Black Bond

by Rajatarangini

An eight year-old Harry Potter comes across Acquila Black, a girl at his school, only to realise that he shares a strange connection with her. Sirius Black escapes Azkaban and reunites with his daughter and godson, together leading the fight against the Darkest wizard of all times Part I of Black Bond (Chapters 1-20 under revision) (Thanks to Nerdman3000 for the cover image)

35. Chapter 35 - The Game Begins

Author's Note:We took a little longer than a fortnight, but the chapter is finally here. It was slightly difficult to write – I think you'll know which scenes were the tough ones.

We'd really appreciate knowing how you found it, because it covers quite an important part of the third school year. So, hope you enjoy the update!

oOo

Disclaimer:Harry Potter and its characters belong to J K Rowling. We own nothing. Recognisable parts of this chapter have been taken from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Pottermore

Warning:This chapter contains scenes tilting towards the violent side.

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Chapter 35: The Game Begins

It was Thursday afternoon when the third year students had their first Defence against the Dark Arts class with Remus. The Gryffindors were excited. Most of them had heard older students, who had already had classes with Remus, state that he was the best DADA teacher to have ever taught them. Even Fred and George, who found all subjects boring, said they were looking forward to Remus' next class. Knowing that Harry and Acquila stayed with Remus and knew him well, many Gryffindors had come up to them to ask how Remus was as a teacher.

Even Daphne Greengrass had asked Harry about Remus during their Potions lecture in the morning.

Speaking of Potions, they had spent a miserable hour in Snape's dungeon. For some reason, Snape had been incensed with both of them. He had passed rather insulting comments about Sirius, which had Acquila almost failing to control her anger. And when she had finally reached the end of her tether and snapped at him, Snape had forced her to chop dead flobberworms for Pansy Parkinson, who had got her hand bitten by a Fanged Germanium.

Snape had told them to brew a Shrinking Potion. But somehow – Harry had absolutely no clue how – his potion and Acquila's potion had turned out similar! They hadn't even communicated through the mental link of the Soul Bond. But yet, their potions were eerily similar – an exactly identical shade of pale green!

Snape, furiously assuming that they – like their fathers – had found a way to hoodwink the professor and work together instead of brewing individually, had taken off ten points apiece!

Neville's potion, which was initially orange, had turned a perfect green when Snape come around to check on it. Suspecting, possibly correctly, that Hermione had helped Neville, Snape had deducted five more points from Gryffindor!

Harry just couldn't fathom why Snape had turned even nastier this year. Ron, though, had a theory of his own. "I'm telling you, he just needs to get married! Or he's going to grow more and more bitter!" the redhead had exclaimed. Snape, unfortunately, had been within earshot, and had deducted a further ten points, resulting in a total decrease of thirty-five points from Gryffindor.

The strange part of the class, though, had been Draco Malfoy. He was back, with his arm fully bandaged. He had received a hero's welcome from his Slytherin mates, making Harry idly wonder if they thought Malfoy had victoriously returned from some great battle.

Malfoy, predictably, had basked in the glory and used his injury to his advantage, making Crabbe and Goyle do all the dirty work like cutting and smashing ingredients. What was even annoying was that Snape had awarded him ten points for doing practically nothing! All Malfoy had done during the class was order Crabbe and Goyle, and send sickeningly happy smiles at Acquila, which she didn't notice but Harry certainly did. And he wondered whether the reason for Malfoy's happiness was because he knew Acquila had been to visit him in the Hospital Wing.
How he knew that, Harry had no idea. Acquila hadn't even admitted to Harry that she had visited Draco. Nor had she admitted, he thought irritably, the fact that something had happened that night – something which had made Harry wake up at midnight with the sensation of thousands of butterflies fluttering in his tummy!

He hadn't asked her about it, though. He was patiently waiting – and hoping – that she would tell him on her own. But she seemed to have no plans of doing so, going by the way she behaved as if nothing had happened. Curiosity clawed at him at all times of the day. But he had still decided to wait until the weekend to see whether she told him why her tummy had been flopping so intensely that night.

His train of thought was interrupted as Remus entered the classroom. Everyone went silent. They removed their books, parchments and quills. Remus smiled and placed his briefcase on the teacher's desk.

"Good afternoon!" he said to the class at large, his gaze resting a moment longer on Harry and Acquila, who grinned encouragingly at him. "Please put your books back into your bags. You won't require them. We will have a practical lesson today. You will only need your wands."

Everyone placed their books away, eagerly watching Remus. They had never had a practical lesson before, unless they counted the one with the Pixies the previous year.

"Right then," said Remus. "If you'd all follow me..."

They got up and followed Remus out of the classroom, rather confused.

"Where is he taking us?" asked a puzzled Ron.

"No idea," said Acquila.

"He hasn't told us what he's teaching us today," put in Harry. "He was very secretive about it… something about treating us the same as his other students."

"Oh!" Ron sounded disappointed. "I bet Sirius would've told you..."

Harry shrugged, his thoughts moving towards Sirius. After the scare he'd given them by visiting Azkaban, Acquila kept worrying about him all day. Harry, too, was rather worried about how Sirius was handling it all. But his godfather assured them that he was fine.

Harry looked ahead, where Peeves was stuffing a chewing gum in a key hole. At first, the poltergeist didn't seem to have noticed Remus. But when he saw them approaching, Peeves broke into a song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin!" He sang in a mocking voice.

"Breaking rules since he was thirteen! Loony, loopy Lupin!"

Everyone looked at Remus—uh, Professor Lupin, Harry reminded himself. Remus had told them that he would treat them just like he treated other students. And they knew they were supposed to call him 'Professor' during school hours – and Harry hoped they wouldn't slip up and call him 'Remus' in classes.

"Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin!" Peeves sang again, and Harry watched Remus eagerly, knowing the Marauder would certainly have something up his sleeve to deal with the poltergeist.

Remus watched Peeves, a sly smile playing at his lips. "If I were you, I'd not stuff gum in that key hole, Peeves," he said casually. "How will Mr Filch get to his brooms?"

Peeves ignored Remus, singing loudly and continuing to stick more gum into the key hole.

Remus' eyes were bright as he took out his wand.

"Watch carefully," he said to the class, "This little spell is very useful."
He pointed his wand at Peeves. "Waddiwasi!"

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot right out of the key hole and into Peeves left nostril! The poltergeist whirled upright and flew away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" Dean exclaimed, as the class guffawed heartily.

"That was brilliant, Rem—Professor Lupin!" exclaimed Acquila.

Remus grinned at her. "Thank you, Dean, Acquila!" he said, putting away his wand. "Shall we proceed?"

He led the class to the Staff Room. It was a long panelled room with a lot of mismatched chairs – all unoccupied except for the one in which Snape was seated.

As the class filed in, Snape's sneer seemed even more prominent. "Leave the door open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got up and walked towards the door, shooting an angry look at Harry and Acquila. "Lupin, I expect you won't be lenient with Potter and Black, just as you were with your friends," he drawled.

"You don't need to worry about that at all, Severus," replied Remus coolly. "I treat all my students equally. You will have no reason to complain."

At that, Snape simply turned and left the room.

"So," said Remus, beckoning them towards the end of the room, "Let's get started."

There was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. But as Remus stood next to it, the cupboard gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

Many students stepped back in fright, except for Harry, Acquila and Hermione, who were eager to see what lay within.

"Nothing to worry about," Remus assured the others. "There is just a Boggart in the wardrobe."

That did not seem to lift the tension, though. Everyone continued eyeing the cupboard apprehensively.

But Harry and Acquila knew what Boggarts were. They had heard Remus talking about them over the vacations, when they were cleaning Grimmauld Place.

"What is a Boggart?" Remus asked them. "Can anybody tell me?"

Hermione's hand, of course, shot right up even before Remus had finished his question.

"It's a shape shifter," Hermione said. "It will take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us the most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Remus, and Hermione glowed with pride.

Remus explained to them about how Boggarts liked dark places, and that he had asked Dumbledore to allow the Boggart to remain in this cupboard so that he could show their class how to deal with them practically. He mentioned the kind of places the creatures thrived in, and about how to deal with them.

"A simple charm is used to repel a Boggart: 'Riddikulus' is the incantation," said Remus. "Yet, it requires force of mind. You have to picture the thing you fear most into the thing you find amusing. The thing that destroys a Boggart is laughter."

He made the class repeat the charm a couple of times, and then asked Neville to come forward. Remus told Neville to think of what scared him the most, imagine it in a comical form, and then utter the charm. He asked everyone to do the same as the Boggart would turn to each of them one after another.

Remus opened the wobbling wardrobe, while Neville stood facing it, wand shaking slightly.

The Boggart, in the form of Snape, walked out of the wardrobe, sneering as always.

"Riddikulus!" exclaimed Neville, and suddenly, Snape was dressed in Augusta Longbottom's clothes, accompanied with her trademark vulture's hat and a red hand bag.

The whole class burst out laughing.

Next was Parvati. Snape turned into a Mummy, which then got entangled and fell face forward. The Boggart went on transforming: a Banshee for Seamus, a severed hand for Dean, and an enormous spider for Ron.

Harry, meanwhile, waited for his turn, wondering what his greatest fear was.

Was it Voldemort, he wondered, remembering the cold voice that emerged from the back of Quirrel's head, which he'd heard emerging from his own throat in his dreams. Or was his greatest fear a Basilisk? Or the powers of the Locket Horcrux? Or the Dementors which had attacked him a couple of years ago?

On a sudden whim, he glanced at Acquila, only to see her staring back at him. And he realised what her greatest fear was: Harry dying.
He sensed her remembering the Locket strangling her and choking Harry as well, his hands flailing, dark spots dotting his vision, his lungs burning with the lack of oxygen.

He shivered at the memory, and then held forth his hand to her. She quietly walked up to him, putting her hand into his.

And he didn't notice Remus glancing at them, didn't notice Hermione watching them oddly. All he thought of was his greatest fear: losing Acquila… Acquila dying… the Locket twisting its chain around her neck, burning through her shirt, a searing pain erupting on her skin…

And he wondered, just as she was wondering, about how the Boggart would depict Acquila dying… her dead corpse, perhaps? He shuddered at the very thought of it.

But how could he turn that into something humorous to confuse the Boggart? He racked his brain furiously, knowing it was his turn next. But he couldn't think of anything beyond Acquila's body, lying lifeless, pale and cold, as she'd lain on the floor of the Chamber.

He froze, watching Parvati, who was before him, complete her turn with the Boggart, still unable to think of a way to turn Acquila's corpse into something comical. He raised his wand, heart hammering.

But Remus swiftly sent Neville in between Harry and the Boggart, telling him to finish the job. Hermione, Acquila and he, Harry realised, were the only ones who hadn't faced the Boggart.

Harry stared at the ground, embarrassed that he hadn't been up to facing the Boggart; that Remus had to make Neville step in.

But when he met Remus' eyes, he saw nothing but understanding. And he realised that Remus, too, hadn't once faced the Boggart. And he knew why: because even Remus' greatest fear was along the same lines: his loved ones dead… maybe it was Sirius dying at the hands of the unknown attacker in Diagon Alley, or Harry and Acquila dying because of the Horcrux…

"Well done, everyone," said Remus, smiling at them all, as the bell rang.

The rest of the class walked ahead, but Harry and Acquila waited behind.

"You were really great!" said Acquila.

"Thank you," replied Remus, looking at them affectionately. He didn't need to say anything more on the topic.

"We'll practice it over the weekend?" asked Harry quietly.

"Of course," replied Remus.

"Thanks," said Acquila softly, as Remus watched them walk for their next class. And it went without saying that Acquila was thanking him for having protected them in their own way, for having avoided making them face their darkest fears in front of the whole class.

oOo

"One – two – three – Go!" muttered Acquila, staring into his green eyes, a look of utter concentration on her face, as Harry tried to delve into her mind, testing her Occlumency skills.

As they knew nothing about performing Legillimency, Harry didn't know whether he was trying to peek into Acquila's mind correctly. But he tried, nevertheless – although he had no clue how. He merely followed his instinct.

He pushed into her mind, his eyes shutting involuntarily, seeing blurred, faded images in his mind's eye: of Acquila talking to Ernie Macmillan about Sirius' plan for allying their Houses, of helping Neville with his potion, of doing Arithmancy charts with Hermione, trying to stay awake during Binns' class – all ordinary, mundane memories, he realised; ones which would invoke no emotion in her.

She was improving by leaps and bounds at Occlumency, he noted half-enviously. She had managed to do just what Uncle Ted and Sirius had told them: keep unimportant memories at the surface of their minds, while the ones they wished to hide remained hidden deep under the barrage of everyday stuff and non-emotion-invoking memories.

"That was great," he said, finally pulling out of her mind – not that he'd entered it much, to be honest. "You have a go, now."

She smirked at him, the light from the torches on the wall reflecting in her eyes.

It was Saturday night, and they were sitting in one of the Castle's many secret passages – deeming it a secure, private place to practice their spells and their Animagus transformation. Tonight, though, they had started with Occlumency to strengthen their mental defences. Sirius and Uncle Ted couldn't come to Hogwarts to teach them, so they would do it themselves, testing each other's mental strengths, trying to pick holes into the other's mind through the mind link they shared because of the Bond.

"Ready?" she asked him, grinning deviously.

"Ye—" he'd barely replied, when she plunged into his mind with an almost fearsome force, not holding back at all.

He was stunned for a moment, taken aback at the sheer force with which she invaded his mind. But it was only momentary. He fought back defiantly, pushing unimportant memories to the surface, just like she had: of flying round the Quidditch pitch on his Nimbus, of thinking of Mopsy's treacle tart after dinner the previous night, of dozing off during Binn's first class of the year, of admiring the view of Hogwarts from atop Buckbeak, the Hippogriff—of taking Daphne's Monster Book of Monsters from her hand, their fingers touching as he did so—Shit! He didn't want her to see that!—He pushed another unimportant memory to the top, trying to throw the one with Daphne to the very depths of his mind. But Acquila was unrelenting, digging deeper into his mind with unerring precision.

She swiftly flitted through the intricate threads of his memories, dragging out the memory of Daphne again: admiring the way Daphne's blue eyes looked even prettier in the sunlight, trying to stand a little taller when he was around her, talking to her of their dance at Sirius' party, placing his hands on Daphne's waist to hoist her up Buckbeak, revelling in the closeness to her, smelling in the fragrant scent of her hair—

"NO!" he yelled aloud, pushing Acquila out of his mind with all the force he could muster.

"Oww!" He heard Acquila exclaim, and heard the sound of the back of her head slamming into the stony wall, his own head aching with her pain, and his eyes flew open.

"Shit! I'm sorry—" he yelped, eyes widening as he saw her sprawled on the floor. She was wincing, rubbing the back of her head.

He moved forward to give her a hand, but she ignored him, sat up on her own, and pinned him with a glare that would have made Phineas proud.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded furiously.

"I said I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"

"Not that!" she snapped impatiently. "Why were you looking into her eyes like that? And why the hell did you need to hoist her up the Hippogriff? And touch her waist like that—and brush your hands against hers—" she stopped abruptly, realising what she had blurted out.

Bliss!

This was bliss! Knowing Acquila was jealous! Seeing her so indignant about Daphne!

He didn't know what he truly felt about Daphne. He liked being around her; he liked talking to her. But seeing Acquila flaring up with envy like this was far better than anything he'd felt with Daphne.

Acquila fancied him – he was certain of it! She did fancy him! Or why would she get angry on seeing his memories with Daphne? Why would she intentionally pull out only the Daphne memories from his mind?

She fancied him! Merlin! He felt like doing loop-the-loops on his Firebolt.

"Shut up!" she muttered. "I didn't pull out your memories about Daphne to—to know more about you both, alright? It just found a weak spot in your mind, and I dug in…"

Harry merely smiled, finding the way her brain was fumbling for excuses very adorable.
"Liar!" he said, watching a faint blush suffusing in her cheeks. "You did that purposely! You're jealous—"

"I'm not!" she exclaimed. "And this is not about me, anyway! This is about Daphne and you! You're hiding stuff from me! You don't tell me about her—I get to know stuff from Hermione!"

His euphoria morphed into annoyance. And the indignation he'd kept buried for the last couple of days arose with vehemence.

"Wow!" he said, his tone unnaturally brusque. "So you can smuggle out my Invisibility Cloak without even mentioning it to me, and have me wake up at night with my stomach bursting with butterflies, but I'm obliged to tell you everything about Daphne?"

She looked chastised, her gaze flitting downwards rather guiltily. But it was only momentary. She looked up at him, eyes blazing.

"So now, it's your Invisibility Cloak, huh?" she said. "I thought you said you didn't mind me using it—like your Dad used to share it with my Dad, because they were best friends! But I get it, Harry—now that you're friends with Daphne, you don't want me using your Cloak—"

"No! Don't be stupid! It's yours, too! But that doesn't mean—" he stopped, realising what she was trying to do: deviate his attention from the matter at hand by making him feel guilty about the Cloak, bringing in their fathers for emotional leverage.

Merlin!

She could get so Slytherin-like when she wished to be, especially when she was on the back-foot. The clever, cunning Black within her arose at such times, drawing at every possible weapon in her arsenal, preying on her opponent's weaknesses, playing with their vulnerabilities – and though her behaviour was really irritating him now, he knew that he would have found her shrewdness very, very admirable if it was directed at someone else!

He liked this side of her sometimes, he realised – when she was sneaky, cunning, her eyes bright with that crafty glint, that sly smirk tugging at her lips.
But he liked the other side of her more, he thought absently – when she was all sensitive and understanding, fiercely protective of the people she loved, when she understood his fears and filled in his deficiencies with her courage, and allowed him to do the same to her…

He wondered how he could fancy Acquila and yet have a soft spot for Daphne at the same time. They were rather alike, especially when Acquila brought out her inner Black. But in other matters, they weren't alike at all!

Daphne was brought up in a typical pureblood family: she weighed her words carefully before she spoke, she more often than not had him tongue-tied with her sarcasm, she never really laughed heartily, nor smiled fully... her display of expressions were rather measured. But yet, she seemed a rather different girl when she was with him: she smiled more openly, she was even witty, though her sense of humour was slightly dark… and she was very pretty, with that blonde hair, and those bright blue eyes—

"Why don't you have a go at my mind again?" Acquila's cold voice brought him out of his thoughts.

Oh, shit! She'd sensed him thinking about Daphne!

Acquila was smiling at him. But the smile wasn't her usual warm smile; instead, it was one which promised retribution.

"Go on," she said, still smiling that dangerous smile, "Your turn to look into my mind now, Harry."

"Okay," he said warily, wondering what she had in store for him.

Realisation struck him barely a moment before he plunged into her mind. Her memories slammed into his mind: Acquila purposely shedding the Invisibility Cloak when she spotted Cedric Diggory, running her fingers through her hair to comb it… Acquila's heartbeats speeding up, her stomach flopping madly, her thinking over how handsome Cedric was, admiring his blue-grey eyes, the smattering of stubble on his jaw… the look of relief on Cedric's face when Acquila said she was out for a stroll alone and not with someone… Cedric making excuses to walk Acquila to Gryffindor Tower, admitting he watched her during mealtimes and Acquila admitting she did the same… her heart leaping with joy when Cedric offered to help her with Arithmancy… His hand intentionally brushing against hers, his eyes roaming over her legs … Cedric asking her to take him along the next time she went for a midnight stroll, Cedric's face within inches of hers, Acquila's heartbeats speeding up again as she wondered whether he would kiss her— And then, with unexpected suddenness, Harry was thrown right out of Acquila's mind.

He was disoriented for a second, her memories rushing through him again, before he glared at her, something fierce forcing its way into his mind.

Jealousy, he realised.

It was jealous… envy… worse than he had ever felt! He wanted to send a Punching Hex at Cedric's stupid face for daring to check Acquila out! He wanted to transfigure Cedric into a Flobberworm and fling him into the Forbidden Forest for daring to get that close to Acquila!

Fury, he realised again.

He was furious. The bloody nerve of that Hufflepuff! Running his gaze over Acquila's legs like that, when Harry, himself, had never noticed her legs!

Damn!

The last memory replayed in his mind's eye: of Cedric's lips within inches of Acquila's, making the envy multiply insuppressibly.

"Did he kiss you?" he demanded, the rage in his voice foreign to his own ears.

Acquila, though, said nothing, an infuriating smirk on her face.

"Why—how could you let him—stare—check you out like that?" he snapped at her.

"Why were you checking out Daphne at the party, then?" she shot back. "When you were dancing with her? And when you put your hands on her waist to help her up the Hippogriff? And when you purposely helped her with her book so that you could touch her hand?"

He stood speechless for a moment, not quite knowing what to reply. But he refused to back down this time.

"Did he kiss you?" he demanded again, moving closer to her.

"What does it matter to you?" she retorted. "You have Daphne, don't you? You think of her—I've sensed you thinking of her—her eyes, and that she's pretty, and you were bloody sneaking glances at her chest during the dance—"

Harry blushed, but he ploughed on nevertheless. "I know what you're trying to do—and it's not going to work, Acquila! Tell me!"

"No."

He took another step closer to her, his face leaning in towards hers.

"Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him?" he demanded again.

"Why does it matter to you?" she snapped.

"Of course it matters! He can't just kiss you! He just can't! I'll—I'll—"

"Turn him into a Flobberworm?" she snorted, and he realised she'd read his mind earlier. But she was smiling now, a sudden rush of unrecognisable emotion rising in her.

"I will!" he said defiantly. "He can't—you can't kiss him! You're—" he stopped again, biting down the 'you're my soul mate' that he'd been about to say, the words ceasing as he recognised the emotion running through her: She liked this, he realised! She liked this side of him! His hitherto-hidden possessiveness which was suddenly roaring aloud, the jealousy he hadn't been able to curb…

And suddenly, her own face was leaning in towards his, her eyes bright with eagerness, with anticipation… Her tongue – involuntarily, he knew – swept over her bottom lip; his own hands crept around her waist… his lips within inches of hers, similar to how they'd been back in Grimmauld Place when he'd seen her dreaming of him…

He could feel her breath on his lips now, feel both their hearts racing, feel his trousers getting rather tight, feel goose bumps erupting all over her, something hot pooling in the very pit of her stomach…

"Acquila," he whispered, his lips moving forward to claim hers, wanting to be the first bloke to kiss her, wanting her to be the first girl he kissed.

He felt more than saw her lips devour the distance between his, and he eagerly waited for them to make contact with his own lips—

BANG!

The door to the secret passage slammed open loudly, and he whipped his wand out of his back-pocket – an action ingrained in him by Sirius; and he sensed Acquila follow suit.

"Remus!" Acquila exclaimed, spotting the man at the mouth of the secret passage, the Marauders' Map in his hand.

"I'm sorry," said Remus, a wry grin on his face. "I interrupted you…"

Harry felt his cheeks heating up. Remus had seen them, then… seen them about to kiss. Merlin! This was so embarrassing! He glanced sideways at Acquila, but she seemed unperturbed. She merely put down her wand, running a hand through her hair.

"Don't worry, Prongslet," said Remus, smirking now. "I won't tell Sirius."

"There's nothing to tell, anyway, Remus," said Acquila coolly. "We'd better get back to the Tower."

"Yes, come on," said Remus. "I saw you both on the Map… and I wondered what you were doing… I should've known…" Remus' lips were twitching with amusement.

"We were practising Occlumency!" said Harry, hoping the blush in his cheeks wouldn't flare up again.

"Oh," said Remus, grinning openly now. "In my day, we called it 'snogging'!"

"We didn't snog!" protested Harry. 'Thanks to you!' he wanted to add irritably. But he said nothing, merely following Remus and Acquila silently to Gryffindor Tower.

They bid Remus good night at the portrait hole, and then stopped in the Common Room, staring at each other.

"Let's just forget that happened," said Acquila quietly.

Harry huffed. "You can't do this every time! I know you feel something for me! You know you feel something for me—"

"And you fancy Daphne Greengrass," she snorted. But Harry realised that she hadn't refuted that she had feelings for him.

He stared at her, not quite knowing what to say. He wanted to continue whatever had been going on in that passageway. He wanted to do what he'd been waiting for since the holidays began: to kiss her. But he didn't think he could do that, now… not when Daphne – and Cedric – were building some kind of invisible wall between them.

"We didn't kiss," she said quietly. And it took him a moment to realise that she was talking of Cedric and her.

His heart leapt again! Cedric hadn't kissed her, then! The relief that ran through him was heartily welcomed!

And even more welcome was what he sensed her thinking: that she'd been thinking of Harry when Cedric was within inches of her lips; that she'd been thinking of Harry's green eyes, of Harry's closeness to her in Grimmauld Place, of Harry's lips on the verge of meeting hers.

"Stop that!" she snapped, annoyed that he had seen right through what she'd tried to hide: Cedric hadn't kissed her – he'd merely kissed her hand. And Acquila had been unmistakeably relieved that Cedric hadn't snogged her.

She glared at him, their hitherto-open mind link now shutting firmly. She'd strengthened her mental wards, refusing to let him in anymore. And with one last glare at him, she stalked off to her dormitory.

But he didn't quite mind that she was angry; because he knew that even when she'd been with Cedric, whom she apparently fancied, she still couldn't keep Harry out of her mind!

oOo

"Come on," grumbled Sirius, "You've been thinking for the past ten minutes! Just make your move!"

"Impatience!" said Phineas imperiously, his eyes flitting up to Sirius for only a moment before they stared at the chessboard again. "Impatience is the worst of your many failings."

Sirius scoffed. "I thought you said my worst qualities were my misplaced sense of courage and my ability to feel sentiment."

"Of course, those qualities are despicable. But presently, your impatience is the reason for your sleepless nights and your nightmares—"

"I don't get nightmares," Sirius lied through his teeth, watching Phineas direct his Rook forward.

"Don't you?" chuckled Phineas derisively. "Why did I hear you screaming last night, then? You were pleading with someone to spare your soul – the Dementors, undoubtedly..."

Sirius chose not to respond, preferring to direct his Bishop to attack Phineas' Queen instead.

"Take that!" he said to Phineas, who frowned at the loss of his Queen.

"You should never have gone to that prison alone," said the portrait, staring at the chessboard again. "Have you even looked at your face in the mirror? You look half dead! I wonder how Acquila hasn't noticed that as yet!"

"Because I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" replied Sirius. "There are things like glamour charms, you know?"

Phineas snorted, as Sirius sighed tiredly. Phineas was right: the visit to Azkaban had affected him more than he wanted to admit. He hadn't got a single night of decent sleep, plagued by nightmares of his decade of imprisonment.

But even without the Azkaban visit, he reckoned he wouldn't have slept well, thanks to the many matters that plagued him: the fight against Umbridge's bid to gain support for the anti-Werewolf bill, chalking out a plan to convince people of the necessity to phase out Dementors from Azkaban, poring over the huge tomes in the library... And when he finally got down to catching up on some sleep, the recurring ghosts of his years in Azkaban refused to let his tired self get some much-needed rest. And he spent the rest of the nights chugging down Firewhisky.

