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Of Sun Tzu and pointless death

Sirius Black's introduction to the work of Sun Tzu had come when his daughter was nine and Aunt Lulu had set his little Dorry the text as a Chinese language exercise. She had, quite understandably, been utterly enraptured by the information contained in the slim volume and Sirius had been extensively quoted at in both Chinese and English for four months. The quotes had caught his interest, so he'd approached Great-Aunt Honora for an English translation and she had eventually managed to get him one.

It had been an eye-opener, and fully confirmed his budding suspicions that there was no honour in war whatsoever. War was simply a waste, be it of time, resources or of people, so it was best to ensure it was over as quickly and efficiently as possible. There were no tactics that were 'underhanded' or 'inappropriate', because in war the aim was to win as swiftly and efficiently as possible. The fewer resources you lost, the better the victory.

Siruis had lent the book to Remus, applied some of the concepts to his Black business investments, then when his daughter declared war on Voldemort had immediately used it as a basis for his campaign. It was working rather disturbingly well. So disturbingly well, in fact, that the Black War might well be over by February if their progress remained more or less steady in the coming months; according to Cissa, they had already succeeded in halving Old Mouldy's financial power base. Money could be more persuasive than force in the political arena.

In terms of denying the Dark Dork access to manpower, the vampires had all been politely persuaded that it was in their best interests to stay out of the scuffle taking place and Dorea's Potions breakthrough in the first week of November had ensured both that she would be a shoo-in for getting a Mastery and that no werewolves would be joining Riddle any time soon. The Daily Prophet headline had seen to that: the Lady Potter Creates Lycanthropy Cure! headlinehad not been in any way subtle. All that time spent combing through the extensive archives and reading crabbed handwriting was now fully justified.

Dorea's breakthrough had taken longer than it might have due to her being pregnant, as her condition meant she was completely banned from brewing until after giving birth and would be discouraged from anything that might conceivably go wrong until her child was weaned; the fumes were dangerous, especially to babies. However Dawn was a capable potioneer and had followed Dorea's instructions exactly through a set of mirrors while taking comprehensive notes at every step, so the final potion both young ladies were satisfied with had been taken by Moony shortly before the full moon and, while he had still transformed, he had been neither insane nor contagious either that first night or the following month. The lack of contagiousness had been verified through a spell and a saliva sample; Healers used the spell to diagnose Cursed wounds all the time. The Ministry was already talking of making the potion compulsory, so that lycanthropy would become a thing of the past within their lifetimes.

Sirius knew that monsters such as Greyback would never take the potion, so the market for Lycan's Ease was unlikely to vanish any time soon. The potion itself was a finicky one with a few very expensive ingredients, but the real problem with it was its sensitivity to the phases of the moon during brewing and the length of time required to produce even a single dose. The potion had to be started under a new moon and took twelve days to mature, after which it had to be drunk within the day or it lost all potency. According to Moony it didn't taste half-bad, considering, but a few of the ingredients were a bit ick. Eagle intestines, for instance…


Dorea was over four months pregnant now and completely delighted about it, despite the continued absence of husband and not being allowed off the grounds of Black Manor unless it was to visit Potter Manor, accompanied by a house-elf since the Floo was not secured. She actually had a tiny baby bump now and probably came across as completely dotty in her insistence on talking to her baby, playing music to it at all hours of the day and diligently keeping up her combat practice.

Mr Rookwood and Ric Avery were both visiting every week and Rence was participating in those sessions as well, so she was keeping herself in shape despite protests from her remaining elderly relatives. Her great-aunts Callidora Longbottom and Cedrella Weasley both held that such strenuous exercise would do untold harm to her baby and were firmly disapproving, but Dorea simply informed them that if they could not moderate their censure she would stop inviting them to visit her. She was Heiress Black, her child was to be Heir Black –provided it was a boy, which she was pretty sure it would be– and her choices were not subject to their approval.

Aunt Druella was little better, but she at least did not reprimand Dorea outright, feeling far too beholden to the Heiress Black to risk overstepping those boundaries. Dorea had taken to inviting Uncle Cygnus' widow over to visit about once a fortnight and the thin, prematurely aged woman would sit with her in her parlour and embroider while telling stories about her own experiences in pregnancy and raising her three daughters. Dorea usually drew, wrote letters or did a little embroidery herself during these visits while Deborah or Dawn perched on the window seat, completely ignored by the aging Mrs Black. Aunt Druella was a pureblood elitist like her late husband and considered Great-Uncle Marius' grandchildren to be lower-class, despite them technically being Blacks, so classified them as 'help'.

