Disclaimer: the usual.
A/N: Italic text between quotes is Parseltongue. I was going to use carrots but FFN eats them.
Wednesday, November 11
"So, Uncle Sirius—"
"Less of the 'Uncle,' squirt," Sirius objected. He carefully set three sundaes on the table and slid them to their respective owners. A tiny dish that had all the fun bits mixed in went to Harry (who still had to be reminded to use a spoon); the towering parfait stayed in front of Sirius; the third, a sundae the size of a softball with three kinds of ice cream and two flavors of fudge, went to his second companion. "Unless you want me to go back to using your full name."
The girl screwed her face up in distaste. "Ewwww. No thanks."
"That's what I thought. Just 'Sirius' is fine."
She giggled. "Okay, Just Sirius. So—"
He cuffed her lightly on the head. "Cheeky."
"Ow! So! Anyway! Since we're like family now—"
"We were always family, squirt. Now we just don't have to be quiet about it."
She rolled her eyes. "Sooooooooo, are we going to see you, like, a lot now?" She dug into her ice cream but watched him carefully. Clearly, underneath the ebullient nature was a healthy skepticism, a neat blend of her parentage.
"I have no idea," Sirius licked his spoon with relish. "Mmmm, this is glorious."
She snickered. "It's called Florean's Glorious Parfait. It ought to be."
"Are you always this snarky?" he asked.
She opened her mouth to argue and was hit in the face with a dollop of ice cream. Harry giggled delightedly.
"I see someone else is enjoying his ice cream," Sirius winked at Harry. "Good job, pup." The door swung open, admitting a tall, curvy woman carrying a toddler. "Ah, there she is. Amuse the pup, will you?" Sirius bolted up before the girl could answer.
"Hello, Alice." Sirius held out his hand.
Alice took it with a hearty grip and a smile. Wizarding robes often hid the fact that Alice Longbottom was incredibly fit. The grip rather hurt. "Sirius. Only you would choose to meet at an ice cream shop in November."
"Hey, it is never too cold for ice cream. Am I right, Neville?"
The toddler buried his sandy head in his mother's shoulder. "We're having a bit of a shy phase," she said.
"No problem. Let me grab you a chair. Want a sundae?"
"No, thank you. We just ate." Alice swung Neville into a chair next to Harry. "Hello, Harry dear. How are you?"
Spoon in his mouth, ice cream smeared all over his face, Harry blinked up at her owlishly then glanced at Sirius.
"It's fine pup. You've met Alice before. You remember Neville." Harry blinked at him skeptically.
Sirius leaned over to the girl. "Do the thing," he whispered.
She rolled her eyes, but then screwed them shut for a moment. When she opened them her nose had turned bright purple! Both boys squealed in delight.
Pulling up a chair for herself, Alice sat. "Who is this?" she asked pleasantly.
"Alice, this is my cousin Dora. Dora, this is Mrs. Alice Longbottom."
Alice frowned slightly but Dora suddenly sat up very straight and looked at Alice with renewed interest.
"Longbottom? As in the famous Auror?"
Alice blinked. "Well, I am an Auror, though I don't know about 'famous.'"
Dora shifted to face the adults squarely across the table. Her nose abruptly popped back to normal. "But you are! I've heard all the stories. You're amazing! Is Frank here too?" She looked around hopefully.
Sirius leaned over. "She's a bit obsessed with Aurors." He said quietly.
Alice quirked an eyebrow. "You said she's your cousin?"
Sirius nodded and took another bite of ice cream. Alice frowned.
"How, exactly, are you related?" she persisted.
Sirius swallowed and frowned back. He was sensing a mood. Neville was helping Harry spoon feed him some ice cream. Dora was watching the adults intently.
"Squirt, tell Alice how you know all her stories?" he said encouragingly. He winked at Dora.
"Oh! Well, my dad is a special correspondent for the Prophet."
"Ted Tonks," Sirius supplied.
"Yep. He writes up all the stories and stuff so folks know everything you do to keep 'em safe. And he works with the Muggles when they need to know something!" She beamed with pride. Her dark brown hair took on a slightly golden sheen.
"Ted Tonks?" Alice asked. "How interesting. And who is your mother, dear?"
Sirius coughed into his ice cream and sent Alice a glare which she pointedly ignored.
"Oh, her name's Ah'drom'da. She makes fancy clothes and teaches at the parish school. She's a real stickler for neat writtin' on your homework." Dora crinkled her nose.
Alice slowly lifted her eyes to look at Sirius, eyes that had gone hard and blazing. Sirius had seen that look stop dark wizards in their tracks.
"Sirius, do you mean to tell me—"
Sirius abruptly stood up. "Alice, why don't we come talk over here for a minute? Keep an eye on the kids, squirt." Sirius slid his half-eaten parfait over in front of Dora and marched to a nearby corner. As soon as she was close enough Sirius dropped a Muffliato over them and rounded on her. "Do not—do not!—tell me that you were about to publically defame an eight year old girl, my niece, over a blood relation who disowned her mother for marrying the kindest muggleborn wizard Britain has ever seen, and who she has never and will never meet?"
"Your 'niece?' You said she was a cousin?" Alice hissed back.
"She's as good as! Andy was my favorite cousin, Alice." Sirius said low and dangerously. "The only other Black with no interest in the Dark Arts at all. I just met that girl last week and I'll be buggered if I let you humiliate and frighten her. She's an innocent kid. She doesn't even know Bellatrix exists, and if Andy and I have any say about it, she never will."
Alice deflated but only slightly. "I still can't believe you would bring her here."
"Why? Where do you want me to bring her? The zoo? They were in hiding for months! She needs some air. Her mother only agreed to let me take her out because you would be here to watch Harry during my meeting with Scrimgeour. She won't let anyone but an Auror near the girl. They're scared, Alice!"
This time Alice swelled. She matched Sirius for height and, he was fairly sure, for brawn. She leaned in and hissed furiously.
"I said I'd watch Harry. Harry! The son of Lily and James! I will not be mixed up in the rest of your infamous kin, Sirius. I will not have Neville mixed up with them. They are twisted. All of them. Who knows what tricks she's got in her cauldron!"
"Tricks?! She's eight years old!" Sirius couldn't believe he was hearing this. From Alice Longbottom!
"And her aunt attacked my house! She's dark blood, Sirius. Dark! And I won't have it around my son!"
Sirius locked eyes with her for a long moment.
