Pre A/n: As of this chapter, the perspective switch is abolished. I write as whatever character is necessary for the chapter from now on.

Look for the Good Instead

Chapter 20

Catching Up and the Cup

"I know of no more disagreeable sensation than to be left feeling generally angry without anybody in particular to be angry at."

Frank Moore Colby

.Sirius Black.

I was justified, but my Other could not see that. Why? Why didn't he realize that I was right to do it? They were my family, my brothers and nephews in something more important than blood! Closer than Regulus ever had been before or dared to be now, James had been my best friend in school and I just wanted to protect him! What else could I do? Albus was the most powerful wizard since the 18th century, and yes, he did sometimes move people like chess pieces, but it was for the greater good, wasn't it?

For years, I had sacrificed my own safety for the greater good. Straight into school, I saw it was wrong the way that the Slytherins treated muggleborns. Instead of taking my place among them, I stood against the prejudiced snakes (though, admittedly, in my fervor I was too into it, and may have turned more onto the path I walked away from instead). Instead of living in comfort and safety in my own home, I went against what blood dictated I should do and did what I thought was right instead of what was easy, just as the Hogwarts Headmaster always taught. As a Gryffindor, I fought injustice while I was faced with it at home. After school, I joined the Order full time to fight Voldemort and Evil in general. After the war, I joined the aurors and put my life on the line everyday while one of my friends played Quidditch and the other taught classes at the Auror Academy.

Excuse me for caring more for the lives of those I love than that of a stranger. A stranger who, as it just so happened, had done something to my lycanthropic friend who was just as susceptible to the curse of knowledge (more so seeing as it was Remus) as any other man. If a full grown man cannot handle a problem and such temptation, they don't hand it off to a child! But he did, and then trusted that the child who had an unwavering faith in his godfather to allow a man who spent his life searching for various sources of knowledge to handle the problem and face the temptation that came up to his desire. It was madness, illogical!

But what was more; he encouraged breaking the law in various ways that I could not, would not, abide by, and that something so vital to the doubtless up-and-coming war be kept from the man who would lead our own side.

Snuffles had the gall to tell me that protecting my family was not right. He told me that I had no right to disclose important information to the best chance at postponing a war. It was disgusting, horrendous, and hypocritical. Sure, he can tell his godson (who took over the body of mine with said boy's soul and mind being Merlin only knew where!) to tell several people who "weren't of consequence" about what was to happen, that neither of them were the genuine article, but when it came to crunch time, what was he doing? Shoving responsibility onto someone else.

Of course, I'd known that telling Albus would miff the petulant guard dog, I'd known it from the get-go. It was obvious with anyone who had met the "man" for more than five minutes that he wanted things to go his way and then damned anyone else who knew how to play the game he was on. So he went from being the genial guest, who just so happened to be trying to plan out the lives of every wizard in Great Britain for the next few years to suddenly ranting and raving at me for doing what was right. A man who claimed to want freedom only, that he couldn't understand why manipulations and politicking were so important to the Magical World, was doing all that.

Never mind that Albus and I thought up an alibi for him when he was found on the Grounds by dementors. We came up with a plausible story and identity (even if no sane person would actually name their child Uric) and he threw it back in my face because I dared to spurn his advice. While he was concerned with little more than making sure his godson survived a war that hadn't even started and wouldn't for a year, I was worried for my best friend in a coma, my other friend who was depressed due to his wife vanishing off the face of the earth, and the only real Potter son still about who had been possessed for a year. I was a fool for looking at the little things, I guess. After all, without knowing every tiny detail of everything that happened in his world, I couldn't possibly know what was good for mine.

There it was, the key to the argument. His and Mine.He had his godson's soul and mind in my godson's body, a little diary that had items stored in its pages, and a random assortment of trivia knowledge. I had a family, friends, and a closer-than-blood nephew to take care of. While I had a life, he had a story. Where I had a family, he had a joke. That was the difference between him and I. I grew up. He never did.

