I do not own Harry Potter

Trigger Warning: Grief References

Also, this chapter should answer a few Dursley/ward related questions which came up a few chapters ago.

Chapter Twenty ~ Paths Taken And Chosen

"Shay?"

Seamus Finnegan put the dog brush to one side and looked up, "Yeah?"

"I wanted to talk to you, before I head out." His father glanced at the clock on the wall, "Though I've still got time yet."

Seamus nodded, "Yeah, I think we all got up early this morning. Dean's gone home already – his Ma gets the Prophet now and he wanted to be back before she saw the headline. Thought she might go spare."

"He's a good lad – you're lucky to have a friend like him."

"Yeah, I know."

Daniel Finnegan sat himself down in his armchair, letting his briefcase rest against it. He was silent, for a moment. "It was a good thing, what you did for that Black girl, you know."

"I could hardly have left her like that, Da."

"And I'm proud of you son, but your Ma told me about her family, and hell, even I've heard of that family."

Seamus went back to brushing the dog's fur, "Yeah, well after last year, I reckon everyone'll heard of the Blacks."

"Yeah, but you know that's not what I mean."

"She's not all that bad, Da."

Daniel Finnegan shook his head, "I'm just warning you, not to get mixed up in something that's over your head. You know what happens to people who get mixed up in things they should have left well alone."

"I know, Da. I won't."

"Just keep your head down, son. That's all I'm saying. The likes on her will just bring a hell of a lot of trouble down on it otherwise."

Seamus let out a long breath of air, "I know, Da. I'm not going to get mixed up in all that – especially not if they're all kicking off again."

Daniel smiled at his son, tousled his hair, and picked up the over-stuffed briefcase. "You're a good lad too." He said, before heading out the door, which closed softly behind him.

...

She did not turn around when addressed.

"I have been waiting for you."

"I was delayed."

"How so?"

There was a pause, and she could hear the grating sound on the tip of the cane being twisted against the floorboard.

"Narcissa was distressed."

He did not have to see her face, in order to know she was smirking.

"Oh? Did she throw something at you? You must be acquainted with the Black temper by now."

"I have come to discuss what transpired last night, not my marriage."

"So you are still married?"

"I have my wife's love."

"Love makes everyone a fool."

"Then you, too, are a fool, Cassiopeia."

She swept around, her long hem flaring slightly, and she crossed the floor. She sat down in front of the fire, gesturing for Lucius to talk the opposing chair. "Or would you prefer to stand?"

He sat down.

"I meant what I said last night. I was a fool, and you have my loyalty."

"Yes, we have your loyalty, for now. But let us not pretend that that counts for a great deal. To how many people, with opposing schemes, have you sworn unending loyalty?"

He did not answer.

"Yes. That's the crux of the matter, is it not?"

"But you will protect Narcissa and Draco, will you not? Should the time come, should I ever prove unable, you will protect them? From myself, if needs be?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Lucius, why do you suppose you are a free man now? I never saved you for your own sake. I did it for theirs. I did it because Narcissa loved you."

...

Dumbledore made a prism with his hands and leant back his chair, "I agree, last night is most disturbing."

"It is worse than you fear, Dumbledore. The old crowd was not merely playing. Their Marks are darkening once more. We must prepare for his return."

"So Wormtail has most assuredly returned to his former master?"

"Most assuredly, but the politics of that set are changing."

"How so?"

"Because Lucius was not even invited, not even told." Dumbledore nodded, as Cassiopeia watched him closely. "What do you propose we do, old man?"

He sighed, "Guard Harry, closer than ever before."

"He will be safe at Hogwarts, and he is safe with us."

"I have an old friend, who I shall persuade to join the staff for this coming year. We owe each other many favours, and he would protect Harry with his own life."

"And this friend is?"

"Alastor Moody."

She smirked, "The only competent Auror – besides my own niece, of course – ever known to wizardkind. Most appropriate."

