under
false pretences.” Albus conceded. “However, there is no proof.”

“We did have an artefact in our possession that allowed us to identify the
students benignly without asking them to take a blood identity test.” Alastor
growled. “There was no evidence of anyone not being who they said they were
and the Board of Governors have seen fit to refuse the request to run
additional tests.”

“No student is acting out of character as yet.” Snape added snidely. “Although
we should all endeavour to be observant and raise any such abberant behaviour
to their Head of House or the Headmaster.”

The rest of the teachers nodded.

“Will we have to retake identity tests?” asked Irma pointedly looking at
Alastor.

“It would help eliminate the possibilities.” Alastor said. “But I’ve been told
I can’t insist on it unless you leave the grounds.”

“We could volunteer.” Alison said. “I’d be happy to offer to do a test.”

“Me too.” Helen concurred.

As more staff stepped forward until they all had confirmed they’d retake a
test, Albus beamed at them widely. “Excellent.” He said finally. “As Alastor
has said it will help eliminate the possibilities and in the meanwhile we
should all keep our eyes and ears peeled for trouble.”

“Wish the sodding French were as accommodating.” Alastor grumbled.

“Has anything come of the investigation into the sabotage of the second task?”
Rolanda asked.

Alastor sighed heavily. “The sea snake was supposedly in a cage and under the
control of a merman.”

“There’s evidence that the merman was subjected to the Imperius curse.” Albus
said gravely. “We fear it was Bartemius Crouch Junior. He has no doubt
inherited his father’s aptitude with languages.”

“The merman was under orders to release the snake regardless of how the task
was done.” Alastor said brusquely.

“At least nobody was killed or hurt this time.” Helen said grimly, no doubt
remembering the death of the dragon handler in the first task.

“And the preparation of the third task?” asked Tobias delicately. “Is that
going well?”

“We’ve locked down as much as we can but that maze is so bloody public!”
Alastor gave another glowering grimace.

Albus didn’t respond to the disapproval. “The Quidditch pitch was the most
sensible choice.”

It was Rolanda’s turn to snort.

“Do we know which students are staying over in the castle over the holiday
period?” asked Matilda returning them to the topic at hand.

“A full list will be published shortly.” Minerva confirmed briskly. “However,
as usual for this break all the seventh and fifth year are remaining behind in
anticipation of exam revision, and we have a good proportion of the other
years choosing to remain behind across all three Houses.”

“Some of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students have requested leave given
the recent terrible events and they have all been granted dispensation to
travel home but will face an identity check on their return.” Albus said. “We
expect the temporary placement of Professor von Humberg as the Headmaster of
Durmstrang to be made permanent in the new term.”

“Those poor children.” Pomona sighed. “Such a terrible event.”

“Some have taken up the counselling we have offered.” Helen said comfortingly.

“A most unfortunate incident.” Albus demurred.

He quickly brought the meeting to an end and called for Severus to remain
behind.

“I noticed you received another letter at dinner.” Albus said without
preamble.

Severus looked at him sourly. “As you know I have been summoned to a meeting
during the holidays with Crouch.”

Albus nodded gravely, remembering the last time the two had met. He hated that
Severus risked his life in his role as a spy but he knew that there was no
choice. If Sirius had not insisted on Severus resuming his role, no doubt
Albus would have had to request the same at some point. “It is remarkably
dangerous for you to meet him alone, Severus.”

“Never fear,” Severus sneered, “he will court the displeasure of the Dark Lord
if he attempts to harm me again, and my position with the Dark Lord is assured
as long as he requires potions made.”

“I do care for you *for you*, Severus.” Albus remonstrated gently. “Not just
your worth as a spy.”

Severus gazed back at him with an even dark gaze that in true Slytherin style
gave away nothing.

“Why has he written again?” Albus asked steering the conversation back to
business.

“He requests that in the event I cannot sabotage the potion to awaken the
Summers woman, the Dark Lord is insistent that I do not allow her to speak.”

Albus stroked his beard softly. “He gave something away in her presence.”

“Undoubtedly.” Severus inclined his head. “But what…” he made a sharp motion
with one hand. “I assume you have assessed the likelihood of the person hidden
at Hogwarts being tasked with the mission of destroying the potion?”

“It is a possibility.” Albus mused. “We should increase security to your lab.”

“Alastor and I have already taken care of it.” Severus informed him. “If there
is nothing else?”

Albus inwardly sighed and allowed Severus to leave in an impressive billow of
robes. He sometimes wondered if he had made other choices whether Severus
would have taken a different path. His choices in regards to Harry had been so
far off the mark that he found himself questioning whether his actions in
regards to Severus had been the same. He rather feared he had mis-stepped in
Severus’s youth — allowed the Marauders too much latitude in hindsight and
punished Severus too severely in comparison.

Perhaps…

He shook his head.

He could not change the past, he could only work to make a better future.
There was a sense that the end was almost upon them. The third task was not so
far away and with it the inevitable confrontation that would take place
between Harry and Tom…

Albus sighed and shook himself out of his melancholy contemplation. He should
think of happier things, he determined; there was a wedding to look forward to
after all.

o-O-o

Sirius sat on the arm of the easy chair in his study and stared at the
blackboard. He sighed and raising his wand, scratched out *Diadem*. There was
only one more possible horcrux to go — the snake. Of course, they just had to
hope that Voldemort hadn’t made any others in the meantime but the general
consensus was that it was unlikely.

