A/N: Well, some people made connections to the references in the previous chapter, with some correct guesses (though I'm afraid as much as I'm a Whovian, Doctor Who was not among them, at least I don't think so.) Firstly, yes I like the number 42, being a Douglas Adams fan; secondly the riding astride a broom line is from Bedknobs and Broomsticks; and I think the last one was the green filter Hermione used on Hannah Abbott's eyes, which was an admittedly obscure reference to White Squirrel's 'The Arithmancer' (well worth a read by the way).
And I would also like to add that Jasmine's comment about one day in thirty affecting Lupin is a generalisation – I know it's not exactly thirty days between full moons, but it's an approximation that rolls off the tongue better. Plus, in 'Sherlock' (BBC), Holmes wasn't aware that the Earth goes around the Sun, so I think I'm allowed a bit of artistic licence.
And finally (this is making for a long A/N) if you hadn't realised, I'm English, and therefore I use the English spellings of various words rather than the Americanisations. (This comes after an anonymous Guest review, to which I would reply: in Britain, we say discrete, not discreet.)
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Chapter 11
As Jasmine practically flew across the castle grounds, she finally beheld those she was looking for.
"You could at least apologise for accusing my cat for all these months," Hermione's voice drifted from where the trio stood not far from the Whomping Willow, on the stone path that led to Hagrid's hut.
"And for having a go at us as well, you ungrateful git," Nadia added. The rat. That damn bloody rat the redheaded moron had accused Hermione's cat of eating.
"Stupefy!" Jasmine's crimson spell got their attention as it flew through the evening air, impacting against the ground as it shot by the great, black shaggy dog that was bounding towards the Weasley boy. In a flash, his leg was caught in the hound's jaws and dragged backwards towards the Whomping Willow. Her next attempt at a stunner was caught by one of the branches as they whipped around, splintering it a little. By the time the tree had moved out of the way, the last they saw of Ronald Weasley was him disappearing down a hidden hole in the roots of the arboreal annoyance.
"What the hell was that?" Nadia asked bewilderedly.
"Sirius Black coming back to finish the job he started, get back!" she pulled the pair of Gryffindors backwards as a clump of branches smashed down where they had previously stood. Apparently the tree didn't like being hit with stunners. "We need to get down there."
"How?" Hermione stated, before freezing at the sight of her half-kneazle cat at the roots of the tree very deliberately pressing a paw down upon one specific root. All of a sudden, the Whomping Willow ceased its crazy movement, appearing frozen in time. "Crookshanks?"
"Come on!" Jasmine said in reply, running towards where the feline was located, "this is our only chance."
With a reckless abandon that actually surprised herself, the ravenette jumped down the hole, bending at the knees a little as she emerged into a small earthen hollow framed by the roots. Moving out of the way, she was quickly followed by Hermione, but no Nadia.
"Nadia went to get help," Hermione said in explanation, "now what the Hell is going on?"
"She what? Argh!" Jasmine practically growled in frustration, "never mind, deal with that later. Black first." With that, she took off down the tunnel that the hollow lead into, ignoring the dirt from overhanging vine-like roots impacting on her pristine hair.
"Where are we even going?" Hermione demanded as she followed.
"The Shrieking Shack," the ravenette stated, certain in her deduction. Sure enough, they quickly emerged in a dilapidated cellar. Hearing a shriek from upstairs, Jasmine bolted up them into the building proper, barely glancing at ruined furniture and the boarded up windows as she sprinted up another set of stairs to an old bedroom. Upon entering the room, she took in the sight of the terrified Weasley upon the bed, pointing behind her.
"It's him!" he squeaked, "he's an animagus!" Hermione followed her in just in time for the door to close, revealing Sirius Black from where he had been hiding behind it. The man looked gaunt, haggard and haunted, with sunken eyes and his torn prisoner's uniform.
"I know," Jasmine said softly, making the man's eyebrow rise at her admission and the complete lack of surprise at seeing him there. "Where's the rat?"
"What?" both Hermione and Ron exclaimed.
"In his pocket," the lone man in the room replied in a hoarse voice while pointing at Ron, "I can smell the bastard."