"You are too harsh, Madam Black."

"And you, sir, are too lenient. But you must have other plans."

"Harry must continue to study Occlumacy. If Tom does return, is growing stronger, his mind must be protected."

"His mind and his soul."

Dumbledore inclined his head, "Has any progress been made with the Horcruxes?"

"I have turned to Arithmacy, and I believe you will agree that if the Dark Lord made more than one, then he chose a powerful magical number."

"I will agree with that."

"And so, I believe that he would have chosen one of the most powerful magical numbers. Three, for the realms of the land, sea and sky, and our physical, mental and spiritual magic. Or five, for the five elements. Six, the sun number, for the magical strength of the sun. Or... or nine, for it is thrice the number three, and the strongest of them all."

Dumbledore's prism-making hands quivered, "Forgive an old man, but surely... surely not even Tom."

Cassiopeia looked away, towards the silent depths of the mirror into which Cygnus had retreated and from which he refused to return, "I fear that there is nothing the Dark Lord would not do."

"Indeed, he is Iago a thousand-fold."

"Don't do him the honour. He is no Iago. We all see him for what he is. He fools none of us with honeyed lies, with an act of honesty and goodness."

Dumbledore smiled the palest ghost of a smile. "I did not expect you to catch the reference."

She raised an eyebrow, "Did you think that I did not monitor my niece's account? When I saw in her Blotts account that she had begun purchasing a vast number of muggle-authored texts, I took it upon myself to monitor them."

"Oh?"

"Is that all you have to say? No high and mighty moral outrage?"

"No. And do you plan to confront the young Miss. Black with this?"

"Not as yet. I see no need to intervene at the present time."

Dumbledore sighed and bowed his head once again. The moment of light talk had passed already, brief as it had been. When he spoke again, his voice was breaking. "There is one other – or at least, one other I fear that has been made..."

Her eyebrows rose, "I am correct? It is not a scar?"

"I read your letter, and I agree. The link between the minds, nay, the souls... The sharing of Parseltongue... It is a wound. I believe it is a wound of the soul, with a physical manifestation."

"You believe..."

He bowed his head, "I believe Mr. Potter may be a Horcrux."

...

"Cousin Harry?"

The two young people sat at the edge of the lake. Harry attempted to skim rocks, whilst Maia sat and watched him, and open book resting on her lap. Both were dressed in the traditional manner, although Harry had cast aside his outer robe and stood instead in his shirt, trousers and boots. Maia's attire was impeccable.

Harry tossed a stone aside, "Yes?"

"Are you well?"

He frowned, "Do I look sick?"

She closed the book, "No, I mean, are you happy? You don't seem happy."

He pushed his way through the long grass and sat down next to her. "I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, "I remain unconvinced."

"Well, I might as well ask you how you are."

"You could try."

He shook his head, "I really am fine, I'm just sick of Voldemort messing everything up. I mean, my parents, Sirius, my scar and now Quidditch."

Predictably, Maia flinched.

"Why do you do that? Why do you flinch?"

"His name should not be spoken."

"Why not?"

"Why should it?" Her voice rose slightly, "He inflicted so much... so much damage, so much pain. Speaking his name, is, well, painful. It is better unspoken."

"Dumbledore calls him by his name."

"Well bully for Dumbledore."

Harry sighed and looked towards the lake, "I still think you should call a spade a spade. I know what he did, but I never knew it was wrong to speak his name, and calling him anything but his name, for me, well, it's like giving him a level of respect he doesn't deserve."

Maia tilted her head, "I suppose, but would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Or a festering toad as repugnant? Vol-volde-demort, You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord... It doesn't change anything he did."

"But it does change how we look at him."

"I never had you down as a philosopher, Cousin Harry."

He laughed, "I think it's the Occlumacy. It makes me clear my mind, but it makes me think and order and analyse my thoughts more."

"That's no bad thing."

He nodded, "So will you call him Voldemort?"