His mirror buzzed on his desk and he frowned. It was the silent signal — the
one that he and James had spelled into the mirror in the event one of them was
stuck on a date from hell and needed the other to call them for some reason.
He’d never told Harry about that particular feature of the mirrors and none of
the new mirrors he created had it. Which meant, Sirius mused rapidly walking
over to the mirror, the only person it could be was Moony as he very much
doubted Wormtail had a mirror still or would use it.

He picked up the mirror and sat down at his desk. He tapped the mirror
carefully. “Moony.”

“Padfoot!” Remus replied immediately. The image wavered as Remus hurried out
an excuse to whoever it was he was with and settled into a more private space.

“Why the signal for an emergency call?” asked Sirius, half-amused and
half-impatient to know the reason.

“Andy and Dora have been talking about wedding colours for over an hour,
Padfoot.” Remus sounded completely bewildered. “Over an hour!”

Sirius laughed and settled back in his chair. “Oh come on! That’s nothing! How
can you not remember Lily and Alice spending two hours on the subject for
Alice’s wedding to Frank?”

“Are you sure I was there for that?” demanded Remus bemused.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You were there; just as you were there for the
marathon discussion they had about whether lilies were an appropriate flower
for a wedding when Lils and Prongs got hitched.”

“In all honesty, Padfoot, I think my mind has blanked out both events in
self-preservation.” Remus said dryly.

“Lucky you.” Sirius muttered. He had tried drinking to forget at the time and
it hadn’t worked.

“Colours, Padfoot!” Remus stressed. “I mean, what does it really matter if the
yellow is the wrong side of sunshine and things should be more to the gold
side of the spectrum?”

“It’s a woman thing.” Sirius shrugged.

Remus sighed and cast a look beyond the mirror. “I should get back. Andy’s
being very… well, I don’t know how to put it but I think Dora’s pretty on the
edge. I just needed a breather.”

“Look, Moony,” Sirius said, softening his tone, “Andy just wants Dora to have
the best wedding and the best marriage.”

Remus flushed bright red. He breathed deeply as though gathering himself and
heaved a sigh. “I know I’m not the best catch…”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony.” Sirius interrupted him sharply. “You’re a
great catch and frankly, you’re the one Tonks wanted. Andy just hasn’t come
round to the way it happened yet, that’s all. In the meantime, indulging
Andy’s fervour is probably not a bad thing.”

“You mean I should man up.” Remus sighed.

“Moony.” Sirius sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. The last thing he
wanted was to pressure Remus any further about the marriage and the kid. Remus
had stepped up and done the right thing.

“No, Padfoot.” Remus said firmly. ‘I’m sorry.’ He reached out as though to
touch Sirius and dropped his hand. “I know you’re in a difficult position. Has
it been very bad the fallout?”

Sirius gave a half-shrug. “The press has been good but commentary wise? Dora’s
getting the worst of it. I’m just pleased Andy and Ted are out of the country
they don’t need to hear everyone calling their daughter names.”

Remus’s eyes flashed amber. “They’d better not call her names at the wedding.
We both made the lapse of judgement on birth control.”

“Our friends are being supportive.” Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “The
alliance mainly disapproves about the lack of thought on the political
implications by both of you.”

“They’re not wrong about that.” Remus said. ‘I’ll make sure we send some kind
of pre-wedding apology note? Maybe with the wedding favours?’ He sighed
heavily again. “What are favours anyway? Did Prongs have favours because I
don’t recall anything?”

“Sure,” Sirius said, “they had those little bags with hangover potion in them
for everyone.”

Remus stared at him. “How do you remember all this?”

Sirius made a vague dismissive gesture. “I think I thought Lily would kill me
if I didn’t! I was the best man.” And there had been the hours spent making
the damn potion…

Remus smiled at him nostalgically. “She probably would have done.”

They shared a look of fond remembrance.

Remus cleared his throat. “Any ideas for mine and Dora’s?”

“If you’re going to use the favours as an apology, something suitably
expensive.” Sirius said dryly.

“That’s…” Remus paused, “actually very helpful.”

Sirius smirked at him and suddenly realised he hadn’t told Remus the latest
news. “Ooo-oo! On a completely different topic, we found some treasure today!”

“Treasure?” Remus’s gaze sharpened. “In the Room of Requirement?”

Sirius nodded enthusiastically. “The Weasley owl showed up right on top of it.
Bill was blown away.”

“Is the item destroyed?” Remus asked, the image distorting as he changed
position.

“Yes.” Sirius nodded again. “Same as the others. One priceless treasure now
one puddle of useless slag.”

“So, there’s just the snake to go in the treasure hunt.” Remus smiled at him.
“That’s excellent, Padfoot.”

“Bertie’s over the moon.” Sirius said wryly. “Both he and Amelia were looking
smug at the Council tonight.”

“Why was Amelia looking smug?” asked Remus.

“A monitoring ward on somewhere we’ve identified as a possibility for a
hidey-hole pinged this afternoon.” Sirius explained. “When the Squad went to
check, they got confused and apparated back. Bertie confirms that there’s now
a Fidelius in place. Amelia thinks they’re gearing up to move there for the
final months leading up to this ritual.”