Recently though, he had taken to playing Chess with Phineas to pass his lonely evenings. It was a lot different from when he'd played with James' chess set with the rowdy chess pieces who yelled instructions at him, liberally littered with swear words they'd learnt from both, James and him. The chess pieces of the set belonging to his family, in contrast, rarely deigned to shout out advice, and when they did, it was in archaic English, addressing him in respectful tones.

"Damn!" He swore, frowning at Phineas' move, only to counter it by his Pawn decimating Phineas' Knight. He smirked at the portrait, chuckling at the outraged expression on his face.

They said nothing for minutes, both staring at the chessboard.

"I doubt it's going to work," said Sirius quietly.

"My move?" asked Phineas, though Sirius knew his ancestor was intentionally acting ignorant. He knew exactly what Sirius was talking about.

"Not your move," he snorted. "Your plan to counter Umbridge!"

"It will work, boy," said Phineas imperiosly.

"I still don't think so," muttered Sirius. "Getting information on Umbridge's background to blackmail her… What Andy and I had planned, was much better– getting people to refuse to support Umbridge's bid for the anti-Werewolf bill—"

"Your plan would never have worked!" Phineas sneered at him, and then went on disdainfully: "Your impractical, poorly-thought ideas! Why would you go through the whole hog of enticing and convincing the Wizengamot members to support you against the bill, when you could easily stop the bill from being tabled at all?"

"Because we want to do things the right way," replied Sirius, rolling his eyes. "And we would have gained support. Andy's already convinced the Greengrasses and Flints to gather support for us… Edmund Macmillan and Richard Brown have already promised me their support… Arthur Weasley's working with—"

"And how long will all that take, you foolish Gryffindor?" asked Phineas scathingly. "When you were growing up, I thought you had the mettle to turn into a shrewd, cunning wizard, who would know how to make people toe his line. But look at you! Wasting time gaining support when you could simply gather dirt on Dolores Umbridge and make her retract her proposal for the bill—"

"You realise that your plan hinges on your assumption that Umbridge's got something nasty to hide, don't you?" asked Sirius, snorting.

"Of course she is hiding something, boy! She is not a pureblood! And from what the blood traitor—"

"Andromeda," corrected Sirius pointedly.

"—from what the blood traitor told me, Umbridge harps over her pureblood status in the Ministry! In being a descendant of the Selwyns of all people! The Selwyns! The Umbridges were never related to the Selwyns! That woman clearly has something to hide!"

"Alright, alright," muttered Sirius. "Hope to Merlin you're right, or I'm never going to listen to your bloody advice again."

Sirius braced himself for Phineas' retort. But when he looked up, he found the man in the portrait watching him with a sly smirk on his face.

"What are you smirking for?" asked Sirius.

"Check mate!" exclaimed Phineas, and a stunned Sirius stared at the chessboard.

"What—how did you—" he sputtered, slapping a palm to his face. Would he never be able to beat his wily ancestor at Chess? Losing everyday was getting on his nerves now!

"I told you," said Phineas, stroking his beard and smirking triumphantly. "I never lose, boy! Never!"

"Hope that holds true for the Umbridge thing, too," muttered Sirius, as a spurt of green flames erupted in the fireplace. Sirius vanished the chessboard with a flick of his wand, sending Phineas a warning glare to desist from making snide remarks to his guest, and then walked to the fireplace to greet a grinning Arthur Weasley who appeared in the flames.

"Hello, Sirius!" exclaimed Arthur jovially.

Sirius shook his hand. "Come on in, Arthur," he said, leading the redheaded man to the table in the room. "Have a seat… Would you like to have a cup of tea?"

"Yes," replied Arthur. "Tea would be great. I had a rather harrowing day at work… regurgitating toilets, again."

Sirius snorted, calling out to Mopsy, who brought in tea and biscuits. The two men chatted about their respective jobs, Andy's alliance-building measures, and their children.

"So," said Arthur, after he'd proudly told Sirius about Bill and Charlie doing very well in their respective fields. "What's the matter? You said you needed my help."

"I do," replied Sirius. "Do you know Dolores Umbridge?"

"Yes, I do… this is about the Werewolf bill, then? I thought people like Matthew and Edmund have promised to refuse her support," said Arthur, frowning.

"It is."

"You know I'll support you… not that I have much favour with Wizengamot members… but I'll do what I can," said Arthur.

"Thank you," said Sirius sincerely. "But I need your help for something else. I need information on Umbridge, Arthur…"

"What sort of information?"

"Something that will help us force her hand to cease her efforts to gain support to table the bill," replied Sirius.

"To blackmail her, you mean?" asked Arthur uncomfortably.

"Something like that—"

"Be clear about what you want him to do, boy!" exclaimed Phineas from the wall, startling Arthur into dropping his biscuit.

"Grandfather Phineas!" groaned Sirius. "I thought we agreed that you're going to keep your mouth shut—"

"I agreed to nothing of that sort!" roared Phineas. "And thank Salazar for that, because if things are left to you, you will only while the time away discussing Weasley's numerous brats—"

"For Merlin's sake—" began Sirius irritably, but Phineas overrode him, addressing Arthur directly.

"Weasley, what my dolt of a descendant means to say is that we want you to gather information on Dolores Umbridge's background and, more importantly, her rise in the Ministry."

"Her rise in the Ministry?" Arthur was frowning again.

"Yes," said Sirius, before Phineas could speak. "I looked through her records… She joined the Ministry at seventeen, and became Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office thirty… others take decades to rise to Head… She did it in just thirteen years, and she overrode many other deserving, longer-serving employees for the post… there's something fishy there…"

"And her ancestry! The Umbridges were a very minor pureblood family. Most of their descendants married Muggles and half-bloods, and their bloodline wasn't pure any more. But this Umbridge woman says that she is not only a pureblood but also a descendant of the Selwyns – which is utterly impossible!" said Phineas.

"She's had extremely bigoted views over the years," put in Sirius to Arthur, who seemed rather stunned. "That law she wanted to bring in against Merpeople, the one against the Giants, and now this Werewolf bill… she seems to have a grudge against other magical beings… We think there's something really amiss… some secrets she has which might help us talk her around…"

"And you are going to get us information, Weasley," ordered Phineas.

Sirius glared at him, and then turned to Arthur. "Look, Arthur, I don't have too many people I can trust… especially in the Ministry. But you're someone I know I can trust… and you've been working in the Ministry for years. I'm sure you have contacts—"

"I do," said Arthur quietly. "I do know people. I can dig around for information on Umbridge. I willhelp you."

"Thank you so much, Arthur," said Sirius, genuinely pleased. "If this works—if we can deal with Umbridge bypassing the longer alternative, I'll be able to concentrate on the other matters… there's this bill on Dementors which we want to table… then the one for resuming contact with the Giants… there's a lot, lot to be done… and if we manage to get this Umbridge matter out of the way, I'll be really grateful to you—"

"None of that, Sirius," said Arthur. "You've helped my family and me greatly in the past year… the incident with Ginny… the Flying Car incident… you hushed it all up—"

"That was nothing," muttered Sirius.

"No," persisted Arthur. "We sheltered Peter Pettigrew – even if it was unknowingly… and yet, you helped keep my name out of the Ford Anglia case, you kept Ginny's name out of the Diary matter, you even got us compensation from Lucius Malfoy for all that he did… So, yes, we are grateful to you," said Arthur firmly, "And I will help you deal with Umbridge."

"Thank you," said Sirius, meeting Phineas' gaze in the portrait, and hoping the former headmaster's plan would bear fruit.

oOo

"So," said William Flint, smiling slyly at Sirius, "You need information on Dolores Umbridge that will help you tip the scales in your favour?"

"Yes," replied Sirius.

"I always knew you were far shrewder than people think you are," said Nigella quietly, watching him with her bright blue eyes. "You are a Black, after all."

Sirius merely shrugged, not quite knowing what to reply to that, wondering whether she was thinking of Regulus, who had been a Black and just as shrewd, except for that one decision which had led to his death.

He glanced surreptitiously at the Manor around him. He had been to Flint Manor often during his childhood years, for balls and parties. But the reason for his present visit was Dolores Umbridge.

Before Bartemius Crouch Sr. had been head of the Department of Magical Law Enforecment, it had been headed by Jonathon Flint, William and Nigella's father. The Improper Use of Magic Office, where Umbridge worked earlier, fell under the DMLE. The little information that Arthur's subtle enquiries had gathered, had suggested that Umbridge rose to her high post in the IUMO due to two main reasons: stealing her co-workers' credit, and her saccharine manner towards her seniors.

Andy had suspected that Jonathon Flint must surely have known about promoting Umbridge to head of the IUMO over her more-deserving seniors. And Andy had convinced Sirius to ask William Flint to help him, knowing that he would possibly have information about his deceased father's department workers including Umbridge.

Sirius had expected Nigella to be present at the meeting. But what he hadn't expected was the amount of interest she was showing in the matter. He wondered, of course, whether her interest was genuine or whether it was just to get closer to him – Nigella's wish of marrying him had in no way dimmed after Reggie's funeral. On the contrary, her gracious manner, the way she had been watching him all evening, the way she hung on to every word he uttered – all confirmed that she still harboured dreams of wedding him.

"So, will you help me?" Sirius asked William. "I promise your name won't be mentioned anywhere—"

"I'm not worried about that, Sirius," said William. "I trust you, of course. I would be privileged to be of help to you and to the House of Black. After all, my House owes allegiance to you. We will certainly help you as much as we can, won't we, Nigella?" He turned to his sister, who smiled coyly at Sirius.

And Sirius had half a mind to groan aloud. All through the evening, William had offhandedly kept alluding to uniting the two Houses through marriage. At first he had subtly raised the matter of betrothing his son, Marcus, to Acquila; and of wedding his daughter, Joanna, to Harry. But Sirius had swiftly shot down the proposals as politely as he could.

But William was unwilling to let go of the matter of Nigella. And the fact that Sirius had interacted quite a lot with her during some of the recent parties he had attended (and to console her after Reggie's funeral) hadn't helped matters. Nigella, too, seemed to want to marry him. And Sirius didn't quite know how to let her down.

"My father," William went on, "never mentioned anything specific about Ms Umbridge. He did have his reservations about her quick rise through the ranks—I'm afraid I don't quite remember much of it. But he must surely have shared this with the people who worked under him and his fellow heads of departments. Most of them didn't survive the War… but some of them are in contact with me. I will talk to them and let you know what I find out."

"Thank you," replied Sirius, picking up a cup of tea which the house elf had just placed before him. If Jonathan Flint, too, had been suspicious about Umbridge's integrity, then there probably were some skeletons in her cupboard which he could use to arm-twist her.

"I have another suggestion," said William, "If you don't mind me sharing it with you."

"Of course not," replied Sirius. "I value your views immensely, William."

"Nigella," said William, glancing at his sister, "attends a lot of social dos. And I am sure you know how women tend to discuss other women – especially about well-known witches. Someone or the other – particularly the older witches – must surely know more about Ms Umbridge in her early years."

Nigella glared indignantly at her brother. "Some men gossip just as much as women do, William," she said. "I remember the amount of talking you all did when Sirius put forth Edward Tonks' name for governor on the Hogwarts board!"

William smiled half-heartedly, while Sirius chuckled, wondering whether this was what Reggie had liked about Nigella: the flashes of sassiness she showed, the way she spoke her mind with equal parts subtlety and frankness. Or were they qualities cultivated over the years after the War?

"Moving on," said Nigella. "William is right when he says I will be able to help you. Pureblood social events, as you surely know, are the best source to know people's personal histories. And Ms Umbridge, especially after she became Undersecretary to Minister Fudge, attends a lot of pureblood and ministry events. The right kind of questions posed to the right people can unearth a treasure of information."

Sirius hesitated for a moment. He would be extremely glad to have Nigella's help if it meant he could get Umbridge to stop her efforts for the bill. But he also knew that it would mean meeting Nigella frequently, getting her hopes up. William had no doubt suggested taking Nigella's help for the same reason. Hell, even Andy had sent Sirius to Flint Manor with hopes that he would give a thought to courting Nigella. But, damn! He didn't want to get into a relationship with anyone, and he certainly didn't want to raise Nigella's hopes only to have them dashed.

"Sirius?" Nigella's voice roused him out of his thoughts.

"Yes," he said. "I would appreciate if you helped me with the matter."

"I will, of course," said Nigella, smiling brightly. "I will."

And the unhidden hope flickering in her eyes made him wish he wouldn't regret his decision to let her help.

oOo

"How often is Professor Slughorn going to hold these parties?" Neville asked Harry and Acquila as the three of them made their way to Slughorn's office.

"As often as he can, really," replied Acquila. "From what Dad said, he loves hosting parties. It's his favourite hobby."

They walked through the Castle, casually dressed up for Slughorn's first party. Just like on the Hogwarts Express, the three of them had received handwritten invitations for the Slug Club gathering. Ron had gotten rather upset at not being invited, even more so when Hermione suggested that completing their assignments would be a more productive way of spending time than partying.

Harry thought Neville looked slightly anxious as they made their way up the staircase. He, like Harry, didn't quite enjoy parties and socialising.

But when Harry looked sideways at Acquila, she seemed unperturbed. She, too, wasn't over-fond of parties, but Harry knew she was looking forward to flattering Slughorn and gaining information from him – along with the Horcrux memory.
Harry just hoped he could be as charming as Acquila was capable of being when she wanted to get her way. After all, getting the memory hinged almost solely on his efforts at building a rapport with Slughorn.

They reached Slughorn's office, only to find it completely different from any of the teacher's offices they had been to: It was completely lit up. There were candles floating all around, decorative balloons, music playing in the background, elves running around serving everyone… It didn't even seem like they were in the Castle, anymore.

They went towards where Professor Slughorn was animatedly talking to Blaise Zabini, who was pretending to listen to him.

"Look who's here!" exclaimed Slughorn on spotting them. "Harry Potter! Accompanied by Acquila Black! Never did I think I would get to have a Black and a Potter in Slug Club again! And ah!—Mr Longbottom, looking very dapper tonight, eh? "

Neville smiled, slightly flustered, as Slughorn patted his back.

"Thank Salazar you came," Blaise Zabini whispered to Acquila. "Sluggy was driving me mad… now he'll concentrate on you and leave me alone."

Acquila smirked. "You go on… enjoy the party. I'll handle Slughorn."

Zabini merely threw her a smirk of his own. "You're looking rather good tonight, Black," he whispered, making Harry stiffen.

"Uh…thanks," muttered Acquila, slightly pink in the face, as Zabini slipped away with a smug smile.

"What was—" began Harry, his eyes now surreptitiously trailing over her. She did look rather nice, he realised, especially her black locks which she'd let down today instead of the usual long braid she put them in.

"So, Harry, Acquila," said Slughorn jovially. "I am so honoured to have the Boy Who Lived at my little party—"

"None of that, sir," said Harry at a nudge from Acquila. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world! Sirius told us you throw the best parties!"

Harry saw Acquila's eyes brighten, her lips struggling to contain a grin at his words. Harry himself had half a mind to chuckle out loud. His own words sounded rather falsely bright and fake – very unlike him.

"Oh, not the best parties, of course…" Slughorn sounded modest, but Harry knew that he was really pleased with the compliment.

"Your office looks great, Professor!" put in Acquila. "So bright and lively—I never knew the Slug Club meetings are so wonderful!"

"Thank you so much, dear," said Slughorn, smiling widely. "The elves did it all… but the idea, of course, was mine…"

"You're being too modest, sir," said Acquila, grinning brightly. "No wonder Dad said they loved you! You're fun—and you're an amazing teacher, too! Sophie Knight from sixth year – she's taken your Alchemy class..."

"Yes, yes," said Slughorn, "Ms Knight is a very promising student…"

"She told me she loves your classes…looks forward to them every week," said Acquila. "I'm planning to take up Alchemy in my sixth year, too—even Harry wants to, don't you, Harry?"

"Uh—yes, yes, sir," replied Harry, startled from his gazing at Acquila. "I'm thinking of taking up Alchemy, too."

He glanced back at her, wondering how she was managing to be so charming! She seemed livelier than ever, a grin at her lips, her eyes bright, her lilting tone and charming words meant to flatter…

"Ah!" said Slughorn, rubbing his hands together. "I can't wait to have both of you in my class! Especially you, Harry. Lily Evans was such a dab hand at Potions and Alchemy. I bet you are just like her…"

"I can only hope to be as good as she was," said Harry, hoping the expression on his face evoked Slughorn's sympathy. "Remus says Mum would have been proud of me if I took up Alchemy, particularly if you're teaching it. You were Mum's favourite professor…"

"I am honoured if I really was her favourite," said Slughorn softly. "It was such a pleasure to teach that girl – she was very bright, very innovative with her potions… I rarely find such students who really love potions… Lily was one, and Severus, of course. But Lily was something else, to be honest – not that I am supposed to have favourites as a teacher… but you just couldn't help liking Lily, you know…"

"I don't know, sir," said Harry quietly. "I don't remember anything about her… Remus and Sirius do tell me stuff, but it's not the same, is it? I wish I knew her in person… how she was in school, who her friends were, how she was during classes…"

"Oh, Harry," said Slughorn, sounding genuinely pained. "But I'm here, boy, to tell you more about her… I will tell you, of course, as much as I can remember. You will be attending every Slug Club party now on, wont you? We can surely talk of Lily…"

"I will, sir. I'll attend every party," said Harry, hoping he sounded genuine rather than the groan he wanted to let out at the thought of trying to act charming at every party Slughorn threw.

Being charming was tough work, he decided, as Acquila went on talking to Slughorn, her words making the Professor puff up with pride and delight. But Harry wasn't quite looking at the Professor, but at Acquila, deciding that he loved the little dimple that appeared in her cheek when she smiled too widely – how had he never noticed that before? And the way her hair had grown long enough to fall down to below her waist… the way her blouse fit her snugly… had she developed further in the curves department? Or had they been hidden under the loose-fitting robes she donned daily?

"—didn't Remus tell us that, Harry?" Acquila's elbow dug hard into his ribs, and he woke out of his reverie, realising that he hadn't registered a word of what they had been talking.

"Yeah—yeah, of course," he stuttered, no idea what he was agreeing to. He now noticed that Neville was staring at them in confusion, his glass halfway to his lips, no doubt wondering why Acquila and he were sucking up to Slughorn.

"Remus is too kind," said Slughorn, spotting someone at the door, "and so are you—ah! That's Harvey Jones, Gwenog Jones' nephew. Go on, you two… have fun. And don't hesitate to tell me if you need anything."

"Sure," they said, making their way towards the counter which was serving pumpkin juice.

"That was easy!" said Acquila, grinning.

"What was?" asked Neville, coming up to them. "And what's with both of you and Slughorn?"

"Uh, well…" Harry muttered, not knowing what to reply. They had completely forgotten that Neville, like Ron and Hermione, had no clue about the Horcruxes and their attempts to get Slughorn's memory.

"Err—actually, we—" began Acquila guiltily.

"It's alright," cut in Neville, seeming slightly disheartened. "I understand… you can't tell me… It's alright—I'll…uh, just be over there." He pointed at the food table at the opposite end, and quickly walked away from them, talking to Hannah Abbot on the way.

"I hate this," groaned Acquila. "I want to tell them, Harry. Even Hermione keeps asking me what we're hiding from them…"

"But we can't tell them," he muttered, entwining his fingers with hers as they settled on a bench in the corner. "Maybe we could talk to Sirius… ask him if we can tell them?"

"He'll say no… and we can't, Harry. They'll be in danger if Voldy finds out they know about the Horcruxes—he's already so pissed that Dad and Dumbledore know… we can't put them in danger…"

"You're right," he said, feeling slightly low. He didn't like keeping secrets from Ron, Neville and Hermione. Not at all – especially because the three of them knew they were being secretive, and felt that Harry and Acquila didn't trust them enough to share it with them…

"Don't worry," said Acquila, picking on his moroseness. "We'll think up something… the five of us can go out together to Hogsmeade and have some fun. And maybe we'll all be fine again… and we can explain to them how we want to tell them, but we can't because it's for their own safety…"

"Hmm," he hummed, his thumb rubbing circles on her knuckles, sensing she didn't want to dwell on the topic. "You were really good with Slughorn—way better than me…"

"Well, I am more charming," she said, smirking.

"That's true," he said, feeling suddenly brave. "It's one of the reasons I fancy you."

Her eyes widened, and he distinctly felt her heartbeats begin to speed up. She made to tug her hand out of his, but he held on resolutely.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she said, her hand slightly relaxing into his. "Just like I pretended I didn't notice you checking me out when I was talking to Slughorn."

"Oh—that was just—" he stuttered, his cheeks heating up, now. "Well, I can't help it if you're looking pretty today."

"And it took Zabini to make you notice that," she said, snorting.

"Yea—no! I knew you're pretty—I mean, you always look pretty—it's another one of the reasons I fancy you."

"Please, Harry, I don't think I can control myself anymore if you keep complimenting me like this," she said, smirking at him.

"Well, then I just need to compliment you some more, don't I? To make you let go of the control and finally admit you fancy me, too?" he asked smugly, feeling his own heart beating just as fast as hers.

She stared at him, eyes wide again, her mind a jumble of thoughts.

"Harry, I—"

"Attention, everyone!" exclaimed Slughorn, clinking his wine glass. "We have a new guest joining us today."

They turned around, Harry mentally cursing Slughorn for interrupting what Acquila had to say, only to spot the bloke standing next to Slughorn with a bright smile on his face: Cedric Diggory!

"Cedric!" gasped Acquila softly, her hand slipping out of Harry's as she stood up from the bench.

And Harry noticed Cedric stare right back at her, though there was a slight frown on his face as he met Harry's gaze.

How the hell was Cedric charming his way into everything? Just when Acquila and he were flirting—Shit! They had flirted, Harry realised, his heart leaping with joy at the realisation. Acquila had been flirting with him! And he had flirted right back, with very appreciable results if he said so himself.

"—this is Cedric Diggory!" announced Slughorn, clapping Cedric's back. "I'm sure you all know him—"

Cedric waved to the crowd at large (like a bloody Quidditch star, Harry thought irritably), and gave a lopsided smile just like the one Harry had seen in Acquila's memory.

"—Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, an extremely talented Seeker, and a Prefect, too!" continued Slughorn. "And Professor Flitwick tells me that Cedric will certainly get into one of the top Quidditch clubs if he flies well at trials!"

"Sir, I'm not all that good—" interrupted Cedric embarrassedly.

But Slughorn went on: "His father, Amos Diggory, is the head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, of course –a very good post indeed. And yes, Eldritch Diggory, his ancestor, was the Minister of Magic in the early 1700's! He was the one who established the Auror recruitment programme!"

"Sir, please…" muttered Cedric audibly, slightly red in the face now.

And Slughorn decided to finally end sharing his knowledge of the Diggory family. "I will not bore you all any further," he cheerfully. "Go on, enjoy yourself then, lad!"

Everyone went back to what they were doing, some of them grinning at Cedric. But Acquila, expectedly, walked towards where Cedric was standing. Harry hesitated for a bit, but then followed her.

"Hey, Cedric!" she said, and Harry could sense the excitement she was struggling to control.

"Hi, Acquila," replied Cedric, shaking her hand. "You're looking really nice," he added, glancing at her, "like you always do."

"Thanks," she said, her voice all breathy.

"Hi," cut in Harry, staring pointedly at Acquila as the butterflies made an appearance in his tummy again.

"Hello, Harry," said Cedric, with a smile. "I thought I'd meet you here."

"So," said Acquila, seeming to completely forget Harry's presence, "Future Quidditch player, eh?"

Harry frowned. Had she forgotten that Sirius said even Harry could make it to a club team when he was older? Had she forgotten than Dora thought he would be a brilliant Seeker for Puddlemere United, which was on top of the league table?

"I think Harry has more of a chance at joining a top club," said Oliver Wood from behind them. "After all, Harry beat Diggory in our last game, didn't you, Harry? And he's got age on his side, too…"

"That's true," agreed Acquila, "but that doesn't mean Cedric's any less talented, Oliver!"

Cedric smiled at Oliver, who snorted.

"Be sure to be on time for practice tomorrow morning, Harry," said Oliver. "And don't bring your girlfriend along," he added, gesturing to Acquila, "You always seem distracted when she comes to our practice sessions. And no corroborating with the enemy!" He looked at Cedric, and walked away.

Harry shook his head in agreement, and bit his lips which were threatening to break into a smile. He had seen Cedric's smile falter when Oliver had called Acquila his girlfriend. Ah! Victory!

He looked back at Cedric, watching him look questioningly at Acquila, who was rather stunned.

"Did he just call me your girlfriend, Harry?" she said, looking positively shocked.

Harry nodded, still trying not to smile at the expressions on both, Cedric and Acquila's faces. He had to remember to thank Oliver for this, later.

"Are you?" Cedric asked Acquila, sounding slightly crestfallen.

"No! I'm not!" she exclaimed immediately. "Tell him, Harry!" She shot Harry a piercing glare.

"Yeah, she's not," Harry admitted coolly, adding a 'yet' mentally. She wasn't yet his girlfriend. But she would be… soon.

She glared at him again, making him realise that she had heard his thoughts, and then looked back at Cedric, whose smile had returned.

"Try the pumpkin pasties, Cedric," she said, "they're delicious."

"Yes," said Cedric, leading her towards the table.

But Slughorn's voice made her stop in her tracks. "Harry, Acquila! Come on, here—let me introduce you to Sarah Wilder! Her father studied with your parents, you know."

"I'll—uh, see you in some time?" Acquila asked Cedric apologetically, and he nodded, while Harry, with a satisfied smile on his face, followed Acquila to Slughorn's table, hoping the Alchemy professor would keep them occupied until the end of the party, giving Acquila no time to chat with Cedric.

oOo

Sirius let out a gust of breath, watching the smoke from the cigarette exit his mouth in rings of white. He glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time, wondering how it could have been just five minutes since he'd last checked the time.

It was strange how time seemed to crawl slower than a snail at times, while at others – like when he was with the kids – it would fly faster than a Winged Horse.

He stared at the photograph on the wall – one Dora had clicked over the summer. Harry and Acquila beamed at him from the photograph, wide grins on their faces, their arms looped over the other's shoulders, eyes bright with joy.

He missed them… missed them more than he would ever admit. Grimmauld Place seemed empty without them. Nymphie came over for only a couple of days each week, dividing the rest of the days between Andy's place and, he suspected, Remus' Hogwarts quarters. Andy and Ted came over often for dinner, but after they left, Sirius would have the entire house to himself, with only Mopsy and Kreacher for company. And those lonely hours reminded him of his childhood, brought back memories of Dark curses, and Walburga's scathing taunts, and a little Regulus' toothy smiles.

That was why he'd been staying in Black Manor for the past week, deeming the place comparatively more liveable.