"Well then," he said finally. His fury was cold and level, strange for him. He wasn't sure he'd ever been angry and cold before. His anger was always hot and quick. "I think we're done here." Cancelling the Muffliato —he wasn't sure how much good it had done, as everyone was staring at them anyway, well, everyone except Harry and Neville, who were happily painting each other's faces with fudge—he strode to the table.
"Change of plans, squirt. You get to meet Scrimgeour after all," he said tightly.
"Really?!" Dora squealed. Her hair suddenly shot through with streaks of bright pink and tripled in volume.
Sirius nodded. He tried to banish the tight anger from his eyes but he knew it was hopeless. "If we hurry we might even catch old Mad Eye."
Dora squealed again and began clearing their things away—there were now sparkles in the pink streaks. Sirius shot a quick scourgify at Harry's face, which he didn't like one bit, then picked him up perfunctorily. Grabbing Dora's hand Sirius turned to go and stopped facing Alice.
She had likewise scooped up Neville. The two boys were making faces at each other. Sirius hoped Dora couldn't see his expression—she was bouncing excitedly and looking at the door so he thought not. Just as criminals had stopped in their tracks for Alice's glare, they'd wet themselves over his own a time or two. It wouldn't have that effect on Alice, he knew, but he didn't want Dora's hero worship smashed so soon.
Finally, he turned, failing to suppress a sneer. "See you at the office, Longbottom."
Somewhere in the Amazon Jungle
"…and this! This is your new home, Pedro. So cozy, yes? Many places for you to explore and hide. Very nice, very nice. You will like it very much, yes?"
The hut smelled horrible. Too many strange scents battled each other: herbs and strange foods and clay-like dust and unwashed old man, all magnified by the humid, stagnant air. It was also tiny! A single room with mud walls and a tiny alcove to one side where a cot was built into the wall. The rest was crowded with pots and jars and baskets and things hanging from the ceiling. Piles of rocks and—were those bones? Dear lord, yes!
The old man prattled on. He seemed to think his voice would sooth the trembling rodent. Peter would have been annoyed if he wasn't so terrified. The international portkey had been ten times as long as any another portkey he'd experienced, and equally more uncomfortable as a rat.
This was to be his life. A rat, confined to this hut!
"And this is our most special friend! Pedro," the old man couldn't even pronounce his name properly! "please you to meet Nagini. She has been my helper for many, many years, yes? Ah, hello, Nagini! Your scales shine beautifully this morning! Did you have good hunting? Yes, yes, of course."
He set Peter down, more of a drop, really, barely two feet from the biggest snake Peter had ever seen! Then the old man bustled away to fuss with piles of crockery.
"Sssssssssssss!" The snake—Nagini?-slithered closer and circled around Peter. He had never been so terrified! "You are our new guessssssst? You are not what you sssssseeeem, ffffffriend." Every consonant seemed to be spat out. Her final 'friend' was clearly not meant to be friendly.
Peter squeaked! "I-I-I-I aaaaam a r-r-r-rat nnnnnow." He didn't stop to think about how he could understand a snake. Perhaps she was an animagus, or just magical, or had just been around the crazy old wizard too long. Or maybe it was just Peter's own animagus abilities. But knowing why wouldn't stop her from speaking.
"I sssssssee." Nagini finished her circuit, but her body continued to coil around him. "My massssster hasss offered you ssssssssanctuary. You will not leave thisssss den."
Her head darted forward and sideways and settled a whisker length from his nose. Her tongue whipped over his face.
"Ifffffff you leave, I ssssssshall hunt you and fffffffffind you. I will ennnnjoy eating you sssssssslowly."
She slithered away, but it took at least half a minute for her coils to unwind enough for Peter to scamper for safety in an overturned earthen pot—ugh! What did the old man put in this pot last?!
"Mud and icicles! Scary woman!"
Dora giggled. "Sirius, you said only Harry spoke Parseltongue?"
Sirius pulled himself out of his dark reverie long enough to grin down at her. She had such a spunky smile it was easy despite his dark mood. "I picked up a few things. Here we are!" He pushed open the door to the Auror Department and nearly ran into Mad Eye Moody as he stormed towards the lift.
The veteran halted with all the deftness of a boulder that had planned to stop there anyway.
"Black," he grunted. "At least there's one other person here with some sense, now."
Sirius lifted a brow. "Uh…thank you?"
Mad Eye grunted again. "Well, at least you follow orders. Usually." The veteran's eyebrows screwed up in a menacing fashion.
A giggle drew the madness inducing gaze down and to the side to take in the slender girl with stripes of sparkling pink running through her hair. The gaze likewise took in the toddler on Sirius hip, then returned to Sirius face with an inscrutable expression.
"Bring the sprogs to work day, is it?"
"Oh, well—"
"You're Mad Eye Moody!" Dora interrupted, squealing breathlessly.
Sirius groaned inwardly. No one actually called him 'Mad Eye,' not if they had any sense. Moody glowered at the girl for a moment.
"Observant, aren't you?"
Dora beamed.
Sirius coughed. "Moody, meet Dora, Ted Tonks' girl. She's mad about Aurors."
"Are you now?"
Dora nodded emphatically. "I'm going to be one! It's the best!"
Moody's brows tried to climb into his hair line. "Oh, you are, eh? You want to camp out in dank old castles for days without food or sleep on the tiniest chance a dark wizard will slip up so you can snatch him?"
If anything, Dora's grin grew wider. If she nodded any harder her head was liable to fall off.
Moody grunted. He leaned forward, looming over her. "You want to spend three years in the most grueling training known to wizard kind, after working your little a—ah—ahem, your uh, toes off during school and getting NEWTS in practically every subject?"
"Yes!" Dora squealed.
Moody leaned forward even more, squinting at her, practically nose to nose. He growled into her glowing face. "You want to spend every waking moment, and half the sleeping ones, working on spell mastery, martial arts, dueling, and stealth, knowing that last practice could be the thing that separates you from the living and the dearly departed? Knowing that any second you may be called up on to stand between a total stranger and a Killing Curse? Do you?!"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Dora bounced on her toes and her hair flashed to brilliant gold, and green zebra stripes shot over her face and down her arms.
Moody looked briefly at the changes, making no comment and slowly stood back. He shot a questioning look at Sirius.
"Metamorphmagus," Sirius said, proudly.
"Reeeeeeeally," Moody said with forced mildness. He coughed. "You off to talk with Scrimgeour, Black?" Moody mirrored Sirius' nod and looked back at Dora. "Taking the sprog?"