“Which puts them somewhere we know they’re generally at thanks to the location
of the monitoring charm,” Remus said, “but somewhere we now don’t know about
and can’t get into without the Secret Keeper. Bugger.”

“Exactly. I guess Voldemort’s not against using something his enemies have
come up with if it works.” Sirius sat back. “To be honest, I don’t think it
matters that we don’t know where they are right now. On the day of the ritual,
we’ll be able to pinpoint them if we allow their plan to play out.”

“That’s a big if, Sirius.” Remus murmured.

Sirius nodded in sombre agreement. “Harry thinks we should be thinking of the
endgame though and I agree with him, although I’m hoping with the diadem
found, we can go after Voldemort more aggressively and take him down before
then. If we haven’t got him before the third task, Harry and the kids have a
good training plan but as he points out, the third task isn’t really about
winning the tournament. As soon as it’s over, winner or not, as an ingredient
all the prep’s done and he’ll be ripe for the picking.”

“Well, that’s a horrifying thought.” Remus commented sadly.

“Harry believes Voldemort has to have something planned for grabbing him.”
Sirius pushed a hand through his hair. “So frankly I think the main worry
right now is Hogwarts. They lost the ship as their way into the school and I
think they’ll have planned a contingency. It’s what I’d do.”

Remus sighed. “What would you do exactly?”

“Ron was right; the easiest thing is take the place of a student or a
teacher.” Sirius replied promptly. “Albus says the teachers volunteered for
tests but we’re not performing identity checks unless people leave the grounds
otherwise — and not at all for all the Hogwarts students.”

“So there’s a risk someone will go home for Easter and come back as someone
else.” Remus surmised. “We have the map.”

“Yes,” Sirius agreed, “but we don’t know if Peter has done something to get
round it. And if we do spot someone as Harry says do we then keep them in play
where we know where they are or do we take them out?”

Remus sighed again. “Another good question.” He shifted and caught Sirius’s
gaze. “You said Harry has pointed out a lot of this?”

“I’m very proud of him.” Sirius felt a lump in his throat. “I am kind of torn
about not wanting him to have to think about this kind of thing, but I’m
pleased he’s taking it seriously, you know?”

“I know, Padfoot.” Remus took a deep breath. “I felt the baby move today for
the first time and I… all I can think about is how can I keep that tiny scrap
of life protected and safe? I know I love Harry but I guess there’s still a
bit of, I don’t know, distance? Maybe because I know he’s yours and I’m still
only Uncle Moony at the end of the day. But that feeling yesterday… it was
overwhelming and if that’s how you feel about Harry… I don’t know why you
aren’t bald from pulling your hair out.”

Sirius gave a weak laugh. “Welcome to parenthood, Moony.”

They both smiled somewhat sappily at each other before the realisation that
they were smiling somewhat sappily at each other had them both suddenly
snapping into action.

“Right, um…” Remus shook himself. “What about the ‘power he knows not’? With
the diadem found, we do need to think of the endgame and that needs to be part
of it. Did the Italians let you have the Cavietti copy of the Lumiere
account?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s worthless anyway, Remus, you know that. However…”
he rooted around his desk and picked up a parchment lifting into the view of
the mirror with a loud ‘TADA!’

“A letter?” Remus squinted. “I can’t read it, Padfoot.”

“Then allow me.” Sirius declared cheerily. ‘Dear Lord Black, I thank you for
your recent correspondence delivered to me by our mutual friend, Elaine
Delacour. She has kindly agreed to host a small introduction between us and
your son, Lord Potter, on the tenth of April in Paris. I look forward very
much to meeting you both. Yours, etcetera, etcetera, Vivien Verte.’ He put the
letter down. “It just arrived this afternoon.”

“I wish I could attend with you.” Remus sighed, frustration tensing his face
momentarily. “I feel like I’m letting you and Harry down.”

“You should stop beating yourself up, Remus. You made a mistake but you’re
stepping up and taking responsibility.” Sirius contradicted gently. “Harry and
I understand you have different obligations now and you aren’t letting us
down. You’re still there for us, we know that.”

Remus gave a snort but he subsided with a nod. “So, any thoughts on colour?”

“I prefer gold to sunshine yellow if that helps.” Sirius said.

Remus rolled his eyes, gave a wave and disappeared.

Sirius looked at the blank mirror and put it down gently on the desk. He
missed Remus a great deal. He missed his counsel and steady support; missed
having Remus’s calm to offset his own frenetic energy. His other friends had
stepped in and he knew he only had to floo call Minnie and she’d pop over for
a nightcap and a chat but…

He’d had this particular ache before, Sirius reminded himself. It was the ache
of a man who knew that life was changing because his best friend had found a
romantic partner, had found a relationship which would take precedence over
every other relationship in their lives, even their oldest and dearest
friendship.

Sirius could remember the hurt he’d felt when his friendship with James had
become secondary in his best friend’s eyes to James’s love and relationship
with Lily; when nights out with Sirius had been eschewed for nights in with
Lily; when time spent with just the guys suddenly became time spent with the
guys and Lily…

In retrospect, the resentment and angst he’d felt at the time all seemed so
childish, especially when he considered that Lily had become the sister he’d
always wanted. And it wasn’t the same with Remus and Tonks, Sirius mused.
Remus and Tonks were already family, and Sirius was mature enough that he
understood Remus’s changing priorities and even supported the change. But
change was change, and the ache of the losing what they had built since Sirius
had become Lord Black hadn’t yet been soothed by what they would become in the
future.