As he took another drag of the cigarette, he wondered whether this was how he would spend the rest of his life: with Nymphie and Remus getting on with their own lives, the kids busy at school and then with their jobs and families, with Sirius living a life as dull as the one he was living now – working at Headquarters during the day, on cases which weren't even half as adrenaline-inducing as the ones during the War… and then coming home to an empty house, spending his evenings and nights listening to Mopsy and Kreacher bickering over who would prepare breakfast the next day.

Of course, there were invites to balls and gatherings, and even weekly invites to the Burrow for dinner. He attended only the important pureblood parties, and only for a short amount of time.
But he had been to the Burrow a couple of evenings, taken aback at Molly's cheerful welcome of him. The witch had apparently forgotten all her earlier misgivings against him. And he would have happily visited the Burrow again to enjoy conversations with Arthur and Molly's delicious cooking, if it wasn't for Molly's matchmaking attempts. Molly seemed to think that the kids needed a mother, and that Sirius, too, needed a wife to tide him through the rest of his life. And the irritating mentions of marriageable witches Molly kept throwing into their conversations had made him decide from refrain visiting the Burrow unless absolutely needed.

Damn! This wasn't how he had thought his life would be. During the War, he had thought that, if he survived the battle against Voldemort's forces, he would spend the rest of his life with Athena, with Acquila and any further children they would have… meeting James, Lily and Harry at weekends… convincing Remus to date someone and then pull his leg with James when he finally got on to shagging the girl… enjoying his time at the Auror office with James as his partner, duelling enemies in tandem, each of them covering up for the other's weaknesses, beating the opponent with their combined flurry of attacking spells, and then going to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink to celebrate… and then coming home to Athena's loving embrace, pressing passionate kisses onto her mouth as they made love until the early hours of the next morning…

But here he was, now… alone in Black Manor, with Phineas' blank portrait for company, Mopsy tinkering around in the kitchen, and a cigarette at his lips, which would be followed by a bottle of Firewhiskey by nightfall, followed by a Sobering Charm when Acquila and Harry called him on the Mirror at night, and then chugging down yet another Firewhiskey, before falling into a uneasy sleep alone, in his cold, empty bed, wishing he had someone, anyone to hold him…

"Why have you taken up this utterly disgusting habit again?" A disdainful voice from the wall made Sirius snap out of his thoughts.

"Hello to you, too," he responded dryly to Phineas' portrait. "Finally decided to bestow your hallowed presence upon me, did you?"

"I did," said Phineas imperiously. "But little did I know that my presence would be wasted on a dolt like you! Why are you smoking that disgusting—is that a Muggle cigarette?"

"Yes," said Sirius, smirking, as he sent rings of smoke towards Phineas' portrait.

"You are such a—"

"Spare me the lecture," cut in Sirius, Phineas increasing his irritability.

"Believe me, boy, wasting my time advising a man like you, with your misplaced pride, your—"

"Then don't lecture me!" muttered Sirius. "If you're wasting your time, go back to Dumbledore's bloody office—"

"But I have to 'lecture you' as you put it," interrupted Phineas sharply. "Because if I don't, my dear great-great-granddaughter will be extremely grieved on knowing that her beloved father has taken to drinking two huge bottles of that atrocious drink every night and reducing his lifespan with smoking these pathetic Muggle—"

"Oh, shut up," muttered Sirius, vanishing the cigarette with a careless wave of his wand. "There! Happy?" he snapped.

"Not quite," replied Phineas, but he seemed less annoyed now.

"Who told you about the drinking?" Sirius asked quietly.

The portrait hadn't visited him recently for some reason. And the fact that Sirius was actually pleased to see Phineas was testament to the height of loneliness he felt.

"The elf informed me, of course – the male elf," replied Phineas. "Just because I haven't visited you in the past two days does not mean I do not keep tabs on you. After all, if you end up dead due to the harmful habits your loneliness begets, I will be forced to put up with the blood traitor as regent. However capable she may seem, I am not quite pleased with the idea of a formerly-disowned daughter of the House acting as its head."

Sirius snorted, shaking his head irritably. "So, where were you, the past couple of days?"

"In Hogwarts, of course! Getting my fellow heads of Hogwarts to delve deeper into Umbridge's background through their portraits placed in the Ministry! The things I do for you…" Phineas trailed off, shaking his head.

"So, did you get any information?"

"Yes," said Phineas, a smug grin on his face.

"Tell me, then—wait," said Sirius, spotting green flames erupt in the fireplace. "We'll talk after she leaves."

"She?" asked Phineas, his tone part-eager, part-scathing. And Sirius saw the man's eyes widen as they fell on the visitor who appeared in the flames, followed by a pleased smile on his face.

"Hello, Sirius," said Nigella, smiling at him.

"Hello," said Sirius, grinning at her, leading her to a seat. He hadn't really wanted to meet her at Black Manor, but she had insisted that she would prefer meeting at either of their houses.

They exchanged pleasantries, talking conversationally of mundane matters, partaking of some of Mopsy's delicious scones.

And Sirius felt his spirits rising as Nigella narrated a humorous anecdote about her nephew, Marcus, followed by a funny incident at one of the pureblood balls she had attended.

Merlin! How long had it been since he had laughed over something, since he had spent time with someone for matters other than the Horcruxes and Voldemort and bills and legislations. That Nigella was looking ethereally beautiful wasn't helping matters. Her deep red robes suited her far more than the sober colours she usually donned. Her eyes were bright as she laughed; her hair was up in an elegant knot, displaying her neck; the neckline of her robes came up to a length that showed a tantalising hint of cleavage, making the lonely, love-starved man within him question him about why he had decided that Nigella wasn't worth pursuing!

But the other part of him – the loving father, specifically – reminded him that Acquila quite disliked the woman before him; the brother in him reminded him that Reggie had once loved Nigella and been loved by her in return… and the surging desires within him gradually receded.

"So, Nigella," he said, hoping he had been able to mask his inner conflict, "Did you get any information?"

Her eyes lit up again, and he felt hope rise in him.

"You were right!" she said cheerfully. "Dolores Umbridge is not a pureblood. And she's in no way related to the Selwyns."

His hopes dulled considerably: a deep perusal of the many genealogical books in the libraries of both his houses had told him that Phineas' suspicions were right. Umbridge wasn't a Selwyn descendant nor a pureblood. Nigella had told him nothing he hadn't already known.

But when he looked at her, he saw that she was still smiling, her eyes bright with delight and a hint of pride.

"She was born to Oxford Umbridge and Ellen Cracknell," said Nigella.

"Cracknell? Muggleborn, then?"

"Muggle."

Sirius let out a low whistle. Umbridge's mother was a Muggle, then, for all that tosh she spread about her pureblood status – rather like Voldemort, who, too, had hidden his father's Muggle heritage and portrayed himself as a pureblood to his followers.

"Oxford Umbridge worked in the Magical Maintenance department," said Nigella. "One of Mother's friends told me that he was at a rather low post – he used to mop floors in the Ministry. And Urquhart told me that his grandfather knew Oxford… Dolores pushed her father into early retirement because she was ashamed of his low-level job. He said that when people asked her if she was Oxford's daughter, she straightaway refused, saying she had no relation to him—"

"Is he alive?" asked Sirius hopefully. "Her father? I could talk to him…"

"No. He passed away a decade ago from what Urquhart said."

"Her mother, then?"

"Her mother," said Nigella eagerly, "as I told you, was a Muggle. There was a younger brother, too – Eric Umbridge… a Squib…"

"Oh."

"But Dolores and Oxford denounced them – considered them inferior because of their lack of magic. They threw them out of the house from what Urquhart's grandfather had told him… caused a little scandal among the people who knew Oxford. But because Oxford had few friends and kept to himself, the gossip died down quite soon. Her mother and brother disappeared into the Muggle world. Dolores and Oxford had no contact with them ever again."

"Merlin!" whispered Sirius, realising a lot about Umbridge's nature, now. Her refusal of admitting ties to her father, forcing her father into retirement, her ruthlessness, claiming a false pureblood ancestry, and maybe even her hatred of magical creatures other than witches and wizards – it all stemmed from her father's and her detest of non-magical people like her mother and brother!

He had hit the jackpot with this information! One mention of how Umbridge had denounced her mother and brother, of how she had faked descent from the Selwyns, of how she had faked her pureblood status, would be a massive setback to her image in the Ministry and in society!

This was what she had been trying to hide, then! The bigotry than ran in her disgusting mind, the ruthlessness with which she'd thrown her own mother and brother out of her house… Merlin! What a pathetic, disgusting woman she was! But now, he had her in his grip! He would confront her with the information, force her into falling in line with his wishes regarding the anti-werewolf bill.

"Thank you so much, Nigella," he said – a heartfelt gratitude.

"There's more," she said quietly, placing a piece of parchment before him. "Her brother's alive… has his own family, now. He coincidentally married a Mud—Muggleborn. Etherelda McDuff's sister is Eric Umbridge's wife's cousin by marriage—I won't bother you with the details… but Etherelda gave me his address. You can meet him if you want… take him along when you confront her—"

"You're a godsend, Nigella!" he exclaimed, spontaneously leaning forward and kissing her cheek; though the audible exclamation of surprised joy she gave made him wish he hadn't.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done," he said earnestly.

"You can thank me in the end," she said, smiling, "when I give you all the information I have."

"You mean there's more?" he asked her, astonished.

"Yes. A lot more, about how she rose through the ranks in the department," replied Nigella. "But I'll need time to gather it all… even William's found quite some dirt on her, through Father's old colleagues. We should have it all in the next couple of days!"

An elated Sirius proceeded to thank her profusely again, and they spoke some more, until she finally made to leave.

"Thanks," he repeated, as he moved forward to bid her adieu. But she surprised him by placing her palm on his cheek, gently pressing a kiss on his jaw, her closeness making him smell in the pleasant scent of her perfume, his eyes gazing into her beautiful ones as she pulled back, her soft curves pressing against him as he instinctively put his hand around her waist.

"Good night," she said, turning around and disappearing into the green flames of the fireplace. He stared at the empty flames, suddenly not feeling so lonely anymore.

"She will make a very good daughter-in-law for the House of Black," said Phineas from the wall, smiling smugly. "She is of good blood. And she seems eager to provide you with a son… an heir to carry on the Black name—"

"That's not happening," said Sirius tightly, his happiness dissipating.

oOo

Acquila rubbed her eyes sleepily as she walked to the DADA classroom. She hadn't slept well the previous night, all thanks to Nigella Flint!

Astoria spoken to her in the Great Hall, telling her the tales Joanna Flint had been spreading. Rumour went that Sirius and Joanna's Aunt, Nigella, were gelling very well with each other! Dancing at parties, meeting often at each other's places—Merlin! Sirius himself had told her that he met Nigella often as she was helping them on the Umbridge matter. But that didn't mean he seem so enamoured with Nigella that even Slytherin first years were gossiping about it!

Harry had told her that Sirius would certainly have confided in them if he was planning to get serious with Nigella. And Acquila knew Harry was right, as he usually was in Sirius-related matters. But that didn't mean Acquila didn't find it all extremely annoying!

She couldn't stop herself from worrying about it, especially because she just didn't like Nigella. The thought of her Dad with Nigella was one that didn't sit well with her at all.

She'd even thought of grabbing the Mirror and confronting Sirius directly with it. But she didn't want to butt heads with him over Nigella – they'd already done that a handful of times. And when they had visited Athena's grave, she had realised how lonely Sirius really was. Like Harry said, Sirius had a right to live his life the way he wanted, to find companionship, someone to make him want to come home to Grimmauld Place, someone to make him happy—but that didn't mean that someone had to be Nigella, right?

Merlin! If her Dad married Nigella would she have to call her 'Mum' or something? No way! She wouldn't! Never! And—and what if Nigella gave birth to a kid? She would have a half-sibling? A brother or a sister whom she would have to share Sirius with? A kid with blonde hair like Nigella's and grey eyes like Sirius' and her own? If it was what Sirius wanted, she guessed she could put up with it… but she didn't like the mere thought of it!

"Your imagination is running wild," said Harry, breaking her out of her thoughts. He sounded amused. "Blonde hair and grey eyes? That sounds like Malfoy!"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "I've always been imaginative. Can't help it!"

"I know," he said, eyes dancing with mischief, his mind running through some of the things she'd imagined over the holidays: weaving her fingers through his messy hair, her tongue exploring his mouth, her hand inching towards the bulge in his pants—

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, heat flaring in the pit of her stomach.

He chuckled, his own cheeks faintly pink. "Don't worry about Nigella," he said seriously. "If something's on, Sirius won't go ahead without telling us – asking us, more like…"

"You're right," she admitted, walking into the DADA classroom, knowing that all the excited chatter in the room for Remus would be met with disappointment. It was full moon that night, and Remus wouldn't be teaching them. But they didn't know who would be teaching them DADA until Remus resumed his classes.

They took their seats. Acquila noticed that Hermione, keeping to her recent habit, had still not made it to the class, although she had been walking with them until a few minutes earlier.

A moment later, she came rushing in, panting, lugging the heavy bag stuffed with books on her shoulder.

"What's with her?" wondered Harry for the umpteenth time since Hermione's strange behaviour had begun – her secretive nature, suddenly vanishing from the spot, doing homework for classes she hadn't even attended!

"We'll find out soon," replied Acquila determinedly. Not knowing Hermione's secret was getting on her nerves. But she had worked out some things about the mystery. But she could dwell on that later, she thought as Harry wondered aloud of who would be teaching them

"I hope it's not Snape—" his words turned into a groan as he spotted Snape entering the classroom, his usual sneering on his pale face.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" asked Ron too loudly, as Acquila belatedly realised that she had forgotten to tell the other three that Remus was unwell.

"He said he is too ill to teach the class," drawled Snape. "Nothing life-threatening," he added, sounding like he wished it was.

Ron went completely red.

"Five points from Gryffindor for questioning a teacher," said Snape, as he flipped through some pages.

"Professor Lupin has left no record whatsoever of the topics he has covered with your class," remarked Snape.

"He's taught us Boggarts, Red Caps and Kappas," offered Acquila.

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation."

"He's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," stated Hermione, as a murmur went through the class.

"You are too easy to satisfy," drawled Snape snidely. "I would expect first years to know about Red Caps and Kappas."

"Today, continued Snape, flipping the pages of the textbook right to the end, "We shall discuss… Werewolves," he finished, his lips curling into a sinister smile as he looked at Harry and Acquila.

Acquila bristled, her fingers curling into a fist. She was used to Snape insulting Harry and her in every lecture. But alluding to Remus' lycanthropy was taking it too far! She knew why Snape wanted to start Werewolves – he was hoping that someone from the class – Hermione, for instance – would figure out that the symptoms mentioned in the Werewolf chapter would matched Remus', when he fell ill during the full moon.

"Sir," she stated loudly, deciding that she wouldn't let anyone know of Remus' affliction. Remus loved his job; and she wouldn't let him lose it because of this greasy-haired git. "We're not supposed to do Werewolves, yet. Professor Lupin has kept that for the finals—"

"Black," hissed Snape, "I wasn't aware that you were teaching the class today. Unless you want to be frequenting the Hospital Wings to clean bedpans without magic – something that your father was very adept at – I suggest you remain silent for the rest of the class."

"But she's right, Professor Snape," put in a voice which surprised Acquila: Draco's! "Werewolves is for the next term—"

Why was Draco speaking in support of Remus? Oh, yes, to get onto Acquila's good side! Damn Slytherin!

"Silence, Mr Malfoy!" snarled Snape, after a moment of speechless surprise.

Draco shrank back into his seat.

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety four. All of you, now!" ordered Snape, and everyone rushed to open their books, knowing it wouldn't be prudent to cross Snape when he was in such a temper. "Which one of you can tell me the difference between the werewolf and the true wolf?" he asked them.

The class sat in complete silence, though Acquila was sure the furious gritting of her teeth was very audible to the people sitting around her. Hermione was the only one who raised her hand. But Snape blatantly ignored her.

"Tut, tut," drawled Snape. "No one? After all the praise lavished on Professor Lupin, I am surprised not one of his students can answer my question."

"I told you he hasn't yet taught us this—" Acquila began to reply indignantly, but Harry caught hold of her hand, cutting off the rather rude retort she was about to add to the end of her sentence.

"Black," sneered Snape, "I am surprised you are giving excuses instead of answering my question. I would have thought Potter and you know all about Werewolves—"

"You're asking us something we haven't been taught yet!" snapped Acquila, not even realising that she'd got to her feet. "You can't expect us to know the answers!"

Hermione hand was still high in the sir.

"Black!" snarled Snape, his face turning paler, his glinting eyes promising retribution. "Just because your father managed to get away with creating a ruckus in classes, do not expect me to allow you leeway to disrupt my class—"

"Please, sir," put in Hermione, "The wolf differs from the werewolf in many small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said. "Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione turned red and put down her hand, as her eyes welled up with tears. Every Gryffindor was now glaring at Snape.

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask us if you don't want be told?" snapped Ron, flaring up.

Acquila knew what would happen next: detention for Ron.

But to her surprise, Snape only deducted points from Gryffindor.

"You do not tell me how I should teach my class, Weasley," Snape growled. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

He turned to Acquila. "Now, Black, tell me about Werewolves. I am certain you are familiar with the symptoms a Werewolf displays."

Instead of retorting to that, Acquila chose another way out. Sirius had told her that Snape had promised Dumbledore never to reveal Remus' affliction.

"Why would you assume I know about Werewolves?" she asked Snape innocently, knowing that would put him in a quandary.

The tightening of Snape's knuckles on the book in his hand told her that he was taken aback at her words. But he recovered soon.

"Your father knew a lot about them," he drawled. "I have no doubt that you, too, are well-informed."

"Don't drag my Dad into everything!" growled Acquila, her temper uncontrollable now. Harry, too, was on his feet.

"Shouting at Professors," hissed Snape, his eyes dark with rage. "I shouldn't have expected better from a daughter of Sirius Black—detention, Black! You will be spending the next two Saturdays in the company of Mr Filch!"

"You can't bully her like that!" snarled Harry, unusually enraged. "You're getting personal—I'm sure that against the rules—"

"You are the last person I would want to learn rules from, Potter," snapped Snape, "especially when you, like your father and godfather, have broken every rule in the book!"

"I know why you're doing this!" snapped Harry, and Acquila knew what he was going to say next. But the words were out of Harry's mouth before she could stop him. "You're pissed with Remus because Neville's Boggart was you in his grandmother's clothes! And you're taking your anger out on Acquila and me now!"

The entire class knew Harry had gone too far. Snape's face had gone so red it looked like it was going to pop any second.

She pulled Harry back to his seat, worried that Snape would attack Harry, going by the way his wand arm was quivering.

"Detention, Potter!" whispered Snape, his voice dangerous. "The next two Sundays, with Mr Filch!"

Acquila groaned mentally. Snape had done this purposely! Now Harry and she wouldn't get to spend the weekends together! She would be in detention on Saturdays and Harry on Sundays.

"Start reading," commanded Snape, his voice still dangerous; and the rest of the class passed in silence.

oOo

"Hem, hem," coughed Dolores delicately, bringing the attention of the flustered man before her back onto her. "So, Mr Milverton, do we have a deal?"

Dolores put on her best smile, drawing on her reserves of saccharine manipulation which had helped her rise so high in the Ministry.

"Do you promise me?" asked Milverton, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief. "If I support your werewolf bill, will you clear off the charges against Wilfred? He is finding it very tough to get a job… the employers look into legal records—and the criminal charge in his file for the fraud…it's—it's—"

"I understand, Mr Milverton," said Dolores, flashing what she hoped was an understanding smile. "Cornelius and I share more just than a minister-undersecretary relationship," she added, simpering coyly. "We are friends, you see. I shall surely convince him to look into the matter. After all, the fraud wasn't that well-publicised, was it, owing to the involvement of Mr Nott? Cornelius will certainly understand that your son was merely made scapegoat to keep Mr Nott's name out of the matter."

"Thank you so much, Ms Umbridge," said Milverton, a relieved smile breaking on his harried face.

"There's no need of thanks, Mr Milverton," replied Dolores, smiling brightly. "After all, we have a deal. It is a win-win situation for both of us. You back my bill in the Wizengamot, and I will wipe off the charge against young Wilfred."

Minutes later, Milverton made to depart, shaking Dolores' hand profusely.

"Mr Milverton?" she called out when he had reached the door.

"Yes?"

"If you go back on your word, I won't hesitate to contact the Daily Prophet with information on the fraud Wilfred committed. And if that happens, I presume you won't hold on to your prestigious position as a Wizengamot member for long," Dolores said sweetly.

"No—no, no, Madam!" exclaimed Milverton, his face paling. "I will not let you down—I promise I will fulfil my end of the bargain!"

Dolores merely nodded, flashing another sweet smile, before the trembling wizard left, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Ah!" said Dolores softly, smiling at yet another of her victories.

Alexander Milverton had been easy to convince: He was a Wizengamot member, with a son who was unemployed for the past four years due to his involvement in the fraud. Dolores knew that the Milvertons weren't in great financial health; and it hadn't been difficult to make Milverton senior dance to her tunes.

Alexander Milverton, she wrote in her little pink diary. Milverton was the seventh Wizengamot member she had convinced, to put it delicately, to back the Werewolf bill she wanted to table. She had thought gathering support would be a walk in the park, owing to the hatred and disgust most of wizardkind bore towards those filthy half-breed wolves. But to her astonishment, most Wizengamot members she approached were reluctant to support her bid. And rumour was that Andromeda Tonks had been in talks with many of her fellow Wizengamot members to refrain from lending Dolores their support.

That had then led to Dolores having to dig deep into her arsenal, bring out the cunning witch within her, who had risen to the heights of power with her priceless qualities of flattery, ruthlessness and manipulation. With Milverton in the bag, now there remained only one more Wizengamot member to be convinced.

Cornelius being on leave for a couple of days only served to bolster her efforts. When the Minister wasn't around to confirm her claims, it was even easier to throw the Minister's name in conversations and to harp on the ostensibly close relationship she shared with him.

A sharp knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she said sweetly, sliding the pink diary into the tiny cabinet to her left.

She smiled, expecting to see Charles Sigerson, who was supposed to meet her today. But her eyes widened on seeing who it was: Sirius Black.

Dolores, in general, quite detested Sirius Black – thanks, in great part, to the hold he had over the Minister of Magic; a hold which Dolores would have given anything to have. After all, she could gain further powers to kick half-breeds and Mudbloods out of wizarding society only if she had the backing of an important, powerful person – Cornelius, in this case.
But in sharp contrast to how Dolores had toiled hard to work her way up the power ladder, Sirius Black had merely glided in a few months ago, using his status as Lord Black and playing on the sympathy his unjust incarceration had evoked, to have not only the Minister but also many other important power players in his grasp.

Thus, Dolores quite disliked Sirius Black. But today, as she noticed that Black wasn't wearing his Auror robes, but expensive robes of a rich black, with the Black, Potter and Gamp family crests emblazoned on them, she felt an even greater rancour for him.

But she showed none of that outwardly

"Lord Black!" she said, standing up to greet him, flashing him a smile which she hoped bordered on worshipful and reverent.

"Madam Umbridge," said Black, in that deep baritone of his, settling into the seat before her without invite.

"What brings you here, Lord Black?" asked Dolores. "You will have to have a cup of tea. After all, it isn't everyday that Sirius Black walks into my office bearing the crests of his Houses.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," replied Black coolly, sending an ill-concealed look of disgust at the bright pink kettle and tea-set Dolores so loved. "I would have loved to have tea," Black went on, "But I just had a cup when I met with your brother."

The kettle in Dolores' hand slipped out of her hands at his words.

But with a swift flick of his wand, Black levitated the kettle safely.

"M—my brother!" exclaimed Dolores, cursing herself for the stutter she hadn't been able to conceal. "I am sure you are mistaken, Lord Black!" She let out a high-pitched laugh, bringing her hands together. "I do not have a brother. I am an only child!"

"Eric Umbridge," said Black coolly, settling more comfortably in the chair, "was born to Oxford Umbridge and Ellen Cracknell in Aldenham, Hertfordshire. Oxford, as I'm sure you know, worked in the Department of Magical Maintenance. His wife, Ellen, was a Muggle. And they had a daughter, too – Dolores Jane Umbridge – that's you, of course—"

"I have no relation to Oxford Umbridge!" exclaimed Dolores, her body beginning to shiver.

This was impossible – Black couldn't have, he just couldn't have gotten hold of the one secret Dolores had hidden so successfully.

"I have no relation to Oxford Umbridge!" she repeated, her voice turning hoarse, her hand gradually inching towards the wand on her table.

Black noticed the movement of her hand. But he seemed unperturbed.

"That's what you claimed, of course," said Black unaffectedly, "that you have no relation to him – which is why you forced him to resign from his job of mopping floors in the Ministry, promising him financial support in exchange—"

"I did no such thing!" exclaimed Dolores hotly, fear rapidly spreading through her entire being, her trembling increasing with each passing moment.

"—but you didn't support him, did you? You let him die in poverty… never bothered to even visit him; and when he died, you took over his house—your childhood home, and sold it, pocketing the gold, forging a fake will, portraying him as your distant Uncle who left his assets to you—"

"I did not!" spat Dolores, her wand in her hand, now – though that brought no change in Black's laidback manner.

"—uncaring, that in his last few years, he had willed the house to Ellen and Eric Umbridge, as an act of repentance for throwing them out of the house and disowning them. And you, of course, had a hand in disowning them, didn't you? You ganged up with your father and kicked them out, not once bothering about them because, like your father, you are a blood supremacist bigot, who didn't want Ellen and Eric in the family because they were non-magical. Eric is a Squib, isn't he?"

"He is not my brother! And Oxford Umbridge is not my father!" exclaimed Dolores, getting to her feet now, not that it made much of a difference to her stature, thanks to her short built.

"Isn't he?" asked Black, just as coolly as he had earlier. "I know he gave up the last name of his pathetic father and sister—he is known as Eric Cracknell in the Muggle world… but that doesn't mean he isn't your brother. He had already readily given his blood sample for testing. If you allow your blood to be taken, I'm sure a simple magical test will prove that he is indeed your brother—"

"I will allow nothing of that sort!"

"Of course you won't," said Black. "You wouldn't want people knowing that the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic is such a heartless, prejudiced woman that she not only chucked her Muggle mother and Squib brother out of her house, but also disowned her father, made him spend his last days in poverty, and refused to admit her relation to him because he was on a low post and mopped floors in the Ministry—"

"You cannot prove that!" shrieked Dolores, her own voice sounding foreign to her ears. Try as she might, she couldn't maintain her earlier sweet, simpering voice. She sensed that she was involuntarily shifting her weight from foot to foot, her breathing was starting to get alarmingly heavy. "You—you cannot prove anything!"

"I can prove it, although your refusal to give us a blood sample might make the process tedious," said Black. "I know that you've taken great pains to wipe off evidence… I dug into records and files, but you wiped off all traces of your mother and brother, and all records that linked you to Oxford Umbridge were cleaned up, too."

