"So." Aletha sat at the small, square table in Remus's quarters, a mug of hot chocolate between her hands. "Information pooling time. What do we know, what do we suspect, and how can we find out more?"
"Well, we suspect that Sirius is alive." Remus pulled out a chair for himself on Aletha's right. "I hadn't been able to think of any way it could happen, but your scenario of a substituted body makes a certain amount of sense. Always assuming the Ministry was slipshod and took everything at face value." He cupped his hands around his own mug, gazing into the liquid inside until it began to bubble. "Which, judging by the evidence we've already collected…"
"Precisely." Aletha's smile could have been used as a razor. "I do like it when things come back around to bite people."
"So Sirius would be free from his cell, and no one would be looking for him because everyone assumed that he'd died." Remus blew on the surface of his hot chocolate, watching the ripples die away. "Once again, his Animagus form would help him. A dog could survive the water temperatures around Azkaban much better than a human. Possibly even well enough to swim all the way to the mainland."
"And once he made it here, he could have located a wizarding household and stolen a wand to disguise himself." Aletha laughed once. "Maybe he'd even put it back when he was finished. I feel like that would appeal to his sense of humor, to keep anyone from noticing he'd come and gone."
"Which means there's a strong possibility that he's at Hogwarts." Remus tapped a foot on the floor. "Or he will be, when the students come back from their holidays." He sighed. "I don't like it, Letha. What if we're wrong? What if we're letting our dreams run away with us? I've certainly never been trained on handling that sort of diagram. Maybe I got the whole thing backwards, and we're opening our doors to a murderer."
"It's possible." Aletha sat back in her chair. "Explain to me why, in that case, Sirius hasn't killed Harry long since. Or kidnapped him out of that park near his relatives' home, the day he chased off Harry's cousin and his gang. A grown wizard, alone with an untrained boy, away from his usual protections, and with a shiny new wand thrown in to boot. What self-respecting Death Eater wouldn't seize a moment like that?"
"I'm sorry, are you putting the words 'Sirius Black' and 'self-respecting' in the same sentence?" Remus chuckled, dodging Aletha's swipe. "But I see what you're saying. Sirius might be heedless sometimes, but he was never stupid. He'd have seen how perfect an opportunity that was, just as clearly as you did. And he didn't take it."
"No, he didn't." Aletha sipped from her mug. "Not evidence we could bring into court, but it convinces me. And I know someone else I'm fairly sure it would convince." She turned her head to one side, letting her eyes roam upwards.
"You think we should take this to Dumbledore." Remus nodded slowly. "I can't disagree. Especially since—hold on a moment." He set down his mug and drew his wand, pointing it towards the door to his bedroom. A small notebook soared through the air and landed in his other hand, and he set it down, flipped open the cover, and handed Aletha the note which had been tucked inside. "This showed up in my quarters on 1 November, after an unknown wizard with dark hair had attacked Quirinus Quirrell during the Halloween feast. Given what our alternate selves interrupted on that same night…"
"Written by DictaQuill, I see." Aletha ran her finger along the brief lines of text, smiling to herself. "As someone might do whose handwriting was both distinctive and likely to be recognized by the recipient."
"Not to say almost illegible." Remus returned the smile. "And here I thought you were the Healer in the family."
Tonks frowned over the slip of parchment an owl had deposited on her desk several minutes earlier, trying to decipher the hastily scribbled words. Whoever had sent this tip to the Ministry, she decided, must have been writing in a tearing hurry, not to mention with a leaky quill. They even seemed to have dragged their hand across some of the words, rendering them all but unreadable. Still, she thought she had it figured out now.
And it's not good news. But then, this is the Auror Office. When is it ever?
"Got that message sorted," she said, angling her voice over her shoulder to reach Kingsley at his desk. "Another tip about an attack on Muggles. Tomorrow afternoon, at some meeting hall in Surrey."
"Huh." Kingsley came to look at her work, comparing the original slip to the clean copy she'd made. "Strange. This doesn't look a thing like the last one. Hope that doesn't mean anything happened to our original informant." He shrugged. "Ah well, no way to know that. Let me take this upstairs, and start convincing our Lord and Master that he can spare a few of us from publicity stunts to actually do what it is we're trained for."
Scooping up the clean copy, he rested a hand briefly on her shoulder. "Good work," he said quietly, and was gone.
Tonks took a moment to bask in the compliment (praise from Kingsley Shacklebolt had to be earned, and earned hard), then slid the original parchment into her pocket and got to her feet. The breakroom, and the Insta-Boil Kettle within, were calling her name, and while she was at it she thought she might write a note to Remus.