"It's time to get some answers, Petrificus Totalus," the ravenette growled, firing the spell at Black. A flick of her wand drew a scraggly sleeve up Black's forearm to display dirty, but unblemished skin. She swiftly placed a locking charm on the door with her still drawn wand and then pointed it at Ron. "Get the rat out. Now."
"Jasmine, what're you-," Hermione began to protest before being interrupted.
"Hermione, you'll understand in a moment. Ronald, wasn't it? The rat, now!" at her command the boy fearfully pulled the madly scrabbling animal from his trousers. He dropped the grey animal as it bit him, and quickly scurried along the dusty old bedspread. Jasmine aimed for a single second, before firing off the spell she had learnt after talking to Lupin to return an animagus to human form.
Immediately, space seemed to warp as the animal grew quickly to a fat, balding and pimply faced man with patchy brown hair and watery blue eyes. God, even as a man he looked like a rat.
"Jasmine!" he simpered, moving forwards towards her.
"Stupefy," the red bolt of light hit the snivelling man, and she swiftly dropped to one knee and rolled up his worn and tattered sleeve. The bloody red mark upon his skin said it all. "You little bastard."
Standing there, next to the man responsible, Jasmine felt a bubble of hate rising within her. All those years of abuse by the Dursleys were by no small part his fault at the end of it. Sure, she had killed two of those responsible, but that didn't mean it wasn't a lasting scar on her memory, ingrained into her being.
"Who the hell is that?" she looked up at Hermione's question, seeing an equally bewildered Ronald.
"Meet Peter Pettigrew; spy, traitor and Death Eater," she answered, ignoring their shocked looks as she made for Black and applied the counter curse to his frozen state. "Isn't that right, godfather mine?"
"He betrayed Lily and James," the man replied with a nod, "I chased him down with a need for revenge, and I caught up to him in a muggle street just outside of Diagon." He shook his head sadly, "he cut off his finger and transformed, leaving some sort of blasting curse behind which must have hit something with the huge explosion. Then I was tossed in Azkaban and left to rot for twelve years!" He snarled the last part with anger – which was entirely fair when you thought about the fact that he spent a dozen years in the most inhumane place on Earth due to a crime he didn't commit.
"How did you escape?" she asked, desperate for information. This whole situation was a mess that turned everything on its head – all her plans regarding Black were in tatters, and she'd need to recalculate everything back down to ground level.
"Changed into dog form and slipped out; the Dementors never bothered me while I was a canine," he responded, "I left after Fudge handed me a newspaper with a picture of him," he pointed at Ron, "with that bloody rat. And I left to finish the job I'd been accused of." He raised a wand he'd gained from somewhere, pointing it at Pettigrew's still form.
He was stopped from doing that, however, as the door was smashed in to reveal the gaunt face of the defence professor, who immediately pointed his wand inside the room.
"Get back girls!" he stated, and looked confused as they didn't move.
"The situation is different than we first thought, Professor Lupin," Jasmine said, gesturing to Pettigrew with his sleeve rolled up to reveal the Dark Mark. And then what she'd said hit her. Lupin.
"Oh, Merlin. Peter! But…he's…" the man looked entirely bewildered, looking between Pettigrew and Black again and again.
"Pettigrew was the secret keeper, Black is innocent," Jasmine said shortly, "but what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Her voice was a growl bordering on hysterics as she stared at the man as if he'd grown a second head.
"Oh my…Padfoot," he turned to the scraggly haired man, "I…"
"I know, Moony, I know," Black replied, rushing forth to grasp the man in a brief hug, which was responded to quickly.
"Enough with the reunion, what the fuck are you doing, Lupin? Are you trying to get us killed?" Jasmine shouted, making the pair break apart.
"Oh God," Hermione added, her eyes widening as she worked it out.
"What? Miss Longbottom caught me in the entrance hall, and I left to find you two as quickly as I could," the man in question asked; his ignorance as clear as his stupidity.
