Chapter 31: Hope and Regrets
Starfox5
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Chapter 31: Hope and Regrets
The last lesson of the Hogwarts Self-defense Club before the Eostra Break confirmed Hermione Granger's worst expectations. A number of witches had copied that twit Greengrass and wore robes that would be considered daring even for a 6th year. There was so much skin showing, it looked more like some attempt at a fertility ritual than a defense lesson when they gathered for the introduction.
Although she had to correct herself - the fertility rituals of the Faithful she had read about usually were done while in the nude, and those hussies didn't go that far. Some sixth years came close though, and the witch was certain though that they'd like to try such a ritual anyway, with her Harry.
She was almost glad that Parkinson didn't try to catch Harry's attention, but was still aiming for Ron. Almost, though - Ron already had the thankless job of shielding Harry from the advances of those witches, and the Slytherin witch hitting on him was only adding to his stress. She was up to something, but so far the curse hadn't been triggered, so she didn't mean to harm Harry. And she wasn't wearing a few strategically placed scraps of fabric and illusions either.
Of course, with more competition, Greengrass was now trying twice as hard. The blonde was standing in the first row, and if she pushed her barely covered chest out any further, she'd probably break her spine. Despite years of experience in acting the dutiful, obedient retainer in public, Hermione would have had to struggle to keep from scowling openly at the twit, if not for a little detail the hussies didn't know.
"But before that, we'll start with another round of dodge and shield training," Harry concluded his speech. "Our usual instructors are unfortunately currently unavailable to help us out." Some of the slower students cheered at the announcement. The cheers died down though as Harry continued: "My wand and my friends though will be taking their place, and casting the stinging hexes during the practise."
With that, Hermione, Luna, Aicha, Neville, Ginny, Susan and Padma stepped up to face the other students.
Usually, Hermione would have resented the wording that singled her out as Harry's retainer instead of his friend. Today though the witch was barely annoyed. She smiled politely at the assembled students, and kept her expression pleasantly bland when the assorted purebloods trying to poach Harry realized just who would be hexing them. And where she'd be aiming her hexes.
Hermione glanced over at Padma, who wasn't quite used to hiding her feelings. The Indian witch was smiling ferally at Parkinson, who was looking distinctly less smug than before. Not as bad as Edgecombe though. Greengrass was still smiling, but Davis looked like a deer caught in headlights for a moment.
Oh yes, Hermione thought, raising her wand, this would be a very enjoyable lesson. Cathartic even.
Draco Malfoy smiled as he once again walked towards the empty classroom where Edgecombe would be waiting for him, ready to report on what she had seen - and done - in Potter's little club. He had a couple books in his bag, and parchment - just in case he had to claim that he was meeting her for some tutoring.
The Ravenclaw witch was there, trying to hide as expected, and looking even more uncomfortable than usual. Good.
"Good evening, Miss Edgecombe," he said while closing the door.
"Good evening, Mister Malfoy," the witch pressed out through clenched teeth. Draco smiled widely.
"Please sit down," he said, after he had let her standing for a minute while he had slowly taken out his books, parchment, and the Self-Writing Quill. Mother had asked for a more literal report, and he'd provide. He would add his insights after the transcript.
The witch was slowly sitting down, as if she expected to feel pain. She didn't seem to be in pain though. Curious.
"So, what happened in this session?" he asked. He was just a student asking for some help. It was, perhaps a bit underhanded to try to profit from a rival's tutoring like that, but by no means criminal. Another layer of deception, as befitting a Slytherin.
"We practiced dodging," the witch spat out. "Professor Lupin and Mister Black couldn't attend, so Potter's friends cast stinging hexes at us during the training."
Draco chuckled. Her attitude made more sense now. She probably hadn't been able to sit down before the Matron had treated her. That was quite amusing. And the absence of the usual tutors was something the Dark Lord would be interested in as well. "Did the mudblood hex you too?"
"Yes." Her cheek twitched as she admitted to have been abused by Granger.
Draco felt torn between enjoying the pain and humiliation the girl had gone through, and was suffering right now, and feeling outrage at a mudblood overstepping her bounds. Potter shouldn't have ordered a mudblood to hex purebloods, that simply was poor form. But what could one expect from a parchment pureblood? On the other hand, it was delightfully humiliating. To have a mudblood abuse a pureblood blood traitor… he pondered the possibilities while he let Edgecombe stew some more. Finally, he deigned to address her again: "How did the attending students perform?"
"Poorly. Granger and Patil were the worst, but all of Potters friends cast a mean hex, and were very precise with their spells. Only Potter and Weasley didn't hex anyone and stuck to instructing instead."
"Oh? Did you perform poorly as well?" Draco asked in a menacing tone. He already knew the answer from her reaction.
"I was doing better than most witches." She was trembling now.
Draco shook his head. "That's not good enough. You need to catch their attention."
"Those witches who did got hexed worse!" She was almost crying now.
"Stinging hexes are nothing," Draco sneered at the witch. Even for a half-blood, she was pathetic. He had suffered pain curses that would have broken lesser wizards! "Curses on the other hand will do worse." He smiled menacingly.
"That's what Potter said!" Edgecombe blurted out, then covered her mouth with one hand.
"Did he? Interesting." Draco leaned back. "Did anything else happen other than a few blood traitors hexing sheep?"
"No." She shook her head. "Potter still didn't react to the attempts of other witches to seduce him."
"Hm. I see." He didn't, not yet. But he would. For a moment, he missed Pansy. She had known how to interpret such gossip. Then he sneered at his own weakness. She had chosen muggle filth over him! Pansy… "What about Pan... Parkinson?"
Edgecombe hesitated.
"Out with it!" he yelled at her, slapping a hand down on the desk in front of him, and she flinched back.
"She… she was trying to get close to… Weasley!" the witch answered, cringing.
"Weasley? She … I break up with her, and she starts running after that blood traitor?" He was gaping. How low could that witch sink, to go after such scum? To think he had ever considered her a good future wife… he shuddered, revulsed. With an effort worthy of Merlin himself, he controlled his temper and glared at the shaking half-blood in front of him. "How did he react?"
"He was polite, but didn't seem to, ah, return the interest."
Hot rage was bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't be able to control his temper much longer, not after this outrageous humiliation. "Get out before I curse you!"
Edgecombe fled, shaking like a leaf and with tears running down her cheeks. Draco started blowing up desks before she had closed the door behind her. He had to vent his rage, but mere desks, mere things were not enough. He needed something that could feel pain, could bleed, could scream…
He suddenly saw something red flash at him, and before he could react, the world went dark.
*****
Harry Potter walked out of the floo, finally home after hours on the Hogwarts Express, one of them spent patrolling. If not for Dumbledore and Sirius pulling strings, he and his friends would have had to wait even longer with the hundreds of students and parents who had to go through the Ministry's floo checkpoint. He sighed. The war, never far from his mind, seemed far closer in London than at Hogwarts.
"Already missing the school, Harry? Hermione is a bad influence on you!" his godfather teased him, grinning widely.
"I was just struck how the war changed how we travel to Hogwarts and back. King's Cross Station felt more like an armed holding camp than a station," he explained. Draco disappearing from Hogwarts probably hadn't help either, though why anyone would believe the Dark Lord had kidnapped him was beyond Harry. The foul git almost certainly had ran away to join Voldemort's forces. Or to try to - even the Dark Lord probably had standards. Although Draco would make good cannon fodder.
"There was talk about sending the students through the floos from Hogwarts instead of letting them taking the train. Easier to protect them that way. Tradition won out - this time." Sirius shrugged, as if saying he didn't expect that to last. Behind them, Hermione exited the floo, followed by Remus.
The witch sighed as well, but she sounded more relieved than contemplative. Harry saw her posture relax and her face change from a polite mask to an honest if slightly sad smile as she stopped playing his retainer and started to act as his girlfriend again.
Contrary to other vacations, her parents hadn't met her at the station. The Grangers were still on their world cruise, and would remain so for the foreseeable future. They'd meet them over the summer, but the Eostra Break was too short to justify arranging such a trip. There were simply too many security precautions that would have to be taken to keep everyone safe and to avoid blowing their cover.
A fact Harry was not unhappy about, if he was honest. As selfish as it was, he wanted Hermione near him. He reached out and took her hand to cheer the witch up.
"Kreacher has prepared the cage for Master's Godson's Slave."
And that was it for his attempt to cheer his girlfriend up. He could feel Hermione grow stiff as she forced herself to smile at the house elf. "Thank you, Kreacher, but I'll be sleeping in my usual room." The evil house elf nodded, grumbling what was certainly insults under his breath, and walked away, taking their floating school trunks with him.
Harry glanced over at Sirius and Remus, to make sure the older wizards weren't grinning. He knew they had a bet on how long it would take Hermione to stop 'understanding' the 'poor brainwashed house elf', and start cursing him, but he really didn't want to begin his vacation with an argument. And that would be inevitable, should Hermione notice their expressions. Fortunately, Valérie arrived in the entrance hall at that moment, wearing one of her usual short and flimsy 'house robes', and distracted everyone.
"'ello! I 'ope you 'ad a good trip." The veela embraced them all, with Sirius getting hugged last, but for the longest time. In fact, even after half a minute they they didn't look like they'd plan to separate anytime soon.
Harry was about to cough, to interrupt them, but the look of happiness on his godfather's face stopped him. Instead he took Hermione's hand again, and quietly led her out of the hall.
*****
Remus Lupin entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Valérie were probably still lost to the world in the entrance hall. His friend was spending far less time as Padfoot these days. He was happy for him, but couldn't help feel a bit jealous as well. More than a bit, to be honest.
"'ello Remus," Chantal greeted him. The veela was looking at the meal Kreacher was preparing, adding some touches of her own. Remus saw the raw slabs of meat ready to be grilled, and felt his mouth water. It was too close to the full moon. He knew he could not transform, would not transform during the day, but he sure felt like he would at times. Shivering, he turned away.
Before he could leave the kitchen, Chantal stepped up to him and offered him a raw ham sandwich. At his questioning look - he felt more like growling than talking - she shrugged in that French way, as Sirius called it. "People come to the kitchen if they're 'ungry, n'est-ce pas?"