As Aunt Druella had actual experience of motherhood and had somehow managed to raise both Aunt Cissa and Aunty Andy into accomplished and capable adults, Dorea was prepared to put up with a little casual prejudice from her in exchange for helpful advice and commiseration on pregnancy in the absence of Zia Angelique, who was in Italy trying to unearth why there were no records of her husband anywhere in Sabina. Aunt Cissa herself was too busy helping Papa with the war to sit around and be comforting, though Aunt Cissa's own pregnancy with Draco had actually been so fraught with complications and perilous to her health that despite Aunt Cissa wanting a daughter she and Uncle Lucius had never tried for a second child. Auntie Andy was also very busy, being a Healer and very much in demand with all the families the Blacks were currently sheltering as well as keeping up her work at Saint Mungo's. Cousin Dora wasn't married and just as busy as her mother, Aunt Lucretia had no children and those of her cousins who actually were married with children lived in France and were busy both with their own work and hunting down people for Papa.

Her aunts Ophelia and Drusilla did visit about as often as Aunt Druella did, which was very welcome, but both were very busy organising Deborah's upcoming spring wedding and generally talked about that just as much as they did about pregnancy and babies. All her relatives were being very supportive and tactful about her missing husband, particularly Great-Aunt Honora, who was now slowing down a little but had visited in November especially to spend a fortnight at the Manor and tell Dorea a bit about how it had felt living alone in London with a toddler during the Blitz, not knowing where her husband was or even if he was still alive. The large age gap between Eduard, her eldest and Ophelia, the next-oldest told its own tale of how long Great-Aunt Honora had needed to manage alone: there was slightly over seven years between the two. Compared to the not-quite-three-year-gaps between Ophelia and Drusilla and Drusilla and Leander, it was a long time.

What Dorea found hardest about being pregnant was only having Rence around of all her extended circle of friends. Not that Rence wasn't one of her closest friends, but Blaise was her best friend, Daphne was her first friend and Tracy was the friend who'd taught her you didn't have to be best friends to get on well with each-other and they were all stuck at Hogwarts for the year along with Luna, Hermione, Padma and Ginny, whom she had recently become very close to. They'd be coming over to Black Manor for Christmas –they had promised– but after that she wouldn't see any of them again until after her baby was born. They would barely be staying long enough for the traditional Gender Unveiling that took place at the start of the sixth month of pregnancy, where the Healer did a spell to determine the gender of the unborn child.

The spell in question could be cast anytime after the eighth week of pregnancy, but Pureblood Tradition held it was unlucky to do so before the sixth month had begun. Dorea suspected it was partly to do with the fact that the Healers could only save a premature baby if it was born after the six-month mark, so naming the child before then was setting oneself up for potentially greater loss should a miscarriage occur.

Dorea already had names in mind, both for a boy and for a girl, though she would have liked her husband's opinion on the subject. As the baby would be Heir –or temporary Heiress– Black, they needed a Black name, so Dorea would have veto, but she still would have liked to hear his side. She would have liked to name a boy Arcturus, but as a boy would have his father's first name as a middle name 'Arcturus Alexander Black' sounded too ridiculous to inflict on a child. She refused to name her son after either of her fathers –because Uncle James was her father as much as Papa was– which left her uncles and great-uncles. Alphard was out for the same reason as Arcturus, Cygnus and Pollux both held unpleasant mental connotations, Regulus had died too recently for her to be comfortable reusing the name just yet and she didn't want to use Orion either.

Dorea was therefore leaning towards naming a boy-child Marius, as a way to honour her Great-Uncle who was one of the truest, most honourable and family-orientated men she had ever known. 'Marius Alexander Black' also sounded very dignified, which was another plus. If her baby was a girl Dorea would be calling her Cassiopeia, though she hadn't yet settled on a middle name. Possibly Lily or Lillian after her mother, or Melania after Grandpa Arcturus' wife? She wasn't sure what would suit best. Isla maybe, after that distant great-great aunt whose trunk she had inherited.