"It's a full moon you braindead moron!" she yelled, making the two men's eyes widen. "Everybody out, grab the Gryffindor and Pettigrew, we need to get out of here." The boy protested as to the way she referred to him, so she promptly stunned him and moved on. "You," she glared at the werewolf, "stay put." A pair of Mobilicorpus' from Black and Hermione had the injured boy and the prisoner levitated out of the room, and Jasmine slammed the door shut before summoning a piece of chalk from her mokeskin pouch. With frantic movements, she replicated from memory the four runes Hermione had used on the train earlier that year. "Alveo," she incanted with her wand tip to the glyphs, watching them begin to glow before rushing to catch up with the others. "We have ten minutes, max," she stated as she got behind where they were lowering the pair floating on air into the tunnel.
"What did you do?" Hermione asked.
"Used your runic array to keep him locked in," she answered, dropping down into the tunnel behind them.
"You didn't use the one from the train did you?" the girl asked in a worried tone.
"Yes?"
"That's supposed to defend against spell fire! It won't last a minute against a fully transformed werewolf."
"Oh joy," the ravenette muttered, flicking her wand with a murmured 'Lumos' to bring light to the tunnel as they quickened their pace.
"I say we leave this pile of shit to be devoured. It's all he deserves," Black growled as he levitated Pettigrew.
"That pile of shit is your ticket to freedom, don't waste it by killing him," Jasmine responded blithely, since with these witnesses she could hardly get the man killed by the Wizengamot now – Hermione would never speak to her again for one thing, and his trial would go entirely differently either way – so she needed to clear his name and get named his heir the more traditional way if she still wanted to gain the House of Black under her belt. Handing Pettigrew over on a silver platter would go a long way towards that.
"Freedom…that's a strange idea to me, to be honest," the man replied.
"What've you had these past few months then?" Hermione inquired.
"Living in a cave outside Hogsmeade and begging for scraps from the villagers is not freedom," he stated firmly. "The tunnel opening is just ahead."
With much manoeuvring and a little cursing from the sickly ex-prisoner, they eventually got all of them above ground near the base of the Whomping Willow, where Crookshanks greeted them with a soft 'meow.' "Clever cat, that one, I managed to persuade him about Pettigrew months ago."
"So that's why he went after Scabbers so…much," the Gryffindor trailed off as the temperature dropped massively, and their eyes inclined to the sky to see, descending down, dozens upon dozens of cloaked figures.
"Run for the castle!" Jasmine shouted, taking in the sight of the Dementors with no small amount of fear, feeling their pressure on her mind.
Of course, since their luck was so terrible, it was at that moment that their two passengers woke up, likely from the effects of the Dementors. Ronald immediately struggled and fell to the floor with a pained yelp, but Pettigrew was apparently more lucid and quickly shrank down into a rat before moving to scurry away.
"No!" Black yelled, leaping after him before a Dementor swooped down and he staggered as a wispy whiteness was pulled from his mouth. The cloaked skeleton appeared to slow as if to get a better angle to suck before being blasted in the face by a spectral raven that Jasmine had summoned. She grabbed the sluggish Black, and pulled him closer to the other three of them as she swept her wand around her head in a circle, making the avian Patronus fly about in a protective orbit.
It wasn't enough, however, as Jasmine was forced to close her eyes and concentrate on her memory of her first Christmas present – the scarf Hermione gave her – as the depressive aura settled across her like a wet blanket.
"There's too many!" she shouted as she physically felt them pushing closer, icy coldness settling in her heart. She couldn't keep this up on her own, even she as a reasonably powerful witch had limits. The last sensation she felt before blacking out was hearing the sound of Phoenix song grating upon her ears.
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"No!" Jasmine exclaimed as she suddenly sat up in bed, looking around in confusion at the Hogwarts Hospital wing.
"Don't you worry Miss Potter, the headmaster put stop to the Dementors and you should recover quickly. Eat this, it'll help," Madame Pomphrey stood by her bed and handed her a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate.
"Black?" she asked quickly, not caring in the least about eating some bloody confectionary.