He nodded. A few bites later, he felt as if the beast lurking inside him had been sated somewhat. Then he felt embarrassed - he probably had devoured the food like an animal in the veela's eye.
If she had been offended she didn't show it though. "Are they still at it?"
"Sirius and Valérie? Yes." Remus nodded. Seeing her smile, he couldn't help but comment. "Valérie seems to have grown very close to him. And he to her."
It wasn't quite a question, but she answered what he was hinting at anyway. "You wonder 'ow the rest of us is going to react to that."
He nodded.
Chantal leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her legs. Remus couldn't help staring - her robe barely reached her thighs. He should be used to such a display, it was quite common in Sirius's home, but it still affected him. It had to be his beast, so close to the full moon still. She had noticed, and smirked. "You expect jealousy?"
"It would be a normal reaction." Together with insults and hexes. That's how such things tended to play out at Hogwarts, both during his time as a student and as a teacher.
She giggled. "It would be. I assume you'd not be fooled by some fantastic tale of 'ow veela are looking for their chosen mates, and once found, other veela would not dare interfere with such a sacred bond?"
Remus chuckled. "No, I wouldn't." Once, he had. As a teenager. But there was no need to mention that. He knew more about magical creatures these days. And he liked to think he was less gullible.
"The truth is, Sirius is a charming, very charming wizard. And so skilled…" she trailed off, her tongue briefly wetting her lips, and Remus felt his beast stir again. "Many wizards boast like 'e did, when we met in France. Not many boast with such 'umor. And few are those who can make good their claims. We 'ad a very good time in France. Nothing more, nothing less." She giggled. "I suspect 'e wasn't entirely serious when 'e invited us to his 'ome, and we accepted in part because it seemed like a challenge."
That would explain a number of things, Remus thought. His jealousy did increase some though, upon hearing that Sirius's boasts were not just that.
"But as we spent more time 'ere, it became rather obvious that while we all grew closer, both Sirius and our youngest cousin grew more attached to each other. They seem to 'ave a sort of rapport." Chantal smiled wistfully. "Something more serious, you could say," she added with a giggle.
Remus groaned at the pun. But he owed it to his friend to ask: "But… are you sure it's healthy? Sirius is… still dealing with the effects of his time in Azkaban." As always when Remus thought of his friend's ordeal, he felt the burning shame of not having trusted him, not having cared enough to find out what had happened, not having wanted to face him. He owed Sirius so much, he had to make his friend wouldn't be hurt further.
"We are all aware of 'is issues. Is it 'ealthy, as you ask?" Once again she shrugged, the movement causing her robe to slip a bit. Remus forced himself to look at her eyes, and not at her bosom. "Valérie is the most caring of us. She claims she sees more than a very 'urt wizard in need of 'er help. I 'ope she is being 'onest - with us, and with 'erself. So far, we are still, as you might say, sharing. That might change, some of us might meet other people, we might grow apart again, or keep sharing. No one but seers can predict the future, and their prophecies are seldom clear until they 'ave come to pass already."
Remus nodded again. "I guess I can't ask for more."
"It's enough. We might die any time we 'ead out in this war. We should take what 'appiness we can find."
Remus almost winced at that comment. She must have noticed his reaction, since she leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder. "You too, might think about this."
Remus felt his beast stir again, and fought it back. A tad stiffly, he answered: "I might." Turning away, he headed to his room until he had calmed down.
*****
"It's getting late, Hermione"
Hermione Granger looked up from the tome on blood magic she was reading in the Black Family Library. "Hm?"
Harry smiled indulgently at her. "It's past midnight already."
She checked her watch. He was right. Time had flown, as it usually did when she was reading. Sighing she closed the tome and stood up, stretching. A glance revealed that Harry was staring, and she smiled, very pleased. In a house with four barely-clad veela, any normal girl would have some doubts about her own appearance, and seeing her boyfriend's reaction was quite reassuring as well as gratifying. And she didn't have to wear a see-through robe either.
Then she realized she had all but ignored Harry for hours while she did her research, and felt guilty. "Sorry," she said, gathering her notes. Harry knew her well enough to know what she was apologizing for; she did it often enough.
"Don't be sorry. It's important work." He waited, smiling, as she stored her notes in her enchanted book bag.
She took a last look around the library, to check she had not left anything, a habit from the Hogwarts library and other public libraries. This library certainly fit its name: Dark shelves, a thick, dark carpet, and the wooden panels visible on the few parts of the walls that were not covered with shelves had darkened with age so much, they almost looked black.
Suddenly, she was overcome with a matching mood. "Did you ever consider just leaving?"
"Hm?" Harry cocked his head.
"I mean, running away. Fake our deaths, leave Britain, leave this war," Hermione made a sweeping gesture that encompassed not just the room, but the country behind the walls.
"And leave our families?" Harry shook his head.
"We could run away with them." Hermione countered.
"And fake everyone's death?" Harry sounded almost amused.
"Blow the place up. Leave some fake bodies." There were some interesting and disturbing spells in this library that would do the job, the witch knew. Just in case there were not enough Death Eaters around to serve as decoys with polyjuice.
"And this?" Harry pointed at his forehead.
Hermione grimaced. "That I am still working on."
"We wouldn't be safe as long as he lives," Harry stated with conviction.
"Yes, and fleeing while we're fighting a war wouldn't be right," the witch agreed with him.
"But you've made some plans anyway." He knew her really well.
"Just in case." If the war went badly. Or if the war was over, and they still hadn't found a way to be together without having to live a lie.
Harry nodded, and held out his hand. "Let's head to bed. Before Kreacher blocks your door and you have to sleep in my room."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. The misguided elf might just do that, should he overhear them and decide to interpret it as an order. Kreacher could be quite creative when it came to such things. It wasn't his fault, of course. Sirius's mother was to blame for the elf's attitude.
She wanted to hex the foul creature anyway.
*****
"Wheee!"
Harry smiled indulgently at Luna. The blonde witch was bending this way and that, trying to see how she looked in the muggle jeans and pink t-shirt she was wearing between pulling at the fabric. Apparently, she had temporarily forgotten about mirrors. Or just acted like it - one could seldom tell with her.
"Is she always like that?" Dudley asked, sharing Harry's amusement. The two of them, like Neville and Ron, were wearing jeans and various shirts. Ron had gotten an orange t-shirt, of course, but hadn't tried to get the 'Cannons' logo on it. Yet.
Harry nodded. "Yes, D, she is. Thanks again for coming with us." His cousin had heard of their plans to go out in muggle London, and had offered to show them a few nice spots. Harry had accepted the offer at once - Dudley was the same age as he and his friends, and would know more appropriate clubs than Sirius. Or, as Hermione had put it, 'less inappropriate clubs for teenagers'.
"Hey, I have to thank you. Going out with so many beautiful girls? My friends will be so jealous." Dudley chuckled, nodding towards the rest of the group. Aicha, Ginny, Neville, Susan, Ron and Padma were standing around Hermione, who was checking their appearance for 'appropriate muggleness', in Ron's words.
"Do Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon know about this?" Harry asked, in a lower voice.
"They know I'm going out with friends in London," his cousin answered.
"Technically true," Harry nodded.
"I would never lie to my parents," Dudley grinned broadly, and almost as convincingly as he had when he and Harry had been questioned about the disappearance of the cake Petunia had baked for Aunt Marge's visit when they had been six. He had lost a bit of weight since Harry had seen him last time. Boxing seemed to agree with him. Harry's cousin probably would never be slim, but he was now burly-looking rather than fat. Between Dudley and Ron, other teenagers looking for trouble would hopefully pick someone else as a target.
Of course they were not going out all by themselves. Harry glanced towards the latest addition to their group, and the most shockingly dressed - for muggles. Nymphadora, in the shape of a teenager with long, black and blonde hair, wearing fishnets and a black leather miniskirt with a leather and mesh top, noticed and grinned at him.
"So, what are you two plotting?" she asked, coming over to them. She claimed she had picked both her form and clothes with the utmost care, but Harry wasn't sure her gothic punk look had taken that much time.
"Nothing, Miss Doppleganger." Dudley answered, causing her to frown.
"I told you, I'm a metamorphmagus, not a 'doppelganger'!" she huffed, putting her fists on her hips.
Harry's cousin shrugged. "Sorry, you just look so much like one, I get confused."
Nymphadora stared at him. "I can change my body to look like anyone I want, and you say I look like a doppelganger?"
Dudley nodded. "Exactly!"
Nymphadora blinked, then stomped off shaking her head. Harry shook his head. "If she doesn't protect us as she should after this, I am blaming you."
Dudley grinned at him. "She messed with me first."
"That she did," Harry agreed. Nymphadora would get back at his cousin, he knew that, but he didn't feel like mentioning it.
Hermione had finished her inspection of their friends, and joined them for a brief respite from the hail of questions aimed at her. Judging by the look she shot Harry, she hadn't been amused by him leaving her to deal with that alone. He wasn't moved much - he knew she loved to lecture.
"Alright. Everyone is presentable, and should be sufficiently coached in teen culture so any mistakes will be blamed on being slightly drunk and from the countryside," she summarized while running her wand over her black miniskirt and white top to smooth them out. Harry knew she was missing her enchanted robes. He shared the sentiment; going out without all the convenient charms on his clothes almost felt like being naked, but they hadn't had time to get those charms and the protections they needed.
"You plan to get drunk?" Dudley asked, sounding slightly concerned.
"No," Hermione assured him, then pointed at Luna, who was lifting her shirt up to check her underwear. "But it's a better explanation for some of the stuff they'll be doing than drugs."
Dudley stared, then nodded. "I guess so."
"Picture time!" Sirius yelled, holding up a wizard camera. "Gather together so I can take your picture! It's traditional!"
Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged. "I've given up on trying to teach him the differences between an American prom and a night in town in London. As long as it makes him happy…"
Harry was rather certain Sirius knew the differences well enough, at least after Hermione's lecture, and was simply teasing the witch. He didn't say anything though. He was also rather certain Hermione had realized the same thing, but was ignoring it.
