We had little choice but to let Fletcher go, though I erased all memory of seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione so that he wouldn't go blabbing and left him with clear instructions that he was to gather up every stolen item he'd taken from my house and return it. He'd protested at first, saying that it was impossible, but I then promptly told him he'd either get it all back, or I'd be cursing him to a fate worse than death by having my house-elf follow him everywhere he went to beat him senseless every second of every day with his pot. That quickly changed Fletcher's tune. He left to carry out his task, leaving the rest of us behind to plan our next move.
I announced that I would be leaving the house for extended periods of time in order to start gathering and organising help among the wizarding population, and to also find safe places for muggle-borns to hide, getting them away from the Ministry. Harry agreed it was imperative that these people be protected, so I made him promise to contact me with the mirror if something came up or they needed help, but that I would be checking in with them periodically. Leaving them with hugs all around and an urgent insistence that they continue practicing and preparing in whatever way they could, I left them with my seventh year books so that they could study advanced spells which could prove invaluable to them. I've never known Ron and Harry to study so hard.
Kreacher was also given instructions to look after the three of them in my absence, telling him that they were my house guests and that I entrusted them to his care, which he took up with vigorous enthusiasm and a promise that he would look after them as well as he would look after me. Kreacher was far more likable, these days. He no longer skulked around the house trying to squirrel things away, but moved around with the energy of a much younger elf, taking pride in his appearance and not allowing so much as a coffee stain on his white, fluffy towel he wore, even cleaning his ears daily so that the white hairs were milky and soft looking.
We got along well, often talking in the evening together as I asked him about my uncle, Regulus, and he was more than happy to describe him to me, talk about his childhood and what he had been like and rather proudly announced that had Master Regulus had been alive today, he would be very pleased to have known me. This I received with a great deal of gratification, because although dad loathed the name of house Black, I couldn't help but take pride in it. It was part of who I was, and I was determined to turn it into a respectable house.
Leaving the famous trio in Kreacher's capable hands, I returned to my dad where I gave him an update on everything I could. I told him about Fletcher looting our house, which angered him purely because I had taken such great pains to get it back up to standard and he could see I was visibly upset that Fletcher had stolen from us, before I then told him all about Remus's visit. "He wanted to leave Tonks and go off with Harry?" Dad was greatly shocked before he then frowned. "When I see him again, I'll talk to him about it. He should know better…he will know better. When he first holds his child in his hands, he'll know. It's instinctive. If I of all people could become a somewhat decent father, Moony stands a much better chance than I did."
"You're an excellent dad." I told him simply as we both sat in our cave surrounded by our comforts, such as adjustable chairs, a warm fire and other things I had once packed up and sent to my dad when he had been living in that cave outside of Hogsmeade. "It's not your fault we got separated, and you've more than made up for it since." He smiled at me, grateful that I would say so before he then asked what else had happened. I told him about the row, how Remus had fled the house after blasting Harry and I off our feet, but also told him all about the muggle-borns being rounded up. "It's getting bad out there, and we have to do something. I'm going to need your help, we'll have to move people across the country to a place we can keep them safe. Possibly entire families. I've already contacted Madame Maxime in France and she's willing to take as many as we can get to her. She's going to provide them with sanctuary."
"Excellent. We should start planning then. Where do we start?"
"Well, we need to find out exactly who is muggle-born, and persuade them that they're in danger. I'm betting the Ministry keep a list, but until I can figure out how to get it, we're going to have to start with the people we know who are muggle-borns. I can list of people I know from school, and I bet Moody will know more. He's got a good memory for that sort of thing. We should try and meet up with him first." And so began our planning, where I surged forwards with a powerful determination to defy Voldemort in whatever way I possibly could. It took a few weeks, but once we had a system established with Moody's help, we began to round up the members of the Order in hiding and they all set about finding those who would be targeted by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, sometimes only getting their families out of their homes mere moments before the Death Eaters and the Ministry officials would arrive.