"Mr Black has been imprisoned and is awaiting the Minister to arrive and officially sentence him to the Kiss. And good-riddance, I daresay he deserves it with all the trouble we've gone to this year." She tuned out the rest of the woman's nattering as she moved away to a bed containing Hermione – who appeared to be fine, just asleep. Jasmine's mind was racing as her perfectly laid plans being ripped into even smaller shreds. She was not going to let anyone else get what was rightfully hers!
She picked up her wand from its rest on her bedside table and casted a silencing charm on herself, before sneaking out of the hospital wing while the nurse's back was still turned. As soon as she was beyond its thankfully open doors, she broke out into a sprint, heading to the corridor that overlooked the courtyard with its open arches.
Hastily, she summoned her secondary wand, invisibility cloak and her Firebolt from her mokeskin pouch, cursing every second it cost her as the cloak formed around her and she mounted her broom. With a push, she leaped from the space and circled up higher. Her broom was not invisible, but it would be very difficult to see against the night sky.
Now she was airborne, she surveyed the building. Where would they keep Black? Somewhere defensible was a given and likely somewhere that could be guarded by…
There.
Dementors swarming around the Astronomy tower. Leaning forwards, she put on a burst of speed even as she reached her wand forward, it slipping from her sleeve as she summoned her Patronus to fly in front of her like the tip of an arrow. It was a real draw on her already depleted magical core, especially forcing the Light spell through a wand more suited to darkness, but she ignored the tiredness in her limbs.
As she approached, the Dementors scattered away from the icy roof, and Jasmine made for the small outcropped building on the ramparts with a heavy iron door. Swiftly landing with her raven circling protectively overhead against the circling creatures – thankfully only eight or so, the rest being absent – she stepped up to the grate of the door and looked inside to see the slumped figure.
"Sirius!" she hissed loudly, cursing as he didn't respond. Standing back, she decided to abandon subtlety. "Reducto," the yellow spell erupted from her ebony wand and impacted on the door to make it blow back off its hinges, barely hanging on to the wall as it slumped to the side. Stepping inside what she knew to be the astronomy supply room – with old telescopes lying around – she knelt by the convict. "Rennervate," she stated, watching as he jerked up suddenly, gasping for air.
"What the?" he said in confusion, and she willed the invisibility cloak to turn off, and flipped back her hood. "Jasmine!"
"Can you walk?" she asked hurriedly, not caring for social niceties.
"I think so," the man replied with a groan.
"How about flying?" he affixed her with a look, before his eyes flicked to the Firebolt clasped in her hand.
"I'll manage."
"Good," she replied shortly, hauling the man up even as her cloak flicked back on.
"How did you…?" he pointed vaguely in the direction of her invisible form.
"I'll explain later, come on," she commanded, mounting her broom as she left the confines of the room. "Get on."
He shuffled awkwardly onto the broom behind her – the racing broom only having been built for one – and he clasped arms around her invisible body to stay stable. With a lot less speed, and a great deal more care, she once more flew past the Dementors, her raven staying behind to dissuade them from following, just managing to exist at the edge of her influence as she moved further and further away. As quickly as she dared, she descended back down to the space above the courtyard, landing by her and Hermione's favourite arch for people-watching.
"Here's where we part," she stated, hopping off the broom and pulling off her cloak. "Take the broom and head back to your cave or whatever – I'd stick low above the Forbidden Forest if I were you, it's probably the safest route with Dementors still around, and you will be faster than them so you can outrun them. I'll come see you as soon as possible, but until then stay put. Don't set a foot outside safety until I come for you, understood?"
"Yes ma'am," he replied with a jaunty salute. "Will you be okay?"
"I'll be fine, now go!" she commanded, making a shooing gesture before turning to run back along the corridor to the hospital wing without waiting to see him leave.
As she ran, she stuffed her effects back into her pouch and considered the time she'd been gone – a little over six minutes, perhaps? It hadn't taken long, but she had to hope Pomphrey hadn't left the room or that no-one else had dropped by either. Her relief was palpable as she was greeted by a non-impressed nurse upon her return.
"There you are Miss Potter, you should not be running around after facing down a whole group of Dementors," the old woman said chidingly, "I was about to come and look for you."