The group gathered as ordered and spent the next few minutes posing for Sirius, who was taking about a dozen pictures until he was satisfied that the 'muggle tradition' had been sufficiently upheld.
"Remember, kids - me and Moony will keep an eye on you from afar, so don't do anything we wouldn't do!" the animagus declared.
"Anything you, or anything Remus wouldn't do?" Ron asked with a grin. He earned an elbow to the side from his girlfriend for that. "Ow! Just asking for a bit of clarification."
"Me." Sirius and Remus said at the same time, then exchanged glares.
"That's what's protecting us…" Hermione muttered under her breath, but Harry saw that she was smiling.
Harry whispered back "Well, Valérie, Chantal, Laure and Eugénie will be closer." Supposedly Sirius didn't want himself and Remus to look like 'dirty old men stalking kids', and so had asked the veela to follow them into the clubs aimed at teenagers and tweens. Harry wasn't sure if that would work out well. At least the veela would draw attention away from their group, even if they were 'dressing down', as Chantal called it, for this.
They still looked like they were models clubbing in Paris, of course. Dudley had commented on that about half a dozen times so far.
"You know, Harry, you need to have one of them 'drive' you to our house this summer. Piers would die with jealousy." Make that seven times.
On the other hand, the veela's presence would help the other teenage wizards and witches to blend in. And that probably was why Sirius had organized their trip this way.
Harry snorted. His godfather was sharper and more thoughtful than he wanted to appear.
*****
Fetching a couple of drinks in a muggle club was quite the novel thing, Ron Weasley realized. Instead of simply summoning the stuff - and showing off how well you mastered the spell so you didn't spill anything, unless of course you wanted to spill something by accident, say on a Slytherin - Ron actually had to to stand up and walk over to the bar and get them. And that meant walking through a room packed full of muggle teenagers, half of them dancing in the middle, the rest hanging around low tables and getting drunk. At least that's what it looked like to him. Fortunately, Chantal and Eugénie were not currently dancing, Valérie had gone out 'for some fresh air', meaning, she was probably keeping Sirius company, and Laure was on the loo, which meant the dance floor wasn't quite as crowded as before. You'd think the muggles had never seen a veela before! And they hadn't been wearing too revealing clothing either. Everyone was dressed rather conservatively, in his opinion. His mum would like to hear that.
He slipped between two guys standing at the bar and raised his arm until the bartender, a woman in her twenties with a nose ring and shredded clothes, looked at him. He smiled and raised his voice so she'd understand his order over the music and the buzzing sound of a roomful of talking teenagers: "One Coke, and one…" he briefly checked the list over the mirror for a drink he hadn't tried yet, "... Sprite!" That sounded even a bit magical.
A minute later, two glasses were placed in front of him, and he paid the woman. Judging by the wide smile she flashed him he probably had overdone the tip again. He didn't care - it was Sirius's money, and the head of the Black Family certainly had more than enough. Merlin, Ron had more than enough to be generous to the staff. It wasn't as if this was charity or something.
Grabbing the two glasses, he made his way back to their table, more carefully now. It wouldn't do to spill half the drinks. Padma would be annoyed, she really liked Coca Cola. Ron had drunk Cokes before, but a few of the other drinks available here he had never tried until tonight. While he found the muggle drinks still a bit weird, they were tasty. Not as good as butterbeer, but probably on the same level as pumpkin juice. He had to admit though that the ice inside the drink was a novel idea.
He reached Padma and the others without spilling anything, and his girlfriend beamed at him when he handed her her glass. The wizard briefly looked around after sitting down next to her. Harry and Hermione were curled up on one of the seats. Not quite lost in their own world, but close. Understandable - they usually didn't get to be so open with their affection in public. Ginny was talking to Neville - the poor boy hadn't gotten any rest this evening, it seemed. Ron almost shook his head at that; in Neville's place he'd have told his little sister to shut it long ago. Nymphadora was sitting next to them, watching the room. Susan was lounging next to Dudley, chatting animatedly with Harry's cousin. Ron wasn't sure what was up with that. Dudley was an alright bloke, for a muggle, but he wasn't that interesting. And Luna was… broken broomsticks! Where was Luna?
Ron started to panic. One thing everyone of their group had quickly learned: Luna Lovegood was not to be left out of their sight in muggle London. The quirky blonde had a talent for starting trouble, and one almost-riot caused by her loud observations in the first pub they had visited had been enough for Ron to last for a year. Who'd have thought so many people would react so violently to being told that red was a better color than white for their shirts? Who'd wear a cockerel on their shirt anyway? Well, a few subtle spells and some generous rounds had defused the situation, which had been related to football or something according to Dudley. He hadn't known football was so violent. And the less said about the 'Unicorn Incident' in the next pub the better. Or when Luna had discovered ripped jeans.
"Where's Luna?" he asked, louder and maybe a bit higher pitched than needed.
Padma pointed at the dance floor. And there the blonde witch was, dancing enthusiastically with Aicha. He relaxed. Dancing was fine. Nothing to worry there. He couldn't spot Aicha's genie, so the little thing was either still in her handbag, or at least invisible instead of making muggles think they were seeing things. The situation was still under control then. Leaning back, he had to laugh.
"Hm? what's so funny?" Padma asked, her glass already half-empty.
"Nothing. Just… if mum knew I was the most responsible one of the group on this trip…" he chuckled, and Padma joined him. For a bit, they simply sipped their drinks - well, he did, Padma was closer to guzzling down hers - and watched their two friends dance.
"There are so many muggles, I'd never had believed it if anyone had told me," Padma remarked. Ron knew better than to mention that Hermione had told her, repeatedly. Hermione was generally not wrong, especially not about muggles, but Padma was a bit sensitive about it.
So he agreed instead. "Yes. So many packed pubs and clubs. And none of them are afraid. They don't know there's a war going on. It doesn't concern them. They're just enjoying the night. And their biggest worry is probably if the boy or girl they like likes them back." He shook his head at the notion, then noticed Padma's frown. Uh oh. What had he said now? He continued. "And you don't have to worry about sneaky hexes from Slytherins either. Or potioned butterbeers. It's just so safe here!"
"Hermione was quite insistent that we never leave our drinks unattended though," Padma pointed out.
"Yes, she was, but again - they can't quite banish the stuff into our drinks from across the room. It's still safer than Hogsmeade, despite what the Headmaster says." Ron finished his 'Sprite'. Not bad, but he'd had better. "It's almost perfect."
"What's missing then?" Padma asked.
"Magic," Ron answered. His girlfriend nodded her agreement.
*****
Hermione Granger was happy. Happier than she had been for quite some time. She was sharing a seat with Harry - not quite in his lap, but close enough - and out in public without having to play the obedient retainer and hide her feelings. Luna was on the loose again, but Aicha was with her, and Ron seemed to be watching the blonde as well, so the witch felt justified enough not to care, and simply enjoy the opportunity to relax and be herself instead.
She rested her head on Harry's shoulder, felt him adjust his pose a bit to make her more comfortable - and him as well - and sighed contentedly when his arm tightened around her waist. "Mh."
The only slightly troublesome part of this marvelous outing - not counting Luna's misadventures, those she had expected, if not the scale of them - was how close Susan and Dudley had gotten. And even that was a blessing in disguise - she had feared the redhead would try to butt in on her time with Harry. Still, her curiosity was aroused.
She shifted around a bit, and whispered into Harry's ear. "What do you think Susan and Dudley are talking about?"
Harry turned his head slowly towards his cousin. "Hm. He's probably asking her all sorts of questions about magic. You know how he is."
That Hermione knew. For a self-proclaimed 'bruiser and boxer', Dudley was quite curious. She didn't think it was just him asking the questions though. And while her boyfriend considered Susan a friend, Hermione wouldn't put it past the redhead to use Dudley to get closer to Harry. Or at least get inside information. "She's probably asking about all the embarrassing stories he knows about you," she whispered, adding a giggle.
"D wouldn't…" Harry trailed off. "He would. Damn!"
She felt him tense up, and put her hand on his chest. "Relax. You can prank him later, probably with Nymphadora." If Nymphadora still felt the need to - Dudley had been expecting some payback from her for the whole evening, and had chased away at least one girl when he had mistakenly assumed she was the metamorphmagus in disguise, there to prank him. The muggleborn witch closed her eyes. Of course Nymphadora would not think they were even; she was a Black after all. They didn't do even.
She looked around. The veela were still staying put, sort of, which meant the dancing floor was less crowded than when they had been dancing, even with Luna and Aicha attracting some attention. "Let's dance, Harry!" she said while standing up, and pulling on his arm. With a chuckle, her boyfriend got up again, and they walked towards the dance floor. Hopefully, they'd play some slow music soon too.
Hermione was determined to enjoy this night as much as possible. So far it had been almost perfect. The only drawback was that she had to hide her magic.
She snorted at the thought - it seemed that no matter where she was in public, among muggles or wizards, she had to hide an important part of herself. Life just wasn't fair.
*****
"Sirius? Do you have a moment?"
Sirius Black looked up from the Daily Prophet spread on the kitchen table in his home. The picture of Fudge he had been hunting around the page with a permanent marker used the opportunity to flee to another page.
"Of course, Hermione." He smiled at the muggleborn witch. She had taken to wearing shorter, lighter robes, he noticed. Not nearly as skimpy as the attire of the other women in the house, but there was progress. He made a mental note to buy her a few robes more appropriate for her sixth year over the summer, and hoped he'd not forget it.
"It's private," she added.
"Ohhh," the animagus wiggled his eyebrows at her while his smile widened. 'Private'... he wondered what she might want to ask of him. "We can go to my study then. It's not as if I have much use for it."
She rolled her eyes at him. Apparently, he wasn't fooling her. But 'Sirius Black, hard-working head of his family', wasn't as impressive as 'Sirius Black, carefree rogue'. Not that he really needed to look and sound impressive, these days. Not with Valérie and the others still around, despite having gotten to know the real him. But appearances had to be maintained - at least the ones he liked. Summoning two bottles of butterbeer from the fridge, he led the witch to his study.