"Thought I would. She wants to meet him."
Moody grunted. "Well, we can do better than that. I'll make you a deal, Tonks. I know you don't want to sit in on a boring meeting and Harry'll give the two old boys enough trouble as it is. So, how about you and me, we'll play a little game, right here in the office. We'll play a little round of Snitch-and-Seeker, just the two of us. First, I'll hide on this floor and you come find me. Then we'll turn about and I'll find you. If you find me within ten minutes and if you can hide from me for at least ten minutes, I'll give you dueling lessons, one-on-one, every Saturday for a month."
Throughout his speech Dora's eyes grew as round as saucers, then they kept going. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
"What do you say, Tonks?" Moody insisted.
She nodded. Sirius was pretty sure she had forgotten how to speak, too.
"Oi! Shacklebolt!" Moody shouted suddenly. "Get out here!"
A dark head poked around a corner, quickly followed by the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He nodded to Sirius. "Black. Nice to see you."
"Enough of that!" Moody interrupted. "I have a job for you, Shacklebolt. This here is Miss Tonks. She and I are going to play a bit of a game while Black persuades Scrimgeour to keep letting him slack off."
Sirius grunted in protest but Moody charged ahead.
"I need you to play referee."
As Moody explained, Shacklebolt's mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile. "You want me to chaperone while you skiv off the D.E. hunt to play hide-and-seek with a six-year-old?"
"Hey!" Dora interjected—her hair going bright red. "I'm eight, thank you very much!"
Kingsley blinked at the hair. Moody leaned in and growled in Kingsley's ear, none too low.
"She's a metamorphmagus, man! Think! In ten years she could be starting at the Academy. If she's any good, any good at all, I am not letting talent like that get away from us."
Slowly, Kingsley nodded.
"Good man!" Moody slapped his shoulder so hard the man coughed for air. "Black, stop wasting time and get your arse to Scrimgeour. Bloody lazy Marauder's! Tonks! Form up! Face the window!"
Dora did a sharp about face.
"Shacklebolt! Be sure she doesn't peek. Tonks! Commence counting! You have ten seconds…"
Moody pelted down the opposite corridor. Sirius shook his head and carried Harry into Scrimgeour's office.
Thursday, November 12, Dawn
The door swung open under Remus' fist and he staggered into Sirius' flat. Within two heartbeats he'd shed coat and boots and collapsed onto the couch face first.
"Moony?" Sirius voice echoed from down the hall.
Remus groaned in reply, though he was sure Sirius was too far away to hear it.
Muffled footsteps preceded Sirius into the living room. Remus could feel him looming over the back of the couch. The familiar tingle of a med-scan spell swept through him. He was surprised to feel the wolf whimper. A memory of James' scent drifted across his mind, memories of over a decade of full moons with the Pack. Every morning whoever woke up first —either Sirius or James, and it was the only day either would ever willingly wake up before 10 am—would do a med-scan on everyone. If nothing was serious, he'd then start making a massive pot of coffee over the camp stove they'd moved into the Shack. Then both would begin patching everyone up. After Hogwarts, when life interfered with all-night romps during the full moon, both had given Remus carte blanc to crash the morning after. Both would wake up early—this one day—and if Remus wasn't on their couch they'd Apparate to the other's home and fill in as needed. Until the war turned everything sideways. Having someone to care and to take care of him the morning after a full moon had been the best part of the Marauders, from Remus' perspective. It was something he'd been afraid was gone forever when he'd had to drop out of the Order.
Sirius grunted as he finished the scan. "Hmmph. Well, no broken bones—this time. Few scratches. Nothing I can't fix."
Shifting his weight, Remus tried to free his mouth from the throw pillow with little success. His reply was lost in a wad of upholstery even to his own ears.
Sirius merely grunted again. "You're in luck. Pot just finished." He walked off.
Remus groaned and tried to sit up. It was hard!
This, this is why I don't drink. Ever.
A loud thunk beside his head finally got him to lift it off the couch. There on the side table was the most beautiful sight in all of England! A steaming mug of perfectly roasted Guatemalan coffee. The smell alone was invigorating and he was sitting up, cup in hand, before his arms could complain.
"Mmmmfff," Remus said from deep in the mug of blessed caffeine.
"You're welcome," Sirius chuckled. He sat down on the coffee table facing Remus. "Ready?"
Resting the mug on his knee, Remus dropped his head to the back of the couch. "Sure."
Working first up one arm, then across the chest and down the other arm, Sirius repeated the med-scan more slowly, interrupted with frequent mutterings of 'Episkey.' Remus kicked his legs up onto the table next to Sirius, crossed at the ankles, and Sirius repeated the procedure up each leg.
"Back?"
"It's fine," Remus muttered, eyes barely open.
Sirius grunted. "Sure it is." Remus could feel the other man roll his eyes, but he heard Sirius move off anyway.
"None of your new colleagues could patch you up?" Sirius asked in a carefully neutral tone. Remus could have sworn his ear twitched hearing it.
"Could have. Didn't ask. Busy on a new project."
The tap came on in the kitchen and Sirius banged a pot—Remus assumed it was a pot.
"Tell me you aren't going to try to cook again, Pads," Remus ground out.
A barking laugh echoed out of the next room. "I have a lot more practice than last time, Moony. And it's just sausages. Surely I can fry a couple bangers without burning down the block?"
Remus cracked an eye. Sure enough the man was slapping a handful of thick sausages into a pan—with fire under it! "Not sure I'd take that bet," he said.
"Ha ha."
After a few minutes Sirius came back and sprawled in the cushy arm chair. The smells of hot sausage and toast were making Remus salivate.
"So, how was the new wolf run?" Sirius asked with a wicked grin.
Remus chuckled. "Delicious," he licked his lips dramatically. Sirius blinked and Remus continued. "Fresh game: deer, turkeys, and so many rabbits. Mmmm. Really tasty rabbits."
Sirius shivered. "That's disgusting."
"Says the dog who couldn't stop himself from chasing a rabbit if it leapt of a cliff?"
"Well, sure, but I don't eat them!"
Remus shrugged. "Guess that's why you're a dog, and I'm a wolf."
Sirius cocked his head. "Must have been one hell of a night. You're never this… sanguine the day after."
"Nice word choice, Pads. Is that sausage done?"
"I just put it on, Moony. Give it a—"
"Done enough for me." He stood up and headed towards the kitchen.