We would then transport them in whatever way we could without detection, mostly muggle transports whilst in disguise, to a secure location that I had found. We continued with the muggle ruse, as those who were not used to muggle ways wouldn't have a clue where to look. We placed them out of sight in areas where I had placed Fidelius Charms and each one had it's own Secret Keeper. I was Keeper for an old military underground bunker that had been abandoned, but with a few spells I had it back in working order, disguised still so that it was completely removed off the maps, not even the muggles would know it was here, and put as many families as I could get down there to hide for at least a week before getting them onto the ferry across to France, where Madame Maxime, the Delacour family, and a number of the most trustworthy friends I'd established there would pick them up and bring them to safety. The entire operation was coded, so even if the Death Eaters were becoming aware of what was going on, they wouldn't be able to figure it out. Moody was quite a genius at this, he had placed false leads every which way so that even if we were uncovered, it would be a long time before they'd actually find us, giving us time to get everyone out.
Meanwhile, I also continued with dropping back in at Grimmauld Place to check on everyone and see how their plan for infiltrating the Ministry was going. On that part, I was going to join them, as I too needed to break into the Ministry of Magic in order to seize the Muggle Registry. I happened to go back on the day term started again, where it was announced that Severus Snape had been named the new headmaster for Hogwarts. Something about him just…didn't sit right with me. I had been thinking about it all summer in the back of my mind, those thoughts rising to the surface every time I happened to have a moment's peace and quiet.
Dumbledore's last words to me, the fact his hand was cursed, and that he had assured me Snape had been treating him. These things struck me as odd, but more so, that Snape betrayed Dumbledore and all of us by killing him, whilst all the while parading as a double agent. Something wasn't adding up, but I knew better than to speak my thoughts out loud, especially not to Harry. I knew he wouldn't accept anything less than what he'd seen to be the truth, but I had the feeling that Dumbledore…that Dumbledore somehow knew he was going to die. It made no sense to me, and also. Why hadn't Snape given Grimmauld Place away? Moody's tongue-tying jinx was effective, meaning that he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about our old headquarters, but if he had come here, he wouldn't have come alone, and I highly doubted it was outside of Voldemort's capability to unravel his tongue and allow him to speak again.
Which then brought on another question. Why hadn't Snape given us away? He should know that somebody would come back here, and all he would have to do is give the Secret of the house away to any number of Death Eaters for them to be able to come inside and find us all here. Owing to the fact that those Death Eaters were still standing outside the house but unable to see it or enter, meant that they had not been given the Secret. So, Snape had kept his mouth shut. Why? What was he playing at? Also, why did he play so long at being Dumbledore's ally before suddenly betraying him? And why did he never once try and hurt Harry? As far as I was aware, Snape actually went out of his way to protect Harry, despite the fact he clearly hated him and only sometimes got caught up in his own pride to see the truth, such as when that business in the Shrieking Shack went down.
Snape was up to something, and now he was Headmaster of Hogwarts, I couldn't quite decide if I was concerned that Voldemort had a firmer grasp on our world, or comforted that Snape might actually be trying to insert himself so deep into Voldemort's ranks that he was perceived as completely irreproachable, and was using that position to try and protect the students as best as he could. It was all so confusing, so on the morning where the others should have been getting ready to head to King's Cross Station, I went up to one of the guest rooms, the one Harry and Ron used to sleep in.
I took a moment to look at the decorations, the silk wallpaper now a warm hue of orange and copper like autumnal leaves, the patterns trailing up and down the wall whilst birds of every breed and feather flew in a leisurely circle on the ceiling overhead, almost filling it completely. Turning my head now to the portrait which Dumbledore had left strict instructions to never be moved, I walked over to it, staring at the blank canvas before speaking. "Great-Grandfather? Professor Nigellus?" Part of me was convinced that he wouldn't answer, knowing that he wasn't the most responsive portrait judging from what I'd seen of him before, but when I heard a rustle of movement, I was then facing my ancestor who peered at me from over his rather hooked nose.
"Ah, my great-great-great granddaughter, is it? Well then little girl, for what purpose have you roused me so early in the morning?"
"Can we speak freely?" I asked him, remaining calm and complacent as I warily noted to myself that whatever I said could very well be carried back to Snape. It was a risk, but one I was willing to gamble on. It was a gut feeling, instinctive, and if I couldn't trust my own instincts, then what's the point? My ancestor looked at me curiously, regarding me for a few moments before answering.
"I suppose you mean to say, can you speak freely without the worry of me carting your words back to the new Headmaster?"
"Well yes, that about sums it up." He smirked at me, though it didn't seem like a malevolent expression. In fact, he seemed genuinely amused.