Dolores gaped at him, feeling her chest heave as her rage and shock made it slightly tough for her to breathe air into her lungs. Her hands were trembling worse than ever, now. And with sudden desperation, unable to stand still, she began to pace around the room, moving restlessly, beating her wand against her palm.

Black, finally, stood up, though he did nothing, merely watched her keenly, his eyes moving as she moved around the room.

"You're a master at destroying evidence, aren't you, Madam Umbridge?" asked Black, his tone casual. And the nonchalance in his manner, his unperturbed behaviour, only further served to fuel her rage.

"And at wiping off memories, too," added Black, "and at manipulating and blackmailing people—"

"You are one to talk, Black!" she spat at him, her entire frame trembling now, her legs wobbly as she paced around, her wand beating even rapidly against her palm. "You are blackmailing me, now!"

Black laughed, a hearty laughter that made her want to Crucio him into oblivion. "It would be blackmail only if there was truth to my allegations! So, do I presume that you're admitting to doing all that I said?"

"I did nothing! Nothing!" shrieked Dolores, beginning to see red now, realising that anger was far preferable than admitting to the fear that was beginning to grip her. If Black spread news of all that she had done, she would be kicked out of her job!

For years and years, she had built her career on the graves of the aspirations and careers of lesser, foolishly moral, conscientious Ministry employees – in the Improper Use of Magic Office, and then in the path to Senior Undersecretary to Minister, where she was as good as second-in-command to Fudge, answerable only to the Minister, with powers superseded only by the ones bestowed on Fudge.

And she wouldn't – couldn't – let Black set all her hard work afire… couldn't watch her hard-earned career go up in smoke!

"You did nothing to rise to Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office, too, did you?" asked Black, his voice now gaining an almost unnoticeably stern edge.

"What do you mean?" Dolores breathed, the fear now beginning to twist and crush her heart in its iron-strong grip.

"Malcolm Carlton was Deputy Head of the IUMO when you were merely a new intern," said Black, his gaze still following her as she paced around. "Ten years after you first joined the Department when after Robert Abington retired, Malcolm was deservingly expected to take up the post. But Malcolm was suddenly indicted in the financial misappropriation case—funds were missing, records weren't maintained… Malcolm was brought to trial, and then proved innocent… there was no misappropriation found, records were fudged to give an impression of wrongdoing on Malcom's part… but Malcom's reputation was irreversibly stained, and Margery Elphinstone took over as Department head—"

"I don't know why you are telling me all this!" interrupted Dolores, heart beating hard in her chest, knowing where this was leading.

"During the War, in June 1981 to be precise, Alysis Carrow was found to be torturing Muggles in an alleyway. Margery and you apparated away to the place, correctly ascertaining that the matter was urgent and that Unforgivables were in use. Margery single-handedly captured Alysis Carrow and saved the Muggles, while you remained watching, possibly deciding that Muggle lives weren't worth saving! That's not all! When you realised that Margery was handing over Carrow to the Wizengamot, and that she would gain immense attention and praise for her commendable and immediate action, you decided that you couldn't let her gain her rightful credit," went on Black.

"What you are saying has no bearing on—" Dolores made to cut in, but Black went on with a fearsome, warning glare at her.

His hitherto casualness was now beginning to be overtaken by the stern, frightening Auror man that many feared. And she realised that she needed to act quickly.

"So you quickly put together a plan," Black continued, his own wand twirling in his hand now, though she noticed he still hadn't readied it in defence. "You attempted to cast the Crutiatus on Margery—"

"I did not—"

"—she managed to fend you off. But then, you threatened her! You told her that you would reveal to the world – to the Death Eaters, more importantly – that she was seeing a Muggle man… a man with three children from his previous marriage, whom Margery cared for as her own. You threatened her—one word from you about Margery's relationship with the man would get him and his kids tortured to death—"

"You are lying!" yelled Dolores, her pacing finally ceasing, as she stood before Black, her breathing even more frenzied now.

"—in exchange for keeping quiet, you told Margery that you would take credit for capturing Alysis Carrow. Margery, who loved the man and the kids, gave in. And you got all the credit, including the gallantry award. And when Margery resigned from the job after the War, to marry the Muggle man, you got made Head mainly because of the gallantry award. That's not all—"

"SHUT UP!" shrieked Dolores, the rage and fury finally bursting out of her in an uncontrollable rush. "JUST SHUT UP, BLACK!"

"Still going to deny it, then?" asked Black coolly.

"Deny it?" she spat. "I did doit all! I did all that you said! I fudged records to get Malcolm indicted in the misappropriation case, I threatened Margery, I stole her credit—and yes! I threw my filthy Muggle mother and that pathetic Eric out of our house! I disowned them! I would not have my name tainted with their filthy, non-magical blood! And you know what, I trampled upon all those poor, deserving idiots to get to the post I am in today! It's not an easy job, Black—not all of us are born into wealthy pureblood families like you are!"

Black stared back at her, his gaze and expression giving nothing away. But she went on, unable to control the furious tirade.

"I threatened Martin Ventham, I blackmailed Earnest McDougal and Oswald Pierson and Amanda Aurwitch! And if I could force all those people to have my way, you think a twerp like you, who is just learning the ropes of how the power play in the Ministry works, is going to pull me down? Me? Dolores Umbridge?" she spat, her wand raised at him, now.

She knew she couldn't get away with this, but she could handle Cornelius—she would have to handle him, push the matter under the rug.

She couldn't shut Black's mouth by blackmailing him or manipulating him – digging for material would take time, and Black certainly wouldn't keep his mouth shut about this until then

Years and years of her hard work… she couldn't let it all go down the drain.

What she needed to do was take immediate, swift steps, even if it meant having to deal with the law for her deeds—she needed to act immediately.

"You won't get away with this, Black," she spat at him, watching his wand now rise in a combative stance, although he didn't seem worried or scared in the slightest. And she would later realise that the lack of worry and surprise on his face should have made her realise that something was amiss. But that regret would appear much later.

Presently, she raised her wand at Black.

"CR—"

"DOLORES!" A familiar voice had her stopping mid-word, now realising that all was lost.

Black flicked his wand towards the patch of wall in the corner. And from under the Disillusionment Charm appeared Cornelius Fudge, white-faced and trembling.

"You—Dolores, you—I cannot believe this!" stammered the Minister, still ashen-faced, while Black watched them both expressionlessly.

"Minister!" Dolores tried to put on her best, sweetest voice. "Let me explain, Minister—"

"Explain?" exclaimed Cornelius incredulously. "You have an explanation for what you did, Dolores? My Senior Undersecretary, my second-in-command—and such deeds—blackmail, manipulating records—and trying to harm Lord Black!"

"I didn't intend to—" Dolores tried again, but her voice refused to comply with her, unable to acquire its usual saccharine sweetness, instead settling for a hoarse, trembling tenor.

"You are fired, Ms Umbridge!" exclaimed Cornelius, making Dolores wonder whether her heart had missed more than one beat.

"NO!" she shrieked, pleading. "NO, Minister! You cannot—please—"

"I cannot have such a woman working for me—working so closely with me! If people get wind of this, I'll be impeached! I will have to step down—my reputation will be in tatters—a Minister who couldn't recognise what kind of a horrible witch his undersecretary was! Lord Black, I beg of you, don't let news of this get out—" said Cornelius, colour still failing to appear in his white face.

"There's no need to worry about that, Minister," replied Black.

"I cannot believe this!" whispered Cornelius, still shaken. "My own undersecretary…"

But Dolores didn't hear the rest of his words.

The job she had strived and toiled for was out of her grasp, now. So was her dream of succeeding Fudge as Minister. And there was just one man to blame for that: Sirius Orion Black.

And Dolores swore to herself, that she would get revenge for what Black had done to her! She would give her very last breath to teach Black a lesson, to get vengeance for his deed.

oOo

Dolores Jane Umbridge was no longer the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. As of that day, she had voluntarily resigned for personal reasons. Sirius was sure that would be front page news in the next day's Daily Prophet – the current day's Evening Prophet, too, if the Prophet office got a timely owl from their sources in the Ministry.

The meeting with Umbridge had gone better than what Sirius had envisioned. He had expected Umbridge to get provoked enough to admit to her bigoted mindset, her insidious conspiracies and her blackmailing deeds. But that Crutiatus she was making to throw at him (and he was an Auror and Lord Black) was something he hadn't expected at all!

He hadn't expected her to be that crazy! She had been a second away from a life sentence in Azkaban, for Merlin's sake! If Crouch hadn't stopped her, she would have been wailing in the midst of Dementors now.

Phineas, he thought, would certainly berate him for failing to have Umbridge thrown into Azkaban – have her out of the way once and for all.

But somehow (stupidly, he knew) he didn't have the heart to sentence another human being to what he had faced for years. And anyway, Umbridge didn't have Fudge's backing anymore. She wasn't a danger at all.

Phineas would say (and his absently registered how often he thought of Phineas' probably view on matters) that a lady with Umbridge's cunning and thirst for power would not take this blow lying down; that she would come up with a way to gain revenge and come back to power. But currently, she wasn't something he needed to worry about. Fudge was well and truly on his side – especially because Sirius had agreed to keep his mouth shut about Umbridge. Fudge didn't want the wizarding public knowing that their foolish Minister didn't know what had been going on under his very nose.

So now, it was time to celebrate! He had successfully managed to stop the tabling of the anti-Werewolf bill. After a long time, something had finally gone their way. The kids would be really happy to hear about this. And Remus… well, he hadn't told Remus anything at all about Umbridge and the anti-Werewolf bill as he didn't want him to worry about that when he had just begun his new job. But Remus, too, would be pleased to know that the danger had passed.

Sirius walked back to the Auror office, deciding to gather his things and leave for the day. Most of the Aurors had left. Only the two allotted for the night shift were seated in their desks.

"Hey!" said a familiar voice from behind him: Irene.

"I thought you'd already left," she said.

"No," he replied. "I had something to take care of…"

"It worked out for you, I can tell," she said, smiling. "You're looking better than you've looked in days."

He smiled, noting that her words proved that she had been observing him intently for days.

"I bet your family robes helped," Irene remarked, winking as her eyes gazed at the House crests on his robes. "That you look rather dishy in them further helps matters, eh?"

Dishy?

Seriously?

Was Irene trying to flirt with him or something? Oh, Merlin! She was one of those spies, then! The ones who flirted with you and seduced you and then prised out all your secrets!

"So," she said, unfazed at his lack of reaction to her compliment. "What was the matter you took care of? Must be something great or you wouldn't have walked in with that big grin on your face…"

Ah, ha! There it was! Acting all innocent and making him tell her the reason for his happiness!

Well, if she could try to charm him, so could he! Additionally, this was a perfect opportunity to show her that he was beginning to trust her, that he considered her a true friend! He could slowly turn the tables, charm her into telling him the truth about her being Voldemort's Ministry mole. And if that didn't work, well, he always had Veritaserum to fall back onto, didn't he? Like he'd done with Bella?

Something in his mind – something that sounded like Athena's soft voice – told him that he was changing, turning into something he had sworn he would never be: a typical Black, ruthless, swatting away everyone who came into his way, using his power and might on people without bothering about whether he was doing right.

But for the first time, he brushed Athena's voice away. He wasn't the Sirius Black of old; he couldn't afford to be. The old Sirius hated politics, hated the undeserving weight his family name carried, hated the burdensome expectations people placed on him.
But the new Lord Sirius Black III didn't care about whether he was acting morally; he didn't give a damn to the collateral damage he caused in his quest to keep his children – and magical Britain – safe. He had power, and he would use it to the fullest.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you why I'm happy," he said to Irene, flashing one of his trademark smiles which were meant to dazzle. "But how about I make up for the secrecy? Come with me… I'm in the mood to celebrate. We can go to Cerbio's? Drinks on me!"

"Sure," said Irene, grinning brightly.

They were about to leave, when Nymphadora entered the office.

"Nymphie! How come you're still here? Isn't your training done for the day?" Sirius asked her.

"Just finished," said Nymphie, sounding rather shifty.

"Where are the other trainees, then?" asked Sirius suspiciously.

"Alright," admitted Nymphie, "You caught me. I wasn't training—it was…kind of a detention."

"Detention in Auror training?" Sirius guffawed. "That's the first I've heard!"

"What happened?" asked Irene, and Sirius knew she was trying to bite in her smile.

"I tried to prank Williamson, but got Mad Eye instead," replied Nymphie, beginning to chuckle now. "It was hilarious! Mad Eye jumped a foot in the air when the Dungbomb went off under his seat! Started shooting spells around—Marian's hair got slashed off by Mad Eye's slashing curse—and Williamson got blasted away! Flew twelve metres into the air—he's concussed, taking the day off tomorrow… thank Helga I've got him off my back for a day! Bloody keeps annoying me…"

"Merlin, I wish I was there to see Mad Eye jumping in fright," said Sirius, laughing as he imagined the scene.

"Anyway, I better go home now," said Nymphie.

"Nymphie, come with us," said Sirius. Nymphie and Irene were the best of friends. If Nymphie came along, he would be able to observe how Irene behaved with her, pose her questions which she wouldn't be able to lie to because of Nymphie's presence.

"Nah," said Nymphie, yawning. "I'm tired out of my wits. Mad Eye made me duck Cutting Curses for an entire hour! Didn't even let me use my wand—bloody detention! One Curse almost hit my throat—he'd have bloody killed me!"

"That's Mad Eye for you," said Sirius. "But it'll serve you well in duels."

"—and anyway," went on Nymphie, "I don't want to go along with you both and be the third wheel."

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius warily.

"Enjoy the date!" Nymphie winked, and ran off.

"What did she—" began Sirius, bewildered. What exactly had Nymphie been trying to insinuate? Third wheel? Date?

Merlin! Looked like Irene had Nymphie well and properly fooled! Maybe she'd told Nymphie she was interested in Sirius or something, knowing Nymphie could help her get close to him.

Smart… Summerby was very smart. If she wasn't a spy, Sirius thought he could very well have been pleased to really get to know her better, befriend her.

"So," said Irene, not bothered by Nymphie's words. "Let's go and drink to your success."

"Wow!" Irene exclaimed moments later, as they stood before his motorbike.

He had brought it to work today, planning on having a nice fly in the night skies. But now that he was going to the pub with Irene, he'd called Kreacher to apparate the motorbike home. After that one scary incident involving a drunk Sirius, a pregnant Athena and an almost-accident involving a wild, flying Hippogriff, Sirius had sworn never to drive when drunk.

"This is yours?" asked Irene, seeming way more enraptured with his motorbike than any girl he had seen yet. "It's perfect!"

"Thanks," said Sirius.

"I always wanted to ride one," went on Irene, running a hand over the sleek black body of his beloved motorbike. "My brother has one… but he won't let me ride it—not that I want to drive his bike, mind you. He's still a git when I'm around him."

"Hmm," he said, remembering that her brother was a Squib and relations between them hadn't been good after her mother had been killed by Death Eaters.

"I can grant your wish, though," he said, smirking, hating the words he was going to speak. "I can teach you how to drive this beauty, whenever—"

"Thank you!" exclaimed Irene, and he wondered how much of the excited twinkle in her eyes and the wide smile on her face was real.

She went on, asking him curious questions about the bike model, its features, its unusual tires, the different magical-seeming buttons, the enchanted mirrors; and he replied back (with equal enthusiasm, he would later realise), taking care to keep her in the dark about the fact that the motorbike could fly and that it could turn invisible. It wasn't something he wanted to be made public, nor something he wanted Voldemort to know about.

"I almost forgot," said Sirius, waving his wand and changing his robes in Muggle clothes.

He looked sideways, making to tell Irene to copy him, only to see that she had transfigured her robes into a top, and a skirt that was on the shorter side. Hell, even Irene was on the shorter side – nothing like Athena who had been tall and curvy, with legs that seemed to go on forever.

"Oi!" Irene's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

Damn! He had been staring at her legs, hadn't he? Well, they weren't all that bad to look at… and he was a very virile, love-starved man, who spent every other night making up for the lack of Athena in his bed by forging a very deep friendship with his right hand and a certain appendage of his body. Oh, Merlin! It was no use getting into those depressed moods of his again. And thinking of how lonely he was – that was something better done during the sleepless nights he spent.

"Were you just checking me out, Black?" she asked him, her arms folded against her chest, making her blouse ride higher up her stomach, her hazel eyes bright with amusement.

"Well, I can't help admiring what's on display," he replied, smirking.

"I really don't know whether I should take that as a compliment or be offended," she said, as he opened the door of the pub for her.

"Since when has it become a crime to compliment a nice-looking witch?" said Sirius.

"Depends on how you say it," replied Irene, as he held the chair for her to sit onto, unable to let go of the manners that had been ingrained into him as a child.

"You women are so complicated," he said, hopping into the seat next to her, "always reading too much into things."

"You're absolutely right, mate," put in the bartender.

Irene rolled her eyes, as they ordered drinks. Sirius made certain not to get sloshed this time – the memory of her helping his drunk self home, last time, was still fresh in his mind.

The rest of the evening, he would admit grudgingly later, went very, very well. They had a few more drinks, and Sirius discovered the fun he could have with Karaoke, especially with Muggle songs he had never heard! Strangely, it was the most fun he had had in ages.

He didn't enjoy Irene's company, he decided firmly, even if she was witty and made him laugh more than anyone had recently; even if she unwillingly made him wonder whether her queries about Harry and Acquila were genuine; even if, as the evening passed, he decided that she was pretty in her own way – with her chestnut hair, and those bright hazel eyes, and her relatively short, thin, not-so-curvy frame.

He didn't enjoy Irene's company, he would reiterate in his mind. It was just his loneliness talking. He didn't consider Irene Summerby a friend – he wouldn't, until he was a hundred percent sure she was in no way involved with Voldemort. He would never get attached to another person who could betray the kids and him—Merlin, that reminded him that he had to call up the kids on the Mirror, tell them about the Umbridge matter. Acquila would be waiting for him to call.

"We should get going," he said, his hand on her waist as he supported her sloshed self.

"Yeah," she giggled, finally managing a semblance of balance.

"I'll drop you home," he said, as she called a Muggle cab.

"Nah," she said, "I'll be fine." She waved her wand tipsily, managing to cast a Sobering Charm on herself.

"I'll drop you," he repeated, noticing that the driver of the cab, which had reached them now, was leering at Irene.

"I'm an Auror, Sirius," she said. "I'll be fine. Good night."

Deciding that she looked substantially better, he bid her goodbye.

"Remember your promise," she said, kissing his cheek sloppily. "You're teaching me how to drive your bike."

"I always keep my word," he replied, watching her get into the cab and drive away, as the Mirror vibrated in his pocket just in time, Acquila's face, which was so very dear to him, smiling back at him when he looked into it.

oOo

"I did good today, didn't I?" asked Acquila happily, as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower after practicing their Animagus transformations in the secret passage. "I managed to transform both my wings perfectly!"

"Yeah, it was amazing!" agreed Harry, though Acquila sensed a faint envy in him. "The only thing I can get right is my tail and my paws!"

"Your tail is splendid!" chuckled Acquila, remembering the look of embarrassment on Harry's face, earlier that evening, when he realised his newly-achieved tail was threatening to burst out of his pants!

"Stop that!" muttered Harry, hiding his reddening face in his hands.

It had been quite a task, getting his tail to disappear. And at one point of time, Acquila had debated on calling Madam Pomfrey for help. But Harry had somehow managed to make the tail shrink back into his... well, his behind.

"You know," said Acquila hopefully, "I think if we keep practicing, we'll achieve the complete transformation by the time the school year ends."

"I hope so," agreed Harry. "Then we can surprise Remus with our forms! And we can all go to Gamp Manor together on full moons... Remus, Sirius, you and me."

"But the three of you will be roaming over the forest, I'll have to fly," she muttered, a slight disappointment colouring her tone.

"That's true," he agreed sadly, "But it'll be fun to fly! I'd have liked to be a bird... I wouldn't even need a broomstick to fly..."

Acquila smiled, watching Harry's face light up at the thought of flying. "You should have been a bird, and I should have been an animal," she said, "We've got our Animagus forms all mixed up!"

"Mixed up?" he snorted, and she knew he was thinking of the second form the Animagus potion had shown him: of the Snake.

"Have you thought of trying to transform into a snake?" she asked him quietly. "It's creepy, but dead useful. You can just transform and slither away in case of danger... nobody will even notice you—"

"No!" he said, shuddering. "I like my limbs very much! I don't want to slither around with no arms and legs... and it's—a snake is Voldemort's sign—reminds me of the snake in the skull of the Dark Mark..."

She nodded. "Did you notice Dumbledore?" she asked him, remembering the events of the Gaunt Shack.

"Yeah, his hand is still black. But Remus and Sirius said it isn't fatal… so he'll be alright."

"Yes," she agreed, as they reached the portrait hole and entered the Common Room.

There was a crowd gathered around Fred and George, who were showing the first years the Firecracker Sweets they sneaked in from Zonko's. The sweets were supposed to be chewed first and spat onto the ground for the firecracker to burst. If not spat on time, a visit to a Healer was certain. And the risk and thrill only seemed to encourage Gryffindors to try the sweets out!

Hermione was making Ron do his homework, glaring at the twins intermittently and lecturing Ron. Neville sat there, watching them bicker with an amused smile. Nyx and Crookshanks seemed to be having a cat fight in a corner.

"Where were both of you?" Ron asked them as they neared the trio.

"We'd gone to meet Remus," Harry replied.

"Oh!" said Ron.

"Concentrate on your essay, Ronald," said Hermione. "I'm not going to give you mine to copy."

Ron made a face and continued scribbling on his parchment.

As the hour passed, the Common Room started emptying. Acquila told Hermione to go to the dormitory without her. And finally, it was only her and Harry in the room.

It had been quite a while since Harry and she had spent time alone. During the weekdays, they attended classes, two of them separately. Their friends were around during mealtimes and when they completed homework in the evenings. The weekends were spent in Snape's detentions. Harry's Quidditch practice added to it all, leading to them hardly having spent time together.

This was the first weekend that they both didn't have detention. And Acquila found herself feeling at peace as Harry and she sat with each other.

"So you missed me, then?" asked Harry, smirking at her thoughts.

"Don't act so cheeky," she said, rolling her eyes. "But yeah, I did miss you," she admitted.

"Missed you, too," he replied, grinning.

"It's all because of Snape," grumbled Acquila. "He's got some serious problems!"

Harry chuckled. "Yes, Sirius problems! You think Sirius fought with him or something? But they haven't even met since ages…"

Acquila made to reply, when Hedwig flew in from one of the open windows.

"That must be from Mrs Smith!" said Acquila happily, glad that Mrs Smith didn't demand any explanations for why an Owl appeared frequently at her windows to collect and deliver her letters. "I've been waiting for her reply all day."

She took the letter from Hedwig's talon, and patted her feathery head.

"Thank you, Hedwig!" she said, opening the letter.

Hedwig flew to Harry, affectionately nipped at his finger and then flew off.

Acquila read the letter, grinning occasionally, and then put it in her pocket, deciding to send back a reply the next day.

"The orphanage kids had gone for a picnic this week," she told Harry. "I bet they had fun."

"I bet our Hogsmeade trip will be just as much fun!" said Harry excitedly.

"Yes! I can't wait for it!"

They sat in comfortable silence, Harry's gaze falling on the newspaper which had 'Senior Undersecretary Resigns Unexpectedly' as the headlines, with a picture of a toad-like witch below the article.

"I want to talk to Sirius tonight," he said. "Know more about what they're planning about the pro-Werewolf bill."

"Yes," said Acquila, knowing her father would be working on the bill after he'd accomplished thwarting the anti-Werewolf bill. That a bigoted witch like Umbridge had been fired was a bonus.

"She's crazy," said Harry, sensing her thoughts. "I don't get how she could make up a set of laws to make life miserable for people who already find it difficult to live a normal life!"

"Good Dad got her fired," she said indignantly. "I wouldn't want someone like her being second-in-command to the Minister."

"Dad gives most of the credit to Nigella," she added, snorting.

"Acquila—" began Harry.

"Yes, yes, I know what you want to say—we should let Dad live the life he wants, and be happy for him...blah, blah, blah—I get that, Harry. But that doesn't mean I have to like her," she muttered.

"I don't know why you don't like Nigella… she seemed nice to me the handful of times I've met her. Even at Sirius' party, she was sweet to me, asking me about how I was, about school and Quidditch and stuff…" said Harry.

"She was sweet to me, too," she said, "but something's a little off about her."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked.

"Draco had told me, last year, that Aunt Narcissa said Nigella is a very shrewd lady. And you know how all the pureblood witches are: they just want to get their hands on the Black money, have a son with Dad, have him next in line for Lord Black…"

"I wouldn't worry about that. Sirius can handle himself," said Harry. "He's an Auror, Acquila. I'm sure he can easily see through gold-diggers. Remember how he brushed off Elia Yaxley at Aunt Cassiopeia's funeral?"

"I know," she said. "But you've noticed him during our Mirror talks? He sounds so lonely. He never says it, but I can tell."

"I've noticed that," said Harry.

"I'm afraid Nigella will use that to her advantage," she said warily. "Plays on his emotions, use his loneliness to manipulate matters…"

"Even if she plans that, they aren't going to met anymore," Harry pointed out. "The Umbridge stuff is over."

"He'll meet her again to thank her, I'm sure," said Acquila, knowing how her Dad was.

"Let's find out," said Harry, going to his dormitory to get the Two Way Mirror.

oOo

Sirius exchanged pleasantries with Daniel Greengrass and Edmund Macmillan, as he walked into Helphius Urquhart's house for the party he had thrown in celebration of his mother's fiftieth birthday. Sirius usually disliked attending pureblood social events; but he had decided to attend this one because he wanted to see whether people were receptive to certain legislative proposals Andromeda and he had in mind.

Andromeda, of course, was more or less accepted by all the purebloods, evidenced by the way she was surrounded by the wives of Daniel Greengrass, Edmund Macmillan, William Flint and some others. Sirius spotted Ted in conversation with Urquhart himself, with Kingsley and Richard Brown putting in an occasional word.

The witch he wanted to talk to, however, was nowhere to be seen: Nigella. He wanted to thank her for all the help she had given him with Umbridge. Without the information of Umbridge's past, he would never have managed to force her into voluntary retirement.

"Sirius," he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Cissy," he greeted her with a smile, while she kissed his cheek.

"Andromeda said you were invited, but I thought you weren't coming," she said, referring to the lateness of his arrival.

"Some work at Headquarters held me up," he replied, observing her surreptitiously. He reckoned Lucius and she had reconciled after he'd almost Avada'ed the bastard after the Chamber-Diary incident. And though the apparent reconciliation wasn't something that pleased Sirius, he preferred that to Cissy suffering harm from one of Lucius' wrathful fits.

"Lucius and I are better now," she said quietly, in response to his wordless question.

"That's—erm, good to hear, I guess," he muttered.

She smiled, shrugging in a very un-Narcissa-like way. "What have you been up to?" she asked him instead. "Apart from work and alliance-building?"

The almost imperceptible smirk at her lips made him frown. "What do you mean?"