"Fine, fine. Help yourself," Sirius waved him off but stood as well, looking at his watch. "I'll get the pup."
A deafening crash echoed down the hall! Remus half-jumped—he was too tired to react properly. Sirius walked down the hallway with a sigh.
"Right on time. Bloody kid tries to play Quidditch every bloody morning…"
Remus plucked a sausage off the pan and stuffed it straight into his mouth. It was barely half-cooked, and while the outside was scalding hot, the middle was cold and raw. The raw didn't bother him at all, not this time of the month, and he was too hungry to mind the cold or the scalding. The Garden Room at the DoM could make anything you wanted, even a rabbit to chase, hunt, kill, and eat. But it was all in your imagination. You could smell the hot blood, feel it dripping over your chin, hear the bones crunch and snap…but no matter how much you thought you ate, when you left you found you hadn't eaten anything at all.
Great for dieters, he supposed. Eat your weight in chocolate cake and never gain a pound!
He ate another sausage and began riffling through Sirius' cupboards. A package of heat-and-serve scones was chucked in the oven. He wouldn't trust Sirius to heat an oven—but despite a taste for the rougher side of the culinary spectrum, Remus was a deft hand at cooking spells. He poured another mug of coffee, snatching a third sausage in the process, and took a deep sip just as Sirius stepped out of the nursery. Remus could hear Harry giggling.
Suddenly, Remus' nose wrinkled. Ugh! What was that smell? Had the coffee gone off?
He took a deep whiff. No, the coffee was fi—there it was again! Stronger now. The hair on his neck stood on end. What was that? Rank, vile…familiar…
Sirius stepped out of the hall into the living room, bouncing Harry, but Remus barely noticed.
The wolf stirred, no, it lunged awake within him! All senses went to high alert, as if he were back during the change. Vision sharpened. His ears practically went on point and every hair on his body stood on end. Remus felt his mouth twist into a rictus grin as his head darted back and forth, hunting.
"Moony? What's up?" Sirius asked—Remus ignored him.
The enemy was here! Here! Where? Where was it? What was it?
"Remus," Sirius said again, more seriously, "What is going on?" Sirius had just set Harry down, but scooped him up again, amidst loud protests, and fell into battle stance, wand at the ready, scanning the flat for the threat Remus was obviously sensing. Remus wrinkled his nose and took a step towards the living room.
"I smell something. There's something here, Pads. It's familiar but I can't place it. Something evil…the wolf is going mad…" He trailed off. Sirius spared him a worried glance then returned to scanning the room.
The wolf led Remus out of the kitchen and into the living room—it was so close! He stepped next to Sirius and nearly gagged!
"You! It's you!" Remus whirled away and pulled out his wand, pointing it at his friend—what appeared to be his friend. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"What?!" Sirius growled back, he shifted to block Harry as much as possible and thrust his own wand at Remus. "What do you mean, 'it's me?' Of course it's me, you git, it's my flat!—"
Remus growled low and nearly shouted. "No! You're not Sirius! What have you done with him?"
Sirius's face contorted into a scowl of rage. Sparks shot from his wand. "What the fuck is going on, Moony?! You have ten seconds or I swear I will take you down as a Quad X hostile."
Harry squalled at the shouting and the manhandling and he flailed his tiny fists against Sirius' iron grip around his waist. Remus glanced at the toddler and felt the wolf hone in like an arrow fired at a bulls eye, nearly lunging out of his skin. Had the wolf truly been its own being Remus knew it would have killed the boy instantly. The wolf lunged forward but Remus was too shocked, too horrified; he didn't so much fight back as just collapse. His knees hit the floor and his wand rolled away.
He straightened, staring back at Harry with wide eyes and suddenly he knew. He remembered!
"Oh, gods…I know what it is…" his voice sounded hollow.
"What?!" Sirius shouted, still holding Harry as far away from Remus as he could.
Remus struggled to get control of himself. He could feel the wolf pulling against him, pacing, wanting to circle Harry like prey. Slowly Remus looked up and met Sirius blazing silver eyes. "I know where I've smelled this before. It wasn't so strong last time, but with the change..." Remus swallowed. Looking back at Harry, seeing James and Lily both looking back at him—in pain and confusion and crying for help—was more than he could bear. He sat back on the carpet, holding his head between his knees.
He heard rustling as Sirius backed away and settled the sniffling Harry on the couch.
"Are you going to explain or are you going to keep being cryptic?" Sirius snapped. "Because I'm really not in the mood for cryptic."
Taking a deep breath Remus looked up—meeting Harry's tear-filled eyes rather than his friend's accusing ones.
"I know what the curse is—the one in his scar," Remus began slowly. "It's—" He choked. Shaking his head he slowly straightened and took a very deep breath, closing his eyes for a long moment.
"I'm sorry, Sirius. I need to consult with the Department. I can't say anything else without clearance." He started to turn until a stinging hex stopped him.
"Is that how it is now?" Sirius growled.
Remus gave him a sad look. "In this? Yes. There are oaths involved here that I cannot break, not if you want me in a position to be of any actual help. I just…just let me use the Floo. Under the circumstances you deserve to know everything, but if I tell you without clearance it will not go well for either of us."
Sirius twisted his wrist, steadying his aim. Harry squirmed and whimpered and that seemed to break through to Sirius. He finally lowered his wand.
"Make the call."
Late That Evening
Fawkes chirped loudly and Dumbledore looked up.
"What? Of course, of course. She would know. Resourceful girl. She is always welcome," he called to the bird. Returning his quill to its stand Dumbledore surveyed the massive pile of books and manuscripts across his desk, two side tables, three chairs and much of the floor. Even this mountain of parchment contained only the barest handful of trace references to things that might, possibly be related to methods of immortality. Dark methods. Ignatius had insisted on his personal involvement now that they had a Horcrux in a living vessel.
Seeing the boy so soon had been terribly painful. Seeing him under such circumstances was bitter indeed. But there could be no doubt: Harry was a Horcrux. Or at least he carried one within him.
Dumbledore hoped, prayed, it was the later.
Half a handful of sorcerers had attempted making a Horcrux—a single Horcrux—in all of recorded history. Only one was known to have succeeded before Riddle. To think the man had made more than one…that explained a great deal.
After spending much of the morning with Harry, Dumbledore had then spent the afternoon getting a very thorough briefing from the DoM team. He'd just begun laying out his research to tackle Harry's problem, but when the Minister calls…
Bagnold pushed through the heavy wooden door. She blinked once at the disarray. Dumbledore stood and bowed his head gravely from behind his desk.