"Make yourself comfortable and tell your future godfather-in-law everything!" he said after closing the door. When she flinched at his light-hearted teasing, he realized just what he had just made fun of. "Sorry," he muttered while he sat down on his own, enchanted seat and popped a bottle open.
Hermione gave the barest nod in acknowledgement of his apology, and cast a few privacy spells at the door. Either she was far shyer than he had thought, or this was not about her and Harry's love life. She didn't touch the bottle he had floating next to her either.
The witch sat down herself, and for a moment, both of them stared at each other, their expressions growing serious.
"I need a live, marked Death Eater," she said in a very level, very cold voice.
What? He stared at her, not quite gaping.
His surprise must have shown though, since she rolled her eyes at him again and pressed her lips together before elaborating. "You know about Harry's scar."
"Yes," he nodded. He would have liked to forget that, at least at times. But he couldn't.
"You know what the Dark Marks are and do," she continued.
The young witch reminded him so much of some of his old tutors, he repressed the urge to raise his hand instead of nodding. He had to ask Harry if his godson felt the same sometime.
"I've got a plan to deal with both, but I need to know more about the Dark Mark. Much more. And for that I need to study one. On a living Death Eater." The witch met his eyes, challenging him, daring him to ask what she was planning.
Sirius didn't have to. He knew what kind of books she had been reading in his library, Kreacher had seen to keeping him informed. It was not too difficult for him, with his background, to deduce what she was planning. At least now. He sighed. "I assume you'd need a trip to Haiti too, sometime later?"
The girl stiffened, her eyes widening briefly. Why did everyone act so surprised whenever he revealed some knowledge? Then she nodded. "Unless I find the information I need in Britain."
"You won't. It's been banned for centuries. If my family doesn't have it, I doubt anyone else has it." He didn't like to brag, but his family had been among the most knowledgeable when it came to the Dark Arts. Still was, actually. Just because he hated to use it didn't mean he had forgotten.
"There are immigrants. Researchers. Some muggles might have inherited books, not knowing what they are," she countered.
"Yes. But you'd have a hard time tracking them down in Britain." It wasn't impossible, but it would require luck and time. Two things they might not have.
"Convincing one of the 'practitioners' to teach me is not likely to be easier," Hermione said without showing any emotion. Not even the frustration he himself was feeling when he thought about their situation.
"You've got something else in mind, as an alternative." It was not a question.
"Yes. But it's a questionable plan," she admitted.
"More questionable than a trip to the Caribbean?" He raised his eyebrows.
Hermione nodded.
"More dangerous too?" He couldn't think of anything. Maybe some of the things that had laid the foundation for his home's wards. But then, he hadn't been able to think of what Lily had done to protect Harry either. Not that he had really wanted to know what she had done in the first place.
"Maybe." Hermione's lips formed a thin line. That meant 'yes', of course.
Harry wouldn't like that. At all. "But more promising than the alternatives?"
"As far as I can tell with my current knowledge, yes. That might change as I study the subject further," Hermione admitted. The way she didn't go into details despite their privacy more than anything else told Sirius that they were talking about highly illegal research either way.
"You're doing outlawed and very dangerous research." She might die. Or worse. The Dark Arts were feared and loathed for a reason by any sane wizard.
"It's for Harry." Hermione smiled sadly.
And that was the crux of the issue. If it wasn't for Harry, he'd tell the girl to stop before she got herself jailed or killed. Or worse. But Harry was more important than either of them. Even if the boy would disagree. Vehemently. "He'll hate it." And he might hate her, and Sirius for helping her.
"He'll live though," Hermione stated with utter conviction. The older wizard realized that she would succeed, or die trying. Just like himself. He had failed Harry, had failed the boy's parents once, he'd not fail again. No matter the cost.
He chuckled. "Hopefully he'll never knew what we're willing to do."
Hermione nodded. Both of them knew though that this was unlikely. But maybe he'd not realize just what they had done, afterwards. They'd do it anyway. For Harry.
"So… capturing a Death Eater it is. Alive. And keeping him captive and alive. A tall order," he summarized. Not impossible, of course.
"And hidden from the Dark Lord. Or at least kept at a place the Dark Lord can't get to," Hermione added.
"You realize that there's only about one place that would work for that," Sirius hissed.
Hermione nodded, smiling faintly. She had known, and was counting on him to arrange it, Sirius was certain.
"I'll talk to him," Sirius sighed. "You know, I wasn't really joking, earlier. If you can do this, you can do anything."
When he saw the way her face lit up with sudden hope, before she schooled her features again, he hoped he hadn't been lying.
*****
Albus Dumbledore smiled at young Sirius. Seeing the wizard in his office made the Headmaster feel nostalgic. The young man had been a very frequent visitor to his office, back when he had been a student. Him, and the others of his group, troublemakers extraordinaire. They had been responsible for much laughter, back in the last war. That war… it had been a desperate struggle, but he had been younger then. They all had been.
His former student didn't visit him that often anymore. Understandable, after Albus had failed him so terribly. An innocent in Azkaban, for over a decade. Albus ranked his failure to ensure the law was followed properly in that case as one of his biggest, gravest sins. One he would never be able to make up for, but would take with him to his grave.
He forced the morbid thoughts away. Sirius had asked for a meeting, in private, so it had to be important. Folding his hands, he waited for the other wizard to begin speaking.
"Albus, I need to know if you've got a secure dungeon in the school that could be used to house a prisoner." Sirius came right to the point. Or appeared to do so.
Grimmauld Place 12 had dungeons too, so Sirius didn't need a cell, but the defenses of Hogwarts. Which meant that he feared the Dark Lord would come for the prisoner. And he didn't want the Ministry to have him. The wizard could just be worried about leaks and spies, but Albus didn't think so. Sirius had plans for the prisoner then, plans he needed secrecy and privacy as well as security for. "What do you plan to do with a Death Eater?" he asked. There were a few likely answers, of course.
Sirius frowned briefly, then smiled, and once again Albus saw not a middle-aged wizard, still somewhat showing the effects of Azkaban, but a young man sent to him by Minerva for pranking someone. The impression vanished as soon as Sirius answered though. "To study the Dark Mark."
Fawkes trilled, not quite angrily, but not the happy sounds he made when he was pleased, or had just managed to steal some candy. Albus smiled at his companion, then met Sirius's eyes. Sirius was many things. An animagus. A skilled wizard. A good fighter. A good leader too, and a caring godfather. But a researcher he was not. He had shown some talent when it came to pranking, to adapt spells or potions, but he had never shown any inclination for the kind of research this task he mentioned needed. And while he might be willing to do anything for his godson, Sirius didn't seem to be that unaware of his own strengths and weaknesses. So, he was asking for someone else. Remus was more scholarly inclined, but he would have come to ask Albus himself, if he was involved. That left…
"I see Miss Granger is making progress in her quest to help her Patron," The Headmaster remarked. Sirius's hiss told him he was right. "Although we both know just how dangerous the knowledge she seeks is."
"It's for Harry," Sirius answered, as if that explained and excused everything. It did the former, but not the latter.
"Of course. But would Harry like his retainer to sacrifice herself for him? Or his godfather?" Albus asked in a mild voice.
"He wouldn't. Just as we wouldn't like him to sacrifice himself for us," Sirius answered. "But that's not the issue. This needs to be done. You know it as much as I do. Without discovering the secrets of the Dark Mark, without finding a way to ... deal with all that entails, we'll lose this war. Or the next. The Dark Lord'll have made sure to keep some of his marked Death Eaters safely away from the fighting. They're probably not even in Britain."
Albus hated to admit it, but he knew the younger wizard was correct. He had come to that conclusion already - Tom was very unlikely to risk all his horcruxes. And if he was defeated, he'd return. A year, a decade later - he'd be back. Smarter. More experienced. And Albus might be dead by then. Of old age, even. He frowned. "Yes. It has to be done. But does it have to be her?"
"Lily was not much older when she found a ritual to defeat the Dark Lord. Who would you trust as much?" Sirius asked. "Who else does Harry trust as much?" He hesitated a second, then added. "And who else will we be able to deal with as easily, should she ... fall?"
Albus stiffened. "That is a surprising argument. Correct, but very cold-blooded." As Rookwood had shown, not even the Unspeakables were immune to corruption - of either kind. And they and the likes of them had more experience and resources, which would make doing what was needed more difficult. And there was the fact that he'd get to teach again. He hadn't been able to indulge in that passion of his for a while now.
Sirius spread his hands. "Do you doubt she'd prefer that to endangering Harry herself, after losing control or her mind?"
Albus shook his head. "I am not sure if I should be happy for Harry, or pity him."
"Both, of course," Sirius answered, without any hint of levity.
Albus sighed. "I'll arrange a cell, far removed from any area students can access. And I will be present each time she visits, and involved in the research." He wasn't as foolish as to let a young witch delve into those matters without supervision. And there was no one else he trusted with the secrets of the Dark Mark. "Capturing a marked Death Eater will be a challenge though. Those known to carry the mark tend to seldom stray far from their Master's side, and the others are hiding."
"We've got a lead on someone. Just have to wait until he makes a mistake." Sirius grinned ferally.
Albus felt the urge to caution the younger wizard of making the mistake of underestimating his enemy. Sirius wasn't his student anymore, and deserved his trust, but a little reminder never hurt anyone. "Let's hope Mister Yennington will make that mistake soon."
He kept his expression bland when Sirius's slight twitch told him the animagus had been surprised again by Albus's knowledge. Surprised, and hopefully reminded not to underestimate his opponents.
When Sirius had left, Albus stopped smiling and leaned back, closing his eyes. He was preparing to study the Dark Arts with a young prodigy at his side. For the most noble of goals, they would be braving the foulest magic. Just like he had done before, with Gellert.
He could only hope that this time, no one would succumb to temptation. He didn't want to add another unforgivable sin to his soul.
The old Headmaster glanced at Fawkes, who was busy preening himself, then at his watch, and wondered when the bodies of the Malfoys would be found.