"Word is that William Flint is extremely pleased with the way Nigella and you have been bonding," she said quietly.

He stared at her. "Is that so?"

"Yes," replied Narcissa. "Maud mentioned it to me. And Joanna spoke of it to Draco at school…"

Sirius' grip tightened on the wineglass in his hand. Joanna Flint had mentioned that to Draco Malfoy? Never had he been gladder that Draco and Acquila weren't on talking terms. Acquila didn't like Nigella at all, and he didn't want an argument with her over the woman, especially with all the problems he was already dealing with, especially because there was no truth to the rumours – well, there wouldn't be truth to them if he could just get a grip on his loneliness and manage to keep his eyes off Nigella.

"I take it that they aren't just rumours, then," said Narcissa, her tone slightly amused, "Going by the expression on your face."

"There's nothing going on, Cissy," he said, deciding that Narcissa wasn't even that close to him that he would discuss his personal life with her.

"I should hope not," said Narcissa, her voice a whisper.

But before he could ask her what she meant by that, Sophie Greengrass beckoned to her, and she walked away.

He turned around, taking a gulp of the rather foul-tasting wine, wondering whether it was a socially-acceptable time to make an exit – he wasn't quite in the mood to discuss politics after knowing that kids at Hogwarts discussed his potential love life.

But before he could walk towards Urquhart to take his leave, the witch in question walked to him.

"Hello, Sirius," she said, clad in robes of shimmering blue today, which made her eyes seem even brighter.

Damn! Why did she always have to look so beautiful? He felt like he was reverting back to his teenage years – when he lusted after any girl who was pretty, uncaring of whether she was as good a person within as she was on the outside. That habit of his had broken only when he had gotten to know Athena well and irreversibly fallen in love with her – not just for her beauty, but for the qualities he loved and admired in her.

But now, with the evenings spent alone in his dratted house, with his nights spent alone in that huge, cold bed, with all those couples walking around in the ballroom, on the roads, in the bloody Ministry even, who made his loneliness all the more hard to bear, he wondered whether it would indeed be foolish to go back to his teenage ways of going for anything that walked around in a skirt –in fancy, eyeball-attracting robes, in this case.

"Nigella," he greeted her, taking her hand and pressing his lips to it, as custom demanded. "I was planning on meeting you this week," he admitted honestly, willing his not-so-decent thoughts away. "Your help in the Umbridge matter—I would've found it really tough if William and you hadn't helped me with it."

"It was my pleasure, Sirius," she said. "I am honestly pleased that I could be of help to you."

He met her gaze, knowing her emphasis on 'you' had been intentional, but not quite knowing how to proceed further.

"Let's dance," she said unexpectedly, surprising him with her forwardness.

Unable to refuse out of politeness, and out of something he didn't really want to admit, he led her to the dance floor, cursing himself for it a moment later, when he felt stares focussing on them, the ballroom breaking out into audible whispering and muttering.

Perfect! Just when he had been wondering how to put a stop to those bloody rumours, he had bloody encouraged them by dancing with her! Phineas was right – he really behaved like a brainless dolt, at times!

"You don't really like these parties, do you?" she asked him, as they danced; he tried not to notice the way she elegantly twirled to the music.

"Not really," he admitted. "You?"

"I love them," she replied, smiling wistfully. "Socialising is a good way to keep away the loneliness."

He watched her curiously, something in her words striking a chord with him.

"It gets lonely at home," she went on, "William and Maud are busy with their lives. Marcus is forever out practising for Quidditch club trials. And with Joanna at Hogwarts now, I have only the house elves for company… These parties and balls – they help keep me occupied, you know… give me something to look forward to."

He nodded, understanding what she meant. He, too, looked forward to work, knowing it was the one thing that kept him busy. If he didn't have work and even the more pressing problems – the soul fragment in Harry, the Dementor and Werewolf legislative matters, the alliance building – the loneliness would probably had consumed him wholly.

"I never thought my life would turn out this way," she went on as he involuntarily pulled her closer into him, both of them swaying together as the rhythm mellowed into a soulful, slow-paced tune.

"I can say the same for me," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I thought I'd be happily living with Athena … with Acquila and the child Athena was carrying—" he stopped abruptly, realising just what he had disclosed – the one thing he would never reveal to Acquila, the unborn sibling she could never know about.

"Please don't mention that to anyone," he told her, his tone equal parts warning and beseeching.

"I won't," she said, sounding rather shaken at his unintended revelation. "I won't tell Acquila."

He started, noting that she realised he had been specifically referring to Acquila.

Merlin! Had be become so transparent?

"I envy you, at times," she said quietly.

"Envy me?" he said, snorting, his temper beginning to flare at her words. "What is it that you envy? The loss of my wife and friends? Or the decade I spent in Azkaban?"

"No," she said. "I envy that you have a child… that you got your daughter back. I would've readily spent time in Azkaban if it meant I could have a child to come back to—"

"You don't know what you're saying—Azkaban isn't—"

"I always wanted children," she pressed on, her tone deeply grieved. "When Regulus was alive, I hoped we could have children of our own… a little boy to love, a girl to spoil with robes and dolls… When Rabastan was put in Azkaban, I had prepared myself to settle down with a man, if it meant I could have children of my own."

He stared at her, something in her tone making him want to comfort her. And he didn't even notice himself pulling her closer into him.

"But nobody agreed to marry me," she said brokenly. "They were all scared that Rabastan would get back at them from Azkaban… and I kept waiting and hoping that someone would be brave enough… but nobody was," she said, smiling wistfully. "And here I am, years later, in my thirties, still lonely, still yearning for a child of my own…"

He loosened his hold on her, now realising where exactly she was trying to lead the topic. But he didn't want children—he wouldn't have any more children, not when he knew Acquila didn't want that…

"Do you regret it?" Nigella asked him suddenly. "You never got to see Acquila growing up… Never got to see take her to parks, celebrate birthdays with her… you missed out on all her childhood—even Harry's."

He nodded slightly, his jaw tightening. He didn't want to talk to her of this – not now. Not ever. His regret was something he tried to get over, every single day, every time he watched a father with his daughter.

He made to change the topic, but Nigella went on. "It's a wonderful thing to see a child grow up. I watched Joanna grow from a baby to the girl she is today… but it's always different with your own child, isn't it?"

"Not really," he said. "Harry isn't my son… but I consider him my own. He's as much my child as Acquila is."

She seemed slightly let down with his reply. "Maybe you are correct," she said half-heartedly, "but having a child around… there's no room for loneliness and despair… you can spend hours and hours watching children, their first words, their first steps, their childish prattle…"

He didn't quite hear the rest of her words, finding himself taken back to a time where a tiny, gummy smile on Acquila's face could make him forget all his worries, when he would spend hours watching her tiny eyes flutter in her sleep, her little mouth opening and shutting as she slept on, oblivious to all the bloodshed and War that went on around her… And suddenly, more acutely than ever, he felt he would give anything to get back the years he should have spent with her… all the events in her life he missed… all the birthdays she celebrated alone… all the days and weeks and months that she grew out of her chubby little self to the teenager she was today.

"You could have those days back is you wish to." Nigella's quiet voice shook him out of his longing thoughts. "With another child," she added softly, hopefully, "Athena lost your child when she was killed, but that doesn't mean you couldn't have another to fill the void—"

"Good night, Nigella," he cut her off tonelessly, not wanting to hear a word more, wanting to get away from the ballroom, from her, from the visions of a little dark-haired child the broken man in him envisioned.

And with a propriety kiss to her cheek, he walked away, unwilling to let in the barrage of conflicting emotions her words had given birth to.

oOo

"Good luck, sweetheart," Nymphadora whispered against Remus' lips, before claiming them with her own.

He sighed in content as she finally pulled back, her eyes a deep blue, her cheeks flushed with colour.

"Thank you," he said, pulling her into his arms again, unwilling to let go. It was strange how he felt he had been with her since years and years, although they had been dating for merely three months. Since he had begun teaching at Hogwarts, they didn't even meet too often – only on weekends, when she sneaked into his quarters through his fireplace, or at a room in the Hog's Head.

They spent the nights exploring each other intimately, of course. But they also spent a lot of time just talking, getting to know each other better. And Remus found that Dora was far understanding, far mature than he had thought she was… far more than he ever thought he deserved.

And he was never happier than he felt when they lay curled up in bed, her fingers threading through his hair, his hands wrapped around her, as he spoke of his childhood, of his teenage years, of the miserable decade he had spent in Ireland, of how he missed James, Lily and Athena… and recently, he had opened up to her about matters he had only ever shared with the Marauders: of his painful transformations, of the night he had been bitten, of his mother's anguish at his fate, his father's guilt that he had brought that horrific fate upon his only child by provoking Fenrir Greyback… and more recently, of Sirius and Andromeda's plans to have a Werewolf Rights bill tabled and passed in the Wizengamot.

"I'll see you tonight," he told Dora.

"I'll be waiting for you," she replied, kissing his lips one last time, before he stepped into the fireplace with a smile at her.

"Hello, Moony," said Sirius, grinning slyly at him. "Someone's got a thorough snogging, eh?"

"Shut up," muttered Remus, rolling his eyes, as he stepped out of the fireplace of Black Manor.

"And someone's going to get a thorough shag tonight, I guess," Sirius went on, chuckling as Remus aimed a blow at him which he dodged easily.

Remus glared at Sirius, although he was secretly glad to see his friend laughing instead of thinking over all the many worries that plagued his mind.

"Kingsley will be here in five," said Sirius. "He's bringing Antiquis Blishwick along… the others will be here, too. I've spoken to Amelia and Lady Longbottom. They'll back us up. And Andy's coming, too, of course… I've got it all planned out. The basic draft is ready. And I'll meet Cissy soon, and that tosser husband of hers… so it should all go well. It has to go well—"

"Thank you," said Remus quietly, cutting Sirius off.

"I'm not doing this only for you, Moony." Sirius waved off his thanks.

"Thank you," he repeated sincerely.

Sirius said nothing, looking at him for a long moment, before he nodded.

The two words of thanks wouldn't ever suffice for what Sirius was doing for Remus and his fellow werewolves. Dolores Umbridge's attempts to table an anti-Werewolf bill had been thwarted by Sirius as he forced her hand to resign her post – although Remus was informed of it only after everything had happened.

But after that, Andromeda and Sirius had decided that this was the time to begin strengthening the Light, to start bringing Voldemort's potential followers onto their side. And they had decided to start with werewolves, by pushing a Werewolf Rights bill, which would give werewolves rights equal to those which all normal witches and wizards had, along with equal employment opportunities, equal pay, make provisions for inducting lycanthropic children into wizarding schools – in short, assimilate werewolves into the mainstream, so that no lycanthrope would have reason to join the Dark.

Andromeda had viewed things in a practical light. But it was Sirius, who had brought Remus on board, insisting that his suggestions – regardless of their degree of importance – needed to be considered.

People had readily agreed to refuse support for Umbridge's anti-Werewolf bill, knowing it would get them into Sirius' good graces. But supporting a pro-Werewolf bill was a different matter, Remus had realised.

In the past week, Sirius had met with a selected group of people: Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Matthew Abbot, Augusta Longbottom, Richard Brown, Antiquis Blishwick, Arthur Weasley and Edmund Macmillan. They were people Sirius placed considerable trust in, people who could make a difference in their efforts to create awareness and gaining support for the bill.

From the little that Sirius had told him, some of them had their reservations about the need for the bill, about trusting that werewolves were capable of assimilating in society without the risk of them harming people. And to put their doubts to rest, Remus, much to Sirius' reluctance, had insisted that he would tell them that he was a werewolf.

Over the summer, especially after the party Sirius had thrown, he had met most of them often, while helping Andromeda with convincing them about the need to take the Dementors off Azkaban. Thus, most of them knew him well. And Remus hoped that when he told them about his affliction, they would realise that all lycanthropes weren't evil, and that they deserved to be a part of wizarding society, to live a life without facing disdain and ostracism.

"Moony," said Sirius, "Are you sure about this?"

"I am. But—" Remus went on at the steely glint in his friend's eyes, "—if they aren't understanding… if they're rude to me, don't flare up, alright?"

Sirius snorted. "You think I'm going to sit back and listen if someone insults you? I'll give them a piece of my mind—"

"Padfoot—"

"No," interrupted Sirius firmly. "If they're not going to widen their mindsets, there's no way I'm going to let them blabber crap about you—"

"They are our allies," cut in Remus. "We cannot antagonise—"

"But don't you see, Moony? I won't ally with them at all if they're going to act like bigoted gits! Look, Daniel Greengrass and William Flint will support me because they hope that'll persuade me to forge marital ties with their Houses. People like Nott and Yaxley will grudgingly support the bill because Malfoy will convince them to… but these people – Richard and Edmund … these are the people I hope to see in the Order—"

"The Order?" said Remus uncertainly.

"Yes, Remmy, the Order. I'm sure Voldemort will rise again," said Sirius, staring into space, his voice heavy with something Remus just couldn't identify. "And when he's back, the Order will reform again. And we need people—there's hardly anyone left from those of us who were in the Order last time… Alice and Frank, Marlene, Fabian and Gideon, Dorcas, Prongs and Lily, Athena – they're all gone!"

Remus noticed that for the first time since Sirius had been back from Athena's grave, his voice hadn't trembled when he uttered her name.

"We will need people! And I'm hoping Richard, Edmund and all the others will join the Order. And for that, we need to know whether their ideologies match ours, whether they're ready to put aside age-old prejudices against Werewolves and Giants to fight the Dark. And today's the day we'll know who all will stand with us," completed Sirius, eyes dark with determination.

"What are you hiding from me?" asked Remus sharply.

"Nothing," said Sirius, a little too quickly.

"There's something you're not telling me, Padfoot. You've been strange, since you've been back from Gaunt Shack—"

Green flames shot out of the fireplace, and Remus stopped abruptly, deciding to pursue the matter later. Dumbledore, in his dazzling blue robes, appeared in the flames, smiling genially as ever, eyes twinkling. But Remus saw Sirius' eyes flit to the headmaster's blackened hand.

"Remus, Sirius," Dumbledore greeted them.

"Dumbledore," said Sirius, leading him to the inner room where Remus could sense the air thick with magic – Sirius' security wards undoubtedly.

"You are doing very well, my boy," said Dumbledore to Sirius. "It is not the route I would have chosen, I admit. I am not too fond of utilising the political powers bestowed upon me. But you, Sirius, have done commendably well. And Andromeda – the way she is striving to make people see reason in retracting the Dementors from Azkaban is appreciable, indeed."

Sirius nodded gruffly.

"And you, Remus," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes gazing at him from behind his half-moon spectacles. "You have grown up into such a wonderful man! Not once have you made me regret my decision of letting you study at Hogwarts. Instead, you have only made me proud, my boy."

Remus smiled, slightly surprised at the headmaster's words. It wasn't that Dumbledore never praised people. But this – speaking his true mind out, the genuineness in his words… it seemed like Dumbledore wanted to make the most of whatever few months he had left, as if he wanted to tell them just how well he thought of them, as if he knew he wouldn't have many such opportunities to tell them how much he valued them…

Gradually, people started coming in. Sirius greeted Lady Longbottom and Amelia Bones, while Remus chatted with Edmund Macmillan, Richard Brown and Matthew Abbot, who complimented him on his teaching methods, saying that their children thought he was one of the best professors they had.

Mopsy and Kreacher were glad to serve the guests, and it was quite some time later that they finally got down to discussing the matter at hand.

"So, what have you thought of the Werewolf Rights bill, then?" asked Sirius.

It was Lady Augusta who spoke first. "I support you completely, Sirius. Frank used to tell me a lot about werewolves during the War… about the dangers they caused to Britain, how You Know Who had gained their support by falsely promising them power. I, for one, do not wish to see a repeat of that. If we grant werewolves equal rights, they will have no reason to support the Dark side. You can certainly count my vote for tabling the bill."

"I don't agree with that," put in Edmund Macmillan. "Werewolves? Seriously? They're Dark! They're evil! How do we even trust them? And I read through the draft, Sirius! You say you want a separate office to deal with Werewolves—and that bit about the Wolfsbane potion, and even the clauses about employing them! Who would want to employ a Dark creature—"

"Werewolves are not Dark," cut in Sirius firmly. "They are humans for all days of the month except that one night—and even on the full moon, the Wolfsbane helps them keep their mind, Edmund—"

"But what about that clause about having kids who're bitten enrolled at Hogwarts! You cannot be serious, Andromeda," put in Richard Brown to Andromeda. "My daughter studies at Hogwarts… your own kids study there, Sirius. How can you even think of having werewolves staying in the same Castle as them?"

"You do realise, Richard," began Andromeda tightly, "that—"

"And that part about giving werewolves rights to marry?" cut in Edmund Macmillan. "How did you even come up with that? You want them to ruin innocent people's lives—"

"They are humans, Edmund," Sirius cut in sharply, eyes dark. "They are as human as you and me, except for that one night of the month!"

"But they're Dark! They kill people—"

"Not all of them do," said Andromeda.

"I don't see the need for this at all!" exclaimed Richard Brown. "Most of what you've been suggesting isn't making sense—the Dementor matter, and now this Werewolf—"

"That's because you ran off to France during the War, Richard!" cut in Augusta Longbottom sharply. "You took your wife and child and you fled to France! And you don't know how things were, back here!"

Richard looked rather affronted at that.

"I'm not blaming you for that," went on Lady Augusta. "You did what you had to, to protect your family. But all of us who remained in Britain saw what You Know Who and his forces did. And mark my words, if we do not bring the Giants, the werewolves and the Dementors on to our side, the Dark will only be strengthened. It will be a repeat of last time, then—Edmund, Matthew, you know how the War had almost gone their way! If it wasn't for James' little boy, they would have won! The werewolves played a big role in tilting the War in their favour—the attacks every full moon, the bloodshed, the maulings… you know how it was—"

"And can you guarantee that this law will bring the wolf packs that are hiding in the forests to our side?" interrupted Richard Brown scathingly. "What about wolves like Greyback? Will the law make him and his pack stop attacking people?"

"They dwell in the forests because we refuse to accept them!" exclaimed Sirius. "If our society wasn't as narrow-minded as it is—if we weren't blind to the fact that they are humans, they wouldn't have felt the need to go hide in the forests, to support Greyback—"

"I admit Greyback is irredeemably evil," put in Remus calmly, "so are some members of his pack. But the rest of the wolves are with him only because they have no prospects – no earnings, no employment, no Wolfsbane to help them keep their minds on full moon nights. If they get the rights they deserve – to education and jobs, to their rightful place in society, to living with their families and friends, I don't think Greyback will hold any attraction for them—"

"Who will provide them with Wolfsbane?" interrupted Arthur curiously. "I've heard the ingredients are rather expensive, and the brewing process is complicated, too."

"The finances for that will be arranged," replied Sirius firmly. "The House of Black will contribute to the setting up of a fund. I have a Potion master in mind, who will handle the proper brewing of the potion. And there are certain other Houses whose heads will willingly contribute to the fund."

Sirius' sly smile gave Remus an idea of what Sirius had in mind for procuring finances.

"I still don't agree with this!" snapped Edmund Macmillan. "Do you think getting them into Hogwarts, giving them Wolfsbane and getting them jobs will kill the animal within them? They are still going to turn into wolves every month—they'll still have the ability to bite and turn people! It's risky! It's dangerous! Especially the schooling thing you propose!"

"Edmund—" cut in Sirius brusquely, but Edmund went on.

"I will not have werewolves in the Castle when Ernie studies! There is no surety at all that a werewolf wouldn't attack the students on full moon nights—"

"Do you have such little faith in my ability as headmaster, Edmund?" put in Dumbledore calmly.

"That's—that's not what I meant, Dumbledore," sputtered Edmund. "I just meant that—"

"If the matter of schooling is one you don't agree on," said Remus, his hands suddenly turning colder, his heart begin to thud faster and faster as he realised that this was the moment he would confess his lycanthropy to the people before him. "There has been a precedent for a werewolf studying at Hogwarts," he said quietly, watching Sirius nod to him in support.

"What!" said Richard and Matthew sharply. "A werewolf studied at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I sought out the student when I realised he was entitled to study in Hogwarts. I arranged a place for him to transform during the full moon, without harming any other student. And the boy went on to complete all seven years of his education, without harming a single person during his transformations."

"Are—are you serious?" gasped Matthew Abbot, the others, too, gasping in surprise.

"He's right," said Remus quietly, his mouth suddenly dry. "And the boy he's talking about… he's me."

There was stunned silence for a moment, before Richard Brown leapt out of his seat.

"You—you're a werewolf?" he demanded, his voice trembling, his eyes boring into Remus' with unconcealed disgust.

"I am," said Remus, cocking a glance at the others simultaneously. Arthur Weasley, Antiquis Blishwick seemed surprised, though unperturbed. Edmund was speechless. Lady Augusta was fiery-eyed, though her furious gaze was directed at Richard Brown. Kingsley, Andromeda, Dumbledore and Amelia, of course, were unsurprised, having already known of his affliction. Matthew Abbot seemed extremely pensive. Sirius' jaw, though, was tight with determination, undoubtedly braced for an outburst.

"You are a werewolf," spat Richard, "and you—you live in the Castle! With Lavender and the kids—where you can bite them and pass on your—your bloody disease to them—how can you, you monster—"

Andromeda and Sirius were outraged, but Remus silenced them with a glance. "Richard," he said calmly, "A few minutes ago, you were praising me, saying Lavender enjoys my classes—"

"That was before I knew you're a bloody werewolf!" spat Richard. "A monster like you shouldn't be allowed amongst us, let alone among children—"

"Brown!" cut in Sirius, his eyes dark with warning, as he stood up from his chair, advancing towards Richard.

"Padfoot!" said Remus warningly, not wanting Sirius to react in anger. But he saw that Sirius' wand was on the table – less of a danger to Richard's safety, he thought wryly.

"I'd thought better of you, Richard," said Sirius, his voice dangerous. "You're right down there with people like Malfoy – narrow-minded, bigoted—"

"Just because Lupin's your friend—" began Richard hotly.

"So 'Lupin', is it, now?" sneered Sirius. "Minutes ago, when your daughter was finally getting a hang of defensive spells because of Remus taking efforts to get her doubts sorted, he was 'Remus' to you. But now that you've discovered that he turns into a wolf once a month, for no bloody fault of his, you decided that he's a monster?"

"Sirius is right," said Edmund Macmillan, his voice shaky. "We've known Remus for months. And if Sirius trusts Remus enough to let Harry and Acquila live with him under the same roof, I doubt Remus' dangerous."

"Thank you," said Remus softly, though he noticed Edmund wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Remus," said Lady Augusta, "Frank held you in high regard. Neville, too, thinks very highly of you, especially when it was because of you taking time out to teach him spells and build his confidence that he could fight Lockhart and save himself and his friends. The House of Longbottom stands with you—"

"But Lady Longbottom—" Richard made to intervene, but the formidable witch went on.

"Seeing the kind of man you are – wise, brave, compassionate and good human being, I am certain that the Werewolf rights bill will only aid unfairly ostracised, but good, men and women like you. Andromeda, you can count on me to back the bill in the Wizengamot," she finished.

"I will support the bill, too," put in Matthew Abbot softly. "I cannot say I am entirely convinced of its merits – especially with regard to the wolf packs dwelling in the forests. But seeing Remus gives me hope than social inclusion, education and acceptance by family and friends can go a long way in making the man prevail over the wolf."

"Thank you," said Remus, his voice slightly shaky, unable to believe that people were actually basing their decision to support the bill on him, that they were accepting him even with the knowledge than he turned into a furry, monstrous creature once a month.

"I am with you, too, Remus, Sirius," said Arthur Weasley.

"As am I," added Antiquis Blishwick.

"And me, of course," put in Kingsley with a smile.

"And Amelia and I can arrange to have the bill tabled at the earliest," put in Dumbledore jovially. "You already have the backing of three Wizengamot members: Edmund, Matthew and Lady Longbottom. I am sure the support of five more members can be procured in the coming days, for the bill to be capable of tabling."

"Brown?" asked Sirius, looking to Richard for his reply, no sign at all of the earlier friendliness he had shared with the man.

"Foolish—you are all acting foolishly—"

"Richard," said Dumbledore softly, making Richard swear under his breath.

"I need—I need time to think it through," he spat finally.

"Of course," said Sirius. "Take as much time as you want. But remember that this matter cannot pass through the doors of this room. Remus' affliction is not to be made public," he said to the room at large.

"And if it is, you shall have to deal with me," put in Lady Augusta warningly.

"Goodbye," said Richard scathingly, before storming out of the door with a last, disgust-filled look at Remus.

"Thank you," said Remus softly, collapsing into his seat, his frame trembling with relief and the giddy happiness of being accepted. "All of you."

"Don't mention it, my boy," said Dumbledore genially.

"Thank you," chorused Sirius, his voice unusually sincere. And as his grey eyes swept over the people in the room, Remus knew that Sirius had finally found people he could trust, people who would be part of the reformed Order of the Phoenix, who would bolster the fight against the Dark forces.

oOo

Harry Potter looked rather nice, thought Daphne, as she sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast.

Harry was talking to Acquila and Longbottom, laughing at something Acquila said.

His eyes were bright, the vivid green noticeable even from the relative distance. His hair was just as messy as it always was. And Daphne watched him laughing heartily, nudging a blushing Granger with his elbow, possibly teasing her over something.

And she wondered, yet again, of what it was that she found attractive in him. Well, he wasn't all that wonderful in the looks department. She had seen better-looking blokes in the many pureblood parties she attended. Harry wasn't as handsome as Blaise, or Arwen Pucey. But what he lacked in the aristocratic looks department, Harry more than made up for it with his messy hair, those wonderful green eyes, and that adorable, adorable smile which he flashed at her.

He had a special kind of smile reserved for her, Daphne had noticed: a slightly shy smile, with his eyes meeting hers in a part-hesitant, part-eager sort of gaze.

Salazar! She was sounding like a love-struck fool! If Pansy and Millicent knew she liked Harry's shy smiles, life would be hell for her in the dormitory!

"Stop staring at him!" Draco snapped at her, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Look who's talking!" she snapped back, knowing that Draco stared at Acquila far, far more than she watched Harry.

Draco glared at her, no doubt thinking up a retort, but he said nothing, settling on stabbing his bacon with unnecessary force.

"Why don't you talk to her?" she questioned Draco in a softer tone.

Draco didn't reply, merely chewing his bacon in his usual bored manner.

She didn't know what had happened between the two cousins. But since the end of their second year, Acquila had stopped talking to Draco. She hadn't spoken to him even during the ball at Black Manor, nor visited Draco in the Hospital Wing when he got injured.

But Draco, much to Daphne's surprise, was unusually determined to get Acquila back on talking terms with him. At mealtimes, he always sat on the place he was currently sitting in: one which commanded an unobstructed, strategic view of the Gryffindor table – a fact which Daphne knew because she occupied the seat next to Draco for precisely the same reason!

