"Come in, Black."
Sirius pushed open the door. Scrimgeour's presence was a given, since it was his office and Sirius had requested a meeting with him, but Robards was unexpected.
"What happened to you?" Robards asked, looking shocked.
"Wh- Oh." Sirius reached up to pat his ear, which was red and swollen despite his best efforts to heal it - in his old age, Mad-Eye relied on obscure contact poisons and potions as well as the standard animation spells. "Run in with a letterbox. Don't ask." Neither of then did. Sirius glanced between them. "Should I come back, or-"
"No, sit." Scrimgeour waved him into the empty seat beside Robards'. "What did you want to discuss?" Sirius glanced at Robards who made no move to excuse himself.
So be it. Grimly, Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out his Sidekick and the envelope containing his letter of resignation, and placed them on the dark wood of Scrimgeour's desk. Scrimgeour's bushy eyebrows rose and he glanced at Robards, but neither of them smelled particularly surprised.
"I'm resigning," Sirius said, figuring they hadn't understood. Scrimgeour made no move to touch the letter.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's all in there," Sirius muttered.
"I want to hear it from you," Scrimgeour said.
"Because I'm going to be spending the next year as a teacher-" He'd expected a bit more resistance - either from Mad Eye or from Dumbledore, but the former had just grunted and said he was supposed to be retired anyway, and the latter had accepted his application with nothing more than a gentle reminder that he'd have to watch out for all of the students not just Harry, and then started making plans about how they could use Mad Eye's sudden abundance of free time to kick-start the Order of the Phoenix again; the events at the World Cup had worried Dumbledore as much as any of them. "-and that's not really of much use to the Auror Department, so…" Throat tight, he nodded at the letter.
"Looking for a change, are you?" Scrimgeour asked curiously. "Change of pace, or-"
"I can't be here, sir," Sirius said bleakly. "Not with everything as it is at the moment." He glanced at Robards; he, at least, would understand why Sirius needed to stay close to Harry this year, especially after how things had played out at the World Cup. And, after his talk with Harry the night before, Sirius thought he'd also use the time to see if there was anything he could do for Draco.
"Fair," Scrimgeour said. "But whyever does that mean you need to resign? The way I see it, we're worried about the same thing."
"You're worried about Harry?" Sirius asked, frowning at him.
"I'm worried about You-Know-Who," Scrimgeour replied. "And his followers, and anyone they might try to harm, your boy included."
"Because of the World Cup?" Sirius asked.
"Amongst other things," he said, and Sirius raised an eyebrow.
"He knows," Robards said, and Sirius glanced at him. "Everything from that day I tied you to the chair in my office to question you about those fake witness letters. About Munch not being Crouch, about everything that happened with Wormtail at the school, about Potter's unfortunate habit of always being in the middle of it…"
"You told?" Sirius asked incredulously. "He was on our witness list." He glanced at Scrimgeour. "Er… no offence, sir."
"None taken." In fact, Scrimgeour looked amused.
"You don't think he'd have come asking questions before now if he wasn't in the know?" Robards asked. "We get a bit of freedom, Black, but not that much - if we'd done it your way, he'd have been in my office after a week, wanting to know what we were working on, what our leads were." He looked amused too. It made an embarrassing amount of sense. Sirius had just been too caught up in Harry and Wormtail and Crouch and Voldemort to stop and consider it.
"Right," Sirius said awkwardly. "So why stay quiet then?"
"I didn't have any concerns," Scrimgeour said, with a slight shrug.
"But you do now?" Sirius asked.
"One," Scrimgeour said. "That Gawain won't be going to Hogwarts with you, so there won't be anyone to give me updates on your behalf. That means it's back on you." Sirius nodded slowly. "And by updates, I mean I want proper ones. No vague rubbish, no omissions."
"There'll be omissions," Sirius said flatly, thinking of Harry.
"No," Scrimgeour said. "There won't, or we'll pull you out and put someone else in."
"I'll resign," Sirius said. He usually quite liked Scrimgeour, but he'd been on edge since the Cup, worried about Harry, and he didn't like the other man's tone. "And stay at the school. You can't make Dumbledore sack me."