Summer vacation brought these arguments to light. Why did I tell? It was the right thing to do. Why did I make him out as a criminal? As if a trial would give him a clean slate! And anything he did reveal would then be Albus', the Ministry's, and Voldemort's hands, not just that of one man with a sense of right and wrong, but the government, the lords and ladies of magical Britain, and likely anyone who had ever picked up a newspaper in their entire life. Then where was his plan? In the trash of course.

With a sigh, I slumped against a chair in my parlor, watching as Tyler (only just a year old now) played with some Alpha-blocks in his playpen. Cynthia was in the kitchen making a bottle for him and tea for us. I had been visiting Remus at the Hogwarts infirmary all night, as it had been the full moon. He hadn't transformed again. Was it normal for a werewolf to stay human if they were in a coma? Who knew?

Cynthia entered the parlor with a tea tray floating ahead. The bottle was given to our son (such a cute boy – he had his mother's hair, my eyes, and the button nose of every small child… except maybe Snape, who had to have been born with a hook on his face, surely) and I grabbed a cup of mint tea. I needed to relax after getting the third degree from that dog this morning, and there was no better way to do so than to sit in a comfy chair in a pleasant room with my family around me and a cup of tea. It was the ideal way to relax and try to forget about what my Other decided to do in his effort to blow everyone up.

"I did the right thing in telling Albus, didn't I?" I asked my wife suddenly. My hand hovered halfway between my mouth and lap, tilted back but not really thinking of drinking it. I was too preoccupied at this point, and I had been before. Cynthia would have to agree with me, wouldn't she? Not out of some sort of spousal obligation, but because I had been right. It's all well and good to have a little vigilante group handling things on the side, but when it came to Voldemort, the vigilantes were the Order. We didn't need two groups of anti-Voldemort activists with the Ministry because that was what took away the support in the government that was necessary in these things. Having more than two guerrilla groups fighting under the Ministry (that was all he Death Eaters and Order could be considered really) was demoralizing. Without support, the Ministry was ineffective.

"Of course, Siri," Cynthia reached a hand from her own chair to squeeze my lax-hand in reassurance. "Albus will know what to do now that he knows. And, if we're lucky, the aurors will find that retched cousin of yours and overestimate her because you told them she has an accomplice. It's much better this way, Dear. Everything will work out, I'm sure." Small fingers ran over my palm before lifting up the hand and planting a kiss dead center. "You'll see."

Just as my limb was released, the fireplace flared green. As the emerald flames licked at the bricks, the head of Poppy Pomfrey sprouted into being a foot up, magnified to twice normal size. Her face was awash in a ruddy glow, graying hair in disarray as she smiled brilliantly out of the grate. There was only thing, or, rather, person, I knew of that would cause her to contact the Black family in the summer, especially with such a pleased look. Before I could stop myself, I was standing with a grin planted firmly on my face.

"He's woken up! I think you had better come along, Mr. Black, he wants to see everyone," Poppy said happily before retreating.

I was in the fire with a cloak about my shoulders before Cynthia had even stood. Tea forgotten with a shattered cup on the floor and a new stain, she never even got to do her regular routine of looking at my tea leaves. It didn't matter though, because Remus was awake and obviously wasn't mad from having repressed the werewolf. Things were looking up!

.Harry Potter.

I was mad, and with good reason I should think. Except I wasn't quite sure who to be mad at to begin with. Sure, Sirius told Dumbledore what had happened to me, but wasn't it my decision to tell? Then again, I was concerned as to my own reasoning for not telling the Headmaster; I had none. No reason that made any sense popped into my head when I tried to defend not telling. The best I could come up with was that he had never told me about his shady past with Grindelwald and his sister... but it didn't make any sense, really. For one thing, he never told anyone, just as I never told anyone about the whole truth of my treatment at the Dursleys (I wasn't physically abused beyond small things like a cuff around the head, mind, nor did I ever deny the obvious neglect, but I didn't mention Harry Hunting to anyone either). Everyone had secrets, so what reasoning I had was hypocritical.

As I had been told many times, Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in a long time, a master manipulator and great for future planning. He had even planned out the war with Voldemort beyond his own death! Easily beating my own lack of strategic thinking, I had no reason not to tell him and every reason to do just that.