Since the start of the school year, Draco had kept an uncharacteristically low profile. He didn't dole out insults to Weasley and Granger. He didn't even verbally spar with Harry. He merely went about minding his own business, along with watching Acquila.

Daphne and Draco had had a rather antagonistic relationship when they were kids. Astoria and Draco usually ganged up on her, pushing her into fountains, stuffing frogs down her robes. Daphne used to hit back equally hard: emptying a bottle of indelible red ink on Draco's blonde hair, and clipping off all the twigs of his broomstick, until her Mother had scolded both, Astoria and her, for their unladylike behaviour, bringing an abrupt end to their prank war. But after that, as they grew up, they had been rather good friends.

And that was why Daphne didn't quite like seeing this sulky, morose version of Draco. She knew Astoria would be rather miffed if Daphne helped Draco and Acquila patch up – Astoria's crush on Draco was rather well-known among Slytherins, as was Draco's fancy for Acquila.
But Daphne had had enough of watching Draco brooding, and she decided she would have to do something about it.

"If you tell me what happened with Acquila and you," she said to him, "I might be able to help you out."

"Nothing happened," muttered Draco.

"My plans will surely have better results than yours," Daphne went on, "at least you won't have to spend a night in the Hospital Wing!"

Draco seemed rather startled at that, though he smirked at her a moment later. "Worked that out, did you?"

"Of course, I did!" she replied. "There was no way you'd get that close to a Hippogriff, and insult it on top of that, unless you had some motive behind it! You're so silly, at times—"

"But it worked," said Draco in a low voice. "She came to see me at night. I acted as if I was asleep… but she said she still cares for me."

"But she won't talk to you?"

"No."

"Maybe I can ask Harry to—" began Daphne.

"No!" Draco snarled. "Don't you dare get Scarhead into this! He's the reason for it in the first place!"

"Don't you start now!" said Daphne, knowing it was impossible to stop Draco once he got into his Potter-is-an-attention-seeking-git talks.

"Harry's really helpful," she added in a lower voice. "I can talk to him—"

"Hah!" snorted Draco. "Potter? Convincing Acquila to talk to me?"

"Why not!" exclaimed Daphne. "If you've got a better idea, tell me! Or then you'll have to watch Acquila walk away with Diggory!"

"Diggory, that prat!" grumbled Draco.

"Haven't you noticed Acquila talking to him? I saw them near the greenhouses yesterday… they were discussing Arithmancy classes. If you don't do something soon, I guess Diggory's going to make a move—"

Draco snorted. "You pay such attention to Diggory, but you haven't noticed you've got a rival of your own?"

"Rival—what do you mean?" demanded Daphne. "If you're talking of Weasley and Vane, Harry doesn't like them at all!"

"You don't observe well, do you?" chuckled Draco.

"Stop being cryptic," she snapped, curiosity and envy getting the better of her.

Someone fancied Harry? Someone other than Weasley and Vane? Someone who could rival her for his affections?

"Haven't you ever observed Potter and Acquila?" asked Draco.

Acquila?

Harry and Acquila?

Draco was mad! Harry and Acquila were like siblings for Salazar's sake! They lived in the same house! And Sirius Black was a father to both of them!

"They're like siblings, Draco," she said, not liking the note of uncertainty she could hear in her own voice.

"Yeah, right!" scoffed Draco.

Daphne glared at him, not liking his words one bit.

Her attention went back to the Gryffindor table.

Harry and Acquila had finished with breakfast, waiting for Weasley and Longbottom to be done, from the looks of it.

Acquila was glancing at the Hufflepuff table. And Harry was—Merlin! Harry was watching Acquila! But—but there was nothing wrong with it, was there? They were friends! He was just looking at his friend—not a big deal at all!

But suddenly, Harry said something to Acquila, making her look at him. Acquila shook her head, undoubtedly refusing what Harry was saying. And then, when Harry seemed rather miffed with her for some reason, she leant towards him and kissed his cheek, linking their arms together, whispering something in his ear that made him smile—no! This smile—the one he was smiling at Acquila was an even different smile than the one he gave Daphne! He looked—he looked happy! Like really, genuinely happy – and was—was that a slight flush in his cheeks?

"—Diggory! I don't know what girls like in him—" Draco's grumbling caught her ears.

"Diggory's handsome and charming," she muttered in reply, now noticing that the five Gryffindors stood up and began walking. Acquila walked with Granger now, while the boys walked behind them. Harry didn't look at Acquila at all as he chatted with Weasley. And when they passed the Slytherin table, Harry even gave Daphne a smile – not his shy one, but a friendly one, which Daphne liked just as much.

And she decided that Draco was completely mistaken about Acquila and Harry – though the niggling memory of them whispering and linking their arms together, refused to leave the back of her mind.

"—don't tell me you have a crush on Diggory, too!" said Draco disgustedly, his eyes now watching Acquila's retreating figure. "If you do, then you need a brain check-up—all you girls need one! Diggory for Salazar's sake! That Hufflepuff!"

"We're doing projects in Runes today," said Daphne quietly, a quick plan forming in her mind.

"So?" asked Draco, still watching Acquila.

"The projects are supposed to be done in pairs."

"So what—oh!" exclaimed Draco irritably. "You want to sit with Potter again, huh? You're sitting with me, all right? I end up sitting with Boot because you sit with Potter—and Boot's such an annoying nerd—"

"I am sitting with Harry," cut in Daphne. "But you sit with Acquila."

"She won't sit with me," Draco muttered.

"Don't worry," said Daphne, smirking. "I've got it all worked out."

Minutes later, they reached the Runes classroom, panting slightly. It was tough to run through narrow passages while trying to look ladylike. She looked around, glad that they'd managed to reach before the Gryffindors, and slipped into the classroom.

She sat on the bench next to the one Harry and Acquila usually occupied. After that first class where he'd sat with Daphne, Harry had reverted back to sitting next to Acquila.

Draco, meanwhile, remained hidden outside, just as planned.

As Daphne had predicted, Granger entered the classroom and sat on the first bench with a Ravenclaw boy whose name Daphne hadn't bothered knowing.

Acquila, who had come in with Granger, took the bench next to Daphne's.

And then, Harry walked in.

"Harry!" Daphne called out to him. His eyes turned to her, a smile on his face.

"Sit with me?" she asked him quietly. "Draco might not come today… he's gone to Madam Pomfrey to get his arm checked up."

Harry looked visibly torn for a moment. He looked at Acquila, whose face was expressionless, and then turned to Daphne again.

"Sure," Harry muttered, though he still seemed hesitant. But he did take the seat next to her, the proximity to him making Daphne's stomach flop with delight.

Daphne's smile faded a moment later, as she noticed the cold expression on Acquila's face. Why did the girl suddenly seem so low when she had been smiling and laughing at breakfast? And why had Harry looked at Acquila before answering Daphne? As if he was taking permission?

Was Draco right? Was there something going on between the two of them?

But Acquila and Diggory kept making gooey eyes at each other! And Acquila had admitted during the tea party in the holidays that she fancied Diggory!

Hmm. So maybe Harry and Acquila were just best friends… yes, that was it. They were best friends, who were really close to each other. There was nothing more to it.

She looked up to the door, watching Draco enter the room at last. The prat did a rather exaggerated job of looking around the classroom for an empty seat, before he noticed that the only one was next to Acquila.

He walked straight up to Acquila and took the unoccupied seat next to her. Daphne saw Acquila look rather taken aback, seeming to not know how to react. Harry, meanwhile, was watching the two cousins as if they were a cracker ready to explode.

Acquila then seemed to make to get up. But Professor Babbling's entry left her with no choice but to sit where she was.

Daphne's plan had worked! Draco could spend time with Acquila working on the project Professor Babbling would assign them! And Daphne could work with Harry!

She could see a surreptitious smile at Draco's lips; he was smug at the success of their plan.

"She's confused," Daphne heard Harry muttering to himself, his eyes shut.

"What?" she asked him.

"Erm—nothing," replied Harry hastily, running a hand through his messy locks and messing them up further, making him look even nicer.

"You said 'she's confused'," said Daphne.

"Yeah, well—Acquila… she's confused, because she's mad at Malfoy, but she cares for him—but forget that… how have you been?" Harry made a failed attempt at changing the topic.

"How do you know she's confused?" pressed on Daphne suspiciously, something not quite seeming right to her. His eyes were shut when he said that! He hadn't even been looking at Acquila!

"I just know… she's my best friend," he replied simply, shrugging, though he wasn't meeting her eyes when he replied.

"Good morning!" exclaimed Professor Babbling cheerfully, putting an end to their talk.

As the Professor explained the basic Runic alphabets, Daphne observed Harry from the corner of her eyes. He was watching Acquila and Draco again, his gaze intermittently flitting to the blackboard.

Acquila, she noticed, didn't talk one word with Draco. But when he broke the nib of his quill, she quietly passed him an extra quill she had.

Further, Acquila even helped Draco retrieve his ink bottle from his bag when Draco slyly pretended that his hand still hurt, like the cunning Slytherin that he was!

Well, things were going well for Draco, at least. And she hoped they would go well for her, too, when Professor Babbling began to announce that they would have to give in a project, deciphering runes from the ancient Aztec ruins. She hoped the Professor would tell them to pair up with their current partners.

"—your translations will be graded, of course. Five points will be awarded to each student in the winning pair—" announced Professor Babbling.

And suddenly, Daphne noticed Harry's neck snapping to his left, Acquila turning to her right at the exact same time, their gazes meeting.

"You're with me!" Acquila whispered audibly to Harry, who nodded as if it was most obvious.

"Oh no, Miss Black!" put in Professor Babbling, making Daphne's hopes rise. "I see students from different Houses sitting with each other during my classes – especially Gryffindor and Slytherin. Let us build on the inter-House relations! A project will be the perfect opportunity for students to interact with other Houses. So, you will be partnering Mr Malfoy for the project! You will all partner the student sitting next to you."

Acquila's hiss of annoyance was something Daphne heard clearly, just as she noticed the smug smile on Draco's face, and the rather tentative smile on Harry's.

"So, you're stuck with me until we finish the project, then," she said to Harry.

"I'm looking forward to it," replied Harry, finally smiling that shy smile that was reserved especially for Daphne.

"So am I," she replied, allowing the giddy grin to escape her lips.

oOo

"What does he want from me, now?" grumbled Lucius, as he paced around the vast room of Malfoy Manor. "Haven't I done enough already? I resigned from the Board of Governors, I stopped Theodore and the others going over to the Dark side—what more does he expect from me?"

"Calm down, dear," said Narcissa, watching the gates of the Manor where her cousin would apparate.

Sirius had sent an owl, saying he would visit them for some business with Lucius. And Narcissa, like her fuming husband, knew whatever business he had wasn't one which would be to Lucius' liking.

Lucius hadn't told Narcissa much about the last few meeting he had had with Theo Nott and the others. But she knew that there had been an extremely volatile discussion, with tempers raging high. After Sirius had been attacked in Diagon Alley, Lucius had had to put all his persuasive and manipulative skills to use in forcing his fellow former Death Eaters to refrain from showing their loyalty to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord, thought Narcissa, with a shiver. If he was indeed alive – which she thought he was, due to Sirius' behaviour when he had held his wand at Lucius' throat – then her family would be in for some very tough – even violent – times.

If the Dark Lord was indeed alive, he would never forgive Lucius for all that he had done recently: work for Sirius, convince Nott and the others to stop any action against Sirius, promise to lend political support to the House of Black…

And Narcissa didn't know how to go about saving her family from the Dark Lord's wrath as well as Sirius'.

All of it boiled down to the Diary. If Lucius hadn't placed the Diary in Hogwarts, if he hadn't wanted to carry on his foolish plans against Sirius and his kids, none of this would have happened.

Now, thanks to his foolishness and short-sightedness, Lucius owed a life debt to Lupin and that female Auror, Irene Summberby.

Even further alarming was the debt he owed to the House of Black as a whole: Lucius had tried to finish off the Black bloodline. It was Lucius' actions that had proved almost fatal for Acquila, the Black heiress. Even that Potter boy had almost died at the hands of the Basilisk; he was the last Potter in existence. And magic worked in very different ways. The fact that Lucius had attacked Acquila's very life gave Sirius immense power over Lucius – far immense, Narcissa thought, than even an Unbreakable Vow would have been.

The unwritten, although implied, ancient magical laws decreed that if the heir to an Ancient House was attacked with fatal intentions, the Head of the House had every right to finish off the wizard or witch who had threatened the existence of the bloodline. Sirius had thrown the Avada Kedavra at Lucius, but Lupin and Summerby had stopped him… and that had given Sirius the upper hand in his battle with Lucius. Because Sirius had spared Lucius in the end, Lucius as good as owed his life to Sirius – not just his life, but that of the entire House of Malfoy! With Sirius being the regent until the Potter boy came of age, Sirius had the right to kill Lucius for harming Potter, too—and all that boiled down to Lucius placing his very life in the hands of Sirius. It was all a very, very complicated matter, thinking of which Narcissa tried her best to avoid.

All she knew was that Lucius would never, ever be able to threaten the lives of Acquila and Potter, without losing his very life for it. If he killed the two kids, Sirius would not only have the right to claim Lucius' life, but Draco's, too!

An eye for an eye, an heir for an heir, a bloodline for a bloodline…

And now, her husband would well and truly have to dance to Sirius' tunes. When Narcissa had pleaded with Sirius for Lucius' life, she had promised him political support – something which Sirius was milking to the last drop. And from the look so fit it, Sirius' current visit had to do with taking further advantage of having Lucius in his grasp.

"He has come," said Lucius coldly.

And Narcissa, stood up, ready to welcome her cousin.

"Sirius," she said softly, moving forward to greet him when he entered. She kissed his cheek, leading him to the parlour.

She observed her cousin, noticing the bags under his eyes, the slightly harried look around him – but it was something only she noticed, for Lucius saw only Sirius' commanding poise, the smug grin at his lips which told Lucius that he would have to bow to his wishes.

"What is it, this time?" demanded Lucius irritably. "Convince Nott again? Tell you what Rosier thinks of you?"

"No," said Sirius, settling comfortably into the seat. "You will help me gain support for a new bill I wish to get passed in the Wizengamot."

"What bill?" asked Lucius through gritted teeth, and Narcissa sensed her husband's concealed fury at Sirius' ordering, commanding tone.

"The Werewolf Rights bill," replied Sirius coolly.

Lucius said nothing, gazing at Sirius calculatingly, while Narcissa felt herself tremble slightly.

The Dark Lord was alive, then… intending to make a return. Or Sirius would never have thought of bringing the Werewolves over to his side through legislation.

"He's alive?" she whispered, noting that Sirius' face bore no emotion.

"I take it your husband will begin his efforts at the earliest, then, Cissy?" he asked her instead.

"Efforts?" spat Lucius, rising furiously from his seat. "You cannot order me around, Black! I will not be bullied by you—"

"Do you forget that I have every right to kill you, Malfoy?" asked Sirius, still seated, though his tone was warning. "Do you think I have forgotten that both my kids would've been dead at your hands—"

"How long will you go on forcing my hand, Black?" growled Lucius angrily. "Just because I put in that Diary, you cannot—"

"Lucius!" put in Narcissa, getting to her feet and placing a hand on her husband's shoulder, only to find him swatting it away.

She suppressed a sigh. Things between them had been getting better in recent days, but Sirius' presence always seemed to bring the worst in Lucius; it reminded him that she had chosen her cousin over her husband, she had betrayed Lucius' plans to Sirius.

"What do you require us to do, Sirius?" she asked Sirius, watching Lucius walk further away, no doubt trying to bite down his rage.

"I need the support of one more Wizengamot member to table the bill. I want Nathan Rosier backing us," said Sirius, making Narcissa watch him in surprise.

My, my! Sirius already had the support of seven members, then!

Goodness! Her little cousin was growing up, indeed; turning into what his ancestors had always expected of him. Admitted it wasn't for the blood purist side, but Sirius was realising the reach of the powers he had as Lord Black. And he was finally using them, and digging into those vast reserves of cunning and shrewdness which he'd hidden so long under his unwitting persona of a noble Gryffindor, a prankster, a recklessly brave Auror.

But beneath all she had always thought he was, she was now discovering that he was indeed a Black… like her, like Bella, even like Andy who was making such giant strides in politics.

"—then, you need to talk to all your little cronies, and make Nott talk to his, too," went on Sirius, "and whip up support for the bill. Once it's tabled, of course, I would expect you," he turned to Lucius, now, "to begin your behind-the-scene measures. You're very good at them, I know. You managed to overturn a hearing in your favour, remember? When the little matter of Acquila's guardianship was being heard?"

Narcissa stiffened slightly, remembering how she, too, had played a role in convincing the Wizengamot members to vote for her.

"You're very skilled at your little manipulations and blackmail, Malfoy. So you'll put your skills to good use," added Sirius.

"You expect too much of me, Black," spat Lucius, eyes dark with rage.

"Lucius—" began Narcissa firmly, but Sirius beat her to it.

"Too much?" said Sirius, chuckling. "There's more, Malfoy! There's a provision in the bill to set up a fund for Werewolves… to provide fortified places to transform, to dole out Wolfsbane to them, etcetera, etcetera."

Guessing what was coming next, Narcissa inwardly felt an unbidden surge of pride for her cousin. Sirius had turned into someone even Grandfather Phineas would be proud of!

"And you and your fellow former Death Eaters would, of course, be pleased to donate generously to the fund, I presume," said Sirius, smirking.

"Black, you bast—" began Lucius, outraged; but Sirius went on.

"Well, I don't even need a reason to convince you for the donation." Sirius was grinning cheerfully now. "Your House is obliged to mine. I spared your life when I could very well have tortured you to death. My godson was bitten by a Basilisk! My daughter was unconscious for three days… she almost died… all because of you, of course. I could've hurt your heir, you know… and eye for an eye and all that. But I spared you both, and you're bound to bow to my will, now—"

"You will be the ruin of me, Black!" snarled Lucius. "You already had me pay that hefty sum to that blood traitor Weasley—"

"You will donate a hundred thousand galleons to the Werewolf fund. I think you can put up your Leicestershire villa on the market, eh? Anyway, Cissy hates that place, don't you, Cissy?" asked Sirius.

Lucius had turned a rather alarming shade of red, but that only seemed to amuse Sirius.

Narcissa, meanwhile, smiled despite herself, remembering herself ranting to an eight-year-old Sirius during the Malfoy Yule ball at the Leicestershire villa. That place had an extremely nasty aura to it, and Narcissa had said just that to Sirius. But never had she expected him to remember that little titbit, particularly after so many years and the earlier frostiness in their ties.

"You will tell Crabbe and Goyle to cough up money, of course. Rosier, I believe, will donate a tidy sum rather willingly. As for Nott, just put in a mention of his involvement in the fraud in the doling of funds to the Auror force. What was the name of the bloke who was blamed for it? Wifred Milverton, wasn't it? I'm sure Nott wouldn't want to stand in the dock for not only financial fraud of Ministry funds, but also falsely implicating an innocent man," said Sirius, chuckling as he watched Lucius' eyes widen.

Sweet Salazar!

Sirius seemed to be channelling Grand-Uncle Arcturus! What happened to her noble cousin who spoke of morals and Gryffindorish ethics?

Here, Sirius was openly resorting to manipulation! And he'd done his job so thoroughly… Nott's involvement in the fraud was such a hushed up matter! How on earth had Sirius managed to get to the bottom of it, especially when he had been in Azkaban when the fraud was committed?

"Fine," spat Lucius, his voice shaking with anger, but knowing his hands were well and truly tried. "Anything else, Black? Any more people to convince? Any more money to extort?" he sneered.

"Extort," said Sirius, getting to his feet, "is a very strong word, Malfoy. I'd say it's more of justice. If all of you were dragged to the Wizengamot after the war, along with life sentences in Azkaban, your little friends and you would've had your estates confiscated to pay up the fines for your crimes… all the slaughtering and torturing of people would've attracted quite some sections of the law, wouldn't they? Just consider it retribution for all your unpunished deeds."

"Goodbye, Cissy," said Sirius, kissing her cheek. "I guess you'll handle it all, won't you?"

"I will," she replied quietly, watching Lucius' eyes flash with fury.

"And Malfoy?" called Sirius when he reached the door. "If any of them object, just remind them what happened to Dolores Umbridge, all right?"

Umbridge?

Sirius was behind Umbridge's sudden, astonishing resignation?

Never had Narcissa been so stunned at her cousin's ruthless craftiness. And as she watched Sirius disappear into nothingness, she realised that she had never been so proud of him, too.

oOo

As the days passed by, DADA classes got more and more exciting. Remus taught them all about interesting kinds of creatures, and even made them practice new spells in class.

Potions, though, got even harder to sit through. Snape had handed Acquila and Harry yet another detention – and for no good reason, thought Harry indignantly!

Divination was even worse. The class was very depressing to attend, with Trelawney, Lavender and Parvati looking at him like he'd drop dead any moment. Care of Magical Creatures had become a bit dull after their eventful first lesson. Hagrid had become very conscious of his students safety; all they had been studying for the past few lessons was how to care for Flobberworms.

Ancient Runes was great, however. Harry found the subject extremely interesting. Daphne, somehow, managed to evoke Acquila's jealousy in every single class – something that gladdened and confused him to no end.

Transfiguration and Charms was going pretty well, as were Hermione and Acquila's Arithmancy classes, although Harry kept hoping Acquila would never take up Cedric's offer of studying together.

Today, though, they had no classes. They were off to Hogsmeade! Their first ever Hogsmeade visit!

The entire school, third year up, was in great spirits. Acquila and he, though, had bee slightly low, knowing that it was their parents' death anniversary. Remus said that Halloween was all about honouring the dead. And what better way to honour their parents than celebrating Halloween?

Acquila was particularly worried about Sirius, even though he seemed alright when they spoke to him on the Mirror. He had even told them to put that ill-fated Halloween night to the back of their minds and enjoy the Hogsmeade visit. They would have quite liked Remus to go to Grimmauld Place in the evening to keep Sirius company. But it was full moon, that night. And Harry just hoped Sirius wouldn't get upset again when he visited James, Lily and Athena's graves.

"I can't wait to get there!" Ron's excited voice caught Harry's attention. "I've been hearing about Hogsmeade all my life!"

Most of the Gryffindors were as excited as Ron, thought Harry, as they stood lined up near the Entrance Hall, where Filch stood inside the front door checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face.

Fred and George were predictably going to head to Zonko's Joke Shop. Dean and Seamus were going to the Shrieking Shack with Parvati and Lavender, who was still upset over the death of her rabbit, Binky. Percy was very secretive about what he was going to do, though Fred and George had revealed he was taking Penelope Clearwater to Madam Puddifoots.

Acquila, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Harry had no specific plans. They just planned to roam around and have Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

"Even I'm so excited!" said Hermione. "I hear there is a good book shop, there. I even want to buy new quills."

The rest of them groaned aloud.

"We're going there to have fun, Hermione, not complete homework!" Ron reminded her.

"Reading is fun for me," huffed Hermione. "You never understand, Ronald!"

Hermione walked ahead, getting into an empty carriage.

"Nobody understands her!" Ron whispered to Harry after Hermione was out of earshot.

The carriage fit only four students, so Neville got into another carriage with Dean and Seamus.

"I say we'll go to Honeydukes and buy all the candy we want, then Zonko's," suggested Acquila.

"Not Zonko's," Hermione protested. "It's against the rules."

"Rules!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"Hermione I bet you won't find any school rule stating we aren't allowed to go to Zonko's," said Acquila in amusement.

"I know," replied Hermione. "But there is a rule against bringing the joke items back into the Castle."

"I think we should leave you alone with Fred and George one day. They'll get rid of your rule-abiding qualities!" suggested Acquila, as Ron chuckled.

"Harry?" said Hermione, wanting him to state his say.

"I'm not missing Zonko's," said Harry, shrugging. "Besides, we can always sneak the stuff in. When will the secret passages come in use?"

"Not you, too, Harry!" grumbled Hermione. "I knew I should have sat with Neville."

"Ok, moving on, after Zonkos, we'll go to Three Broomsticks, and then the Shrieking Shack," said Acquila. Her eyes were glinting mischievously as she grinned at Harry.

"The Shrieking Shack?" said Ron, sounding rather worried. "It's haunted!"

"That's exactly why we're going there," said Acquila.

"Fred and George said—" began Ron, but Hermione raised her eyebrows amusedly.

"Are you scared, Ron?" she asked him.

"No!" said Ron indignantly. "Not at all! I'm a Gryffindor!"

Hermione and Acquila just chuckled, while Ron looked embarrassed.

Harry, however, stared out of the window as their carriage came to a stop.

"Look!" he said to Acquila.

There, in the shadows, stood a familiar face, looking right at them: Auror Dawlish.

"Is that…?" asked Acquila.

"Yes, it's Dawlish," replied Harry.

"Merlin! I knew Dad would send some Aurors to protect us," she grumbled, watching Dawlish disappear in the shadows.

"Look—another one," whispered Acquila, gesturing towards a blue-robed woman, whom they'd seen during the party Sirius had thrown. "She was there for the party, right? She's a trainee Auror."

"Yes."

"Dad's becoming over protective," muttered Acquila. "We don't need an Auror guard."

"It's the right thing to do," said Hermione quietly. "We don't want another attack like the one at Diagon Alley."

"Yes," put in Neville, who had just walked up to them. "You never know when You Know Who will strike."

"Right," Acquila agreed reluctantly.

"Look, she's following us!" said Ron, looking over his shoulder.

"Not too discreet, is she? You were right about her being a trainee," said Harry.

"It's irritating," said Acquila. "Next thing you know, Dad will be sending us Auror guards on dates, too!"

"That'll be really interesting to watch," chuckled Neville.

"I hope they don't follow us into any of the shops," muttered Harry, knowing from experience how other shoppers stared at him when he went into shops with Aurors surrounding him.

"How can you two be irritated with having Auror guards?" Ron exclaimed. "Aurors guard only the most important people! You're the Boy Who Lived, Harry! And you're the Black heiress—"

"Believe me, it's not as great as it sounds," said Acquila, remembering her many shopping experiences over the holidays. "Try shopping when one of them follows you everywhere—one of them even stood guard outside the washroom!"

"Let's just ignore them," suggested Harry, as Acquila took his lead at changing the topic.

"So, Neville," she said slyly. "I'm hearing some rumours about you and a certain Hufflepuff..."

Neville blushed.

oOo

They bought bagfuls of candies from Honeydukes, a big bag of jokes and tricks from Zonko's which Fred and George had recommended. To Ron's extreme delight, the owner was ready to give any Weasley a special discount! They had thrown a Dungbomb at Crabbe and Goyle with hilarious effects, while they stuffed the remaining Dungbombs in their pockets, making sure Hermione didn't notice.

With their bags and pockets overflowing, they entered Madam Rosemerta's Three Broomsticks. Almost all the places were taken, except the one small table in the corner.