"Don't be difficult, Black. If we wanted you out, we'd pull you out - put you under investigation for withholding information, or-"
"I'd run," Sirius said, raising his eyebrows. "Go off the grid. I've done it before - quite effectively, if you'd care to remember."
"And just like then, you'll be sticking close to Potter but unlike last time, he won't be tucked away at your place. He'll be at Hogwarts, which means you'll be at Hogwarts-"
"Enough, both of you," Robards said irritably.
Sirius and Scrimgeour glowered at each other without any real heat. Scrimgeour was the first to sigh and ease up.
"What omissions?" he asked stiffly.
"There'll be times that I know things. Voldemort's plans, or names of people, or… I don't know, just things. And I won't be able to prove them, or explain how I know. You're going to have to trust that I know what I'm talking about, and not ask for details that I don't give."
"You have a source?" Scrimgeour said.
"Of sorts," Sirius muttered. Robards and Scrimgeour exchanged a look.
"Potter?" That Scrimgeour framed it as a question was indicative that Robards hadn't told him everything; when Robards had confronted Sirius about the fake letters, Sirius had outright said Harry was the source of his information, but had refused to elaborate. That Robards hadn't passed that onto Scrimgeour was nice; it would keep Harry out of it a little more and Sirius appreciated that; he wouldn't put it past Scrimgeour to bypass Sirius and go straight to Harry if he thought a situation merited it.
"I'm not saying anything more," Sirius said. He and Scrimgeour stared at each other for a while longer, and then the older man nodded stiffly.
"Very well," he said, but didn't sound overly happy about it. "I suppose the important thing here is that we're all on the same side. Common enemy and all that. Right?"
"Right," Sirius said, relieved.
The last week of the holidays was an eventful one, even by the Burrow's standards; Fred had Healer's orders to rest, which meant he and George spent a lot of time holed up in their room doing Merlin-knew-what, and Harry was in and out as usual - coming for Quidditch in the orchard, and to tell them stories about the newest Lupin, to tell them Sirius would be teaching at Hogwarts. Dad and Percy were working long hours at the Ministry, trying to put everything to right after the World Cup, and when they were home, they spent a lot of time talking to each other and to Bill and Charlie in low voices. And Ron… well, when he wasn't with Harry, Hermione, and or Ginny, avoiding Mum's fussing, or trying to teach himself new spells from Bill's old books - Ron spent a lot of time skulking around on the stairs and behind doorways, listening in in the hopes that he'd learn something interesting. Mostly he heard a lot of unfamiliar names and about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.
In private - when they didn't know Ron was listening - Dad, Bill, Charlie, and Percy discussed the increased security measures (though how Charlie had as much to contribute to that conversation as Percy did, Ron couldn't work out) but when Ron and the others were around, they didn't mention the Tournament at all, only alluded to the fact that there was something big happening at Hogwarts this year and that it was a secret. Ron had known about the Tournament for a while now - since Sirius had told Harry about it, and Harry had told Ron - but the adults seemed to enjoy 'teasing' them, so Ron didn't let on. Ginny - who also knew - had been distinctly unimpressed and less indulgent:
"Something big happens at Hogwarts every year," she'd said to Percy after he tried to goad her after dinner the night before they went back to school, "and it's pretty much never good. I'd just as soon have a boring year where nothing happens." Percy frowned - not in an angry way, Ron didn't think, more in a troubled way - and wandered out.
"I don't think Hogwarts does boring," Ron said, shuffling over to make room for Hermione on the couch.
"It certainly doesn't," Mum said, coming to put a pile of folded laundry beside Ron. Thankfully she'd missed Ginny's rather grim statement; since the World Cup, she'd been on edge, and that was the sort of thing that would have set her off. "There you are, Ron dear - mind you pack them properly so they don't crease." Atop the pile of Ron's black school robes was an unfamiliar bundle of maroon velvet. Ginny had noticed too.
"They're not school robes," Ginny said, sitting up to get a better look.
"Mum, this isn't mine," Ron said.
"Yes it is, dear; dress robes. They were on your list." With no small amount of trepidation, Ron picked the new robes up, and baulked. Ginny let out a cackle.
"Is that lace I see, Ron?" she asked gleefully.
It was. He could feel Hermione staring - at him or the robes, he wasn't sure - and couldn't quite bring himself to look at her.