So why was I mad? Who knows. I didn't have a clue who to be mad at or precisely why because what had happened just made sense, yet I couldn't help it. Without anyone or anything to be mad at, my mind was mostly just muddled.

Thankfully, Remus woke up though. Just when I was starting to go into a rather unfortunate spiral, Madame Pomfrey had popped into the fireplace, interrupting a conversation between Charlus and Neville that had been going on at the time (making plans to meet up at the Quidditch Cup pre-festivities the next day, I think) to inform us of Remus' health. To say that the house shook with Charlus happy cries would be an understatement. According to Dad, the Manor often resonated with the emotions of any Potter male if they were feeling strong enough.

The Hogwarts Infirmary was as blindingly white as it had been two months prior, with the exception that Tonks' previously bland brown was now an exotic mix of pink and green spikes with a red fringe as she lay in her own Hospital bed. (Refusing to leave her husband's side through her second childbirth three weeks prior meant she was taking refuge in the Infirmary with toddling Emmalie and newborn Teddy alongside her.) I had been shocked to see a completely coherent Remus just sitting on his wife's bed as if she were the invalid and not him. That he looked completely healthy rather than gaunt and troubled like he had for moths before, even discounting that the wolf ought to be wild with a moon-rage being discounted from that state.

"Uncle Moony!" Charlus had shouted happily... I don't think I'd ever seen him that happy about anything in the almost-three years that I'd known him, but I understood quite well what he was going through. His godfather, whom he was obviously very close to, had been unreachable and near-dead for months, and he'd caused it. The guilt would, naturally, be overwhelming. Despite his stupidity about the diadem thing, I was happy for him. Yeah, he made a mistake, but at least it wasn't fatal – he didn't have to cause any deaths, not like I always did. As he clutched happily to his godfather, something seemed to stab at me... maybe it was jealousy. Was I jealous that he liked Remus, but not me? Probably.

"Glad to have you back, Wolf-man," my father murmured in a strangled voice as he too approached the bed that the ever-wise werewolf was currently seated upon. There was this sort of look about him that I couldn't quite describe until the tears came. He was happy enough to cry... the last time that happened for me was when it truly sunk in that Voldemort was gone. A smile lit my face. This wasn't the wariness of the school year or distrust and spiteful banter I recalled from the recent years. They were close-knit, just like any family ought to be, a dream to me.

The problem was that I was not part of that, and without their Harry, it would unravel, wouldn't it? Their Sirius was already stalking across the floor with a wide grin on is face which had been halfway absent since he had been taking care of Dad in Mum's and my stead. With a pinched smile, I simply pet my Sirius' pelt before he transformed back into himself (if Dumbledore hadn't insisted that Madame Pomfrey look him over for any dementor effects, I would have been surprised he dared, but he did and I wasn't). Somehow, Snuffles still fit, as the family dog-man, while I didn't, even after being a member of the family for so long. It hurt, but I got over it.

"I'm happy you're okay, Prof –" I cut myself off, realizing I was falling into the old habit again, and quickly amended myself, "Remus." This was all I could say, really. What could I say? Everyone was just sort of reveling in the knowledge that Remus was alive, alright, and not about to go berserker on them with wolf-rage.

After some ten minutes of idle chatter and a lot of hugs going around, Dumbledore brought up the important things. Not the simple "I'm glad you're okay" or anything like that, but what really mattered.

"Remus, it is truly a wonder to see you up and about once more," the elderly man proclaimed happily. "However, I'm sure that the rest of the room, like myself, are curious as to what, exactly, you can tell us about what has happened. I'm afraid what I do know is rather incomplete, you see." His eyes flicked towards Sirius and my Sirius, who were sitting on the same bed, in much the same position (luckily the years in Azkaban and those he had on this world's Sirius had made them easily distinguishable). Obviously, Remus noticed that the old dog had turned into a man, surmising the obvious "somebody spilled the beans to the old bumblebee".