Chapter 32: Family Matters
The last lesson of the Hogwarts Self-defense Club before the Eostra Break confirmed Hermione Granger's worst expectations. A number of witches had copied that twit Greengrass and wore robes that would be considered daring even for a 6th year. There was so much skin showing, it looked more like some attempt at a fertility ritual than a defense lesson when they gathered for the introduction.
Although she had to correct herself - the fertility rituals of the Faithful she had read about usually were done while in the nude, and those hussies didn't go that far. Some sixth years came close though, and the witch was certain though that they'd like to try such a ritual anyway, with her Harry.
She was almost glad that Parkinson didn't try to catch Harry's attention, but was still aiming for Ron. Almost, though - Ron already had the thankless job of shielding Harry from the advances of those witches, and the Slytherin witch hitting on him was only adding to his stress. She was up to something, but so far the curse hadn't been triggered, so she didn't mean to harm Harry. And she wasn't wearing a few strategically placed scraps of fabric and illusions either.
Of course, with more competition, Greengrass was now trying twice as hard. The blonde was standing in the first row, and if she pushed her barely covered chest out any further, she'd probably break her spine. Despite years of experience in acting the dutiful, obedient retainer in public, Hermione would have had to struggle to keep from scowling openly at the twit, if not for a little detail the hussies didn't know.
"But before that, we'll start with another round of dodge and shield training," Harry concluded his speech. "Our usual instructors are unfortunately currently unavailable to help us out." Some of the slower students cheered at the announcement. The cheers died down though as Harry continued: "My wand and my friends though will be taking their place, and casting the stinging hexes during the practise."
With that, Hermione, Luna, Aicha, Neville, Ginny, Susan and Padma stepped up to face the other students.
Usually, Hermione would have resented the wording that singled her out as Harry's retainer instead of his friend. Today though the witch was barely annoyed. She smiled politely at the assembled students, and kept her expression pleasantly bland when the assorted purebloods trying to poach Harry realized just who would be hexing them. And where she'd be aiming her hexes.
Hermione glanced over at Padma, who wasn't quite used to hiding her feelings. The Indian witch was smiling ferally at Parkinson, who was looking distinctly less smug than before. Not as bad as Edgecombe though. Greengrass was still smiling, but Davis looked like a deer caught in headlights for a moment.
Oh yes, Hermione thought, raising her wand, this would be a very enjoyable lesson. Cathartic even.
*****
Draco Malfoy smiled as he once again walked towards the empty classroom where Edgecombe would be waiting for him, ready to report on what she had seen - and done - in Potter's little club. He had a couple books in his bag, and parchment - just in case he had to claim that he was meeting her for some tutoring.
The Ravenclaw witch was there, trying to hide as expected, and looking even more uncomfortable than usual. Good.
"Good evening, Miss Edgecombe," he said while closing the door.
"Good evening, Mister Malfoy," the witch pressed out through clenched teeth. Draco smiled widely.
"Please sit down," he said, after he had let her standing for a minute while he had slowly taken out his books, parchment, and the Self-Writing Quill. Mother had asked for a more literal report, and he'd provide. He would add his insights after the transcript.
The witch was slowly sitting down, as if she expected to feel pain. She didn't seem to be in pain though. Curious.
"So, what happened in this session?" he asked. He was just a student asking for some help. It was, perhaps a bit underhanded to try to profit from a rival's tutoring like that, but by no means criminal. Another layer of deception, as befitting a Slytherin.
"We practiced dodging," the witch spat out. "Professor Lupin and Mister Black couldn't attend, so Potter's friends cast stinging hexes at us during the training."
Draco chuckled. Her attitude made more sense now. She probably hadn't been able to sit down before the Matron had treated her. That was quite amusing. And the absence of the usual tutors was something the Dark Lord would be interested in as well. "Did the mudblood hex you too?"
"Yes." Her cheek twitched as she admitted to have been abused by Granger.
Draco felt torn between enjoying the pain and humiliation the girl had gone through, and was suffering right now, and feeling outrage at a mudblood overstepping her bounds. Potter shouldn't have ordered a mudblood to hex purebloods, that simply was poor form. But what could one expect from a parchment pureblood? On the other hand, it was delightfully humiliating. To have a mudblood abuse a pureblood blood traitor… he pondered the possibilities while he let Edgecombe stew some more. Finally, he deigned to address her again: "How did the attending students perform?"
"Poorly. Granger and Patil were the worst, but all of Potters friends cast a mean hex, and were very precise with their spells. Only Potter and Weasley didn't hex anyone and stuck to instructing instead."
"Oh? Did you perform poorly as well?" Draco asked in a menacing tone. He already knew the answer from her reaction.
"I was doing better than most witches." She was trembling now.
Draco shook his head. "That's not good enough. You need to catch their attention."
"Those witches who did got hexed worse!" She was almost crying now.
"Stinging hexes are nothing," Draco sneered at the witch. Even for a half-blood, she was pathetic. He had suffered pain curses that would have broken lesser wizards! "Curses on the other hand will do worse." He smiled menacingly.
"That's what Potter said!" Edgecombe blurted out, then covered her mouth with one hand.
"Did he? Interesting." Draco leaned back. "Did anything else happen other than a few blood traitors hexing sheep?"
"No." She shook her head. "Potter still didn't react to the attempts of other witches to seduce him."
"Hm. I see." He didn't, not yet. But he would. For a moment, he missed Pansy. She had known how to interpret such gossip. Then he sneered at his own weakness. She had chosen muggle filth over him! Pansy… "What about Pan... Parkinson?"
Edgecombe hesitated.
"Out with it!" he yelled at her, slapping a hand down on the desk in front of him, and she flinched back.
"She… she was trying to get close to… Weasley!" the witch answered, cringing.
"Weasley? She … I break up with her, and she starts running after that blood traitor?" He was gaping. How low could that witch sink, to go after such scum? To think he had ever considered her a good future wife… he shuddered, revulsed. With an effort worthy of Merlin himself, he controlled his temper and glared at the shaking half-blood in front of him. "How did he react?"
"He was polite, but didn't seem to, ah, return the interest."
Hot rage was bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't be able to control his temper much longer, not after this outrageous humiliation. "Get out before I curse you!"
Edgecombe fled, shaking like a leaf and with tears running down her cheeks. Draco started blowing up desks before she had closed the door behind her. He had to vent his rage, but mere desks, mere things were not enough. He needed something that could feel pain, could bleed, could scream…
He suddenly saw something red flash at him, and before he could react, the world went dark.
*****
Harry Potter walked out of the floo, finally home after hours on the Hogwarts Express, one of them spent patrolling. If not for Dumbledore and Sirius pulling strings, he and his friends would have had to wait even longer with the hundreds of students and parents who had to go through the Ministry's floo checkpoint. He sighed. The war, never far from his mind, seemed far closer in London than at Hogwarts.
"Already missing the school, Harry? Hermione is a bad influence on you!" his godfather teased him, grinning widely.
"I was just struck how the war changed how we travel to Hogwarts and back. King's Cross Station felt more like an armed holding camp than a station," he explained. Draco disappearing from Hogwarts probably hadn't help either, though why anyone would believe the Dark Lord had kidnapped him was beyond Harry. The foul git almost certainly had ran away to join Voldemort's forces. Or to try to - even the Dark Lord probably had standards. Although Draco would make good cannon fodder.
"There was talk about sending the students through the floos from Hogwarts instead of letting them taking the train. Easier to protect them that way. Tradition won out - this time." Sirius shrugged, as if saying he didn't expect that to last. Behind them, Hermione exited the floo, followed by Remus.
The witch sighed as well, but she sounded more relieved than contemplative. Harry saw her posture relax and her face change from a polite mask to an honest if slightly sad smile as she stopped playing his retainer and started to act as his girlfriend again.
Contrary to other vacations, her parents hadn't met her at the station. The Grangers were still on their world cruise, and would remain so for the foreseeable future. They'd meet them over the summer, but the Eostra Break was too short to justify arranging such a trip. There were simply too many security precautions that would have to be taken to keep everyone safe and to avoid blowing their cover.
A fact Harry was not unhappy about, if he was honest. As selfish as it was, he wanted Hermione near him. He reached out and took her hand to cheer the witch up.
"Kreacher has prepared the cage for Master's Godson's Slave."
And that was it for his attempt to cheer his girlfriend up. He could feel Hermione grow stiff as she forced herself to smile at the house elf. "Thank you, Kreacher, but I'll be sleeping in my usual room." The evil house elf nodded, grumbling what was certainly insults under his breath, and walked away, taking their floating school trunks with him.
Harry glanced over at Sirius and Remus, to make sure the older wizards weren't grinning. He knew they had a bet on how long it would take Hermione to stop 'understanding' the 'poor brainwashed house elf', and start cursing him, but he really didn't want to begin his vacation with an argument. And that would be inevitable, should Hermione notice their expressions. Fortunately, Valérie arrived in the entrance hall at that moment, wearing one of her usual short and flimsy 'house robes', and distracted everyone.
"'ello! I 'ope you 'ad a good trip." The veela embraced them all, with Sirius getting hugged last, but for the longest time. In fact, even after half a minute they they didn't look like they'd plan to separate anytime soon.
Harry was about to cough, to interrupt them, but the look of happiness on his godfather's face stopped him. Instead he took Hermione's hand again, and quietly led her out of the hall.
*****
Remus Lupin entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Valérie were probably still lost to the world in the entrance hall. His friend was spending far less time as Padfoot these days. He was happy for him, but couldn't help feel a bit jealous as well. More than a bit, to be honest.
"'ello Remus," Chantal greeted him. The veela was looking at the meal Kreacher was preparing, adding some touches of her own. Remus saw the raw slabs of meat ready to be grilled, and felt his mouth water. It was too close to the full moon. He knew he could not transform, would not transform during the day, but he sure felt like he would at times. Shivering, he turned away.
Before he could leave the kitchen, Chantal stepped up to him and offered him a raw ham sandwich. At his questioning look - he felt more like growling than talking - she shrugged in that French way, as Sirius called it. "People come to the kitchen if they're 'ungry, n'est-ce pas?"