They made their way to the corner, when Harry noticed the female Auror trainee they'd seen earlier sitting at one of the tables. He looked around discreetly for Dawlish, only to feel a familiar feeling in his tummy. The butterflies had made their appearance again!

He turned around, knowing what he would find. And just as he had expected, Acquila stood behind him, smiling and waving at a grinning Cedric.

Merlin! The Hufflepuff Seeker seemed to be everywhere!

"What does Acquila like in Cedric?" Ron grumbled.

Harry smiled despite himself. Ron wasn't very observant when it came to matters of who had a crush on whom, but to a Quidditch player of a rival House, Ron would notice everything.

"He's not that great!" went on Ron. "I just don't get what Acquila likes in him!"

"Wish I knew," Harry replied.

Wish I didn't know, he amended mentally, as a few of Acquila's thought about Cedric entered his mind, telling him just what she liked in the Hufflepuff!

They sat down at the table, Acquila and Hermione whispering and giggling, Ron grumbling darkly, while Neville was just watching Harry with an unusually knowing expression.

"I'll go get us Butterbeer," said Neville, making to get up.

"No!" said Acquila immediately. "I'll get it!"

"I'll come with you," said Harry.

"No, no!" she said, pushing him back into his chair. "I'll get it!"

Did Acquila think he was stupid? Harry knew what her plan was even before she'd thought it out! She was purposely going to get the drinks, knowing she would have to pass Cedric's table on the way!

He glanced at Cedric. Merlin! Cedric seemed to be discussing Acquila! His friends were glancing at Acquila repeatedly as Cedric spoke!

"I'll be right back," said Harry, deciding that he couldn't control his curiosity about what Acquila and Cedric were going to talk.

"Harry!" said Hermione sternly. "I know what you're planning—sit down!"

But he ignored her protests, walked to the nearest dark corner, and slipped under the Invisibility Cloak, thanking his stars he'd thought to bring it along.

He made his way carefully through the crowd of students, towards where Acquila was almost near Cedric's table.

But just before she could reach the table, Daphne walked into her path. Daphne was looking pretty, thought Harry absently… she was wearing robes of a light green, which somehow went well with her blonde hair.

"Oh, hey, Acquila," he heard Daphne say as he neared them quietly, almost colliding into a Ravenclaw boy in his eagerness to hear them.

"Hey," replied Acquila, and Harry could sense her slight irritation.

"Where's Harry?" asked Daphne, looking around.

"He's with the others, at the table there."

"Did you hear what happened at the Belby's ball?" asked Daphne, and Harry knew that Acquila was barely interested in pureblood gossip.

"I don't know," Acquila replied, masking her disinterest.

"Mother told me that Marcus Flint was found in the balcony with Arielle McDougal…" Daphne's voice trailed off, as she unwittingly led Acquila away from Harry and from Cedric's table towards the Butterbeer counter.

Harry grinned, glad Acquila wasn't talking to Cedric. Daphne would probably lead Acquila back to their table, because she would want to greet Harry. So he made his way over to where Ron, Hermione and Neville were waiting for him.

"— how should I ask her?" Cedric's voice suddenly caught his ears.

Harry froze in his tracks, the nervousness in Cedric's voice telling him what the Hufflepuff had in mind.

"Come on, mate!" said one of Cedric's friends. "It's not the first time you're asking a girl out!"

Merlin! No, no, no! Cedric couldn't ask Acquila out! This wasn't happening!

Cedric couldn't—because that would mean Harry would lose his chance with Acquila before he even made a proper effort to get her to admit she fancied him! No! He just couldn't let Cedric ask her out, at least not until Acquila realised that she did fancy Harry back!

And Merlin—if Cedric asked her, she would say yes! Harry knew she would! She had a crush on Cedric – even though it wasn't at all as strong as the love he knew she bore Harry. But she preferred to turn a blind eye to Harry's feelings and her own because she hated the Bond vehemently! She thought the Bond was trying to control her life! And she would definitely say yes to a date with Cedric, just to avoid admitting that she liked Harry.

And Cedric was older and handsome and charming and popular—and didn't girls have a thing for cool Quidditch players? Acquila had no reason to say no!

"—she's Acquila Black, Martin! Not some normal girl." Cedric sounded like he was already hopelessly in love with her. "When I ask her out, it has to be perfect."

Perfect? Perfect?

Merlin! Harry had to do something about this! He couldn't let it happen, however immature he sounded.

Panicking, he saw Acquila walking back with Daphne, and before Harry could react, Cedric had swiftly got out of his seat and walked towards the two girls.

"May I borrow Acquila for a moment?" he asked Daphne, who nodded, nudging Acquila teasingly.

"Hey," said Acquila, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her stomach flopping again.

"Hey," replied Cedric, grinning. "I was hoping to see you here."

"You were?"

"Yes… I—umm—well, I was wondering if—" Cedric seemed rather nervous. Hell, Harry himself felt nervous about what was going to happen!

"Go on," said Acquila, her eyes bright and eager.

"Can I talk to you outside, for a minute?" asked Cedric.

There was a long moment in which Harry and Cedric's friends, all looked from Cedric to Acquila to Cedric again, observing their reactions.

"Sure," said Acquila easily, though she was delighted inwardly.

Acquila and Cedric walked towards the door and exited Three Broomsticks. And Harry rushed after them under the Cloak, uncaring that he hit a couple on the way.

He had to do something. He couldn't let Acquila date Cedric when Harry liked her—loved her, even… even though he wasn't completely sure whether it was the romantic kind of love because of his fancy for Daphne—but he didn't care! He couldn't let Acquila date someone else before Harry had at least got a chance to express what he felt for her, to ask her out himself.

He unfortunately collided into a huge, muscled man on the way, who growled and groped into thin air, wondering what had collided into him.

And by the time Harry managed to exit through the door, Cedric and Acquila were already talking. Hell, Cedric was holding Acquila's hand in his!

Merlin! Had he already asked her out, then? Had she already accepted?

"Acquila, I wanted to ask you—" began Cedric.

He hadn't asked her yet!

It was now or never for Harry.

In a quick motion, he pulled off the cloak, stuffing it into his pockets as he ran towards them.

"Acquila!" he yelled, barging right in between them, making Cedric drop her hand.

"Err—sorry, Cedric… sorry to interrupt you—but you need to come with me, Acquila!" Harry stammered, his mind searching furiously for a reason.

"What happened?" asked Acquila worriedly. Thank Merlin she wasn't reading his mind!

"Er—uh—Ron and Hermione!" Harry blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "They're arguing again—and Hermione got her wand out—said she'll—uh—curse Ron if he calls her a bookworm again—they're literally fighting—I can't diffuse it! Come with me, I need your help!"

Shit! He had lied through his teeth!

Acquila's face was expressionless, though, he couldn't make out what was going on in her mind.

One thing was for sure: the Sorting Hat was wrong about Harry belonging in Slytherin. He couldn't lie to save his life!

"Okay," said Acquila, meeting his gaze with a piercing one. She turned to Cedric apologetically.

"It's alright," said Cedric, grinning. "Go, sort it out. I'll wait here."

"I'll be right back," said Acquila, giving him a bright smile.

"So Harry," she said, as they quickly walked into the Three Broomsticks. "Couldn't break up the fight with Neville's help?" Her tone was odd – a mixture of annoyance and fury.

He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping Ron and Hermione were into one of their frequent arguments. But the table came within view, Harry's lie was out in the open! Ron and Hermione were nowhere close to fighting! They laughing and giving each other a high five, undoubtedly teasing Neville about Hannah Abbot going by Neville's blushing face.

"My, my!" said Acquila, her voice soft but dangerous. "What a fight they've got into, Harry!"

"I—well, they were—" he stuttered, running a frazzled hand through his hair.

"I knew it!" exclaimed Acquila, finally letting go of the calm façade she'd maintained so long. "You can't lie at all—especially to me! Why did you lie, huh?"

"I just wanted to—"

"The real reason, Harry," she said, tapping her foot demandingly, knowing he was going to give another lame excuse again.

"I—well, the thing is..." Harry mumbled, not really wanting to tell her the truth.

"Tell me!"

"I—he was—"

"Fine, forget it!" said Acquila. "I'm going back out, and don't you dare interrupt us again! Go talk to Daphne… she was asking for you."

Acquila turned around, only to stop in her tracks.

From the windows, Harry spotted the reason for her sudden ceasing of motion: Cedric Diggory stood there, laughing with Cho Chang, who was brushing some leaves out of his hair, both of them laughing merrily, Cho Chang's cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"What happened?" asked Harry slyly. "Weren't you going to talk to Cedric?"

"He's busy," she muttered, walking in again.

Hah! Harry was delighted! How he hoped Cedric fell for Cho Chang! He wouldn't ever ask Acquila on a date, then—shit! Acquila had sensed his thoughts, it seemed – because she had turned around, her eyes dark with fury, her hands on her hips.

"What did you just think?" she demanded.

"He—Cedric—"

"He was going to ask me on a date?" she exclaimed, her pitch higher.

"Well, yeah—"

"And you interrupted us purposely, with that stupid excuse about Ron and Hermione! Harry! What the hell—"

"Yes," he said, deciding being truthful was the best way out.

"He was going to ask you out and I—"

"That's not fair!" she snapped. "You purposely butted in—you stopped him—you're such a stupid prat!"

Damn! She was angry, now… like seriously angry.

"I didn't want him to ask you out, alright?" he said honestly. "Not before—not before I—"

"Not before you what? You fool around with Daphne—you even sat with her for Runes, and you're doing that project with her! And you'll keep meeting her for it—and when Cedric was going to ask me out, you barged in like that—forget it! I'm going back to the Castle!"

"Acquila—"

"Leave me alone, Harry!" she snapped over her shoulder, pulling her cloak tighter around her and walking away.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't care if she was mad at him. Acquila could never be angry with him for long. He could talk to her tonight, cajole her into forgetting what had happened—oh! What was that? Why was he suddenly feeling this weird feeling? It was Acquila, he realised—unknowingly sharing her emotions with him… She was—she was secretly half-pleased that Harry had cut in—that he fancied her enough to sabotage Cedric's plans and decide to work on his own feelings for her—and damn! She'd turned furious again! Merlin! Girls were so difficult to understand! And Acquila's moods and feelings swung around like a pendulum!

But he was smiling as he walked back to their table; Acquila's annoyance crept to the back of his mind, her secret elation at his actions taking centrepiece.

oOo

"So, all went well, Dawlish?" Sirius asked Dawlish as he made to leave the office

"Yes, no problems at all! Your kids roamed around in the shops, then went to the Three Broomsticks… your daughter came out to talk to some bloke… and had a little fight with Harry, from what Marina told me… but the village was clean… no signs of any enemies," replied Dawlish.

"Thanks," said Sirius.

"Not a problem, mate. Scrimgeour said he'll place an Auror and a trainee again for the next visit… I think Tonks will be going. So good for your kids, eh?"

"Yes," said Sirius, smiling. After the Diagon Alley attack, Scrimgeour himself had suggested having the kids tailed by Aurors during Hogsmeade visits. And he was glad things had gone well today. He doubted he could take another loss on Halloween day when he was stil dealing with the people he'd lost on the Halloween of 1981.

"Andy submitted the proposal for the bill to Amelia," said Sirius some time later, as Kingsley and he prepared to leave. "Everything was in place… the draft bill, the eight Wizengamot members' signatures. Amelia accepted the proposal, so things should get into motion soon."

"Great! I spoke to Amos Diggory, by the way," said Kingsley.

"Arthur spoke to him, too," said Sirius. "He's very keen on the Werewolf Liaison office."

"He said the same to me," said Kingsley. "It's good Amos is the head of the Magical Creatures department. He's dealt with werewolves in the past… he knows not all of them are evil. He said he'll have his best man lead the Werewolf office, if we managed to get the bill passed… he's even agreed to help create awareness about werewolves. He's a good man…"

"Right," said Sirius, deciding that he would have to talk to Amos Diggory soon. "I was wondering whether we could have the Liaison office set up at the earliest… if we could have werewolves come up and give suggestions for what exactly they want in the bill. I mean, the bill's for them, right? They should have a say in what rights they want…"

"Yes," agreed Kingsley. "We can do that… Andromeda can propose having the Liaison office set up in advance, when the bill comes up for hearing…"

"I'll talk to her," said Sirius.

"And yes," added Kingsley, "someone seems to have mentioned it to Barty Crouch."

Sirius stiffened at the mention of the man who had wrongfully put him in Azkaban without a trial.

"He said he'd be glad to extend his help for getting the Rights bill passed… said he knows a lot on legislation as he headed the DMLE."

"Okay," muttered Sirius, knowing he would never take Crouch's help, and not really caring for his opinion.

"What about the Morfin Gaunt case?" asked Kingsley hesitantly, noticing Sirius' expression. "Madam Bones mentioned that you're very interested in having him acquitted at the earliest. You've appointed Adam Jones to represent him… you're taking care of all the expenses."

"Yes," said Sirius, not wanting to delve into details of how he knew Morfin Gaunt hadn't murdered the Riddles. "Dumbledore's promised to testify. And Adam Jones is a good lawyer, I've heard. He should be able to get Gaunt out soon… Gaunt's not a nice man. But nobody should rot in Azkaban for a crime they didn't commit."

He hoped Kingsley didn't notice the involuntary tightening of his jaw when he uttered the last line. Sirius didn't like Gaunt at all, but he had decided he would do whatever it took to get him out of Azkaban. He hadn't murdered the Riddles. And Sirius wouldn't let him undergo a life-sentence in that hellhole.

"Okay. So, any plans for tonight?" Kingsley asked Sirius, his tone even more hesitant now.

Sirius said nothing for a moment, not wanting to remember that at this time, twelve years ago, he was reading to a little Acquila at home, a laughing Athena watching them; that Lily and James were alive, possibly playing with Harry, James conjuring those little balls of light Harry had so loved… until Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew had destroyed the two families, leaving an orphaned Harry, a motherless Acquila and a wrongly imprisoned Sirius behind.

"I'm going to Godric's Hollow first," said Sirius quietly. "Then, I'll visit Athena…"

"Alright," said Kingsley, nodding. "I'd better get to the Atrium… I'm flooing home—"

"I think that's for you," interrupted Sirius, spotting a purple paper aeroplane flying towards them – an interdepartmental memo.

Kingsley caught hold of the paper, brow furrowing. "It's for you," he said, handing it over to Sirius.

"Me?" muttered Sirius, wondering who was sending him a memo at that late hour when most of the Ministry employees had already departed for home.

He took the purple paper, spotting his name on it. He gently pried the paper wings open. The paper contained only one word: SURREY

But what sent a chill down Sirius' spine was the fact that the word was writing in blood.

"Kingsley," he said sharply.

He handed over the paper to Kingsley, who seemed perplexed on reading it.

"What on earth is this?" muttered Kingsley, moving his wand over the paper. "Magical blood – a witch's or a wizard's…"

"Surrey," muttered Sirius. "Surrey… what's in Surrey? Uncle Alphard's cottage… but nobody's been there in years—the Dursleys!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Lily's sister and brother-in-law—they live in Surrey. But—what's this got to do with them—"

"It's a warning," said Kingsley gruffly.

"It's full moon tonight!" exclaimed Sirius hoarsely. "I'm sure Voldy's got something to do with this—I'm going to Privet Drive—shit! If Greyback's involved, they'll be dead by now!"

And with that, Sirius rushed in the direction of the Ministry exit.

"I'm coming with you! Wait up!" He heard Kingsley exclaim after him, but he rushed beyond the anti-Disapparition wards, disappearing into nothingness.

With a soft crack, he felt his feet touch solid ground, onto the familiar street with the rows of similar-looking houses, the light from the streetlights lighting up the well-maintained lawns and gardens adorning the houses.

He rushed towards Number Four, spotting the drawing room alight, the silhouette of an obese man apparent through the blinds.

"Sirius!" he heard Kingsley calling out from behind him. But he didn't respond, his wand in a combative stance.

He signalled to Kingsley, who cast a Homenum Revelio on Number Four, confirming the presence of three humans. A peek through the windows confirmed that Petunia, Vernon and Dudley Dursley were within, safe and unharmed.

"Lupus Revelio!" Sirius whispered, while Kingsley went about casting wards around the house. It was a spell created during the War, to aid Aurors to reveal the presence of wolves – it had been tremendously useful to thwart attacks by the wolf pack led by Greyback.

But he felt nothing – there was no wolf around.

There was something wrong. There had to be something – something to justify the writing in blood. His instincts told him that the note written in blood was real… but what was the note warning them about? He glanced at the sky, watching the full moon shining brightly. Something wasn't right, he thought again. But for the life of him, he couldn't guess what it was.

"There's no one here," he said to Kingsley. "But we'd better stand guard—shit!"

"What—" began Kingsley worriedly.

"The orphanage is in Surrey!" gasped Sirius. "Where Acquila lived! Fuck! I'm going there—you stay here—"

"I'm coming with you—"

"No! Stay right here—we don't know if there'll be an attack here! We can't leave them unguarded! Remain here—contact Headquarters—call a team here to help you, and send one to the orphanage… it's in—"

"I know where it is—" cut in Kingsley, "Let me come with you—"

"Stay here!" barked Sirius furiously, his tone making it clear he would take no protest. "And send for back-up! Quickly!"

And then, he spun into nothingness for the second time that night, finding himself landing on solid ground a moment later. But this time, his destination didn't have the silence of Privet Drive, but utter chaos – the unmistakeable howls of wolves, the loud screaming of children, the panicked shouts of adults.

"Merlin!" he swore, sprinting inside the gates of the orphanage. And what he saw there made the bile rise in his throat: bodies of two kids, one of them dressed up as a pumpkin and one as an Egyptian mummy. It was Halloween, he remembered. The white bandages the little Mummy girl was wrapped in, had turned crimson with blood… clear bite marks on her throat, blood gushing down the bitten flesh at her stomach. The Pumpkin boy was no better… his clawed and bitten limbs making Sirius' extremities turn numb.

But there was nothing he could do to help them, now. They were dead – victims of an intentional werewolf attack; the way they had been mauled to death was a trademark of Fenrir Greyback.

And he rushed even further in, wand raised, his blood boiling.

"STUPEFY!" He yelled, spotting a huge wolf advancing towards a little girl, only to belatedly realise that the spell wouldn't work on the lycanthrope. In wolf form, they were almost invincible, unaffected by any spells except for those cast with the strongest of magic or cast simultaneously by three or more people.

He rushed towards the attacking wolf, the frightened girl's shrieks hammering at his ears, his shoe-clad feet thudding over the ground. But the very next moment, his instincts took over: he wasn't running on two feet, but on four, not on human feet, but his padded canine paws.

With an almighty howl, he lunged at the wolf's throat, pulling it away from the girl. The wolf was undoubtedly taken by surprise at his attack. But its shock was only momentary. It jumped at Sirius, its sharp teeth barred, the girl still screaming her lungs out in the background.

And Sirius met the wolf mid-air, only to find its teeth sinking into his neck, sending a spasm of excruciating pain, as he crumpled to the ground, still in dog form, a loud howl of pain tearing through his throat.

Merlin!

Merlin!

Had the wolf bitten out a chunk of his neck? The pain certainly felt like it. He screamed again, unable to contain his pained howls.

This wasn't working! How long had it been since he had fought a wild, uncontrollable werewolf? Almost thirteen years, since before that fateful Halloween night when Greyback and his cronies attacked innocents on the full moon. But even then, he had never fought in his Animagus form. He had fought with his fellow Aurors, teams of three Aurors fighting one wolf together.

He was terribly out of practice. The only time Padfoot had dealt with a crazed werewolf was the very first time he had faced Moony – and he had had James with him then, to help deal with Remus' wild behaviour, to help him befriend the wolf.

But the wolf which now battled him wasn't like Remus. It was far wilder, far more violent and blood-thirsty.

"HELP!" The girl screamed again.

And this time, the pain that ran through his neck didn't disorient him, but only fueled his rage and determination. It was adrenaline, he realised, pumping through his veins.

The wolf was unbelievably strong, its animal nature empowering it, its wildness giving it an advantage. But Sirius, too, had advantages of his own over the wolf: his size, for one, was slightly larger than the wolf's. And unlike, the lycanthrope, he still had his mind in place.

He got to his four feet, and spun around, lunging at the wolf with all his might, just in time to pull it off the screaming girl. And with a deep-throated, furious growl, Padfoot sunk his canine teeth into the wolf's flank, tasting the disgusting, tangy taste of blood in his mouth, disgustedly spitting out wolf fur.

The wolf howled in anger, jumping at Sirius, its sharp claws and sharper teeth promising revenge. And Sirius lunged at it, too, meeting it mid-air again; but this time, pushing it in the direction of a large tree to their right with all the force he could muster, positioning himself at such an angle, that the wolf's head hit the tree with a loud, sickening crunch, rendering it unconscious for at least the next few minutes.

"Get into the building!" he yelled at the girl, only to hear barks emanating from his mouth, belatedly realising that he was still Padfoot. He concentrated on the feel of his human feet on the ground, his human limbs, visualised the face that stared back at him in the mirror everyday, the spaces between his human fingers. And soundlessly – but with deep pain, thanks to the wolf's bite – his limbs shrunk and lengthened, his snout pushed back into his skull, his ears shrunk into his head. And he stood on two feet again, Sirius taking over Padfoot.

He stumbled, his fingers dampening when he pressed them to the side of his neck, blood gushing down where the wolf had sunk his teeth into him. He knew he wouldn't turn, obviously, as he had been bitten in canine form. But the pain was unbearable, and he wondered how deep the teeth had sunk.

But that was something he could bother about later. He rushed to the frightened, crying girl, gathering her into his arms, checking her for scratches and bite marks, relieved to find her unhurt.

"They bit Billy… he isn't moving… he's dead!" she sobbed. "And Martha, too… and—and Mister John—"

That was three names she mentioned. But Sirius had spotted only two bodies. And with a thrill of fear, he registered the sounds he had ignored so long during the fight: loud howls, the panicked screams coming from the other side of the orphanage building.

He summoned a Muggle sweet lying on the ground nearby – one collected by the kids during Trick and Treat, no doubt.

"Portus!" he muttered, realising that the girl was so shaken that she hadn't even noticed the sweet flying into his hands and glowing blue.

"Hold this," he muttered, thrusting it into her hands. "Don't let go. It'll take you to my cousin, Andy—she'll help you. Don't let go… hold on tight."

"What—" the girl began, frightened again. And she screamed aloud, no doubt feeling the tug at her navel, but the rest of her scream disappeared into thin air along with her.

He turned into Padfoot again, sprinting towards the other side of the building, trying his best to ignore the pain in his neck, the feel of the blood dripping down his fur.

And yet again, the shock at seeing the scene before him had him turning numb: Bodies lay strewn on the lawn – two children, two adults. But he couldn't help them, now. They were dead… more victims. And suddenly, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed what was before him.

FOUR!

There were four wolves! One of them was trying to get in through a window, the other three howling and slamming and scrabbling at the closed door of the orphanage; loud, panicked screams erupting from within the building.

His instincts took over yet again, his mind working faster than ever.

He transformed into Sirius again, now noticing that he had lost a lot more blood. But he would take care of that later.

Fire and smoke – two things that wolves were scared of! James and he had done their research well before they accompanied Moony on full moon nights, just in case they were ever at risk. And he found all the information they'd found rushing back into his mind.

"INCENDIO!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the building. And flames burst right from under the very paws of the howling wolves, sending them running helter-skelter away from the building, so scared that they didn't even noticed him standing there.

He muttered a steady stream of incantations under his breath, his wand twirling swifter than ever, moulding the fire, strengthening it, but casting charms to contain it, too – the flames, which rose to ten feet in height, wouldn't get into the building, only keep burning in a steady circle around it, protecting the children inside from the wolves. A few more flicks of his wand had the fire modulated, the building and its inmates protected from the heat of the flames…

But with a start, he realised that the wolves were now sprinting towards the gates of the orphanage, to get away from the fire. They were rushing right onto the road, where a large crowd was already beginning to gather, some of the Muggle men trying to rush in to examine the fire and the screams.

Damn! The wolves would tear the Muggles to death.

His wand rose again, incantations flowing off his lips, feeling the thrum of magic shooting from his wand, the magic weaving and knitting wards on the perimeter of the plot that the orphanage stood on – he didn't know whether the wards could withstand the wolves for long. But he knew that the Muggles weren't able to see the orphanage at all now, nor would they be able to pass the gates. The mystery of the disappearing of the building from before their very eyes would hopefully keep them occupied long enough until the Obliviators arrived.

He twirled his wand again, sending a Patronus to the Werewolf Capture Unit. The unit was almost defunct – it had only two wizards who were barely skilled in dealing with werewolves. But their arrival would definitely bolster him.

He wondered whether to cast a wall of fire on the gates, too, to stop the wolves from even trying to escape the wards, containing them in the lawns. But from the corner of his eyes, he saw a wolf sniffing, and then sprinting towards a large bush.

And he heard it, too: a childish sob. Shit! There was a kid hiding behind the bush! And the wolves had smelt it scent, smelt its fear!

"NO!" he yelled, running towards the wolf in his human form, hoping the scent of the blood flowing through the deep bite on his neck would attract the wolf towards him instead of the poor kid. And attract the wolf it did – for the wolf turned around, its eyes wild, saliva dripping from its muzzle, its fur dark.
But what surprised him was the sheer size of the wolf, the power that it seemed to carry itself with. It was the Alpha of the pack, then! The leader! Greyback, maybe!

The huge wolf lunged at him, and he transformed mid-air, sprinting out of the way of the wolf.

Merlin! If this was the Alpha, then if he defeated it in a fight, if he managed to have him injured enough, it would demoralise the other wolves!

Making up his mind, he calculated his moves, deciding to try sending the Alpha flying into a tree again, or biting at its very throat, or impeding its motion by attacking its limbs, making it unable to move—

But the wolf turned around, its sight still on the quivering bush that contained the hiding child.

Fuck!

There was only one thing to do now: his padded paws pressed into the ground, and with all his force, he leapt into the air, his claws sinking right into the Alpha's furry back, throwing the wolf off its intended course.

But he celebrated his victory for barely a moment. The Alpha, angered by the attack on it, threw him off its back, sending Sirius flying into the swings that hung in the playground. And he saw stars as his canine head slammed against one of the thick rods that helped support the pair of swings.

He groaned, only to get onto his paws again as he heard the child scream.

Fuck! Where the hell was Kingsley? And where was the damn Werewolf Capture Unit?

He sprinted towards the Alpha, noticing two other wolves advancing towards the bush.

He growled as loudly as he could, flying at the Alpha, throwing it off its course again. But this time, he rolled over and got to his feet as quick as he could; and then, he sprinted towards the bush, transformed into Sirius, and plucked the trembling child into his arms, noting that the little boy was sobbing, his fist stuffed into his mouth to stifle his cries.

"You're fine, you're alright," he whispered hoarsely to the boy, noting the boy's eyes widen as they fell on the three wolves nearing them, the Alpha leading. With a spurt of fear, he noticed two more wolves joining the pack – the wolf he'd first incapacitated by sending him flying into the tree had revived, then, joining its comrades.