"Minister. Welcome. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He gestured to one of the chairs. The cushion immediately flipped over, concealing the documents that had been resting on it and leaving a clear place for the Minister to sit. She ignored it.
"Urgent business, Dumbledore. I need you at an emergency meeting. We're leaving now." She took a step back towards the door. "You can seal all this?"
Dumbledore's mouth twitched in a small smile. "I assure you, Millicent, not a soul can set foot in this room whilst I am not here. But, if it makes you more comfortable…"
With a quick swish of his wand a golden glow passed over the piles of organized chaos covering his office. Though the glow faded almost instantly a prickly feeling pervaded the air. The Minister raised a skeptical brow.
"Not sufficient?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Fawkes, if anyone but me tries to look at any of this, flame them to Vesuvius."
The bird gave a delighted trill and Dumbledore ushered the Minister out. As soon as the door closed behind him a sound like sword closing in a scabbard rang through the hall. The Minister gave him another look.
"I did say no one may enter while I'm gone. Do you think that research is the most dangerous thing in my office?"
She merely rolled her eyes and began striding down the hall. Like Dumbledore, her aged appearance belied her stamina. He didn't even have to slow his stride—on much longer legs—to match her pace.
"So…" he prompted as they left the justice wing of the Wizengamot offices. Though the Wizengamot body sat for legislative and judiciary proceedings, there were clear lines between the Chief Warlock's administration and that of the Minister of Magic. He nodded to his handful of aides as they passed.
The Minister explained in a low, tight voice. "The DoM claims they need hands on the Potter boy, which, considering, I fully support. However, they can't and won't get a minute with him until his guardian is fully briefed on the situation and grants permission for them to assess him."
"Surely, Sirius—"
"Oh, I have no doubt Black will give us his full cooperation. From what I hear he's been in a right state all day. But he isn't the boy's guardian. Yet."
She bit the last word off with heavy finality as they approached the lift.
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "You are expediting the wardship?"
"We are expediting it." The doors opened. With a sharp gesture the Minister emptied the cage, commandeering it for the two Ministry heads and leaving a handful of witches and wizards stranded on the Judiciary floor.
She punched a button and the lift began to move. "Social services can't expedite an official process without due cause and permission from 'the Wizengamot,' so says regulation. We can't afford to drag this before the chamber. For one, we haven't the time. The poor boy needs someone to manage his affairs yesterday, and the fools will take a week just to catch up to what the office as already done."
The lift swung open to the atrium.
"And," Dumbledore said in a low voice, though the atrium was nearly empty, "of course, there is the matter of secrecy."
"Naturally," came the tight reply. "So, we are it. I can't see anyone arguing that with both the Minister for Magic and the Chief Warlock that the Wizengamot was not adequately represented. There's already too much riffraff involved. The Potters were too entangled for my comfort."
She led the way almost angrily down some of the most mundane hallways the Ministry had to offer, at last stopping before a nondescript double door into an almost austere conference room.
The Minister swiftly introduced him to the three social services solicitors, one of whom had just arrived herself. He noted poor Sirius along one side of the table, staring wide eyed at the table top. Harry must be with Molly, Dumbledore guessed. Remus stood with the DoM cohort: a tall woman with dark red hair and the shadow shrouded man Dumbledore knew to be Ignatius Prewett. Remus looked slightly ill but perhaps more focused than anyone else in the room.
The solicitor for the Potter's estate was present, though he had signed off on the wardship as soon as he'd read the will. Two other wizards were present as well, though Dumbledore did not know them or their association to the case. A questioning look at the Minister revealed them to be representatives of business interests in which the Potters had had very large stakes. They had a right not only to know where Harry ended up, but to object if it looked he would be placed somewhere "inappropriate." As mundane as a wardship hearing was supposed to be, they could make things difficult. Of all the parties involved, these two were most likely to object to Harry's placement with Sirius, due to his family, and it was unclear just how must power they had to obstruct things.
The Minister tapped her wand on the table and a soft gong rang through the scattered conversations.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," she began. Another tap and a roll of parchment appeared in her hand. "For our first order of business I require each of you to sign this parchment. This is a vow never to speak of what is discussed here today except in total privacy with those present. As the document details, you can only be released from this vow by direct permission from the sitting Minister for Magic, the Chief Warlock, the Head of the Department of Mysteries, or Harry James Potter—once he is of age. Such permission is void under coercion. Breaking of this vow will alert authorities immediately."
There was silence as the parchment was passed around. Really, only the Potter's solicitor and the other two business representatives needed to sign, as everyone else already knew, had permission to reveal the secrets anyway, or was already bound by even stronger oaths.
Just as Madam Brown passed the parchment back to the Minister the doors flew open.
Gasps echoed around the room!
Dumbledore felt his brows try to climb up under his hat.
Three figures filled the doorway radiating power, much the way Dumbledore himself could when roused. Three such figures rarely appeared in company, especially not these three, and especially not in a mere conference room in the social services wing of the Ministry. The superbly tailored robes and glittering accessories made the room and its occupants appear dingy and common. Only Dumbledore's spangled garb stood up to the comparison.
Flanked by his cousins Pollux and Cassiopeia, the former thin and gnarled with age, the latter stern and regal, Arcturus Aldebaran Black appeared every inch a lord entering his own audience chamber. The infamous solicitor, Clyn Taft trailed behind them, taking in the room and everything in it with a glance.
Arcturus tapped his cane on the floor and smiled. Several eyes swept briefly to Sirius, who eyed the newcomers warily. "Evening, Gentle Wizards, Gentle Witches," Arcturus began pleasantly. He gave gracious nods around the room, while Pollux and Cassiopeia glared at everyone as if mortally affronted. "We do apologize for our late arrival. Apparently our owl got lost in the blasted weather."
Though his voice was pleasant, several people shifted nervously. It had been a gloriously sunny day all across England. With another rap of the cane he led the party along the table to stand behind Sirius.
"Hmm, seems we need a few more seats." He rapped his cane on the table and it immediately expanded to either side of Sirius. Four more chairs popped into existence as well, two on each. They were monstrous chairs, heavily carved and heavily upholstered. With another tap Sirius' chair transformed into one just like them. "That's more like it!"
Arcturus gave a jovial laugh as he settled next to Sirius. Pollux took the other seat by Arcturus while Cassiopeia and Taft took Sirius' other side.