"I'm not wearing them," he said, horrified.
"Everyone wears them, Ron," Mum said, rather crossly. "They're for formal occasions-"
"I don't think they've been fit for any occasion for at least fifty years," Ron said, not sure if he was more horrified or angry. "Look at them, Mum!"
"They're a bit of an older style," Mum said, "but I think they're very traditional-"
"I don't care what they are - I'm not wearing them," Ron said. "I'd rather go starkers." Hermione spluttered a laugh and Ron felt his ears go red.
"Do, then," Mum snapped. "And make sure someone gets a photograph-"
"I'll tell Fred and George to," Ginny said, with an evil grin.
Ron left the dress robes on the couch and snatched up the rest of his laundry, saying, "I'm going to pack."
Fred and George's door opened as he passed it and George peered out.
"Mum mad at us down there?" He seemed to take in Ron's expression. "Ah. It was Ron," he said over his shoulder.
"Excellent," Fred said, from within the room.
"Carry on," George said.
There'd been no odd behaviour from Potter, Granger, or either of the Weasleys to suggest that something was going to happen - and he knew, because he'd been watching for it - but Draco still wasn't surprised in the slightest; Potter drew his wand and cast the same silencing charm as he'd used in their dormitory at the end of last term, and four sets of eyes - five, if he counted Crookshanks' - fixed themselves on Draco, who stared evenly back.
Potter's mouth twitched.
"You knew we were going to-"
"Of course I did," Draco said. He'd known as soon as he'd told Potter at the World Cup about his father wanting him to be a Death Eater that Potter would likely tell the rest of them what he'd said. There'd always been a slim chance that Potter would keep it to himself - see it as Draco's to tell if he wanted to - but he'd thought - and hoped - Potter would be more likely to confide in the others; it affected them too, after all. He was rather pleased to be right.
"Are we that predictable?" Granger asked, laughing a little. Draco smiled slightly in response.
"Makes our job easy, then," Weasley said, shrugging. "If we're all on the same page…"
"Are we all on the same page?" She-Weasley asked. "Obviously the four of us are-"
"The Dark Lord's been fairly active lately," Draco said, deadpan. "My father thinks he'll be back soon, which means it's time for me to stop playing Gryffindor games, and come back to the 'right' side, and be a Death Eater. I told Potter at the Cup, he's gone home and fussed about it, then told you lot, and you're all worried about what my family will do to me, and - though you probably don't want to admit it - about what I might do. Sound about right?"
Granger and Potter both looked predictably guilty, She-Weasley shrugged and nodded, and Weasley frowned and nodded and said, "Yeah, sounds like we're all on the same page."
"Good. So-"
"Before you say anything," Potter interrupted, "we've talked about it, and- well, you're one of us. Regardless."
Not a lie. Draco's throat suddenly felt tight, and he couldn't manage either a genuine thank you or something witty, but he could see on Potter's face that he understood. Granger, on the other hand, misinterpreted it.
"Not that we doubt you," she said quickly. Not a lie, but also not quite the truth. They did doubt him a little - they had to - or Draco hadn't done a good enough job with Potter and Granger at the World Cup and this would never work.
"Right." Draco reached for his satchel and pulled out the wooden box that contained his pensieve. He'd had it for most of the summer - Father had become far more willing to buy Draco presents after their little chat about allegiances - and, while it wasn't as big or as impressive as the one Severus used, it had certainly served his purposes. "It's a pensieve, Granger," he said, when she opened her mouth to ask. "They store and share memories." She-Weasley went pale and stiff in her seat. Potter glanced at her, then at Draco, warily. For the first time, Draco felt nervous. "If we're going to do this, we have to do it my way. I- I've given it a lot of thought."
"Go on, then," Weasley said, after swapping looks with the other three.
"You'll ask your questions," Draco said, "and I'll answer them… fully, I promise. When we're done talking, I'm going to give you a choice." He dug into his satchel again and pulled out a handful little plastic dragons he'd picked up at a children's shop in Diagon Alley. There were four red and gold ones, and four black and grey ones, and he dropped them into a pile on the seat beside him. "Red and gold for if you trust me, black and grey for if you don't."
"Trust you about what?" Weasley asked, eyes wide. "Malfoy, what-?" Draco shook his head.