"Sorry, Madame Pomphrey, I needed to visit the bathroom to…throw up," she cited the excuse off the top of her head, thankful for her research into Dementors and their effects upon learning of their being part of the Ministry's groups chasing Black. Nausea was one of the side effects to a heavy exposure, and the nurse clearly bought it as she hustled the ravenette back to bed.
"You should have told me, you silly girl," she replied, "there's a perfectly serviceable bathroom over there." She pointed to a door nearby her office.
"I didn't know, sorry," Jasmine stated, feigning an apologetic look. That much at least was the truth – she hadn't spent that long inside here other than at the end of her second year visiting Hermione every day.
"Well, a lesson learned then. Drink this," the woman handed her a milky white potion which she gulped down, only then realising she recognised it as a sleeping draught. "Get some decent rest; you'll feel better in the morning," she just heard the woman say before she slipped back into the land of Morpheus.
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"It's all over the castle," Hermione stated as the ravenette approached their window seat high up in a tower. "Sirius Black escaping custody again, Ministry baffled, parents in outrage etc."
"What an exciting story," Jasmine replied as she sat down, surveying the small world below.
"Mm, but I don't think he escaped alone." The ravenette raised a playful eyebrow at the girl opposite her, smiling a little. "You see, I woke up not long after you did – practically having chocolate shoved down my throat – and you weren't in your bed and Pomphrey was ranting about reckless patients running off. I think you had a little something to do with saving your dogfather." Jasmine snorted at the name – quite the little pun she would probably use on Sirius directly later.
"My dear Hermione, are you accusing me of a crime?" she replied in a mock-aghast tone of voice, "I'm a fine upstanding citizen I'll have you know." It was Hermione's turn to snort in amusement.
"Forget accusing, I'm stating. Did you give him your broom or something?"
"Excellent deduction, you clever girl, you." Jasmine smiled as she gazed into mirthful blue eyes.
"Have to admit, I like it when you all me that; it makes me feel like a proper detective," Hermione said with a small smile.
"When did I call you that before?" Jasmine inquired curiously, cycling back through her memory for when she had used the term.
"Passed a year a couple of days ago, I think," Hermione responded with a grin, before freezing with her eyes wide. Jasmine frowned both at her sudden deer-in-the-headlights expression and the impossible date.
"Weren't you petrified this time last year…" she said confusedly before the sudden guilty look on the bushy-haired girl's face made it click. "You… you were conscious? Through those weeks?"
"Yes," the Gryffindor breathed, "I remember you coming every day and I wanted to move or do something but I couldn't." The ravenette felt the slight urge to shy away at the thought of the girl remembering her silent vigil as she did her homework down there every day, keeping her petrified form company. And then her stomach dropped through her chest as she remembered what else she did. That single sweet moment she had created on a whim and was now regretting heavily.
"You… remember everything?" she queried hesitantly, already knowing the answer as Hermione bit her bottom lip.
"Yes," the girl answered simply, looking out of the window rather than at her companion.
"You never said anything, for a full year, you… I would have thought you'd refuse to be near me or something," the ravenette stated softly.
"No," her head whipped back around, "never that. I just… I needed to sort things out, if you understand. I've never dealt with or even considered… that sort of thing before."
It was the Ravenclaw's turn to stare out of the window in awkwardness; she had put the girl in a strange situation, knowing her friend was enamoured with her, and that they were both of the same sex was also a concern – she knew the muggleborn had mentioned growing up under a Church of England private school education, which although hardly as puritanical as centuries before, still held some deep-rooted dislike of homosexuality. Jasmine had had it more easy – never having any such beliefs practiced around her beyond her bigoted relatives saying that just about everyone who wasn't purely English going back generations and worshipping any other God was proof of their country going to hell, and she discounted anything the pair and their child said as complete fallacies. The Mirror of Erised had made things easier in some ways as well, although it was the relic's fault for her acknowledging what should have been invisible for years to come at least, it had allowed her to come to terms with what was apparently her heart's desire. Knowing it was true helped her come to terms with it over the space of more than two years, and she was still trying to quantify and understand her feelings.