The Minister cleared her throat. "Yes. Well. Welcome." She flicked her eyes to Sirius and then to Dumbledore. Technically, the meeting was closed except to those invited due to their position or connection to the Potter family or to Harry's situation. Unless Sirius objected she had to assume their connection to him warranted their presence. Dumbledore gave her the barest hint of a nod.
"Thank you, Minister," Arcturus said. "Do carry on. Where were we?" He looked brightly around the table.
With a flick of her wand the Minister sent the parchment floating over to him. "If you could each sign this first? We are dealing with highly sensitive—"
Arcturus cut her off with a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "Bah! What a good joke!" He tossed the parchment aside. "Now, down to business. You are all here—"
"Hang on!" the Potter's solicitor, one Nigel Hammington, objected. "We've all had to sign the oath, Black. Don't think you can just barge in and wriggle out of yet another—"
"What?" Pollux thundered. "What gives you license to insult a Lord of the realm?"
"Now, Pollux," Cassiopeia said calmly, though she also glared at the offending wizard. "I'm sure he didn't mean to be insulting."
The poor man puffed up like a blow fish. Before he could open his mouth, Dumbledore coughed.
"Gentleman, and lady," he inclined his head to Cassiopeia. "Let us be civil. We are here to settle a simple matter of procedure. My Lord Black, surely you can see the necessity of protecting the secrets of the Department of Mysteries?"
Again, Arcturus chuckled. "Are we here to discuss the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore? No, we are here to discuss the future of one young wizard. A wizard anyone with any brains at all can see will very, very soon be a ward of my house. And! Should anyone use their brains, unlikely as that may be, they will surmise that—without fail—when the boy goes to Hogwarts his sorting will happen much earlier up the line than it would have before the unfortunate events of a fortnight ago. We are then talking about the second heir apparent of my house. And as any knowledge that the Department choses to reveal tonight can only have direct bearing upon said heir and therefore upon my house, they will thenceforth be my secrets. I'll be damned if I sign anything swearing to protect my own damn secrets!"
Pollux nodded fiercely. Cassiopeia stared down her nose at the room as if daring anyone to give reply. Poor Sirius was staring at his grandfather in horrified awe.
Arcturus cleared his throat. "And naturally as paterfamilias of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black I permit per my discretion Pollux Cygnus Black, Cassiopeia Elladora Black, and our solicitor Clyn Edward Taft, to witness our no doubt fruitful enterprise this evening, giving their most valuable advice as they see fit. None of them will sign your silly oath either."
He coughed and added lowly—almost under his breath, "Quite frankly I don't see why half the rest of you need be here at all."
There was a long silence. Finally, Dumbledore rose slowly from his chair. The air thickened. For over a generation he and Black had stood opposed on nearly every issue to come before the Wizengamot. Their rivalry was something of a legend.
"Thank you, Arcturus, for making your position so clear," he said pleasantly. The room took a collective breath. "With your permission, Minister, Madam Brown, I move that we proceed with tonight's meeting."
The two witches nodded. As Dumbledore sat the Minister moved to stand.
"Bah!" Arcturus cut in. "About bloody time. Let's cut to it, shall we? Pollux!"
He gestured grandly and Pollux rose nimbly to his feet. Though normally hunched with age, the warlock now stood erect. He spoke with heated arrogance. "The boy in question, one Harry Potter, son of the honored Lily and James Potter, Order of Merlin, suffers from an extremely rare and dangerous curse inflicted upon him by the upstart, so-called 'Dark Lord Voldemort.' This curse requires immediate and ongoing care at the hands of the most knowledgeable, experienced, and rational of wizardkind. It is infinitely beyond the skill of any of you, and certainly beyond our dear colleagues at St. Mungo's." The sneer indicated exactly how highly he esteemed the mediwitches and Healers at the hospital.
"And who's hands are you proposing?" Nigel interjected fiercely. "Yours?"
"Naturally," Pollux sneered at the man.
Dumbledore frowned. Clearly, Pollux knew the identity of the curse. But how?
"Sir Pollux," Cassiopeia interjected coolly, "has the most experience and by far the deepest knowledge of this curse of anyone in all of Europe."
Dumbledore couldn't help but cock a brow. The man was unequivocally a knowledgeable and skilled Dark wizard, and powerful enough for the title warlock. It was indeed possible he possessed a knowledge of Horcuxes. But could he be trusted? He'd never been convicted of any crime that Dumbledore was aware of, but that was hardly the same thing.
Madam Brown cleared her throat. "I for one should like to know precisely what sort of magic we are dealing with. What is this curse?"
Most of the table looked to the Unspeakables, though Dumbledore and Bagnold kept their eyes locked on the Black contingent as Pollux retook his seat. Poor Sirius went positively grey, but he too looked to the Unspeakables.
Arcturus gestured graciously for the Unspeakables to take the floor.
The woman leaned over and whispered urgently with the shadowy Ignatius. At last she stood. Her voice was warm and direct. "The Department has revised its decision and chooses not to reveal the curse in question. It is our opinion that those who need to know already do," she shot a calculating look at the Black family. "This knowledge, in fact this curse itself, are an integral part of an ongoing Department of Mysteries endeavor. We require frequent and ready access to the boy and full cooperation from his guardian until such time as the curse is neutralized or removed. His safety and the safety of the wizarding world require it. But we cannot waste any more time. The wardship must be decided tonight. We will require Sirius Black's full cooperation."
Madam Brown rose as the Unspeakable retook her seat but Taft broke in ahead of her.
"My client's only requirement is to act in the best interests of Harry Potter. The Department of Mysteries may make their case to Master Sirius once the wardship is decided."
Dumbledore noted a look shared between Sirius and Remus.
Sirius cleared his throat, glaring at Taft. "I will cooperate with anyone who can help Harry," he said definitely.
Ignatius' shadowy figure rose. Even the Blacks eyed him warily. "Though it is surprising to learn that Sir Pollux is an expert on the curse in question, in this case we believe such knowledge strengthens the suit of Sirius Black due to his close association with Sir Pollux. We will be very interested in any assistance Sir Pollux can provide. The curse itself in no way affects Black's suit other than warranting an immediate resolution."
Ignatius resumed his seat and Madam Brown nodded. "Very well. Give us a moment…" She turned to her two colleagues. One, a willowy blond, waved her wand to produce a Muffliato. Dumbledore could never decide if he should commend Severus or curse him for inventing that spell.