There was a small knock on the door before it opened and Harry entered. He’d
dressed for bed and Sirius glanced at the clock startled to realise it was
after ten.

“You OK?” He asked as Harry wandered over to sit in the visitor’s chair in
front of the desk.

“Just restless I guess.” Harry smiled at him. ‘I’m kind of excited about
tomorrow and France.’ He gestured vaguely. “And Bulgaria and seeing Remus
again.” He pointed at the mirror. “Did he call?”

“I called him.” Sirius said, ignoring the complicated rescue signal.

“Did you tell him about the diadem and the letter from Madame Verte?” Harry
asked excitedly.

“I did.” Sirius confirmed. He got up from the desk and held out a hand to pull
Harry from the chair. “I also told him we were starting to think about the
endgame.”

Harry glanced back towards the blackboard as Sirius slung an arm around his
shoulders. “It’s weird to think we’re almost at the end. It feels like it’s
been going on forever.”

Sirius hugged his son to his side for a long moment. “It will end, Harry.” He
paused. “And then you will have responsible sex, get married, have babies and
live happily ever after with the woman of your dreams.”

“Oy!” Harry laughed, pinching Sirius in the ribs.

They wrestled for a moment before Sirius slung his arm back around Harry and
marched him from the room.

“Come on.” Sirius declared. “If we sneak down to the kitchen, Dobby will make
us hot chocolate and marshmallows.”

His gaze darted to the blackboard as he leaned back to close the door and he
shot a spell to cover it once again.

Maybe they were getting close to the end, but it wasn’t over yet.

o-O-o

Thomas Marvolo Riddle stared up at the ceiling above him. He was ostensibly
resting. The young body he inhabited tired easily and after his letter writing
of the afternoon he had been fatigued.

It was frustrating.

But it would soon be over.

The plan for his physical resurrection was in full motion. In only a few short
months he would have a new adult body. Once again he would have the
physicality to match his intellect and spirit. The ability to move and act…

He had underestimated the Potters that Halloween night. He had been too
self-satisfied by Peter’s betrayal of their hiding place and his grand plan to
create an inviolate horcrux that he had not considered the fact that James and
Lily Potter had already ‘thrice defied him,’ knew of his want to kill their
child and had perhaps planned for the event.

The ancient Wiccan magic that the mudblood witch had used to protect her child
was powerful. He had felt the wrath of an angry mother as it had sent his
Killing Curse back full force to him, obliterating his body into ashes in a
way the curse would never have done otherwise. Powerful and unknown; it was
not a magic Tom would ever be able to wield as he was neither a witch nor a
mother, and he had no wish to become either despite his envy at the magic.

But he was powerful enough to defeat it.

Choosing the Potter boy — Harry — for the ritual worked for him on several
levels not least of which was the hypothesis that taking the boy’s blood would
neutralise the blood protection the boy’s mother had placed around her child.
He had done the Arithmancy and the theory supported his proposition.

And really it had been the only reason for his defeat that Halloween. Without
it, a mere babe would not have withstood his attack or his power. Without it,
he would have killed the boy before he’d turned twelve.

Thomas gave a disgruntled huff.

Occupying Quirrell had been difficult despite the wizard’s simpering adoration
of him, but it had given him the ability to spy on the eleven year old Harry
and contemplate what about the boy was special.

The answer had been: nothing.

Nothing about Harry Potter was special. He was thin, small and under the
school robes wore clothes that were second-hand and raggedy; Thomas recognised
the signs of neglect from his time in the orphanage. He had felt a hard bitter
satisfaction at that. Perhaps a baby had reduced him to a wraith but without
his formidable parents, little Harry Potter had grown up without love or
kindness it seemed.

Dumbledore knew, of course. It wasn’t hard to see how the old fool sometimes
looked upon his boy wonder with eyes filled with sorrowful regret. But Harry’s
situation didn’t matter any more to Dumbledore than the plight of Thomas
Marvolo Riddle had done so many years before.

Thomas contemplated that for a moment and wondered if he’d played it wrong
with the boy back then. Yes, he’d made a half-hearted attempt to the boy
onside during their confrontation in front of the mirror but… but if he had
approached the boy not as himself but as a saviour, as someone who would
rescue him from his situation, as repentant perhaps… could he have swayed his
nemesis to his side?

Possibly not.

The boy he’d observed that year had been filled with too much righteous anger
against the wizard who’d murdered his parents.

Of course, the boy he’d observed that year hadn’t been anything special beyond
his name and a fame he hadn’t even known he’d possessed.

Harry Potter was an average student, no discernible intellect or power, and
with only flying as a potential talent. He’d certainly managed to stay on that
damnable broom longer than most when Thomas had convinced Quirrell to jinx it.

And yet… Harry had stood firm in their confrontation. Yes, the boy had been
scared but he had still defied him, still challenged him. And in the end his
mother’s protection had saved him again. Quirrell had burned at the touch of
the boy; Thomas’s own form had been weakened with immense pain.

It had taken Thomas months to recover.

And then Peter had turned up.

There had been the babbling tale of how little Peter the Rat had been
discovered, tales of his old friends Black and Lupin almost murdering him only
for little Harry to stop them; poor honourable Harry whose sense of justice
had wanted Peter locked up for betraying his parents rather than dead. And
then as Thomas had plotted and planned, Peter’s stumbling information about
young Harry and tales of the two years he’d missed.