He backed away into the nearest tree, the whimpering boy held tightly in his arms.

"H—help me… please, Mister…" the child sobbed, and Sirius clutched him even tighter to his chest. He needed to get the child out of there. And there was no time to grab a something and create another Portkey.

There was only one thing he could do: let the Alpha lunge at him, and Apparate away just in the nick of time, so that the Alpha would slam right into the tree and hopefully hurt its head hard, and Sirius could get back to the Ministry and get back-up.

A shudder rushed up his spine as he noticed the five wolves advancing towards them, their eyes wild, no sense of the humans that they were beneath their lupine selves, their only aim to attack their prey, to bite them, to claw at them, to maul them to death like they'd killed their other victims.

The boy in his arms let out a loud shriek, and Sirius hit a quick Stupefy at him, stunning him, preferring him unconscious.

The wolves advanced slowly, their teeth barred, howling furiously. And then, just as he had expected, the Alpha lunged at them.

And the moment Sirius saw it mid-air, he concentrated on the Ministry, willing his body to twist into the air and disappear.

But to his horror, he found that the air was thick, un-cooperating with his body's desperation to disappear.

Anti-Disapparition wards!

FUCK!

No wonder Kingsley and the others hadn't reached there, yet!

He was rooted to the spot, now, horrified as he spotted the wolf within inches of him. And he dropped the stupefied boy to the ground, transforming into Padfoot, and covering the boy's body with his own, his furry back open to attack from the five wolves, but knowing he couldn't have got out of the way in time, and that he had to save the boy even if it meant dying himself.

And then all he felt was pain, unbearable pain – pain so deep, so harsh, that he thought he would have preferred dying.

The Alpha's teeth dug into his furry back, another set of teeth sunk into his hind leg, tearing out a chunk of flesh.

Yet another wolf clawed at the top of his head, while another set of teeth bit at the back of his neck, trying to pry him off the boy.

But he held on, his paws digging into the ground, holding on, the boy safe under his furry canine tummy, secure from the wolves.

He howled and cried in pain, feeling the claws scrabbling at him, a sharp, deep bite at his foreleg and the loud snap that followed making him certain that the bone had splintered.

He didn't know how long the attack lasted – he would later realise that it lasted for barely ten seconds. But the agony he felt made it seem like he was being clawed and bitten at for hours.

He didn't know how on earth he managed to withstand the combined force of the wild, blood-thirsty wolves. But he held on resolutely, with all his might, with all the dogged determination that had made even his enemies grudgingly admire him.

He held on, even against his wish to transform. His paws itched to feel the wand in his fingers, to transform into Sirius and conjure another circle of fire around him and the boy – keep them safe from the wolves just as he'd secured the building, to send a bloody Killing Curse at the wolves, uncaring that they were humans under the furry animal selves.
But he didn't dare transform, lest the wolves get in a bite at his human form and afflict him with Lycanthropy, too. And Merlin forbid, if he did transform into a wolf, the primary target of his lupine mind would be the stupefied boy that lay shielded under his body!

He was dying. He knew he was. There was no way he could survive the onslaught of the rampaging wolves hell-bent on killing him.
And despite the pain that tore at every inch of him, he chuckled. This was divine justice, maybe – him dying on the anniversary of the very day he had indirectly sent James, Lily and Athena to their deaths.

Acquila's image floated in his mind's eye, as he heard and felt the snap of yet another bone – in his hind leg, this time. His little girl, his beautiful little girl… he had got barely three years with her… but they were enough to life a lifetime…

And Harry… James and Lily's little boy… with his green eyes and his messy hair, that shy smile, the flush in his cheeks when Ted pulled his leg about his crush on Acquila, that courage, that bravery which dwelt in him…

He would fail again… If he died today, he would fail again… The promise he'd made to James about keeping Harry safe would remain unfulfilled, he thought, howling in agony as he felt teeth ripping at his side, the tangy scent of his own blood filling his nostrils.

But he still held fort, feeling himself weakening with each passing moment, seeing dark spots in his vision… but he would have to hold on… hold on until someone managed to get past the anti-Disapparition wards and come save the boy.

And suddenly, he heard the unmistakeable cracks of apparition, the voices of his fellow Aurors.

"SIRIUS!" He heard a panicked voice, absently realising that he had never thought Kingsley capable of screaming that loudly, of sounding so very worried.

And the wolves were suddenly pulled off him.

He could hear loud incantations, feel the air thick with magic.

"Sirius! Please, transform, Sirius," Irene Summerby's panicked voice hit his ears. "You're safe, now. The entire force is here… you need to transform… you're bleeding, love—GET THE HEALERS!" She yelled at someone.

But he didn't transform, not trusting her.

It was only when Kingsley's voice floated to him that he finally let the magic wash over him, felt himself turning back into a man, his injured limbs with their broken bones searing with agonised pain; and he rolled his aching, bleeding body off the boy underneath, screaming as his back came in contact with the ground.

"Take the boy—I've s—stunned him—" he managed to whisper. "And Kingsley, get the Alpha—don't let him escape—"

"Shit!" he heard Irene gasp, no doubt taking in his injuries. "GET THE FUCKING HEALERS!" She yelled, her voice trembling.

He felt more than saw her tear off his robes, heard her whispering something to her, felt her hold some cloth against the wound in his stomach, stemming the blood flow.

He didn't dare look at the rest of his body, knowing the bones in his left leg and his left arm were broken, that his insides would probably be visible if Irene took of the cloth, that his back was a mangled mess, scarred and wounded by lupine claws and teeth.

Irene's fingers brushed the hair off his forehead, holding another piece of cloth to his head. Her hands ran over his chest, checking for broken ribs, her fingers pressed against the broken bone of his arm, and he let out a hiss of pain.

"Shit! I'm sorry—this is going to hurt, but I'm going to bandage you, all right—you're losing too much blood," she whispered; her voice had stopped trembling, the trained Auror in her taking over.

He let her go about her work, trying to ignore the pain, concentrating on the shouts and howls and incantations that sounded all around him.

"The healers are coming through," she said. "Don't worry—"

"The people in the building," said Sirius hoarsely, "help them—"

"Scrimgeour's handling it," she replied. "Don't worry—"

"Scrimgeour's here?" he whispered, remembering that Head Aurors never really fought with the force unless the matter was really dangerous.

"I'm going to make you sit up," she said. "I need to have a look at your back—the healers must be on their way—we could only pull off the anti-Disapparition wards on the western boundary… and those bloody strong wards you put up on the perimeter were a right pain in the arse…"

"On three," she said, as he prepared himself to brace the pain that would assault his back. "One, two—"

Without a warning, she lifted his torso off the ground at the count of two, his surprise momentarily taking over the acute pain that followed. He hissed as her hand pressed against his back to help him sit up. And he heard the gasp she tried to contain.

"Too bad?" he asked, wincing.

"At least a week of hospitalisation," she muttered. "The scars and bite wounds are too deep… thank Merlin you're an Animagus…"

"One week… Acquila's going to kill me," he said, further wondering how he would break the news of the orphanage being attacked to her. Martha, the girl who had died, had shared a room with Acquila. She would no doubt be shaken by the attack. But at least Mrs Smith was alive, he reckoned, as he hadn't spotted her body amongst the dead.

"Harry," he added, wincing as Irene cast a medical spell on his back, "he'll be—" He stopped abruptly, hearing Kingsley and Scrimgeour shouting aloud.

"He's getting away—"

"—get him—"

He turned to see what the commotion was about. But what he noticed made his breath catch painfully in his throat: there was one corpse more than the ones he had spotted, and amongst the dead laid out on stretchers lay a familiar face – with white wispy hair, wrinkled skin, and a face that had once smiled affectionately at him as he thanked her for taking care of Acquila for more than a decade – Mrs Ophelia Smith.

His fingers of his relatively unharmed right hands trembled, as he brought them to his hair.

Mrs Smith was dead.

The one motherly figure Acquila had in her life, the one woman who had brought her up with love and affection, who had helped make Acquila into the woman she was growing into…

What would he tell Acquila? How would he break the news to her? How would he help her deal with the loss?

She would be heartbroken… Mrs Smith… dead… with her throat viciously ripped off from the stat of the corpse— It was Voldemort! It was Voldemort all over again! Just like during the War—targeting people's loved ones to make them toe the line!

He knew—he fucking knew Voldemort would hit back at him for pushing the Werewolf Rights bill, probably hand-in-hand with Greyback.
But never, never in his wildest dreams had he thought they would target Mrs Smith!
He had been ready for another attack on Sirius himself, like the one in Diagon Alley!
But not this… never this! Hurting Acquila in the worst way possible… DAMN IT!

Greyback would pay! He would fucking pay for what he'd done!

"Where is he?" he spat at Savage, who stood panting next to him. "Where's Greyback? The Alpha?"

"Didn't you hear Scrimgeour? Greyback got away! Kingsley and Blishwick have gone after him—wait! Sirius! What are you doing?" Savage shouted at him, as he shakily got to his feet, Irene taking his arm to tug him down. But he shook her off, grabbing her arm for support to stand up.

"What the fuck, Sirius!" Irene snapped, though she helped him to his feet. "Don't you dare—"

But he was gone before she even completed the sentence. His left foreleg and hindleg were useless, only succeeding in tugging him down due to the agony of the broken bones. But Irene's bandaging had somehow helped matters.

He ran – well, more like half-ran, half-hobbled – in the direction of Greyback, past the four captured werewolves snarling in the magicked cages, past the dead bodies, past the healer team which had just arrived, past the frightened children and teachers rescued from the orphanage building, past the many Obliviators outside the orphanage…

He spotted Kingsley and Blishwick in the distance, following Greyback down the road that was filled with traffic from the Muggle vehicles. He even heard the Muggles screaming, no doubt on spotting the wolf, the two men in robes, and the jets of light from the sticks in their hands… Until, finally, he saw nothing except darkness; his canine form collapsing on the ground as the pain ultimately beat his determination for revenge.

oOo

The evening was very windy, gusts of wind sending the dust and leaves flying around. But she didn't quite notice that. All she saw was the boy walking towards her, with his brown hair tousled because of the wind – and tousled in a very adorable manner, thought Acquila. His eyes seemed brighter as he approached her, the casual shirt he had donned making him look different than his usual robe-clad form, making him look nicer. And the heartbeat-racing smile he flashed her was even better!

"Acquila," he whispered, reaching her and taking her hand in his, as she wondered whether he would ask her out as he had planned to.

"Yes?" she asked him, her voice all breathy.

"Acquila," he repeated, but he wasn't Cedric anymore!

He was Harry!

Harry… with his green eyes which held her gaze with an unusual, stomach-flopping desire, his messy hair which he wanted to run her fingers through, and that slightly nervous, slightly shy grin at his lips…

"Harry?" she said, moving closer to him, entwining her fingers with his like they'd done since they were kids.

"Acquila, will you—

"TELL ME!" she demanded, her voice eager, as she stared at her servant, who had his head bowed, only his mop of fair hair visible to her.

"He did his job, Master," replied her devoted servant.

And she laughed, enjoying the sweet taste of victory.

"Sirius Black," she whispered, smiling.

After years, she had finally found such a formidable rival.

There had been many opponents she had faced over the years.

Charlus Potter was one –a powerful man, Head of the Aurors, commanding massive support in wizarding Britain, someone who could even have become Minister of Magic if he had accepted the wishes of his beseeching supporters.
And she had hoped Charlus would take up the post, have the desire to wield power. A very formidable opponent he would have made, with his bravery, his pride, his praiseworthy repertoire of magical knowledge and power and ancient spells. But Charlus had refused the post, refused to wield power, and had remained content with leading the Auror force. She had lost his interest in him after that, and swatted him away. An ambush by a few of her Death Eaters, diverting his attention by bringing a Muggle child into the scene… and Charlus had lost, proving that she had erred in considering him her potential nemesis in the first place.

Arcturus Black was another – an immensely wealthy, powerful man. But he wasn't all that eager on holding on to his sway over wizarding Britain. When she, Lord Voldemort, had emerged on the scene, snagging people left, right and centre, attracting followers from all over Britain, instead of challenging her, Arcturus had merely given in to her and agreed to lend her support, going so far as to invite her to his house, which had led to her adding his grandchild and grandnieces to her followers. Arcturus, too, had failed in holding her attention, in standing up to challenge her power.

There had been other challengers over the years – James Potter, Edgar Bones, Frank Longbottom, Alastor Moody, even the young Sirius Black. But none of them had enough power and clout to be deemed worthy challengers.

Then there was Albus Dumbledore! During and after her Hogwarts days, she had hoped that Dumbledore would rise to unsurpassed heights, that he would justify the magic he had been blessed with, that he would have the gumption, the desire for power… to become Minister of Magic, to challenge Lord Voldemort!
But Dumbledore, too, had let her down. Instead of embracing power, he feared it! He hadn't put up a fight at all! He was a fool, a coward, a weakling! He hadn't even managed to overcome the pitiable defences she had placed in the shack belonging to her ancestors! Never had she expected Dumbledore to fall to the curse she had cast on the box. But Dumbledore had! And he would die soon!

But that wouldn't matter now. Dumbledore didn't matter at all. Who mattered was the newest challenger: Lord Sirius Orion Black III

She had thought Black was a foolishly brave Gryffindor just like the rest of his miserable friends. She had presumed he would never take up his inheritance of his pure, ancient bloodline, of the title and powers of Lord Black, of the Head of the family he so hated.

But Black had!

He had become Lord Black!

And though, in the beginning, Black had hardly put his powers and magical skills to use, the past few weeks were a revelation!

First, there was the way he had dealt with Lucius after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets! Instead of the good-hearted, morally-sound man she had thought Black to be, he had instead got Lucius completely under his thumb! Using his hold over Lucius, Black had further turned all her erstwhile followers on to his side!

Then, there was the matter of Salazar Slytherin's Locket and his younger self's Diary! Instead of sitting on his haunches and patiently waiting for things to play out, Black had moved swiftly, bypassing procedure to have Morfin Gaunt questioned, visit Azkaban to question Bellatrix. If left to Dumbledore, things would have moved at a languid pace. But Black was determined, uncaring of who he antagonised, uncaring of whether he was working ethically, using his powers to the fullest to attain his goal.

And that was what made him a more intriguing nemesis than any she had yet faced.

The Diagon Alley attack on Black had not only been her way of indicating his presence to his Death Eaters, but also a way to test Black, of gauging how fallible he was, to watch how he would react with his back to the wall.

And to her delight, Black hadn't cowed down in fear, but moved relentlessly! He had turned the tide in his favour, forced her erstwhile followers to his side (though that had angered her), and taken up his family seat on the Wizengamot.

And it was through his cousin that Black was exercising the clout and influence his family title bestowed on him. Tonks was determinedly raising support for her bill against his favoured allies – the Dementors.

But what was most satisfying was the way Black had utterly decimated Dolores Umbridge! From what her servant had said, Black had acted with ruthlessness that was unforeseen, forcing that foolish Minister to have Umbridge thrown out of the Ministry. And instead of Umbridge's anti-Werewolf law, Black had brought in a pro-Werewolf bill! And submitted the proposal for tabling it, with the support of eight Wizengamot members, within barely days of drafting it!

Black didn't consider power and might a burden or an unwanted responsibility. On the contrary, he grabbed it with both hands, moulded it to his advantage, unleashed it on his opponents, used it to coerce his foes into backing him… and that was what she relished! A nemesis worthy of being her rival!

She knew it wouldn't be long before she retrieved the political muscle she had possessed before Potter had destroyed her. But what was power without a worthy, equally powerful opponent to challenge it with? What was power without unleashing it on someone who wouldn't snivel and give in, but who would match it with might of his own?

And Black was that opponent!

It would be a power of wits, of might, of immense power!

And destroying Black was her aim, now!

Potter had destroyed her mortal body that October night. But it was Black who was her foe! It was Black who was after the Horcruxes which made her immortal! And it was Black whom she would shred to pieces to gain control of Britain!

And the battle had begun!

Her Diagon Alley attack on Black had been met with unexpected retaliation: with Black taking over her followers, and aiming to bring her potential allies, the werewolves, onto his side.

But she had played her move: having that wolf attack Black where it would hurt him the most, through his daughter. She had even given Black advance notice of her move, wanting to see how swiftly he would react.

And she would wait eagerly to see how Black would counter her move, to see how he would apply his social and political might. That it would create havoc in Britain and stop passage of the Werewolf Rights bill was an equally welcome advantage!

"The game begins," she whispered, waiting impatiently for the wolf to come back.

"My Lord, Greyback has arrived," said her servant, who was still bowing at her feet. "He did the job," he said nervously, "But there was an unforeseen—"

"What?" she demanded, not liking his tone.

"It is about Black. He is—"

"Bring the wolf to me!" she ordered, wanting to know the events from the filthy half-breed himself.

Within moments, Greyback stood before her, head bowed. But what surprised her was the bruises and cuts on Greyback's ragged body.

"My Lord," said the beast, "I—"

"Black got the better of you, then?" she demanded coldly; her eyes roaming over the various wounds that littered the wolf's body. When Greyback had attacked Black in Diagon Alley, the Auror had been beaten! But now, Black had battled back with vigour, it seemed.

"Black was there—badly injured, but he'll survive… the Aurors got in, got past the Anti-Disapparition wards you got put up… they attacked us, managed to capture all the others...I got away—but—My Lord, Black is an Animagus!" said Greyback. "He transformed—"

"Crucio!" she hissed, pointing her servant's wand at the beast. And he fell down to the floor, screaming and shouting in pain.

She stopped the curse abruptly, and within moments, she was in Greyback's pathetic mind.

She plunged into his memories, quickly finding the one she wanted. And then she was Greyback! Her nose sniffing out the little human youngling hiding in the bushes, her mouth watering at the thought of sinking her teeth into her prey… when suddenly, the scent of human blood invaded her nostrils.

She heard the voice of a new human, and she turned around, following the direction from which the scent was wafting towards her. And then, she saw it: a fully-grown human, blood dripping from it.

Her tongue lolled out, tasting the scent of blood. And with a deep growl, she lunged at the human, only to find it twisting mid-air, turning into someone that wasn't human, jumping out of the way of her sharp teeth and claws—She swatted that memory away, plunging into another one… and she was the wolf again, howling in pain from the animal's sharp claws that pierced her body, drawing blood—she jumped into the next memory, growling out commands to her pack, advancing towards the big human who now had the youngling in its limbs, backing them into the tree. They had no way of escape now. She barred his teeth, and with a victorious howl, she lunged at the human's throat, only to find the human shifting, turning into that animal again, the youngling hidden under its body…and she dug her teeth into the furry animal, tasting fur and blood, pulling and dragging the animal away from the young human it was protecting.

But the animal refused to budge. With a howl, she commanded her pack to attack it! And then, they were all clawing at it, snapping at it, her two packmates trying to drag the animal away with their sharp teeth, pulling out tufts of fur, drawing foul-smelling blood. But the animal still refused to let go, holding on resolutely. The appetising scent emanating from the human youngling made her mouth water, made her rage multiply. And with a growl of fury, she sunk her teeth into the animal's leg, feeling the bone snap between her teeth!

The animal howled, shifting, holding the side of his furry belly open to attack. And with another growl, she sunk her teeth into its soft, furry side, pulling out its flesh, its disgusting fur and the foul-tasting blood filling her mouth—and then, just when she was about to snap the bones in its neck, she heard a series of loud cracks. She turned behind, teeth barred, nostrils flaring at the many new human scents she smelt. But before she could even turn her gaze to them, the dark sky was alight with many lights, the humans were shouting, and something hit her back with unexpected force, sending her flying away from the dying animal and into the nearest tree; and there was pain, then! The humans were sending light at her, sending agony through her, cutting through her fur, spilling her blood—

And then, she was Lord Voldemort again, her joyous laugh ringing through the silence that was interrupted only by the beast's loud breathing and groans.

An Animagus!

Black was an Animagus! And he had hidden it for years and years, no doubt—ah! That was how he had escaped Azkaban, then! Using his furry canine form!

Oh, what a wizard Black was! Crafty, powerful, talented, ruthless—if only there wasn't that little impediment of Black feeling love and sentiment, he would have been even more of a challenge!

"What about the woman?" she asked the wolf, who was still prostrate on the ground, groaning in pain from his wounds and the Crutiatus.

"I did the job," replied Greyback in a shaky voice.

Eager to see the events unfold, she delved into the wolf's mind again—and then, in the far distance, she was watching a row of younglings walking towards the grassy expanse of land, fully-grown humans. She could feel the thrill, the hunger, the desire that ran through her and her pack. She extended her tongue, tasting the scent of the humans on it.

And then, her packmates howled, unable to control their urges; and they sprinted towards their prey. The younglings scattered, shrieking, as she smelt the sudden fear in the air.

The older humans herded the young ones away from her and her pack, but she caught up with them, of course, lunging at a youngling and sinking her teeth into its skin, feeling her saliva entering the bitten patch of skin, wanting to watch the youngling turn into a wolf, wanting it in her pack. But the youngling did not! It shrieked and twisted and writhed, staring at the shining ball of light in the sky. But nothing happened! The young human wasn't turning at all! She sunk her teeth into it again, wanting it to become one of her own, wanting to add to her pack, to hunt down the other humans with it. And this time, she tasted blood, warm, delicious blood… and she bit into it again, and again, and again… until it finally feel silent, unmoving… dead.

She moved away from it, saliva and blood dripping from her muzzle, spotting yet another youngling some distance away. She rushed towards it, running over another dead human on the way, hearing the howls of her packmates and the shrieks of the other humans…

And then, just when she neared the youngling, she found her path obstructed by a grown-up human… this was an older one … advanced in its years from the scent of age and frailty and weakness that seemed to surround her—but she wouldn't let this human stand in her way. There was no use turning this old human… it would be useless in her pack… she wanted young blood, new and powerful followers, not this aged human.

She would kill it off then, she decided, eager to taste human blood again. She stared at the frail, wrinkled throat, deciding to kill it in a single move.

And she lunged at the screaming human's throat, feeling her teeth piercing the wrinkled skin, and then sinking deeper, her tongue tasting blood, her teeth meeting bone… and then, she clamped her teeth over the bone and pulled her jaws out of the flesh, snapping the bone, her tongue swiping over the warm blood that spurted out—

And then, she was Acquila, screaming her lungs out, falling out of bed onto the hard, cold floor as she thrashed around, Mrs Smith's fearful face swimming before her vision, feeling the taste of Mrs Smith's blood in her mouth.

"Acquila!" she heard Hermione shout, Lavender and Parvati's shouts mingling with Hermione's worried ones.

"Mrs Smith—Mrs Smith—" she gasped, but the image of her own wolfy teeth sinking into the frail throat refused to go away, her tongue could still taste the blood of the children she—no, Greyback—Greyback had bitten; she could see her teeth clamping over her father's canine leg, snapping the bone into two… and then watching Mrs Smith herding the running kids into the familiar orphanage building, see herself lunging at Martha, who had shared a room with her for years… and see Mrs Smith coming into her path to save Martha… and then her teeth ripping her throat out—

Her stomach churned, bile rose in her throat, and she retched, only to see Hermione hold a bowl in front of her just in time. And then she was vomiting out what she had eaten for the Halloween feast last night, the images still refusing to leave, her mind failing to register Hermione holding her hair back, Parvati gently patting at her back.

"Mrs Smith, I—I—Greyback killed her—" she mumbled, now realising that there were tears streaming down her face.

She felt Hermione hold a glass of water to her lips, she felt the water slide down her throat. But she pushed the glass away, trembling as she remembered what she had seen.

Mrs Smith was dead… she was dead… and she was never coming back… The one woman who had made the decade in the orphanage happy, who had loved her more than anyone ever had in the first eight years of her life, who had cared for her like a mother—she was more than a mother to her—the only mother she knew.

Athena McKinnon-Black was nothing but a memory to her… memories created out of events her Dad and Remus had given her.

But Mrs Smith… she was real… a real mother, who had tucked her into bed, and kissed her bruises, and read bedtime stories to her, spent her own money to buy Acquila the frilly dress she had wanted for her birthday—Mrs Smith was everything… everything to her until she had met Harry and begin loving him, too…

But Mrs Smith was dead, now… she would never send letters with Hedwig, or gather Acquila in her arms when she went running towards her down the cobbled path of the orphanage, she wouldn't gently ask her about how her life was going on, about whether she was happy with her Dad and the new family she had… she wouldn't press that tender kiss to her forehead when she bid her goodbye and ask her when she would visit again… she wouldn't ask her about how Harry was, or slyly rib her about whether she fancied any bloke… she wouldn't—she wouldn't do anything anymore, because she was dead… and Acquila had killed her—no, Greyback had—Greyback had killed her!

But if Acquila hadn't been a witch, Mrs Smith would never have been targeted—she would have been alive, with Robin and Andrew and Martha and all those kids in the orphanage whom she loved like her own and who loved her back.

Motherless.

And Acquila was motherless, now… in the past few months she had longed for Athena, wanted to know more and more about how her mother had been… But she had forgotten that her mother in the true sense of the term had been Mrs Smith—and her throat was tight now (But Mrs Smith's very throat had been ripped out, hadn't it?)—and she couldn't breathe now, with the lump in her throat turning bigger and bigger and making it impossible to breathe in the air (But Mrs Smith would never breathe a single breath now, would she?)—and the tears were streaming down her cheeks (But there was no Mrs Smith to pull her into her loving hugs and wipe her tears away, was there?)

"Acquila! Acquila, what's wrong? You just had a nightmare—"

"Lavender, go call Madam Pomfrey! She's—"

But something – Hermione's spell, she would later realise – eased her breathing, though the tears wouldn't stop, nor would the trembling, nor would the grief that tore at her.

And all she wanted was Harry… all she wanted was his arms around her, holding her tightly, knowing everything that she was feeling without her needing to speak a word, knowing that she didn't want condolences and consolations, but silence… silence to dwell on what Mrs Smith had been to her, and what she had lost with her death… to remember all the memories of Mrs Smith and share them with Harry, so that even if she ever forgot them as time passed away, they would still remain safe with him… never to be forgotten, to be treasured forever.

Harry… Harry… he was all she needed, now… He couldn't put it right, nobody ever could. But he was the closest that could come to holding her together when she was sure she would break irrecoverably.

And then, she was standing up on shaky feet, pushing Hermione's worried hands away. She stumbled out of the dormitory, her tears blurring her vision. She felt her stomach plunging, as she missed a step on the staircase, and she stumbled, missing the next two steps, face-first towards the floor.

But Harry stood there, at the foot of the staircase, his arms held out for her, his eyes moist but understanding. And she let herself fall, unable to support her shaking, stumbling feet anymore, knowing he would be there to hold her, like he always had.

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: There! We'd love to hear your views on that! The next update probably won't come this month. My co-author has to study for her exams again, so writing will be slow on her part. But we'll try to have it up in early March. Thank you for reading :-)