"Why the dragons?" Potter asked.
"Because I can give you answers," Draco said, "but I can't let you keep them."
"Did you make an Unbreakable Vow, or something?" Weasley asked. "Is this your way around it?"
"When we're done," Draco said, "you'll put your memory of the conversation in here, but you'll have the dragon to remember what you chose."
"You're going to take our memories?" Granger asked, looking rather shocked. "Do you know how - I've read a bit about it, and it sounds tricky, and if you're not confident, I don't really want you-"
"I know what I'm doing. I've been playing with pensieves all summer. I'm taking your memories, not changing them, which is easier, and using a pensieve works better than a charm," Draco said. He ran his thumb absently along the pensieve's carved edge. "This way, they'll be gone more completely than any memory charm could manage."
"I suppose it's to keep us safe or something?" Potter said, looking unimpressed.
"Not you," Draco said quietly, and Potter's expression changed completely. "And that's all I can say, unless you agree." Potter, Granger, and Weasley nodded in rather unnerving unison; Granger's nod was tiny, and nervous, Potter's held eye contact with Draco while he nodded, and Weasley's nod was casual but thoughtful.
"No," She Weasley said, getting to her feet. "I'm out."
"Ginny," Granger and Weasley said together; Weasley sounded exasperated, Granger more surprised. Potter just nodded again.
"I'm sorry," she said, looking at Draco, "but my memories- they're mine. I don't like them being taken, or- or changed, so…" She shook her head. "Tell me what you three decide, and I'll go with that." She let herself out.
"Sorry," Draco said to the other three, once the door was shut and Potter's charm reapplied. "But it has to be this way." He took a deep breath. "My options, as my parents presented them to me, were Death Eater, or Durmstrang."
"Karkaroff's school?" Potter asked sharply. Draco thought that was a rather strange way to phrase it, but nodded all the same.
"Perhaps you should go," Granger said, "if only so you're not caught up in it all-"
"I'm not letting them send me away while everyone that matters is here," Draco said curtly.
"Mate, if they haven't sent you away, and you haven't had to run away to stay with one of us," Weasley said, "then..."
"Yes," Draco stared down at his pensieve, turned it around in his hands. "I'm to play the good little Gryffindor, and stay close to Potter so I can make myself useful when the Dark Lord returns." Granger looked like she might cry.
"No," Potter said, shaking his head. "You can't-"
So much for one of us, regardless...
"I won't," Draco said, making an appeasing gesture. "Not really, anyway-"
"You can't," Potter said again, more emphatically, and Draco belatedly realised he must have smelled the punchline already.
"I can, though," Draco said. "That's sort of the point, Potter."
"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Potter said, shaking his head. It must have been the truth, too, because both Granger and Weasley - who'd been looking confused and concerned - now looked only concerned. "Actually," Potter continued. "This is worse than what I was afraid of, because you're not just pretending because you want to keep your parents happy, you're pretending so that you can actively go against Voldemort." Draco was the only one to twitch at the Dark Lord's name; both Weasley and Granger were still and sombre.
"Yes," Draco drawled, recovering. "That's what we do on this side, isn't it?"
"He'll kill you if he finds out, you know," Potter said. Granger winced. "And there's a good chance he will - he gets into people's heads, and-"
"No one knows but me," Draco said. "My head'll be the only head he could get it out of, and I don't imagine there'll be much opportunity for me to be face-to-face with him while I'm at at Hogwarts."
"And if you are, somehow?"
"I know a bit of Occlumency," Draco said. "And if that's not good enough, or if I realise I'm in over my head, I'll run away and take you up on that spare bedroom at Grimmauld, Potter. But in the meantime, I'll be safer than anyone; I haven't painted a target on my back by running away or defying my parents, and I can spend time with you three without the Dark Lord or his followers thinking anything of it because it's where I'm meant to be."
"We don't need information that badly," Potter said. "I've already got my dreams and my scar to know what's going on-"
"Your dreams don't come every time we need to know something," Draco pointed out. "And the other side's made up of more than just the Dark Lord - you don't dream about every single Death Eater."
"It's risky-"
"Potter, you hypocrite," Draco said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice. "You'd risk yourself in a second for any of us. You have. Why can't I do the same?"