The tale of the Heir of Slytherin, the basilisk, and Harry slaying the snake
had angered Thomas. It was unthinkable that the boy had spoken parseltongue
(although magical transference on the night of the Halloween had probably been
the cause); maddening that he’d killed such a powerful weapon that Thomas had
under his thrall; infuriating that Lucius had used one of his precious
artefacts in what amounted to nothing more than a political ploy but then…

The diary horcrux had been filled with more than soul, it was filled with his
writings and plans. He had written in many times after he had realised what he
had done in making it, and had felt the pull of his own horcrux wrapping icy
fingers around the remaining soul within his body. A young girl would not have
withstood it for long. Perhaps Lucius had been alerted to his survival after
the events of his son’s first year at Hogwarts (and really the younger Malfoy
was a disappointment) and taken the diary out in anticipation and… and perhaps
the diary had *instructed* Malfoy.

Thomas would find out from Lucius when he was returned to full power. He
smiled cruelly. The diary was not the only thing Lucius had to account for. It
appeared that Lucius had bowed to the political will of Lord Black faster than
a tissue crumpled under a few drops of water.

Lord Black.

Thomas found his mind drifting towards the matter of Sirius Black and allowed
it to drift. The wizard was proving to be a worthy adversary. Thomas had
always admired the Blacks. Arcturus had been a contemporary — a couple of
years ahead of him at Hogwarts and he had ruled Slytherin house like a King.
There were few wizards Thomas admired but Arcturus had been one of them;
highly intelligent, political and Slytherin to his core. And Sirius Black was
Arcturus’s chosen Heir.

In retrospect, Arcturus had never truly supported Lord Voldemort; had never
intended to become a Death Eater, Thomas mused. As Lord Black, Arcturus had
remained behind his formidable walls and told Thomas only when the entire
living House of Black was in support of him would Arcturus allow himself to be
Marked. Arcturus had to have known his grandson Sirius would never have
supported Lord Voldemort.

Back then, the young Black hadn’t really registered with Thomas as anything
more than an annoyance — an acolyte of Dumbledore and another faceless Hit
Wizard. He’d been angered at the revelation that Sirius Black, undercover and
undetected, had managed to screw up the European side of the war for months.
The Carrows had spent time under the Cruciatus curse for that oversight. He’d
also been angered that Black had somehow escaped and killed so many in his
wake. But he’d never stopped to evaluate him, too focused on Dumbledore,
Bagnold and others.

That had been a mistake.

Black was every bit as dangerous as his grandfather; every bit as wily. Peter
might have tricked him once but Black had escaped Azkaban. He had escaped
again after Peter had fled to Thomas. But instead of going to ground as a
wanted fugitive unable to do anything but hide, Black had claimed his Lordship
and had turned the British wizarding world on its head. He’d assumed political
control with ease, subjugated Lucius, and invigorated society, kicking it out
of the inertia and apathy that would have allowed Thomas to have taken power
with ease.

All for one boy.

Thomas wondered what it was to have someone love them so much they literally
changed the world to ensure their loved one’s safety and happiness.

A part of him, a part of him that remembered his childhood and the nights he’d
dreamed of his parents turning up, telling him it had been a horrible mistake,
and whisking him away to a loving home… that part of him envied Harry Potter
the love of Sirius Black.

He glowered at the ceiling.

He had never had anyone but himself. He had never needed anyone else but
himself. That little Harry needed Sirius Black so much… it was a weakness.

Of course, apart from Peter’s foray at deception over Yule, they hadn’t truly
been able to exploit that weakness. Bartemius’s plan had been a complete
failure and eliminated two of his better supporters in Mulciber and Rookwood
before they’d even entered the fray.

Thomas tutted under his breath.

Bartemius was intelligent and cunning but it hadn’t escaped Thomas’s notice
that he was insane. No, Bartemius was useful because his obsession with
getting revenge on Black was all-consuming and he would help Thomas achieve
his aims so long as that revenge was on the table. Thomas was not going to
lose sight of that. Bartemius had already killed one father, and even if he
played at the role, Thomas had no intention of becoming a second victim of
Bartemius’s taste for patricide.

Dennis Travers was a loyal and faithful follower but he was dull and lacking
creativity. He was a good foot soldier but he was not and never would be a
lieutenant. Before Azkaban his father had been a smart man but his cleverness
had dimmed with exposure to the Dementors and Thomas believed he’d been a
liability — something that had been proven when the wizard had gotten caught
and interrogated. Death was a lucky escape for Travers Senior; his Dark Lord
would have tortured him for months for his transgression.

And Peter… Peter was a good servant. He had done all Thomas had ordered him to
do and he could not fault Peter’s care. But Thomas was never going to lose
sight of how quickly the rat had turned on his friends. How Peter had ended up
in the house of the brave was a mystery to Thomas. The rat would always look
to the strongest to protect him.

Severus, on the other hand, was a worthy follower; intelligent, a genius at
potions, and cunning. He had clearly capitalised on the advantage of being
thought of as Dumbledore’s spy and used it to save himself at the end of the
previous war. Perhaps he should be angry at Severus for upsetting Quirrell’s
plans but Thomas had always believed his followers should be able to prevail
on their own against all obstacles, and Severus clearly had no idea that his
Dark Lord inhabited the snivelling Defence teacher the Potions Master had seen
no need to hide his disdain for. Thomas did wonder if the death of Lily Potter
might have affected Severus’s loyalty but the hatred Severus had shown young
Harry eased his mind on that score.