Regardless of whether she had a boy or a girl, Dorea was sure her baby would be completely beautiful and very wilful. With herself and Xanxus for parents, they couldn't possibly be anything else.


For George, Wednesday December 21st began just like every second day that term. He woke in the Slytherin seventh-year dormitories, conjured up a 'George Weasley' in the Gryffindor tower on the other side of the school as his twin conjured up a 'Frank Prewett' that materialised in the dungeons, showered, dressed and headed up to breakfast with his 'twin'. He'd been Jerry Prewett half the time he was at Hogwarts this year and despite having twice the usual load of homework he was still having fun. When he was George he and 'Fred' would work hard on making The Toad's life hellish in dozens of subtle and untraceable ways, starting with hexes on her classroom and going all the way up to dosing her drinks and breaking into her home on weekends to ransack her files. When he was Jerry, Fred and 'George' would do likewise while he and 'Frank' worked diligently in class, kept their heads down and sucked up to 'Professor Umbridge'.

But this morning Professor McGonagall strode over to the Gryffindor table and quietly informed the assembled Weasleys that they were expected in the Headmaster's office. Sensing something was up, George caught Ingrid Rosier's eye and quietly absented himself from the breakfast table, 'Frank' right behind him. Mist Flames were very versatile and getting people to overlook you was actually more effective than attempting to make yourself invisible. People who had been Disillusioned were only really camouflaged rather than truly invisible, so movement could actually be discerned. The charm had other flaws too, and did not prevent s person from showing up to various Detection Charms. The Notice-Me-Not Charm could help a person there, but those could be picked up on as well. Mist illusions on the other hand were invisible to conventional magic, which was quite remarkably helpful.

He swapped with his clone halfway along the hall, leaving 'George' to become 'Jerry' and weaving a minor illusion over his uniform so he was no longer so sleekly dressed and his tie wasn't green and silver. His hair reverted to its natural ginger, at least superficially; Muggle hair dye was not something magic could reverse, but it was easy to conceal.

George passed the animated gargoyle, ascended the moving staircase to the top of the Headmaster's tower and followed their Head of House into Dumbledore's office, Fred just ahead of him, Ginny clutching his hand and Ron a few steps behind. Ron seemed to be following in Percy's footsteps in becoming subtly alienated from the rest of the family, though he was managing it through laziness and ill-temper rather than ambition and snobbishness.

Ron was one of the very small minority of Gryffindors not involved with the Study Constellation, which was really at the root of that drifting apart considering both Fred and George were involved in teaching –mostly the fourth-years– either as themselves or as the Prewetts and Ginny was actually running the first-year groups. It had been months since they'd last pranked Ickle Ronnikins, let alone spoken to him for more than just necessity.

Bill was standing in the office, where he really shouldn't be considering he was still contracted to work in Egypt for another eighteen months despite Dumbledore's attempts to get their eldest brother to ask to be reassigned to Britain. He also looked…

"There's been an accident," is what Bill actually said, but George could read the lines prematurely etched on his favourite big brother's face, interpret the miserable twitch in his cheek and the shadows around his eyes and if he could then Fred could too.

"Who's dead," Fred demanded, voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Bill's face set like glue, or possibly that gloopy grey Muggle building material one of Dorea's cousins had introduced them to. See-meant?

"Dad."

George had thought his twin's Petrification was bad, but this was worse. All of the colour leeched out of reality and there was nothing left but pain.


Dorea heard about the suspicious death of Arthur Weasley over lunch on the Wednesday before Christmas, the news brought to her ears by Aunt Cissa who had heard it from Hildegard Lestrange. Hilde was a secretary in the Ministry and the building was awash with rumours and curiosity concerning how on earth the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office had wound up savaged to death right outside the Department of Mysteries. The rumour mill had it there was a connection to Broderick Bode, an Unspeakable currently in St Mungo's Spell Damage Ward whom the late Mr Weasley had been friendly with.

Papa was certain that Mr Weasley's death was connected to the prophecy Voldemort knew a snippet of, which the Dark Lord was clearly obsessed with and was trying to learn the entirety of. Bode's mental injuries were consistent with the Charms used to protect Prophecy Orbs and Dumbledore still believed the prophecy to be relevant, so it was rather likely that Arthur Weasley sitting guard on the Department of Mysteries overnight had been the Headmaster's idea.