"It was nice," the quiet voice brought her back to reality, and she turned to a once more hesitant girl. "The kiss, I mean." Part of Jasmine's heart leapt from its normally icy shell at the admission. "I kind of craved contact while petrified, and you holding my hand…" Gods above, she'd done that as well, hadn't she? She might have taken advantage of the fact she had thought the girl wouldn't be aware of what she had been doing.
"I missed you," Jasmine stated, "the only intelligent mind like my own I've ever come across."
"An equal," Hermione echoed, and their gazes met for a moment once more.
And then the bushy-haired girl closed the suddenly short space between them and pressed their lips together for a moment, taking Jasmine entirely by surprise.
Hot, soft flesh pressed against her own pink lips, and she automatically turned her head sideways a little to move into the sudden kiss, her body positively thrumming with excitement.
In the space of a second that seemed to last for an eternity, the Gryffindor pulled back, blushing furiously as she looked incredibly sheepish.
"I had to know," she muttered in explanation, "still feels good." The latter part was added in a quieter voice, but it made the ravenette's heart soar.
Her pale hand reached up to caress the burning cheeks of her counterpart's face, and she smiled at the bushy-haired girl with more confidence than she felt as this time she leaned forward, giving her plenty of time to resist.
She didn't.
The second kiss lasted much longer than the first, and they moved against each other even as their bodies melted into the embrace, nerve endings firing as their lips moulded around each other.
When finally they did pull back for air, their pupils were dilated, cheeks flushed, and satisfied smiles defined their faces.
"Definitely feels good," Jasmine stated with a grin, causing Hermione to snort a little, "so where do we stand now?" The question was more hesitant – they were still two thirteen year old girls discovering feelings, after all, despite their mental maturity.
"I don't know," the Gryffindor answered simply, "I guess we're going to have to find out."
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For those who noticed – which practically amounted to a nosy old man and a young brunette – two girls within the castle walked with lighter steps upon the following day.
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The hike through the woods outside Hogsmeade was treacherous, but not overly so for the well prepared. Jasmine's hiking boots were more than up to the job, but she had been forced to ditch her invisibility cloak as it got caught on branches and dragged in the mud too much.
Finally reaching at the top of the rise she found herself on, she briefly looked back at Hogsmeade before returning her gaze to the bumpy landscape ahead. Finding Black among these close to mountainous hills was probably going to be akin to finding a needle in a haystack.
That was, until she saw the great shaggy dog standing on a slight precipice not far off. He barked happily with his tongue lolling out stupidly as she climbed the nearest bit of grassy hill to get up to him. When she finally did reach what looked like a slight outcropping of dark grey stone, the great mutt barked once more and spun around to shuffle through a hole in the small cliff-face behind him.
Peering at it dubiously, Jasmine rolled her eyes before dropping to hands and knees to fit into the opening that barely went above waist height when she was standing.
She relented from mentioning the lack of dignity as she crawled through the hole. Although, at least she wasn't wearing a skirt, rather than the thick jeans she had on hand luckily, coupled with a rugby shirt and a jacket with various useful pockets. Finally, after a good half minute of crawling, the tunnel opened out into a small cavern where Sirius Black was sitting in human form by a small waterfall running into a pool of water. Scattered about the room-sized cave were old bones and mouldy copies of the Daily Prophet. She inclined her head upwards to see a slight crack in the ceiling by the water source, through which the small amount of light was entering the space.
"Welcome to chez Black, with the finest cuisine and most comfortable accommodations," the man said sarcastically, gesturing to the space that was naturally formed from dark rock. "Now you know the secret place I was hiding in for months."
"Nice digs," she replied with equal sarcasm, wringing a small smile from the emaciated man. 'He really needs a few decent meals,' ran through Jasmine's head, 'not to mention a shave, amongst other things, if he's going to be presentable.'
"Oh and here's this back," the man reached into a darker corner she hadn't noticed and pulled out her Firebolt, "wouldn't want to steal your Christmas present back."
"So it was you," Jasmine stated as she took it back, taking a few moments to return it to her mokeskin pouch. "Hermione and I did wonder; I had a man from the company round to test it for curses and the like."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Black said with a frown.