He rather feared Fenrir was one dog who’d had his day. Lupin was in his prime
and Fenrir would be hard pressed to win against the younger wolf on an even
playing field. Of course, Thomas had no plans to allow an even playing field.
The Carrows had been his most vicious followers and he fully expected that
they would ensure victory.

Soon, Thomas promised himself, soon he would have his body back and he would
be able to entice his better compatriots back to his side. It was a shame
Black had killed the LeStranges, especially Bellatrix, but once Thomas had
removed Harry Potter from the world, the likes of Malfoy, Nott, Selwyn, Gibbon
and Wilkes would once again bow at the feet of Lord Voldemort.

Stupid Purebloods, sneered Thomas’s inner voice. So superior… so convinced of
their own place in the world.

Thomas had created the persona of Lord Voldemort to appeal to their snobbery,
and with the truth of his status as the only true Heir of Slytherin, it
ensured that he had ruled over them once and would again. It amused him that
they followed so avidly as he killed their kin indiscriminately. All Thomas
wanted was power.

Power to rule, to make them all regret the day they had ignored or belittled a
penniless orphan named Riddle. Power to ensure he would never again be that
helpless or subjugated.

Potter wasn’t a pureblood either for all he had been clothed in the robes of a
pureblood family, mused Thomas. He had actually decided Potter was the more
likely candidate for that infernal prophecy because he wasn’t a pureblood.
Stupid, Thomas berated himself. If only he hadn’t chosen either of them
perhaps he might have escaped the prophecy.

He really should try to find out the whole thing, but that would involve
risking a trip to the Ministry and with the security measures that had been
put in place it was unlikely he would be able to get in and out without being
noticed at all.

No.

It would have to wait until he was restored to a body and then it would be
moot as Potter would be dead.

Although Harry under the tutelage of Black was proving to be a rather
different enemy.

The boy’s abilities had grown since his observation of them at Hogwarts or
perhaps Harry had hidden his true abilities back then. He had killed a
basilisk at twelve, after all. His performance in the tournament was
astounding. Thomas could lay some of it at Black’s door, he mused. No doubt
Sirius Black was coaching the teen. But that didn’t detract from the fact that
at fourteen Harry Potter was as much a magical prodigy as Thomas himself had
been.

But Thomas was certain of his ability to best Harry once he was back in his
own body. He had decades of knowledge and experience. In a duel, Thomas would
beat Harry and all would see that he was the better wizard.

Images of spells and fighting flashed across his inner landscape and Thomas
felt the pull towards sleep as the dream of defeating his nemesis tempted him
into rest.

His last thought whispered in his inner ear as he let go of his hold on
consciousness: he would beat the boy, but perhaps he shouldn’t underestimate
Harry Potter the way he had underestimated his parents.

Finding Pronglet's Power: Chapter 1
===================================

**Part 11: Finding Pronglet’s Power (The Endgame Prank)**

*10**th* *April 1995*

Paris was a beautiful city.

Harry’s mind whirled with the two days of sight-seeing he’d thrown himself
into since their arrival in Paris on the Saturday morning. He and Sirius had
disguised themselves and wandered around both the wizarding and muggle tourist
attractions without anyone being wise to who they were. Harry had loved the
Eiffel Tower with the grand views of Paris, and the Louvre with its hidden
wizarding floor where the portraits spoke of everything from the French
Revolution to the French Resistance in the last World War. But he’d also just
enjoyed sitting outside on the pavement of a little café for lunch with a hot
mug of chocolate, crusty baguette and platters of cured meat and cheeses,
watching the world go by. It had been a wonderful two days, if exhausting.

They were staying at the Black apartment which was big enough to house not
only Sirius and himself but also in a surprise move, Andromeda, Narcissa and
Tonks, who’d all decided that Paris was the only place to commission the
wedding outfits. The Grangers had arrived earlier that morning to facilitate
Hermione getting her bridesmaid’s dress and they were expecting Simeon and his
family the following day.

It had taken only an hour for Harry to feel swamped by the wedding talk and
he’d been relieved when Sirius hustled him out of the door early for their
luncheon with the Delacours and the mysterious Vivien Verte. He only felt a
smidgeon of guilt about leaving Hermione who had looked as bewildered as he
had felt about what material would work best for the dresses.

The Delacours estate was very close to Versailles, (Harry had hoped they might
have time in the afternoon to visit the palace but Sirius had been adamant it
needed a day on its own to properly appreciate the gardens and the historical
building), and only accessible by floo. Sirius walked them over to the French
Ministry of Magic to use the public floos there since the apartment didn’t
have an active floo. Harry didn’t mind the walk; the sun was shining and the
wind was bracing stinging his cheeks and mussing his hair, and generally
reminding him he was alive.

In some ways, he mused, the past couple of days had seemed like a holiday from
the reality of their lives; a revisit of the Summer when they’d been at the
clinic and the only thing they’d needed to do was focus on healing. It had
been a good time-out and Harry felt rested as they entered through the public
entrance and into the Ministry which was housed under the Bastille.