"I think I shall try. Although I have been calling him the Dark Lord since I was in pinafores and aprons, and old habits are hard to break."

Quite suddenly, Harry doubled over with laughter, gasping for breath.

"What on earth is the matter with you now?"

"It's just... The fearsome, evil Maia Black of Slytherin... in a... in a pinafore!"

She picked up her book and hit him with it, "Oh how very mature of you, Potter." She snapped.

He sat up and took a few deep breaths before shrugging, "It's true though. Which of you was more evil – you or Malfoy – used to have Ron, Seamus, Dean and me up half the night in first year."

"Well then, I regret to inform you that neither Draco nor I were the particular masterminds of the Dragon Incident."

"Who was?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that at the present time."

"Please?"

She smirked, "You should never underestimate the background cast, Cousin Harry. And that is all I shall say on the matter."

"Damn Slytherins."

Her smirk widened, and Harry scowled. He reached across and pulled the book she had previously been reading towards him.

The History Of The Stones.

"What's this?"

Looking a little surprised, Maia answered, "It's a history of using stones, in different forms, as a means of Divination."

"Like a crystal ball?"

"Like a crystal ball, although not just that."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "Have you ever made a prophecy, Maia?"

"No. Not like the one Professor Trelawny made at the end of term."

"How did you know about that?"

"Aunt Cassiopeia told me."

"How-"

She rolled her eyes and cut him off, "Dumbledore told her. They are allies."

"So you haven't made a prophecy."

"Do you need your ears cleaning?"

"I was just wondering..."

"Oh sweet Salazar, don't tell me you were thinking. A Gryffindor, thinking. The abyss must truly be nigh!"

"Well, it's not that ridiculous to think that if she's made a prophecy then you have. You do carry more weight as a Seer."

"Yes, because I don't walk around telling everyone they're going to die horrible, horrible deaths, do I? And no one Seer is ever the same as another, anyway." She paused, "You ought not to think too much on the future Harry, and certainly not on Trewlawny. The future is something which one can never truly know, and it is never written in stone. Well, some things are, but they are rare. Usually a Seer only sees something when it becomes definite, when the path towards it has already been set in motion, but even then, things change more often than not. A Seer who is that way inclined might make a Prophecy, but consider this: if you and no one else had ever heard Trewlawny's Prophecy, would it carry more or less weight than it does now? It's all subjective. You make the future, we make our own future's. Not Trewlawny. Not one Seer gazing into a ball. The Sight if often useless, when one thinks about it. I'm a useless Seer, am I not? I get feelings which are more often than not either completely lacking when needed most – like at the World Cup – woefully misinterpreted – like the dream about rats – or they end me up in the Hospital Wing for the vast majority of the academic year."

Harry looked away, "Sorry."

"It's quite alright."

Harry chewed his bottom lip, "I don't think your Sight is useless. You can't blame yourself for what happened yesterday. Even if you had Seen something, who would have listened?"

Maia let out a bitter laugh, "I imagine that if a Black announces an impending Death Eater attack, it's generally taken rather seriously."

Harry shook his head and said nothing for a moment. "Why don't you tell me my fortune?"

"I'm not a muggle peddlar spinning tales, Potter."

"Please."

"No. You have a link to the Dark Lord's mind. I'm not influencing that kettle of fish."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Weren't you meant to be calling him Voldemort from now on?"

Harry flinched as she lifted the book threateningly again, before turning on her heel and flouncing back towards the house.

...

"You believe him to be a Horcrux?"

The old man sighed, "I have no proof... But if he dabbled in this magic... Horcruxes explain why the spirit of Tom Riddle remains, but his body does not. Or did not, as you say he has taken on a new physical manifestation. A part of his soul in young Harry would explain the connection they seem to share, a connection which seems to be both physical and mental already. Tom cannot touch Harry. Their minds are linked. Yet they share a skill often carried in families. A link of the soul seems, sadly, more than plausible."