"Then you may be rest assured. You can trust me, little girl."
"Do you even know my name?"
"Euphemia Selene Black. I made it my business to oversee your academic career out of curiosity. You are of my bloodline, after all, and I was satisfied that you did not bring shame or dishonour to our family name, though you were a wild, distasteful thing. Always causing mischief. Were I still Headmaster, I would have had you flogged, relative or not." Charming, absolutely charming.
"As reassuring as that is. I have a question for you, professor." Lifting a hand as if to graciously invite me to ask, I studied him closely. "Professor Snape. Can I trust him?" This was clearly not the question that he was expecting, as Phineas Nigellus promptly coughed and spluttered, looking at me sharply.
"Little girl, I do not know…"
"Don't try and play dumb. I know you are more than capable of understanding my meaning. You were in that office night and day whilst Dumbledore and Snape no doubt met together in order to discuss things. I need to know if I can trust him, and I need to know now. Dumbledore always said he had a concrete reason for trusting Snape, but his actions do not correlate to a man of trustworthy character. Yet, there are still discrepancies I cannot get my head around. Snape has always been there, from the very beginning, working from the shadows, and I know for a fact that he's a double agent. The only question I can't answer, is 'who is he a double agent for'. I know Dumbledore was not above self-sacrifice, so if his death was necessary to accomplish the downfall of Lord…"
"Do not speak his name!" Nigellus spoke with a sharp air of warning so I quickly clamped my mouth shut, now frowning at him. He did not strike me as the kind of man who would have been easily frightened by a mere name whilst he was alive, and seeing as he was just a painting, I couldn't understand why he would show such urgency now. "Little girl, I will only warn you once. Do not ever speak the Dark Lord's name out loud. It will spell misfortune for you." Getting the distinctive feeling that he knew something I didn't, I pushed it to the side for the moment in order to focus on receiving an answer to my question.
"Very well, if you insist. Now, back to the point. What do you say? Can I trust Snape or shall I continue my plan to work against him?" Nigellus now looked in pain, as if struggling to think on how to answer this, but then I caught the sound of a soft tone seemingly behind the painting, but it was too quiet to discern any words, but I knew that voice. I'd know it anywhere. Dumbledore. I held my breath as Nigellus listened, considered for a moment before then looking at me with similar bluish eyes to mine. "Trust your instincts." He said to me, which only made me feel all the more lost.
"Was that a message from Dumbledore's portrait?"
"Indeed it was, girl. Now, if you have nothing further to ask, I should very much like to go back to sleep." He told me with a quip so I smiled slightly, thinking that his dry bluntness was something very similar to my own manner of speaking. "Was there something else?" Quickly thinking, I decided on what my instincts told me before nodding my head.
"Yes. A message."
"I am not in the business of carrying messages like an owl to and from my portraits. Besides, I can only visit those which are mine. To whom would you address a message? Surely not Dumbledore, I very much doubt he would…"
"No, not Dumbledore. This is a message for Professor Snape." That shut him up and after falling silent, I assumed that Nigellus was willing to listen. "If you would please tell him this when you next see him, I would be most grateful. Tell him; I will repay the debt." This made Nigellus frown in confusion, sweeping his long robed sleeves in order to tuck his hands behind his back as he studied me closely.
"And what, pray, is that supposed to mean?" Giving a shrug, I pointedly folded my arms as I smirked at a rather impatient looking Nigellus.
"If he gets it, he gets it. If he doesn't, he doesn't. It's not a threat, you can tell him that much. I'll do my best from this side to work towards the goal Dumbledore wanted, if you so decide to grace me with your benevolence, you could tell him that my mission is still active. I haven't given up." Looking rather curious, a slight curl began to appear on Nigellus's mouth as he observed me from within his portrait.
"I think that I approve of you as my descendent, little girl. If the House of Black is in your hands, then I might feel somewhat satisfied it will do well. Take heed of your instincts, then, and do what you will, only don't go bothering me every time you have a question. I have many important things to be getting on with, you know." I laughed at that, wondering what in Circe's name could a portrait have to do other than sit and sleep all day, but I kept this to myself. Instead I watched him walk out of the portrait, and for a brief moment I heard a brief note of a voice from the other side before it was cut off, and I was once more alone in the room.