They gained a few looks but nothing like the attention they would have drawn
in Britain and Harry happily followed Sirius over to the bank of public floos
where they paid for their usage to a small goblin.

There was nobody in the reception room when they arrived and Harry took a
moment to take in the large rectangular space, empty of everything but a
beautiful magical tapestry of a gathering of swans all along the one wall in
front of them; the swans swam up and down the length of the woven fabric
serenely. Looking back over his shoulder, Harry spotted the crest of the
Delacours hewn into the marble mantelpiece and a wide ornate mirror which no
doubt was linked to another somewhere in the building for someone to watch for
security reasons. There were no windows and no visible door; the only lighting
was an elaborate chandelier which had lit up as soon as they had stepped out
of the floo.

A pop alerted them to a house elf. “Bonjour, Madame Elaine will be wiz you
shortly. I’ll be taking your cloaks.”

They handed them over and the house elf bowed politely before it popped out
again.

“Good security.” Sirius commented, admiration colouring his tone. ‘I like the
tapestry, provides the right amount of calming distraction. No windows, no
doors. Nice mirror.’ He grinned at Harry. “Maybe we should get a tapestry for
Black Manor.”

“I don’t think I want to know.” Harry joked, seeing the mischievous glint in
Sirius’s eye. Once a prankster…

A grand double doorway suddenly appeared to their right and it opened up on
its own allowing entry to the beautiful woman who was Fleur and Gabrielle’s
mother. Her golden hair was up in a complex chignon; her loose blue day robes
were open to reveal a floaty muggle-style white summery dress decorated in a
pattern of tiny blue flowers; gold sandals and jewellery completed the outfit.
Harry was glad he and Sirius had opted for stylish outfits and that he wasn’t
going to feel either under or over-dressed; they’d judged it correctly.

Sirius bowed deeply and Harry followed his example. He almost smiled at
Elaine’s appreciative once over of his father. Sirius wore a dark red shirt
tucked into tailored dark grey trousers with an open light grey duelling robe.
His dark hair was neatly combed back into a ponytail tied with a leather
strip.

Harry was in a similar outfit — an emerald shirt rather than red, black denim
jeans which youth allowed him to get away with wearing, and an open
green-so-dark-it-was-almost-black every day robe.

Elaine accepted Sirius kissing the back of her offered hand with a delighted
laugh and she smiled widely when Harry did the same. “It is marvellous you
’ave arrived.”

Her French accent was barely traceable, Harry noted as Sirius thanked her for
her welcome.

Elaine shrugged in a very Gallic manner. “It is our pleasure.” She motioned
for them to follow her. ‘Our estate is, of course, very extensive. I ’ope we
’ave time to show you the grounds before you depart, but if not another time
per’aps. I realise your purpose today is meeting Madame Verte.’ She turned
and, smiling again, winked at them. “We will ’ave lunch before business
though.”

Harry followed her, wide-eyed at the gorgeous architecture, the wide main
corridor decorated with what Harry assumed to be considered beautiful objects
d’art and pictures painted by many famous artists.

The room they were led into was the conservatory; a large oval room which
overlooked a pristine green lawn leading down to the rest of the gardens.
Apart from the back wall which was part of the main house, the rest of the
room had a cream wall up to waist height and then glass that arced into a dome
above. Various plants were placed around the room; some trailing up the glass
and along the walls. The main space though was taken up with a long table set
out for lunch and a number of comfortable dining chairs around it. There was a
side door out to the garden and Elaine ushered them through and round a small
stone path to a walled garden where Fleur, Gabrielle and two older women sat
on ornate metal chairs around a matching table.

Fleur caught her sister before she could throw herself at Harry, whispering
something about decorum in her ear that Harry could barely hear.

“Please don’t get up.” Sirius said, seeing the women start to adjust their
positions for the introductions.

The first woman bore a marked resemblance to Elaine despite her papery-thin
skin and silver hair; she smiled at him. “Thank you, Lord Black. You are a
gentleman.”

“My grandmother.” Elaine introduced them brightly. “Madame Sabrina Limone.
This is Lord Sirius Black and his son, Lord Harry Potter.”

“Sirius and Harry, please.” Sirius said, kissing the older woman’s hand with
just as much charm as he’d used on Fleur’s mother. “Your mother-in-law’s wands
are wonderful creations, Madame Limone.”

Harry followed Sirius, a touch more shyly, but performing his small ‘bonjour’
and kiss without tripping over anything.

“You may call me Sabrina.” She said with a twitching mouth which gave away her
amusement at the proper protocol. “May I introduce our good friend, Vivien
Verte.”

“Madame,” Sirius bowed and kissed the back of her hand, “you have my utmost
gratitude for consenting to meet with us.”

Vivien was older than Sabrina. There was a fragility in the small woman’s
frame; an air of bemused eccentricity in her simple bronze smock and matching
slippers; her white hair escaping from its haphazardly pinned up do. But her
brown eyes were shining brightly with intelligence and her grip was strong.

“You will call me Vivien.” She corrected in surprisingly unaccented crisp
English.

Sirius nodded graciously. “Thank you.”

Vivien extended her hand to Harry who moved forward and kissed the back of her
knuckles. When he went to step back, she held onto his hand, her brown eyes
searching his green ones intently. Harry swallowed his nerves and his
instinctive reaction to look to Sirius. Instead he held up under her regard
until she squeezed his fingers lightly and let go.