"Fair point, I reckon," Weasley said, shrugging. Potter scowled at him.
"And we're not going to remember any of this?" Granger asked.
"Sorry," Draco mumbled.
"It's all right," she said, then pointed to the dragons beside him. "Can I?"
"If you're ready," he said, surprised. "I thought you'd have more questions."
"I do," she said, biting her lip. "Lots, actually, but I'm not going to remember any of the answers, so…" She grimaced.
"And here I thought Harry was the only one mad enough to go up against Voldemort," Weasley said. "Out-Gryffindored by a Malfoy… honestly."
"I don't like it," Potter said, mouth turning down.
"I knew you wouldn't," Draco said.
"But I do get it," Potter continued. "And- we're not going to remember any of this, I know that, but if there's anything we can do to help without knowing…"
"Trust me," Draco said, more croakily than he'd have liked. "Keep the dragons, and trust me, even when it gets messy."
"I reckon we can manage that," Potter said, nodding. Granger flung her arms around Draco, displacing Crookshanks, who made a grumpy noise and went to sit on Weasley instead.
"I'm not going to know to tell you to be careful in a moment," she said into his shoulder, "so I'm telling you now. Okay?"
"Give me some credit," Draco said, taking mock-offence. "I'm still me." Granger laughed, a watery sound.
"Okay," Weasley said. "Let's get this over with."
"Don't say anything once I offer you the dragons," Draco said, pulling his wand out, and readjusting the pensieve in his lap. "I'm going to take everything we've said, from when I explained the dragons being in lieu of answers, to now. The first thing you'll remember is you choosing one so you know that- you know, you did actually choose."
Granger nodded.
Draco offered each of them the handful of dragons, and watched them each pick a red and gold one with relief. Then, he lifted his wand.
Granger's eyes were wide but trusting, and she didn't flinch at all as Draco used the gentlest, lightest touch of Legillimency to skim the surface of her mind, find the edges of the memory and draw it out through her temple. He wondered, absently, what Severus would think of Draco using everything he'd learned from him about pensieves and the mind arts, for this. Choosing the wrong side aside, Draco thought he'd be grudgingly proud.
Granger blinked as the memory came loose and opened her mouth to say something, but Potter pressed a hand to her arm and shook his head. Granger closed her mouth, gave Draco a shrewd, slightly worried look, then turned the dragon over in her hands, clearly thinking.
Potter was next. His mind recognised the touch, light as it was, and he twitched in his chair, jaw setting, mind resisting - or trying to. Draco could tell, even on the surface that if he forced his way in, Potter would have no hope of keeping him out. He didn't force it, though, just waited.
Potter took a deep breath and seemed to relax his mind or give permission or something, though he was ginger about it and stayed stiff in his chair. Draco worked as quickly as he could, and then Potter's memory joined Granger's in the pensieve.
Potter blinked like Granger had, then frowned, turning the dragon over in his hands. When he looked up at Draco again, though, his expression was clear, trusting.
Weasley shifted as Draco turned to him.
As he had with the others, Draco probed out with Legillimency. Hydrus had been his oblivious subject all summer - Draco had practised getting to his surface level thoughts without being noticed, and practised communicating. They sounded enough alike that - even in Hydrus' own mind - Draco could murmur something about an itchy nose, or needing the bathroom, and Hydrus would respond as if it had been his own thought. It had been enlightening, and also a rather good source of entertainment.
He was hoping, though, that Weasley recognised Draco's voice as Draco's.
Play along, he murmured, and Weasley's eyes widened. I'll explain everything when I have a chance.
Weasley's eyes flicked to Potter and Granger and then he tilted his chin ever so slightly in a nod.
Draco probed a little deeper than he had with the other two, and plucked a few seconds from Weasley's memory; the last moments before he fell asleep the night before, moments he wouldn't miss.
He put them in the pensieve.
"All right?" Potter asked Weasley, eyes flicking between him and Draco. Draco wondered what he'd smelled, and focused on staying calm while he tried to think of an answer-
"Yeah," Weasley said, "just... confused." Potter accepted that with a wry nod - it was, after all, the truth, even if Weasley's confusion was for a different reason than Potter thought - and miraculously, that was that.