"What, you thought I'd immediately trust an object given to me by an anonymous person?" she replied, "I am not a moron, thank-you."
"No, you're not," he agreed, settling down into a cross-legged position closer to her, "from what I've heard," he gestured to the old papers, "my goddaughter is growing into quite the accomplished witch. Basilisks?"
"One, singular," she replied nonchalantly, "but that's not important. What is important is getting your name cleared. I need to find a way to get you before the Wizengamot so you can be tried properly. Not to mention food, proper accommodation, money, etcetera, not to mention your position."
"Position?" he asked with confusion.
"You do realise you are the direct heir to the House of Black? If we can get you into the vault at Gringotts – which shouldn't be too hard – we can find a connection for you to claim it through," the man grimaced.
"I'd rather have nothing to do with my relatives," he answered shortly.
"Gods above, you'd pass up on all that you could have because you hated them? Why not use the same methods of revenge I planned for you?" He perked an eyebrow at her statement.
"What did you plan to do to me?" he asked curiously.
"I planned to have you sentenced by the Wizengamot, claim House Black as my own, and use its dirty money and power to do some good," she answered. That was mainly a lie – apart from the first part – but it would serve to get him off his backside and help her plans along. "If you want to spit on your mother's grave, why not use the power accorded to the House of Black with the light sect?" That had, however, been her plan. She was originally going to enter the Wizengamot and use those many seats – twelve including the Potter ones – to endear herself to the light while also orchestrating the dark via Moriarty. The Neutrals would fall one way or the other on each issue, and she'd have the Wizengamot dancing to her tune. That plan was still plausible, but it now involved Sirius for a brief stretch of time. At least until he had served his purpose.
"That… is not a bad idea, I suppose," the man mused, "she'd be fuming if I used those seats to push for muggleborn rights or something."
"There's Mister Padfoot," she congratulated, "now, I have one question."
"What?"
"Do you solemnly swear you are up to no good?" The man fell about laughing at her question before repeating the vow with a solemn and straight face.
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As Jasmine knocked upon the office door of one Remus Lupin, she pondered the events of the day before while twisting the invisible heir's ring of black metal upon her finger. Getting through Gringotts had been easy, since all the goblins cared about was gold, and with a little greasing of palms they just let them down to the Black vault without questions asked or authorities alerted. Once in the vault, it was child's play to find an heirloom and for Sirius to claim his position, then swiftly naming her as his heir. Annoyingly, since she had no adult to officially do so as her Head of House, she would have to wait until age fifteen as was traditional before being presented before the Wizengamot as the up-and-coming heir to the House of Potter, and then wait until she was seventeen before claiming it fully. Still, she was an heiress to two separate Ancient and Noble Houses, so that would do for now.
Of course, she'd been slightly less than impressed as Sirius showed her the Black Townhouse – 12 Grimmauld Place. Apart for some tracts of land and various building rented out to tenants, this was the only usable property as Black Manor had been destroyed during the war. Usable was too kind a word in Jasmine's opinion, as the building had been left to rot, and within its structure numerous beasts had moved into the old building thrumming with the magic practised within its walls for perhaps two centuries. The only resident was a foul mouthed house-elf who espoused traditional Black values while hating his new master. He had likened her to 'Mistress Bellatrix' when she mentioned cutting his tongue out if he didn't shut up, and she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or not at being compared to Voldemort's pet psychopath, but she took it as a compliment from the elf who then deferred to her slightly. She was half worried he could smell the use of dark magic on her or something – house elf magic was not a kind well understood, not least because most wizards didn't pay much attention to them.
Still, Sirius now had a place to live, albeit it barely being habitable, and under her suggestion it was hidden under a Fidelius charm with herself as the caster and secret-keeper. It not only prevented someone like Narcissa Malfoy suddenly deciding to visit the old abandoned building if she remembered it existed, but also both allowed her to control who entered – keeping a nameless old bastard out until she could bring Sirius round to a more favourable way of thinking – and it gave her an excuse to be away from him during the coming summer, as the keeper could not spend extended periods of time under the charm without it decaying slightly. Of course, that meant she needed someone else to look after him and help clear up the dilapidated building.