He nodded serenely and, newborn son cradled in his arms, proceeded to say what happened in surprisingly plain terms. "The diadem horcrux used knowledge to pique the curiosity of others and force them to touch it. Being the last of them made to date, it was least stable, magically, so it could lash out onto a person's soul without any real connection. When offered, I decided to do my part in this effort and picked it up and dropped it in the basin of venom. Unfortunately, I was tempted by it, so I touched it directly.

"In the three seconds that I had it in my physical grasp, the horcrux started downloading the deductions and logic responses it managed to muster. After spending forty years with nothing to with itself but think, it had a lot of things it could share. Three seconds to download forty years of constant thought... well, it's no wonder that I was in a coma, was it?" A nervous hand ran through his hair before returning to be grasped by young Teddy (he looked just like my Teddy...), a worn out smile crossing his face. Same old Remus then. "I've basically been sorting through everything, rejecting most of it. There was a lot of dark thoughts, but a few came in handy."

A pensive silence from Dumbledore before he nodded solemnly. I didn't really get it, but it kind of made sense. Where the diary, something used to remember, had showed memories of the past and my scar gave me visions of the present, the diadem was an object of thought, wasn't it? So it would impart knowledge to steal a soul... or something along those lines. It was really confusing.

"And what did you learn?" The voice was filled with trepidation, and I was surprised it came from my godfather. Why would he be so anxious about that? This was Sirius after all, and he wasn't exactly the sort to go run off to the library and study.

"Like I said, a lot of good and bad," Remus shook his head furiously for a moment, as if to clear it, before continuing. "Mostly random things. The best way to skin a man alive and have him stay conscious through it, for one. Another is verification on that animagus-theory Snuffles brought up..." It was pretty clear that he had something to say that he wasn't sure how... I mean, yeah, I'm not exactly the smartest guy at Hogwarts, but I'm not that dense. "Thing is, it hit Moony too. It's... different now."

The most energetic silence I could ever recall followed for all of five seconds while the information was processed. Then there was an explosion of happy cries and wary explanations. As far as I could figure from the relatively disjointed explanation he gave (rather a hard thing to explain without forethought, I have found), the Wolf (or Moony) was hit with the information as well, and while Remus' conscious mind was sorting out the main download, the wolf mind was searching through information for him to file to help them both. Since I'd always assumed the Wolf cared only for blood at all times, not just around the full moon, it confused the Hell out of me.

Eventually it was properly explained by someone who understood that, no, the wolf didn't literally search through, but rather while dealing with information on its own, found something that had to do with werewolves in general and felt the Man in it ought to know. That knowledge was a form of theoretical coexistence between Man and Wolf that many wild werewolves were more likely to achieve, and horridly simple. All Remus had to do was increase his intake of red meats, the rarer the better, and learn work to achieve more than just his rabbit-form on the animagus front, eventually reaching the werewolf form. Assuming he could, I mean. Although that made me really think about becoming an animagus. With the right books and Sirius' help, I could probably have the transformation done by the Third Task of the Tournament this year.

Everyone left that night with a feeling of general happiness, ready for the Quidditch World Cup the next day.

.Charlus Potter.

I grinned widely, nearly splitting my face with the effort. An Irish win had come from nowhere when Krum's broom was plowed from behind by a bludger aimed at a chaser nearby. Having finally won a bet against Harry (he claimed Krum would get the snitch, but Ireland would win), I was just as happy as anyone else at the shamrock-covered Ireland camp, and was dancing with Neville and Seamus Finnagan (a Gryffindor who Neville would partner up with in some classes) around a swaying green fire. With a warm bottle of butterbeer to sip at a piece, we were all just having a good time. Remus, having joined in on the plans last minute, was enjoying a firewhiskey with Dad and Sirius.

Then there was a rather loud boom from the north end of the camp. Normally that wouldn't be so noticeable, what with the fireworks, flutes, and drunken river dance (impromptu of course) that was prevalent in the Irish camp. It was the screams and spell fire that really got to everyone. Before I could even look at what was going on, Harry had grabbed my arm, I grabbed Neville's, and we were being dragged away from the screams with Snuffles pushing from behind. Several steps in, I managed to turn around enough and paled. A small army of men in black robes and white masks were marching forward, levitating the muggle camp-keeper's family. Easily as drunk as the Irishmen, it was likely to be an even fight... but I could already see the logic in Harry's move. We had to get away! We were only fourteen, and even though Harry had the basic knowledge of a fresh auror, he couldn't duel an adult effectively either.