“You, young Raven, may call me Grandmother.” Vivien said with so much
satisfaction that it sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

Sirius tensed beside him. “Vivien, if I may…”

“Do not worry,” Vivien turned to Sirius with a small smile, “we will speak of
this later. We all have our gifts, do we not?”

Elaine coughed and masterfully returned to the task of completing the
introductions with a breezy acknowledgement that they were already acquainted
with Fleur and Gabrielle. An apology from Fleur’s father was provided; he had
been unable to reschedule his previous business arrangements.

Pre-lunch drinks of a Summer punch were handed out and talk turned to the
tournament and reminisces of the second task. Sirius escorted the two older
women back to the conservatory for lunch while Harry escorted Fleur and a
giggling Gabrielle. Elaine mock-complained about the lack of her husband to
provide her ‘with an equally ’andsome wizard.’

Lunch topics were also fairly light; Harry was asked about studying at
Hogwarts and he responded with a similar question about Beauxbatons; Sirius
was asked about the latest proposal the Swiss had put to the ICW for
wand-making ingredients to be monitored for proper quality.

It was only after the sumptuous lemon mousse with lemon syrup and candied
oranges dipped in dark chocolate that Elaine drew the conversation around to
the purpose of the visit.

“Per’aps, Vivien,” she offered, “you would prefer to discuss your business
with Sirius and ’arry in the drawing room with coffee?”

Vivien acquiesced and five minutes later, Harry found himself sitting on a
small antique sofa next to his father. Vivien was installed in a matching
chair beside him. A coffee table next to them was laden with a silver tray
with hot coffee and tiny pastries.

Vivien served the drinks, adding plenty hot milk to Harry’s which he
additionally sweetened to make it palatable. He rarely drank coffee but didn’t
want to make a fuss asking for something else. Sirius’s small smile of
approval was enough to make it worth the while.

“I should begin with an apology for our introduction.” Vivien settled back in
the armoire. “I did not mean to disturb you with my words.”

Sirius glanced at Harry and back at Vivien. “You recognised his animagus
form?”

Vivien smiled softly. “More accurately the essence of all he is and is to
become.” She tilted her head. “I am not the first, no?”

“No,” admitted Harry, “my friend Luna was the first one to suggest I would be
a raven.”

“So you are a raven and one protected by a… grim?” Vivien looked at Sirius
questioningly.

Sirius nodded reluctantly.

“Appropriate that the one who guards the last of the Peverells is a man who
carries the soul of a creature who usually walks with Death and protects the
soul of the innocent.” Vivien said knowingly.

Harry felt more than a little creeped out and he hastily took a sip of his
coffee to hide his reaction. Sirius placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder
grounding him.

“And you are the last of Lumiere’s line.” Sirius replied politely.

“Yes, the last of the Lumieres and you are the last of the Peverells.”
Vivien’s gaze caught Harry’s. “We both are the last as foreseen.”

“Foreseen?” Sirius jumped on the phrase.

Harry swallowed down the fear that had sprung up; he really hoped it wasn’t
another prophecy.

“It starts as though a joke.” Vivien said, her words unhurried as though she
wasn’t aware of Sirius’s determination to have an answer to his question. “An
apprentice wand-maker walks into an inn and sits beside a rich young wizard
travelling incognito abroad before returning home to marry. But it is not a
joke.”

Harry was captivated by the picture she had woven and eager to know more, yet
he didn’t press her, knowing somehow she had to tell the tale her own way.
Sirius seemed to sense the same because he remained quiet too.

Vivien sipped her coffee, lowering the delicate china cup back into its
equally delicate saucer. “Michel Albert Lumiere. He writes in his journals
that they became friends that first night; Michel flush from the sale of his
first wand and the wizard, who introduced himself only as Iggy, drinking to
forget the war and losses he had left behind in his home country. They
determined to travel together and they spent days in each other’s company.”

“Journals?” asked Sirius softly enough not to disturb the suspenseful
atmosphere Vivien had created.

“Journals.” Vivien confirmed. ‘There is not a single document upon which the
account was written despite the rumours. Albert, Michel’s son, created
something to give to the Crown and to divert attention but it was not the
whole truth.’ She took another sip of coffee and set it aside. “Michel writes
that it was their last night together. They had found lodging in the medieval
port where the boat Iggy would take to return to Britain was docked. It was
winter and cold, the weather grey and wet with rain and sleet. They drank red
wine and filled their bellies with stew and bread and as they settled in front
of the fire…”

“*You have never asked me my full name.” The dark-haired wizard said, his blue
gaze staring into the fire.*

“*You will always be my dear Iggy.” Michel replied, tipping his glass in
Iggy’s direction.*

*Iggy’s gaze shifted from the fire to Michel and once again Michel wished he
could soothe the sadness and turmoil that tumbled in the blue eyes. “You are
my dearest friend, Michel. I shall never forget you.”*

“*Nor I you.” Michel murmured, his own sadness and disappointment at the
imminent loss of Iggy driving deep claws into his belly.*

“*I need… I need to tell you a story, Michel, one that you must swear to tell
your children and they must tell theirs and so on because one day in the far
future the last of my line will seek the last of yours to hear this story told
to them.”*

*Michel frowned at the tense lines of Iggy’s face; how serious he looked. His
friend meant every word. “You know this how?”*