He nodded. A few bites later, he felt as if the beast lurking inside him had been sated somewhat. Then he felt embarrassed - he probably had devoured the food like an animal in the veela's eye.
If she had been offended she didn't show it though. "Are they still at it?"
"Sirius and Valérie? Yes." Remus nodded. Seeing her smile, he couldn't help but comment. "Valérie seems to have grown very close to him. And he to her."
It wasn't quite a question, but she answered what he was hinting at anyway. "You wonder 'ow the rest of us is going to react to that."
He nodded.
Chantal leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her legs. Remus couldn't help staring - her robe barely reached her thighs. He should be used to such a display, it was quite common in Sirius's home, but it still affected him. It had to be his beast, so close to the full moon still. She had noticed, and smirked. "You expect jealousy?"
"It would be a normal reaction." Together with insults and hexes. That's how such things tended to play out at Hogwarts, both during his time as a student and as a teacher.
She giggled. "It would be. I assume you'd not be fooled by some fantastic tale of 'ow veela are looking for their chosen mates, and once found, other veela would not dare interfere with such a sacred bond?"
Remus chuckled. "No, I wouldn't." Once, he had. As a teenager. But there was no need to mention that. He knew more about magical creatures these days. And he liked to think he was less gullible.
"The truth is, Sirius is a charming, very charming wizard. And so skilled…" she trailed off, her tongue briefly wetting her lips, and Remus felt his beast stir again. "Many wizards boast like 'e did, when we met in France. Not many boast with such 'umor. And few are those who can make good their claims. We 'ad a very good time in France. Nothing more, nothing less." She giggled. "I suspect 'e wasn't entirely serious when 'e invited us to his 'ome, and we accepted in part because it seemed like a challenge."
That would explain a number of things, Remus thought. His jealousy did increase some though, upon hearing that Sirius's boasts were not just that.
"But as we spent more time 'ere, it became rather obvious that while we all grew closer, both Sirius and our youngest cousin grew more attached to each other. They seem to 'ave a sort of rapport." Chantal smiled wistfully. "Something more serious, you could say," she added with a giggle.
Remus groaned at the pun. But he owed it to his friend to ask: "But… are you sure it's healthy? Sirius is… still dealing with the effects of his time in Azkaban." As always when Remus thought of his friend's ordeal, he felt the burning shame of not having trusted him, not having cared enough to find out what had happened, not having wanted to face him. He owed Sirius so much, he had to make his friend wouldn't be hurt further.
"We are all aware of 'is issues. Is it 'ealthy, as you ask?" Once again she shrugged, the movement causing her robe to slip a bit. Remus forced himself to look at her eyes, and not at her bosom. "Valérie is the most caring of us. She claims she sees more than a very 'urt wizard in need of 'er help. I 'ope she is being 'onest - with us, and with 'erself. So far, we are still, as you might say, sharing. That might change, some of us might meet other people, we might grow apart again, or keep sharing. No one but seers can predict the future, and their prophecies are seldom clear until they 'ave come to pass already."
Remus nodded again. "I guess I can't ask for more."
"It's enough. We might die any time we 'ead out in this war. We should take what 'appiness we can find."
Remus almost winced at that comment. She must have noticed his reaction, since she leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder. "You too, might think about this."
Remus felt his beast stir again, and fought it back. A tad stiffly, he answered: "I might." Turning away, he headed to his room until he had calmed down.
*****
"It's getting late, Hermione"
Hermione Granger looked up from the tome on blood magic she was reading in the Black Family Library. "Hm?"
Harry smiled indulgently at her. "It's past midnight already."
She checked her watch. He was right. Time had flown, as it usually did when she was reading. Sighing she closed the tome and stood up, stretching. A glance revealed that Harry was staring, and she smiled, very pleased. In a house with four barely-clad veela, any normal girl would have some doubts about her own appearance, and seeing her boyfriend's reaction was quite reassuring as well as gratifying. And she didn't have to wear a see-through robe either.
Then she realized she had all but ignored Harry for hours while she did her research, and felt guilty. "Sorry," she said, gathering her notes. Harry knew her well enough to know what she was apologizing for; she did it often enough.
"Don't be sorry. It's important work." He waited, smiling, as she stored her notes in her enchanted book bag.
She took a last look around the library, to check she had not left anything, a habit from the Hogwarts library and other public libraries. This library certainly fit its name: Dark shelves, a thick, dark carpet, and the wooden panels visible on the few parts of the walls that were not covered with shelves had darkened with age so much, they almost looked black.
Suddenly, she was overcome with a matching mood. "Did you ever consider just leaving?"
"Hm?" Harry cocked his head.
"I mean, running away. Fake our deaths, leave Britain, leave this war," Hermione made a sweeping gesture that encompassed not just the room, but the country behind the walls.
"And leave our families?" Harry shook his head.
"We could run away with them." Hermione countered.
"And fake everyone's death?" Harry sounded almost amused.
"Blow the place up. Leave some fake bodies." There were some interesting and disturbing spells in this library that would do the job, the witch knew. Just in case there were not enough Death Eaters around to serve as decoys with polyjuice.
"And this?" Harry pointed at his forehead.
Hermione grimaced. "That I am still working on."
"We wouldn't be safe as long as he lives," Harry stated with conviction.
"Yes, and fleeing while we're fighting a war wouldn't be right," the witch agreed with him.
"But you've made some plans anyway." He knew her really well.
"Just in case." If the war went badly. Or if the war was over, and they still hadn't found a way to be together without having to live a lie.
Harry nodded, and held out his hand. "Let's head to bed. Before Kreacher blocks your door and you have to sleep in my room."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. The misguided elf might just do that, should he overhear them and decide to interpret it as an order. Kreacher could be quite creative when it came to such things. It wasn't his fault, of course. Sirius's mother was to blame for the elf's attitude.
She wanted to hex the foul creature anyway.
*****
"Wheee!"
Harry smiled indulgently at Luna. The blonde witch was bending this way and that, trying to see how she looked in the muggle jeans and pink t-shirt she was wearing between pulling at the fabric. Apparently, she had temporarily forgotten about mirrors. Or just acted like it - one could seldom tell with her.
"Is she always like that?" Dudley asked, sharing Harry's amusement. The two of them, like Neville and Ron, were wearing jeans and various shirts. Ron had gotten an orange t-shirt, of course, but hadn't tried to get the 'Cannons' logo on it. Yet.
Harry nodded. "Yes, D, she is. Thanks again for coming with us." His cousin had heard of their plans to go out in muggle London, and had offered to show them a few nice spots. Harry had accepted the offer at once - Dudley was the same age as he and his friends, and would know more appropriate clubs than Sirius. Or, as Hermione had put it, 'less inappropriate clubs for teenagers'.
"Hey, I have to thank you. Going out with so many beautiful girls? My friends will be so jealous." Dudley chuckled, nodding towards the rest of the group. Aicha, Ginny, Neville, Susan, Ron and Padma were standing around Hermione, who was checking their appearance for 'appropriate muggleness', in Ron's words.
"Do Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon know about this?" Harry asked, in a lower voice.
"They know I'm going out with friends in London," his cousin answered.
"Technically true," Harry nodded.
"I would never lie to my parents," Dudley grinned broadly, and almost as convincingly as he had when he and Harry had been questioned about the disappearance of the cake Petunia had baked for Aunt Marge's visit when they had been six. He had lost a bit of weight since Harry had seen him last time. Boxing seemed to agree with him. Harry's cousin probably would never be slim, but he was now burly-looking rather than fat. Between Dudley and Ron, other teenagers looking for trouble would hopefully pick someone else as a target.
Of course they were not going out all by themselves. Harry glanced towards the latest addition to their group, and the most shockingly dressed - for muggles. Nymphadora, in the shape of a teenager with long, black and blonde hair, wearing fishnets and a black leather miniskirt with a leather and mesh top, noticed and grinned at him.
"So, what are you two plotting?" she asked, coming over to them. She claimed she had picked both her form and clothes with the utmost care, but Harry wasn't sure her gothic punk look had taken that much time.
"Nothing, Miss Doppleganger." Dudley answered, causing her to frown.
"I told you, I'm a metamorphmagus, not a 'doppelganger'!" she huffed, putting her fists on her hips.
Harry's cousin shrugged. "Sorry, you just look so much like one, I get confused."
Nymphadora stared at him. "I can change my body to look like anyone I want, and you say I look like a doppelganger?"
Dudley nodded. "Exactly!"
Nymphadora blinked, then stomped off shaking her head. Harry shook his head. "If she doesn't protect us as she should after this, I am blaming you."
Dudley grinned at him. "She messed with me first."
"That she did," Harry agreed. Nymphadora would get back at his cousin, he knew that, but he didn't feel like mentioning it.
Hermione had finished her inspection of their friends, and joined them for a brief respite from the hail of questions aimed at her. Judging by the look she shot Harry, she hadn't been amused by him leaving her to deal with that alone. He wasn't moved much - he knew she loved to lecture.
"Alright. Everyone is presentable, and should be sufficiently coached in teen culture so any mistakes will be blamed on being slightly drunk and from the countryside," she summarized while running her wand over her black miniskirt and white top to smooth them out. Harry knew she was missing her enchanted robes. He shared the sentiment; going out without all the convenient charms on his clothes almost felt like being naked, but they hadn't had time to get those charms and the protections they needed.
"You plan to get drunk?" Dudley asked, sounding slightly concerned.
"No," Hermione assured him, then pointed at Luna, who was lifting her shirt up to check her underwear. "But it's a better explanation for some of the stuff they'll be doing than drugs."
Dudley stared, then nodded. "I guess so."
"Picture time!" Sirius yelled, holding up a wizard camera. "Gather together so I can take your picture! It's traditional!"
Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged. "I've given up on trying to teach him the differences between an American prom and a night in town in London. As long as it makes him happy…"
Harry was rather certain Sirius knew the differences well enough, at least after Hermione's lecture, and was simply teasing the witch. He didn't say anything though. He was also rather certain Hermione had realized the same thing, but was ignoring it.