After a brief and furtive conference the blond witch canceled the spell and all three stood. Around the table chairs scrapped back as the rest of them stood as well.
"We have reached a decision. Two actually. With the permission of the Wizengamot, represented by Minister Bagnold and Chief Warlock Dumbledore, we are prepared to close the wardship of Harry James Potter immediately. What say you?"
She looked at Dubmledore and the Minister. "Granted," they chanted on top of one another.
Madam Brown nodded, satisfied. "Permission given, we approve the suit of Sirius Orion Black in the wardship of Harry James Potter." She gave Sirius a warm smile. "Congratulations, Master Black. Harry is very fortunate. You will need to bring Harry by our office tomorrow. Our paperwork is blood sealed. Also, you will need to visit Gringotts as soon as possible—with Harry, mind—to get access to his Trust vault."
Sirius looked about to fall over. Dumbledore suspected Cassiopeia's sleeve hid a steel grip holding the lad upright.
"Well," Madam Brown continued, "that concludes our proceedings. Thank you all for coming on such short notice."
She sat and spoke lowly to the younger of her two companions. The other, the blond willowy witch, slid a parchment towards Dumbledore and the Minister. "If you could both sign this please?" Ah, the official document of their approval of the expedition. "I will forward you both copies of the minutes."
"Please do," the Minister said sharply, her eyes on the Black contingent.
Arcturus stood amid boisterous boasts about the proceedings. All bluster, Dumbledore knew. The man pulled Sirius from his chair.
"Come, lad! You need a drink. Then Taft will see you home with the boy. Cassie! See to Pollux!" With that Arcturus turned sharply, hand gripping Sirius' arm, and all but dragged his heir out the door, stopping only briefly to shake hands with the social services team. Pollux opened his mouth to shout after his cousin but Cassiopeia laid a gentle, yet commanding, hand on his arm and swept him from the room just as effectively.
"I'd thought to congratulate him," said a voice at Dumbledore's elbow. He turned to find Remus staring after the departing figures with the thoughtful expression. "But I'm not about to get involved with that crowd."
"You may have to," said Ignatius, coming up beside Remus, still shadowed. His voice was distorted as well, as if heard through running water.
Remus merely nodded. He was acclimating well to his new role.
"He is taking Harry's condition very hard. Removing the wardship question ought to help," Dumbledore said. "I hope he doesn't let them corrupt him too far."
Though no one could see Ignatius' face to read his expression, Dumbledore could feel the man's brows go up. "Even blackthorn's have their beauty, Albus."
"They do indeed," Dumbledore said with a slight bow, turning to leave. "And their uses."
He walked back to his office rather than call Fawkes. He needed to think. Was there a danger in letting the Black family get their hands on Harry? He had no grounds to prevent it, not now, certainly. And there was some truth in the fact that their expertise could prove useful in helping the boy—if they cooperated. If their motives could be trusted. James would never have stood for it. Lily would be content so long as he was safe, cherished, and brought up well—and there was a good chance for all of that. But it made him nervous, nevertheless. He still wished to know how they had found out. Sirius could have told them, of course, but he very much doubted that. Dumbledore knew he would never be able to trust them. Any of them, he thought sadly, remembering Sirius ushered out in their custody.
Vigilance. That was what he would need.
As an old friend said often, "constant vigilance."
The group that settled into the posh lounge was much more subdued than the group that had left the ministry conference room victorious. Pollux had been ushered home to a warm foot bath. Sagacious and powerful he might be, but the man still got stiff joints after a stroll through the garden.
Harry was at the Burrow, again, and Sirius felt like he had been lost in a daze all day. Morgana bless Molly! Apparently Harry and Ron got along quite well. Sirius hadn't told her about the Horcrux.
Taft slid a short, cut-glass tumbler before Sirius.
"Scotch first," Arcturus rumbled, seriously.
Even Cassie had a tumbler of the amber liquid.
Arcturus held up his glass. "To Harry, the new ward of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!"
The other three each took a measured sip, and Sirius nearly upended his glass.
"Easy, boy," Arcturus said, not unkindly.
"How did you know?" Sirius croaked, looking at his glass.
He felt the three share a look. At length Taft coughed. "Prudy."
"The elf?" Sirius asked, looking up.
Tafts lips twitched in a hint of a smile. "Indeed. She was so scandalized when she saw you last week she's been popping over every morning to tidy up your flat. I take it you never noticed? Thought not. And of course she checks that both you and Harry are well." He held up a placating hand. "None of us told her to. It was entirely her choice. She didn't tell me anything about it until this morning. Apparently she's grown rather attached to Harry—and to you, Sirius. 'Stray pups,' she called you. Seems she's usually in and out before you are up, but of course, she didn't know about Lupin."
"So she overheard…"
"She did." Taft sobered up. "Apparently she was on the point of stepping in to protect the two of you when things resolved. Naturally, she came to me immediately. You couldn't possibly think I would conceal such a thing from your grandfather?"
Sirius flicked his eyes between the two wizards. Taft was so devoted that sometimes Sirius thought….well, no matter. "Course not."
Arcturus nodded. "Pollux is correct, Sirius. He has made an extensive study of all methods of immortality."
Sirius scoffed. "He would."
"Now, Sirius," Cassie interjected, laying a hand on his arm. "Don't be too hasty. You know even less of Pollux than of Arcturus."
"He's an angry, bitter, old sorcerer too wrapped up in his pride to care that someone might legitimately think differently than he does," Sirius snapped.
Arcturus banged his glass down on the table. "Grow up, boy! Don't be such a child. You have no idea how serious this situation is. None at all! Pollux may be Harry's only chance to live and you cannot afford to dismiss a single word he says. None of us can."
He sent a very serious look at Cassie. Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Why? What's going on? Why do you lot suddenly care so much about a Gryffindor pup?"
Cassie snorted. "Ever the snotty-nosed brat. Even on the brink of disaster you hold to your childish prejudices."
"Harry Potter," said Arcturus with a heavy sigh, "is a scion of one of the most powerful wizarding lines in Britain. None too famous or wealthy, to be sure. But ancient! Very ancient. In another time, a House like ours would have offered wardship as a measure to peace between our House and the Potters, a way to keep our disparate families from warring with one other. Naturally, they would be granted a ward from our House in return, a lesser son of a lesser branch no doubt. Nevertheless, it is an honor, a great privilege, for the House of Black to take on such a ward, even if he is a half-blood."