However it was also completely pointless: as Bode's injuries indicated, only those to whom the Unspeakables believed the prophecy to relate to could remove it from its place in their archives, meaning that no Death Eater could touch it without sustaining considerable psychic injuries. Voldemort clearly didn't know this yet, but Dumbledore certainly did so his mounting a guard on the Department was doubly illogical.

Arthur Weasley had died for nothing, probably killed by Nagini considering the nature of his wounds. That an attempt to seize the prophecy orb would have lobotomised the Horcrux-snake made his death even less meaningful, as Mr Weasley's absence from the scene might actually have resulted in a meaningful blow being struck against the Dark Lord. The Unspeakables would probably have then determined what the snake actually was and destroyed it with all possible haste. Instead Great-Aunt Cedrella's youngest son was dead, murdered by Dumbledore's pointless posturing and Voldemort's obsession. Dorea's heart ached for her Great-Aunt and for George, Fred and Ginny, all of whom would really be hurting right now.

It was barely teatime when the three allied Weasleys tumbled through her Floo and vanished into the depths of Black Manor; Dorea wouldn't even have known they were there had Lurcher not informed her of their arrival. She decided to leave them be, merely issuing orders to ensure they were provided with food, then sent Deborah to drag Rence out of his reading so she could have someone sing along with her in the Music Room.

Dawn had a very pleasant voice but she was currently sitting in the Wizengamot representing the Potter Family and Fleur Delacour, Dorea's new assistant in all things Potter and political, was not yet trusted sufficiently by the Family to be left alone with her employer. Dorea didn't really mind: fussing over her kept everyone happy so she could put up with it. If they were still this stupidly overprotective after she had given birth however she would have words with them.

Dorea allowed the three grieving members of her extended family to lurk in their favourite parts of her home until dinner, when she sent Wispy to fetch them. Sending Wispy was cheating really, since the elf was the one who had cooked dinner and would be mortally offended should the three Weasleys refuse it to her face, but she was Heiress Black and a certain level of ruthlessness was expected. George, Fred and Ginny would all be angry with her over such an underhand move but not one of them would take it out on the kitchen elf.

Sure enough, as she was sitting down to dinner with Papa, Auntie Andy, Dora, Uncle Leander, Trish, Deborah, Dawn, Rence, Remus and Fleur, the three Weasleys sidled quietly into the dining room and slunk into the vacant chairs between Dora and Dawn, the twins flanking their little sister. All three were still in their Hogwarts uniforms, George wearing a higher-quality one than either of his younger siblings and a Slytherin tie. Clearly today would have been a Jerry day.

In deference to the loss suffered conversation was kept light and inconsequential, with people joining in as they pleased and talking across the table in a manner that would not have been at all appropriate in more formal circumstances. Uncle Leander chatted about recent legal cases he had overseen and the peculiarities of various clients, Deborah shared the latest hold-ups in arranging her wedding, Dora mentioned a few very eccentric individuals she had met in the pursuit of recent investigations and Trish talked Magical Theory to Fleur, who seemed to at least have enough of an inkling as to what the older girl was on about to ask pertinent questions. The three Weasleys did not utter more than was required to ask to be passed the vegetables, water carafe or condiments, but their inner Flames grew less tense as the meal progressed, no longer raging erratically or twisting unhealthily.

After the remains of dessert had been cleared away Ginny made herself scarce again, Fred right behind her; George however hesitated by the door.

"You only have to ask," Dorea said gently, easily reading the conflict on his face and in his Flames.

"Can we stay here for a bit?" George managed to blurt out. "Mum's completely gone to pieces, Bill's barely holding it together and Ron's just angry. The whole Burrow feels like it's about to explode and if we'd stayed a moment longer I think GinGin would have disintegrated Ronnikins' thick head."

"Stay as long as you like," Dorea promised easily, "but remember that Bill is head of your branch of the family now, so he might come looking for you."

"He won't notice we're missing before tomorrow at the earliest," George said confidently, eyes bleak; "Mum's holding all his attention for the time being."

"Did you at least leave a note?"

George nodded mutely.

"Then I see no reason to inform your brother of your whereabouts."

"Thanks Dorea," George whispered before dashing out the room as though rabid griffins were after him. Dorea felt her heart clench for him and his siblings and promised herself that she would offer them all possible support. Losing a parent was horrible.