The group gathered as ordered and spent the next few minutes posing for Sirius, who was taking about a dozen pictures until he was satisfied that the 'muggle tradition' had been sufficiently upheld.
"Remember, kids - me and Moony will keep an eye on you from afar, so don't do anything we wouldn't do!" the animagus declared.
"Anything you, or anything Remus wouldn't do?" Ron asked with a grin. He earned an elbow to the side from his girlfriend for that. "Ow! Just asking for a bit of clarification."
"Me." Sirius and Remus said at the same time, then exchanged glares.
"That's what's protecting us…" Hermione muttered under her breath, but Harry saw that she was smiling.
Harry whispered back "Well, Valérie, Chantal, Laure and Eugénie will be closer." Supposedly Sirius didn't want himself and Remus to look like 'dirty old men stalking kids', and so had asked the veela to follow them into the clubs aimed at teenagers and tweens. Harry wasn't sure if that would work out well. At least the veela would draw attention away from their group, even if they were 'dressing down', as Chantal called it, for this.
They still looked like they were models clubbing in Paris, of course. Dudley had commented on that about half a dozen times so far.
"You know, Harry, you need to have one of them 'drive' you to our house this summer. Piers would die with jealousy." Make that seven times.
On the other hand, the veela's presence would help the other teenage wizards and witches to blend in. And that probably was why Sirius had organized their trip this way.
Harry snorted. His godfather was sharper and more thoughtful than he wanted to appear.
*****
Fetching a couple of drinks in a muggle club was quite the novel thing, Ron Weasley realized. Instead of simply summoning the stuff - and showing off how well you mastered the spell so you didn't spill anything, unless of course you wanted to spill something by accident, say on a Slytherin - Ron actually had to to stand up and walk over to the bar and get them. And that meant walking through a room packed full of muggle teenagers, half of them dancing in the middle, the rest hanging around low tables and getting drunk. At least that's what it looked like to him. Fortunately, Chantal and Eugénie were not currently dancing, Valérie had gone out 'for some fresh air', meaning, she was probably keeping Sirius company, and Laure was on the loo, which meant the dance floor wasn't quite as crowded as before. You'd think the muggles had never seen a veela before! And they hadn't been wearing too revealing clothing either. Everyone was dressed rather conservatively, in his opinion. His mum would like to hear that.
He slipped between two guys standing at the bar and raised his arm until the bartender, a woman in her twenties with a nose ring and shredded clothes, looked at him. He smiled and raised his voice so she'd understand his order over the music and the buzzing sound of a roomful of talking teenagers: "One Coke, and one…" he briefly checked the list over the mirror for a drink he hadn't tried yet, "... Sprite!" That sounded even a bit magical.
A minute later, two glasses were placed in front of him, and he paid the woman. Judging by the wide smile she flashed him he probably had overdone the tip again. He didn't care - it was Sirius's money, and the head of the Black Family certainly had more than enough. Merlin, Ron had more than enough to be generous to the staff. It wasn't as if this was charity or something.
Grabbing the two glasses, he made his way back to their table, more carefully now. It wouldn't do to spill half the drinks. Padma would be annoyed, she really liked Coca Cola. Ron had drunk Cokes before, but a few of the other drinks available here he had never tried until tonight. While he found the muggle drinks still a bit weird, they were tasty. Not as good as butterbeer, but probably on the same level as pumpkin juice. He had to admit though that the ice inside the drink was a novel idea.
He reached Padma and the others without spilling anything, and his girlfriend beamed at him when he handed her her glass. The wizard briefly looked around after sitting down next to her. Harry and Hermione were curled up on one of the seats. Not quite lost in their own world, but close. Understandable - they usually didn't get to be so open with their affection in public. Ginny was talking to Neville - the poor boy hadn't gotten any rest this evening, it seemed. Ron almost shook his head at that; in Neville's place he'd have told his little sister to shut it long ago. Nymphadora was sitting next to them, watching the room. Susan was lounging next to Dudley, chatting animatedly with Harry's cousin. Ron wasn't sure what was up with that. Dudley was an alright bloke, for a muggle, but he wasn't that interesting. And Luna was… broken broomsticks! Where was Luna?
Ron started to panic. One thing everyone of their group had quickly learned: Luna Lovegood was not to be left out of their sight in muggle London. The quirky blonde had a talent for starting trouble, and one almost-riot caused by her loud observations in the first pub they had visited had been enough for Ron to last for a year. Who'd have thought so many people would react so violently to being told that red was a better color than white for their shirts? Who'd wear a cockerel on their shirt anyway? Well, a few subtle spells and some generous rounds had defused the situation, which had been related to football or something according to Dudley. He hadn't known football was so violent. And the less said about the 'Unicorn Incident' in the next pub the better. Or when Luna had discovered ripped jeans.
"Where's Luna?" he asked, louder and maybe a bit higher pitched than needed.
Padma pointed at the dance floor. And there the blonde witch was, dancing enthusiastically with Aicha. He relaxed. Dancing was fine. Nothing to worry there. He couldn't spot Aicha's genie, so the little thing was either still in her handbag, or at least invisible instead of making muggles think they were seeing things. The situation was still under control then. Leaning back, he had to laugh.
"Hm? what's so funny?" Padma asked, her glass already half-empty.
"Nothing. Just… if mum knew I was the most responsible one of the group on this trip…" he chuckled, and Padma joined him. For a bit, they simply sipped their drinks - well, he did, Padma was closer to guzzling down hers - and watched their two friends dance.
"There are so many muggles, I'd never had believed it if anyone had told me," Padma remarked. Ron knew better than to mention that Hermione had told her, repeatedly. Hermione was generally not wrong, especially not about muggles, but Padma was a bit sensitive about it.
So he agreed instead. "Yes. So many packed pubs and clubs. And none of them are afraid. They don't know there's a war going on. It doesn't concern them. They're just enjoying the night. And their biggest worry is probably if the boy or girl they like likes them back." He shook his head at the notion, then noticed Padma's frown. Uh oh. What had he said now? He continued. "And you don't have to worry about sneaky hexes from Slytherins either. Or potioned butterbeers. It's just so safe here!"
"Hermione was quite insistent that we never leave our drinks unattended though," Padma pointed out.
"Yes, she was, but again - they can't quite banish the stuff into our drinks from across the room. It's still safer than Hogsmeade, despite what the Headmaster says." Ron finished his 'Sprite'. Not bad, but he'd had better. "It's almost perfect."
"What's missing then?" Padma asked.
"Magic," Ron answered. His girlfriend nodded her agreement.
*****
Hermione Granger was happy. Happier than she had been for quite some time. She was sharing a seat with Harry - not quite in his lap, but close enough - and out in public without having to play the obedient retainer and hide her feelings. Luna was on the loose again, but Aicha was with her, and Ron seemed to be watching the blonde as well, so the witch felt justified enough not to care, and simply enjoy the opportunity to relax and be herself instead.
She rested her head on Harry's shoulder, felt him adjust his pose a bit to make her more comfortable - and him as well - and sighed contentedly when his arm tightened around her waist. "Mh."
The only slightly troublesome part of this marvelous outing - not counting Luna's misadventures, those she had expected, if not the scale of them - was how close Susan and Dudley had gotten. And even that was a blessing in disguise - she had feared the redhead would try to butt in on her time with Harry. Still, her curiosity was aroused.
She shifted around a bit, and whispered into Harry's ear. "What do you think Susan and Dudley are talking about?"
Harry turned his head slowly towards his cousin. "Hm. He's probably asking her all sorts of questions about magic. You know how he is."
That Hermione knew. For a self-proclaimed 'bruiser and boxer', Dudley was quite curious. She didn't think it was just him asking the questions though. And while her boyfriend considered Susan a friend, Hermione wouldn't put it past the redhead to use Dudley to get closer to Harry. Or at least get inside information. "She's probably asking about all the embarrassing stories he knows about you," she whispered, adding a giggle.
"D wouldn't…" Harry trailed off. "He would. Damn!"
She felt him tense up, and put her hand on his chest. "Relax. You can prank him later, probably with Nymphadora." If Nymphadora still felt the need to - Dudley had been expecting some payback from her for the whole evening, and had chased away at least one girl when he had mistakenly assumed she was the metamorphmagus in disguise, there to prank him. The muggleborn witch closed her eyes. Of course Nymphadora would not think they were even; she was a Black after all. They didn't do even.
She looked around. The veela were still staying put, sort of, which meant the dancing floor was less crowded than when they had been dancing, even with Luna and Aicha attracting some attention. "Let's dance, Harry!" she said while standing up, and pulling on his arm. With a chuckle, her boyfriend got up again, and they walked towards the dance floor. Hopefully, they'd play some slow music soon too.
Hermione was determined to enjoy this night as much as possible. So far it had been almost perfect. The only drawback was that she had to hide her magic.
She snorted at the thought - it seemed that no matter where she was in public, among muggles or wizards, she had to hide an important part of herself. Life just wasn't fair.
*****
"Sirius? Do you have a moment?"
Sirius Black looked up from the Daily Prophet spread on the kitchen table in his home. The picture of Fudge he had been hunting around the page with a permanent marker used the opportunity to flee to another page.
"Of course, Hermione." He smiled at the muggleborn witch. She had taken to wearing shorter, lighter robes, he noticed. Not nearly as skimpy as the attire of the other women in the house, but there was progress. He made a mental note to buy her a few robes more appropriate for her sixth year over the summer, and hoped he'd not forget it.
"It's private," she added.
"Ohhh," the animagus wiggled his eyebrows at her while his smile widened. 'Private'... he wondered what she might want to ask of him. "We can go to my study then. It's not as if I have much use for it."
She rolled her eyes at him. Apparently, he wasn't fooling her. But 'Sirius Black, hard-working head of his family', wasn't as impressive as 'Sirius Black, carefree rogue'. Not that he really needed to look and sound impressive, these days. Not with Valérie and the others still around, despite having gotten to know the real him. But appearances had to be maintained - at least the ones he liked. Summoning two bottles of butterbeer from the fridge, he led the witch to his study.