"Oh, but his mother was so very talented," Cassie said warmly. "Very promising, with a bit of guidance, I'm sure."
"And that is before all the prestige from her defeat of the Dark Lord," Taft added.
Arcturus acknowledged Taft's point with a deep nod.
"So he's a pawn to you? A shiny badge to add to your lapels?" Sirius snarled.
"Calm yourself," Cassie said soothing. "You asked why we would be interested. Any house with brains would be interested in that boy as a ward! But that is hardly all our motivation."
Arcturus frowned at the table top, tapping a thick finger against the side of his glass.
"Sirius, my boy, our House is facing a potential crisis. Your generation has been decimated by this war. And the world is changing. We must change with it. Too long it seems we have held to old ways. There was a time when a wizard could choose his path freely. Great achievements in any arena would reap bountiful rewards. But society grows thicker, more connected, less divided, more intent on peering over everyone's shoulder. Neither wizard nor muggle fears the shadows of the woods anymore, and dark and terrible magics no longer need offer protection from such nightmares. We may not like it, but survival demands adaptation. The pendulum has swung again, away from the glorious Dark magic of our traditions. If we are to survive the next century, we need a clear line of inheritance—and!—a new source of direction. You can give us that. Harry, coming from a bloodline of nearly opposing tradition, may do even more."
Sirius felt bewildered. "Wait, are you saying you're leaving Dark magic?"
Cassie scoffed. "Hardly. It's too late for any of us to change so drastically. But your magic is barely set. Harry's has hardly burgeoned, if it has at all. You will provide balance, both during your lifetimes and more balanced direction for future generations."
Sirius nodded, still skeptical. He turned to Arcturus. "You called Harry your 'second heir apparent.' I didn't think wards could inherit."
"They cannot," Taft answered.
For a moment they all looked at Sirius as if he were missing something enormous.
"Sirius," Arcturus said at length, "Harry will need a father."
"James is his father," Sirius retorted.
"James was his father," Taft replied. "James is dead."
"He's still Harry's dad! I'm not going to replace him. I couldn't possibly—" Sirius snarled.
"Then you would deprive Harry of a father for all of his life?" Cassie cut in.
"What?! No—"
"Harry will have no memory of James, Sirius. He will know only what you tell him, but he will need a father that he can touch, speak too, and learn from. If you push Harry away in James' name—in some vain attempt to preserve James' memory—he will see it as rejection. He could easily come to loath the father he never knew for abandoning him and for preventing you from accepting him. Give it time, a few years, at least. But know that eventually, for the good of you both, you must step fully into James Potter's place." Cassie delivered this incredible speech with a cold voice. Only the warm grip on his arm belied the frigid exterior.
Sirius put his face in his hands. "Adoption. That's what you're talking about." He felt the nods though he didn't look up. "Oh, for the love of Merlin!"
"No, Sirius," Arcturus said gravely. "For the love of Harry."
Sirius glared at his grandfather. "I find it hard to believe I'm hearing you lot talk about love."
Arcturus snorted. "Just because you were too young and self-absorbed to see that it's possible to love someone you disagree with doesn't mean it isn't possible. Or true."
Taft was shaking his head sadly. Cassie glared at him with cold eyes.
Sirius rubbed his hands through his hair and growled low in his throat. "Fine. Whatever. What's the plan for Harry? You lot obviously have some scheme cooked up with Grandpapa. I'm not surprised he knows about the most evil curse known to man. How many Horcruxes does he have?"
Cassie swelled like a balloon. "None, you ignorant child! Pull your fingers out of your ears!" she hissed like a wounded snake.
Sirius gave her skeptical look. "Why not? I always thought—"
"Phaw! I have yet to see evidence you even have a brain inside that thick skull. You've certainly never used it." She seemed about to say more but snapped her mouth shut and looked away.
Sirius looked at the two wizards, confused. "So…why didn't grandpa make a Horcrux? I mean, if he's such an expert…"
Arcturus snorted and tossed back a healthy swallow of scotch. "Pollux never wanted to be immortal, son. It doesn't take much living to realize immortality would be a special kind of torture."
"Then why—"
Arcturus thunked his glass down and glared at Sirius. "If you kept your mouth shut once in a while, boy, you might actually get answers to all your damn questions! Gryffindors! Bah! He did it for Irma, of course. She was never the same after Cyngus was born."
Cassie shook her head sadly. "Worst childbirth I've ever seen—that didn't kill a witch. She was lucky to have survived."
"Lucky," Arcturus said darkly. "Perhaps. I've often wondered if it'd been better if she hadn't. The first two weren't picnics either."
"Wait, wait," Sirius interjected. "You mean the old codger spent all those years looking for ways to keep grandmother alive forever?"
Both Arcturus and Cassie huffed. "He would have settled for just 'alive,'" Arcturus finally said. "Cygnus was what, nine when she passed?"
"Ten," Cassie corrected. "Her last years were not pleasant."
Sirius stared around that table, feeling like he'd stumbled onto a new continent. It was unthinkable! Pollux had always hated him, loathed 'that damn lion,' as he had called Sirius. A feeling Sirius had been happy to return with interest. Of course, he'd never met his grandmother. "But…he didn't find anything?"
"Oh, he found plenty," Arcturus snorted. He continued to tap his thick fingers on the table top. "Even after Irma passed he was obsessed with finding the answer. He rarely spoke about his research, but I gathered he dismissed the Horcrux in early days."
Sirius rubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired! A hand on his arm made Sirius look up again. Cassie was becoming quite familiar.
"Sirius, these are dark days for you. We will defeat this Horcrux. We will not allow it to harm Harry or anyone else. You will be able to raise him to be a great wizard, one to do James and Lily proud. We are not your enemies in this."
Arcturus huffed. "Or in anything, I should think!"
Cassie didn't even glance at him. "Tomorrow you must begin the battle against the Horcrux. Pollux will guide us, but all of us will assist you. For tonight, however, you must collect Harry, and take him home. I will come and stay with you tonight, and tomorrow we will begin preparations."
Sirius looked up at her with narrowed eyes. "Preparations for what?"
There was a moment of shared looks and clearing of throats. Finally Arcturus spoke.
"For your move to Castle Donerth. It is time for you to come home."
A/N: To be fair to Alice, I would be rather upset if I had agreed to watch a 1 year old and had another child sprung on me, especially one I didn't know. However, that is not why she is upset. Prejudice goes both ways.