"Is there any chance they could merge? The two souls, if he is indeed a vessel? Why would the Dark Lord do such a thing?"

"Perhaps it was unintentional? Nevertheless, I believe his mother's protection, which shields him physically, also shields his soul. That is why the wards must not be broken."

"That is a logical conclusion, though we do speak only hypothetically. But do you intend to tell him all of this? At least that this is what you fear to be the case?"

Dumbledore turned his head away, "You know the only way to destroy a Horcrux is to destroy the vessel which anchors it to this earth, Madam Black."

"But still! The boy must know. The boy ought to know."

"Tell me, Madam Black, could you tell your niece such a thing? Could you tell Miss. Black that she has to die, that we would have to destroy her very body through Fiendfyre, or similar or worse, in order to ever be rid of Voldemort."

Cassiopeia paled slightly. "I have never considered the implications of removing a Horcrux from a human vessel. It would have to be utterly destroyed, would it not?"

Dumbledore picked up the ruined diary and tossed it on the desk, "I do believe it would. Now tell me, could you tell Maia such a thing?"

She shook her head, "No, I could not."

...

Caroline and Sirius sat in the sun room, watching as Maia stormed back towards the house and Harry trailed after her, evidently calling out for her to slow down.

"They do look rather alike, from a distance. With their dark hair and pale colouring."

Sirius smiled, "Yes, they do. Don't they?"

"And it is good, to see them getting along, and acting as young people. Though I doubt Harry will ever be as much a brother to her as Draco. Though they are all still young, and things may change..."

Sirius turned to her, "What do you mean?"

She shrugged, delicately, "I mean nothing in particular." She smiled and changed the subject, "I wonder what they quarrelled over? It can't be anything serious – neither has their wand drawn."

Sirius, frowning slightly, leant back in his chair. "What do teenagers argue about? I think I'm getting old, now that I can't remember these things anymore."

"I assure you, you are quite the spring chicken compared to me."

Sirius laughed easily, "I suppose. And I'll admit, I am happy to see them getting along, and bickering like friends should. It's healthy. That trip to Gringotts did them the world of good."

"I think it did you all good. I'll admit, I was worried for you, that day when you returned. But since then... since then you have seemed increasingly... settled."

He nodded, "I found a letter from James, when we went to the Potter family vault."

"Oh?"

"It helped me... It helped me to settle."

"That's good then. Will you show it to Harry?"

Sirius caught himself before answering, "Yes. But not yet. I will, of course, and soon, I hope. But not yet. I don't think I'm ready, and it's the sort of conversation that has to be done right."

"I agree, but don't wait too long for the right moment. Time catches up with you."

"Or escaped convicts?"

Caroline laughed lightly, "Yes, you did ruin my plan for that particular conversation."

After a few quiet moments, Caroline spoke again. "What were the Potter vaults like? I know that my late sister-in-law married into the family, but I have never really considered the matter, truth be told... And it must have been good, for Cousin Harry, to see his family history."

Sirius sighed, "I can't tell you about Dorea – nothing of hers was there. Very little was there, in fact. James lost it all – no, gave it all away – to fund the last war."

Caroline started, "The House of Potter is impoverished? But Harry... He never said! Is he quite alright? How could you not-"

Sirius laid a calming hand over hers, "Harry does not care. You've seen how he is. He does not care about this life – this lifestyle – as you three do. And there is still some gold left. Don't worry, Caroline. He is fine."

She shook her head, "But it is just so terrible to lose that sort of thing, a whole history, a whole legacy. To see it fall and crumble to dust before one's very eyes..."

Her voice trailed away as she looked out over the gardens, watching as the two young people disappeared out of sight into one of the side entrances of the house. Sirius' frown deepened, but he made no comment, and turned himself away.

It was not his place to ask, yet.

...

Cassiopeia was silent for a long moment, before looking up again and meeting Dumbledore's regret-filled gaze, "Surely... Surely there must be another way?"

...