Just to see if he's back from his trip overseas yet, and if he found whoever he was looking for there…
XxXxX
They sat together in front of the fire, his arm around her back, her head resting on his shoulder. Their child lay in a sleepy curl on a soft rug beside them, her dark hair curtaining her face. The hushed peace of an ancient place, long devoted to wisdom and fellowship, filled and permeated the little room on this chill December night.
"So delicate," he murmured, caressing her fingers with his own. "Yet so strong. And with such a lovely color."
"Perhaps now." She laughed softly. "They were not always."
"Indeed they were not." He brought her hand to his lips. "And yet, I bless whatever twist of fate brought me to that place, in that moment, on that day. When I emerged briefly from my selfish misery of blame and regret to hear a Healer speaking about a woman whom she had certified dead early that morning, a woman whose fingertips and lips had been a most peculiar shade of turquoise blue."
"And you, with your experience, recognized that immediately as the sign of a specific poison." She sat up, gazing at him. "One which might still be reversed, if an antidote were brewed swiftly. But if it were not, the woman would die in truth."
"And my heart rebelled against that." He laid their conjoined hands on his chest. "After all that had happened already, one more needless death seemed too much to bear." A wicked smile came to his lips, an expression she knew that few had ever seen from him. "Which is how I came to break quite a number of laws, including, technically, an ancient statute against graverobbing. And three hours and a whirlwind brewing session later…"
"My first life ended, and my second began." She lifted his hand to her own lips now, and kissed it. "You have given me so much, my love. I find it hard to believe the poor gift of myself can ever hope to even the scales."
"Even them? That would be impossible." He shook his head. "When you are worth so much more than I."
"Oh, hush." She slid her arm around his neck and pulled his face down to hers, enforcing this directive in a manner most congenial to both parties.
Cassandra shifted in her sleep and mumbled something, breaking off her parents' embrace. "Here, let me take her," said Severus, disentangling himself from Cecilia and lifting his daughter into his arms. "She should have been in bed hours ago."
"What are holidays for, if not breaking a few rules?" Cecilia stretched her back, twisting from side to side. "Would you care for tea, my dearest? Or perhaps wine?"
"A glass of wine might be pleasant. If you will join me in the indulgence, of course."
"That was never in question." Cecilia smiled. "Let me see what we have open…"
"Time for bed, little one," said Severus quietly, using his wand to replace Cassie's day robes with her nightgown. "And tomorrow, we will go and visit your mother's family, and most likely they will have presents for you." He stroked a hand along the sleek dark hair. "If you were liable to be spoiled at all, it would surely have happened long since, I think."
"Daddy?" Cassie murmured, her eyes opening just enough to focus on Severus. "Is Mummy here too?"
"She is. Do you want to see her?"
"Mm-hmm." Cassie nodded. "I need to ask her something."
"I will go and get her." Severus pulled back the covers of the bed, adding a light Warming Spell to the sheets as Cassie climbed in. "Try to stay awake until she comes."
"Okay." Cassie giggled sleepily. "Love you, Daddy."
"And I, you." Severus left the room, casting one glance back over his shoulder at the small person who had owned the greater portion of his heart since the day he had first discovered that she existed.
Without her, and without her mother, I am only the shell of a man. Cynical, bitter, finding what momentary pleasure I can in exercising power over others. I may have saved my Cecilia from death, but she, and the miracle we made between us, have saved me just as surely. He stepped into their small kitchen and took a moment to admire the view as his wife set down the bottle of wine on the countertop. As my dreary dreams remind me, every time I open my eyes in my lonely rooms.
"Does she want me?" Cecilia chuckled at her husband's nod. "Somehow I thought she might. A predictable child, ours."
"And yet, ever surprising." Severus laid a kiss on his wife's temple as she passed him. "Go and see what she wants, before she drifts off again."
Picking up one of the two glasses, he followed Cecilia at a discreet distance, leaning against the wall outside Cassie's bedroom door.
"Mummy?" the little voice was saying now. "When will I see you again?"
"You see me every day, silly girl." Cecilia's voice hummed with laughter. "But if you mean in your dreams, look for me tomorrow."
Severus nearly dropped his glass. Does this mean—could it be—
No. It cannot. Firmly he drew himself back under control, half-hearing the quiet murmurs of mother and daughter talking together. Every day I half-expect to find some contradiction that will prove this life a sham and tear it to shreds, leaving me to drag out the rest of my weary lifetime in my nightmares, which hold nothing but the sorrow and emptiness I deserve. To instead discover my child there would be a blessing too great to hope for—
And why might that be? whispered a different voice, quieter, more insidious. Sirius Black's child exists in that life. Why not yours as well?
Severus sighed. "Enough," he said under his breath, dismissing both voices to the depths of his mind. "Here and now, my Cassandra is just as real as I am." He took a sip from his wineglass, savoring the crisp, cool taste. "For tonight, let that be enough."