And so, she was here.
Lupin didn't seem to know whether to smile or not as he opened his door, eventually forcing one onto his face.
"Good afternoon, Miss Potter," he greeted, "come on in." He moved out of the way, and she nodded deferentially to his invite as she entered. A grimace crossed her face as she noted the half-packed nature of the room.
"I'm sorry you're leaving; you've been a very good teacher, and I can say that neither Hermione nor I told the Prophet, although I can't speak for that Gryffindor boy," she said with a hint of genuine regret. What with her first two teachers being awful, and then having two competent ones, she really didn't want to go back to terrible teaching.
"Ah, it's not your fault. Snape's the one responsible, although he'd never admit to it or have done it directly. He and I have had a rather bad relationship with each other since our school days, and he was adamant that I helped Sirius escape. Speaking of which, did you…?" he left the question hanging as he gestured at her. She didn't answer, instead drawing her wand.
"Homenum Revelio," she said clearly, looking around as she and the professor – or ex-professor – were the only blue glows that showed up. She further casted a silencing ward around them, just to be sure. "He's safe; I got him out on a broom," she replied after satisfying herself that they couldn't be heard.
"That's a relief off my back at least," the man stated as he flicked his wand to pack a case with his clothes and then lock shut. "Knowing that after all these years the man I cursed was innocent while the one I mourned was a traitor… it's shaken my worldview somewhat."
"Well, if you want to make it up to the man, I have an offer for you," she leant back against the desk. "How would you like free room and board, as well as a chance to reconnect with your friend, and work with your speciality as well?"
"I'm listening," Lupin replied with interest.
"Then listen carefully as I'm only going to say this one," she stated clearly. "Sirius Black is currently at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London."
"Fidelius?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Yes. It's not that difficult a spell to cast, it just needed an expensive wardstone and a good deal of power – I slept like a log last night, and I'm still running a bit empty as far as magic is concerned – and now Sirius is protected until I can find a way to haul him in front of the Wizengamot under veritaserum. However, to get to that point, he needs help," she looked at Lupin carefully, "I don't know if you saw him properly the other night, but he's not well. He practically looks like a skeleton, and is probably suffering nightmares and the like from long-term exposure to Dementors. He's going to need a lot to get back on his feet, not least cleaning up that building to make it habitable."
"Habitable? As in it isn't currently?"
"That's the job using your specialisation I mentioned," she pulled a large bag of galleons from her pocket, "take this and buy a crate of fire whiskey, and as many materials to deal with a massive infestation of household pests as you can carry."
"Jasmine, I can't accept-," she cut him off before he could be aggravatingly humble.
"This is money from the Black Vault going towards a piece of Black property and its current Head of House," Jasmine stated simply. "And if that doesn't give you incentive, this is the money of a bunch of old bigots who probably helped make the laws and perpetuate the prejudices that currently have you packing your bags. Go spend it on something they'd disapprove of." Just like Sirius, the man snorted, before being persuaded enough by the argument to take the bag.
"You make a good point," he relented. "I think I'll make it two crates; the Padfoot I knew once would go through one quicker than you'd believe."
"Then sally forth and get my dogfather stone drunk," she declared, "now I'm afraid I missed a fair bit of work gallivanting about yesterday and in the Hospital Wing before that, so I need to go write a few last-minute essays." As she turned to leave, taking down the silencing ward as she did, the man called out to her.
"Wait, how did you get out of the castle?"
"I solemnly swear I was up to no good," she threw back over her shoulder, making the old wolf laugh.
A/N: There's too much nice stuff going on; I need to put more Moriarty-ness in here somewhere, but I've been running the ink dry on ideas of what she's doing as him behind the scenes. She's already in the state of mafia boss, and her investments are all over the place. Maybe introducing large-scale gambling to wizards? Who knows? This chapter and the few following it have been the hardest to write, and I'm going back over and over them and am still not happy. I get the feeling I may be introducing romance too early, but its too written in now to matter. I just hope I can write it properly.