"Make yourself comfortable and tell your future godfather-in-law everything!" he said after closing the door. When she flinched at his light-hearted teasing, he realized just what he had just made fun of. "Sorry," he muttered while he sat down on his own, enchanted seat and popped a bottle open.
Hermione gave the barest nod in acknowledgement of his apology, and cast a few privacy spells at the door. Either she was far shyer than he had thought, or this was not about her and Harry's love life. She didn't touch the bottle he had floating next to her either.
The witch sat down herself, and for a moment, both of them stared at each other, their expressions growing serious.
"I need a live, marked Death Eater," she said in a very level, very cold voice.
What? He stared at her, not quite gaping.
His surprise must have shown though, since she rolled her eyes at him again and pressed her lips together before elaborating. "You know about Harry's scar."
"Yes," he nodded. He would have liked to forget that, at least at times. But he couldn't.
"You know what the Dark Marks are and do," she continued.
The young witch reminded him so much of some of his old tutors, he repressed the urge to raise his hand instead of nodding. He had to ask Harry if his godson felt the same sometime.
"I've got a plan to deal with both, but I need to know more about the Dark Mark. Much more. And for that I need to study one. On a living Death Eater." The witch met his eyes, challenging him, daring him to ask what she was planning.
Sirius didn't have to. He knew what kind of books she had been reading in his library, Kreacher had seen to keeping him informed. It was not too difficult for him, with his background, to deduce what she was planning. At least now. He sighed. "I assume you'd need a trip to Haiti too, sometime later?"
The girl stiffened, her eyes widening briefly. Why did everyone act so surprised whenever he revealed some knowledge? Then she nodded. "Unless I find the information I need in Britain."
"You won't. It's been banned for centuries. If my family doesn't have it, I doubt anyone else has it." He didn't like to brag, but his family had been among the most knowledgeable when it came to the Dark Arts. Still was, actually. Just because he hated to use it didn't mean he had forgotten.
"There are immigrants. Researchers. Some muggles might have inherited books, not knowing what they are," she countered.
"Yes. But you'd have a hard time tracking them down in Britain." It wasn't impossible, but it would require luck and time. Two things they might not have.
"Convincing one of the 'practitioners' to teach me is not likely to be easier," Hermione said without showing any emotion. Not even the frustration he himself was feeling when he thought about their situation.
"You've got something else in mind, as an alternative." It was not a question.
"Yes. But it's a questionable plan," she admitted.
"More questionable than a trip to the Caribbean?" He raised his eyebrows.
Hermione nodded.
"More dangerous too?" He couldn't think of anything. Maybe some of the things that had laid the foundation for his home's wards. But then, he hadn't been able to think of what Lily had done to protect Harry either. Not that he had really wanted to know what she had done in the first place.
"Maybe." Hermione's lips formed a thin line. That meant 'yes', of course.
Harry wouldn't like that. At all. "But more promising than the alternatives?"
"As far as I can tell with my current knowledge, yes. That might change as I study the subject further," Hermione admitted. The way she didn't go into details despite their privacy more than anything else told Sirius that they were talking about highly illegal research either way.
"You're doing outlawed and very dangerous research." She might die. Or worse. The Dark Arts were feared and loathed for a reason by any sane wizard.
"It's for Harry." Hermione smiled sadly.
And that was the crux of the issue. If it wasn't for Harry, he'd tell the girl to stop before she got herself jailed or killed. Or worse. But Harry was more important than either of them. Even if the boy would disagree. Vehemently. "He'll hate it." And he might hate her, and Sirius for helping her.
"He'll live though," Hermione stated with utter conviction. The older wizard realized that she would succeed, or die trying. Just like himself. He had failed Harry, had failed the boy's parents once, he'd not fail again. No matter the cost.
He chuckled. "Hopefully he'll never knew what we're willing to do."
Hermione nodded. Both of them knew though that this was unlikely. But maybe he'd not realize just what they had done, afterwards. They'd do it anyway. For Harry.
"So… capturing a Death Eater it is. Alive. And keeping him captive and alive. A tall order," he summarized. Not impossible, of course.
"And hidden from the Dark Lord. Or at least kept at a place the Dark Lord can't get to," Hermione added.
"You realize that there's only about one place that would work for that," Sirius hissed.
Hermione nodded, smiling faintly. She had known, and was counting on him to arrange it, Sirius was certain.
"I'll talk to him," Sirius sighed. "You know, I wasn't really joking, earlier. If you can do this, you can do anything."
When he saw the way her face lit up with sudden hope, before she schooled her features again, he hoped he hadn't been lying.
*****
Albus Dumbledore smiled at young Sirius. Seeing the wizard in his office made the Headmaster feel nostalgic. The young man had been a very frequent visitor to his office, back when he had been a student. Him, and the others of his group, troublemakers extraordinaire. They had been responsible for much laughter, back in the last war. That war… it had been a desperate struggle, but he had been younger then. They all had been.
His former student didn't visit him that often anymore. Understandable, after Albus had failed him so terribly. An innocent in Azkaban, for over a decade. Albus ranked his failure to ensure the law was followed properly in that case as one of his biggest, gravest sins. One he would never be able to make up for, but would take with him to his grave.
He forced the morbid thoughts away. Sirius had asked for a meeting, in private, so it had to be important. Folding his hands, he waited for the other wizard to begin speaking.
"Albus, I need to know if you've got a secure dungeon in the school that could be used to house a prisoner." Sirius came right to the point. Or appeared to do so.
Grimmauld Place 12 had dungeons too, so Sirius didn't need a cell, but the defenses of Hogwarts. Which meant that he feared the Dark Lord would come for the prisoner. And he didn't want the Ministry to have him. The wizard could just be worried about leaks and spies, but Albus didn't think so. Sirius had plans for the prisoner then, plans he needed secrecy and privacy as well as security for. "What do you plan to do with a Death Eater?" he asked. There were a few likely answers, of course.
Sirius frowned briefly, then smiled, and once again Albus saw not a middle-aged wizard, still somewhat showing the effects of Azkaban, but a young man sent to him by Minerva for pranking someone. The impression vanished as soon as Sirius answered though. "To study the Dark Mark."
Fawkes trilled, not quite angrily, but not the happy sounds he made when he was pleased, or had just managed to steal some candy. Albus smiled at his companion, then met Sirius's eyes. Sirius was many things. An animagus. A skilled wizard. A good fighter. A good leader too, and a caring godfather. But a researcher he was not. He had shown some talent when it came to pranking, to adapt spells or potions, but he had never shown any inclination for the kind of research this task he mentioned needed. And while he might be willing to do anything for his godson, Sirius didn't seem to be that unaware of his own strengths and weaknesses. So, he was asking for someone else. Remus was more scholarly inclined, but he would have come to ask Albus himself, if he was involved. That left…
"I see Miss Granger is making progress in her quest to help her Patron," The Headmaster remarked. Sirius's hiss told him he was right. "Although we both know just how dangerous the knowledge she seeks is."
"It's for Harry," Sirius answered, as if that explained and excused everything. It did the former, but not the latter.
"Of course. But would Harry like his retainer to sacrifice herself for him? Or his godfather?" Albus asked in a mild voice.
"He wouldn't. Just as we wouldn't like him to sacrifice himself for us," Sirius answered. "But that's not the issue. This needs to be done. You know it as much as I do. Without discovering the secrets of the Dark Mark, without finding a way to ... deal with all that entails, we'll lose this war. Or the next. The Dark Lord'll have made sure to keep some of his marked Death Eaters safely away from the fighting. They're probably not even in Britain."
Albus hated to admit it, but he knew the younger wizard was correct. He had come to that conclusion already - Tom was very unlikely to risk all his horcruxes. And if he was defeated, he'd return. A year, a decade later - he'd be back. Smarter. More experienced. And Albus might be dead by then. Of old age, even. He frowned. "Yes. It has to be done. But does it have to be her?"
"Lily was not much older when she found a ritual to defeat the Dark Lord. Who would you trust as much?" Sirius asked. "Who else does Harry trust as much?" He hesitated a second, then added. "And who else will we be able to deal with as easily, should she ... fall?"
Albus stiffened. "That is a surprising argument. Correct, but very cold-blooded." As Rookwood had shown, not even the Unspeakables were immune to corruption - of either kind. And they and the likes of them had more experience and resources, which would make doing what was needed more difficult. And there was the fact that he'd get to teach again. He hadn't been able to indulge in that passion of his for a while now.
Sirius spread his hands. "Do you doubt she'd prefer that to endangering Harry herself, after losing control or her mind?"
Albus shook his head. "I am not sure if I should be happy for Harry, or pity him."
"Both, of course," Sirius answered, without any hint of levity.
Albus sighed. "I'll arrange a cell, far removed from any area students can access. And I will be present each time she visits, and involved in the research." He wasn't as foolish as to let a young witch delve into those matters without supervision. And there was no one else he trusted with the secrets of the Dark Mark. "Capturing a marked Death Eater will be a challenge though. Those known to carry the mark tend to seldom stray far from their Master's side, and the others are hiding."
"We've got a lead on someone. Just have to wait until he makes a mistake." Sirius grinned ferally.
Albus felt the urge to caution the younger wizard of making the mistake of underestimating his enemy. Sirius wasn't his student anymore, and deserved his trust, but a little reminder never hurt anyone. "Let's hope Mister Yennington will make that mistake soon."
He kept his expression bland when Sirius's slight twitch told him the animagus had been surprised again by Albus's knowledge. Surprised, and hopefully reminded not to underestimate his opponents.
When Sirius had left, Albus stopped smiling and leaned back, closing his eyes. He was preparing to study the Dark Arts with a young prodigy at his side. For the most noble of goals, they would be braving the foulest magic. Just like he had done before, with Gellert.
He could only hope that this time, no one would succumb to temptation. He didn't want to add another unforgivable sin to his soul.
The old Headmaster glanced at Fawkes, who was busy preening himself, then at his watch, and wondered when the bodies of the Malfoys would be found.
Chapter 32: Family Matters
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