Rushing through the camp, we were shouting for everyone we passed to get out of the way, alerting them to the Death Eaters' approach. Honestly, I was sort of running on adrenaline and fear by that point, desperate to get away. Who wouldn't be? Any sane person would feel the same way, wouldn't they?

Regardless, we managed to get into the forest just behind the younger Weasleys and Hermione (who was bunking with Ginny since there weren't any girls in the party she'd actually come with) while the elders in the group were rushing to the chaos. The woods were filled with others hiding from the Death Eaters, some who really ought to be out helping and others who needed protecting. Snuffles had managed to round Harry, Neville, and I with Hermione and the Weasleys, and paced at our sides as we hurried further in, finally stopping in a vacant glade that he seemed to deem safe. I collapsed with a sigh.

Shouldn't we have remembered this? Harry had mentioned at least once what was likely to happen after the Cup finished, and we hadn't really thought of it. All this had brought in his universe was a small panic and the first public release of Barty Crouch, Jr. Problem was, Harry refused to let anyone, not even Dumbledore, know about the Moody-Crouch swap, claiming that "if Dumbledore stopped him, then I can't enter the Tournament and then who knows what Voldemort will do to get a new body?" I think he just wanted to fight dragons for fun and glory.

"This is it..." Harry murmured in my ear. I turned to glare at him; bringing the Weasleys and my friends into his misadventures! I scowled, but didn't mention anything as my eyes locked onto the form of a scurrying house elf crossing the path. Her name, if I recalled properly, was Winky, the Crouch family elf.

"Oh, bollocks!" Neville swore suddenly, earning a combined swat on the arm from Hermione and Ginny, not to mention a chuckle from Fred and George. "Any of you lot take my wand? I can't find it! I know I brought it to the cup with me... I had it for the game, I know I did!" He was getting a bit panicked, digging on his pockets while the rest of us looked on confused.

"Sorry mate," Fred (or was it George? I could never tell) said. "If we'd taken it –"

"We would give it back when all this," the other twin waved his hands dramatically, "started up."

With a hefty sigh, Neville slumped. "I figured as much. I hope it turns up after everything is over. That's the only wand in all of Ollivander's that works for me. Mum'll flip if she finds out." Plunking himself down on the ground, Neville looked defeated.

Unfortunately, that was when the real fun of Harry's evening started, just as everyone slumped to the ground for a lay-about, a loud, clear voice from near a rather imposing oak incanted something that Harry had told me to keep an ear out for. "MORSMORDRE!" the voice, undoubtedly that of Barty Crouch, shouted into the stillness of our clearing. A jet of death green light sot diagonally into the air above us, halting its trajectory at thirty feet and slowly rising over the treetops while green smoke formed into the Dark Mark.

Shuddering, I huddled in my place. This was not going to be a fun year, I was sure.

Author's Note: I was actually really busy this week, but I'm proud to say I got this done... and to note that the story is, officially, half way to completion! Yes, that's right, 50 of the story is NOW COMPLETE! That makes me very happy, and also very nervous. Over 90 thousand words total? Do you realize how insane that is? Well, it is for me. The most I've written on a single story, before now, can't've been more than 50, if that, and here I am with 21 chapter and over 90 thousand words... I dunno. I feel... accomplished. As to why I was busy, well, there was a Peace March on Saturday in the city near where I live, and I was right up front. Stayed there all day and didn't get home until, like, six. Also, I had a Chemistry project to write up, and a couple of big tests... yeah. Busy.

Ahem... onto the important stuff I guess? I decided that something good had to come from Remus' episode with the diadem... and don't count on things being as similar to canon as they have been. This story is about to receive a wake-up call of sorts.

Regarding Sirius' rant... he had to get that out. I mean, this Sirius is more uptight because he grew up (he's right on that count) and I felt he had to get it out. So did he, for that matter. Please note that everything he had up was a completely rational argument, looking at it from his perspective.