XxXxX
"So how did you get everyone out of the Tower again?" Remus asked, following Aletha through the portrait hole into the familiar, homey atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room.
"Meghan convinced them to join her for a full-innings game of crosseball. They should be outside for another hour at least." Aletha frowned at the boys' staircase. "Let's see here. First years are all the way at the top, so third years should be…second from the bottom, yes?"
"If they're still setting up the dorms the way they always did, then yes." Remus started up the stairs. "What made you think of this, exactly?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Harry showed me the story he's writing, about the way this year might have gone for him. Quite charming, and very funny in parts, especially when he's teasing his friends. But one bit did catch my attention." Aletha kept pace with him up the steep spiral. "Apparently Ron Weasley, when he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time, brought a pet along. Just an ordinary grey rat, nothing too special about it. Except that it'd been in his family for nearly ten years, and most rats are lucky if they live to see four."
"I see what you're getting at, but magic could have played a role there. Plenty of parents charm their children's pets to live longer than usual." Remus tapped on the door of the third years' dorm, then pushed it open when no answer came. "What happened to the rat, or didn't Harry know?"
"It disappeared." Aletha snapped her fingers. "Ran off the first night they spent in their dorms, and hasn't been seen since."
"Which could mean everything, or nothing." Remus drew his wand. "Let's see if we can't find out which. Tabula molesti revelio!"
In one of the wardrobes against the far wall, something sparked. Aletha crossed to it and pulled the door open, removing what appeared to be a large, battered piece of parchment. "This is it?" she asked.
"Yes indeed." Remus joined his friend and laid his wand's tip against the Map. "I solemnly swear," he said with great dignity, "that I am up to no good."
Aletha stifled a laugh. "Would I be right if I guessed who came up with that password?"
"Probably." Remus stroked the edge of the Map with his free hand, watching as the familiar rooms and corridors of Hogwarts formed on the parchment's surface. "So is there a reason you think Peter might still be here? Assuming that rat was even him to begin with?"
"It's more 'hope' than 'think', to be honest." Aletha looked around at the messy, round room. "If he's here, and alive, then we have a reasonable chance of finding him. But if he's not—if he's dead, or he's run off and found some other hiding place, or if, you should pardon the metaphor, I'm barking up the wrong tree altogether—"
"Then we're going to have an awfully hard course to fly." Remus sighed. "Since the Ministry greatly dislikes to be proved wrong, and isn't likely to settle for anything other than overwhelming evidence that Sirius is innocent. At least we won't have to contend with Barty Crouch himself on this one. He'd fight tooth and nail to keep his greatest achievement from being overturned."
"Yes, where did he end up after everything happened with his son and the Longbottoms?" Aletha peered at the Map, which was now narrowing down its focus to Gryffindor Tower. "I can't imagine he left the Ministry. It was practically his whole life."
"International Magical Cooperation, I think." Remus frowned, spreading out the parchment on one of the nearby beds. "That's odd. It ought to be showing us where we are."
"And it is." Aletha laid her finger on a dot of ink labeled with her own name. "But where are you?"
"According to the Map, I'm not here." Remus slid his fingers along his wrist, checking his pulse. "Is this the point when you tell me I've actually been dead for years?"
"Not that I'm aware of." Aletha drew her wand and half-jokingly sketched a diagnostic rune in the air, nodding at the results. "No, definitely alive. But you'd said that the Map never lies, that it can't be fooled…"
"As far as we ever knew, it can't be." Remus touched his wand to the parchment once more. "Would you please reveal your secrets?" he asked.
Only because you said please, the Map printed in its margin, before the outline of the round room disappeared in favor of thickly written lines of text and symbols. Remus bent over it, half-sensing Aletha at his shoulder, focusing his attention on the complex spell structure he could remember spending so many nights carefully constructing, with the help of his friends—
"This," he said, planting his finger on a particular line of text. "This wasn't there before. Someone's added it."
"'Pay no attention to the men behind the curtains'?" Aletha read aloud. "Does that mean—"
"The people who created it." Remus lowered his hand to the surface of the bed. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. We can't be seen by the Map now. As far as it's concerned, we don't exist." A tiny laugh surfaced from within his chagrin. "And I'm not sure I can undo that, because it fits so well with our intentions when we were designing the Map. To create something that was useful only to us, and would frustrate and baffle our enemies. Just looking at where it's situated, if I tried to pry it loose, I'd tear out half the spell linkages, and James was the one who did those. I wouldn't have the first idea how to recreate them."
"Well, so much for that." Aletha sat back on her heels. "What do we do now?"
"Now, we go through with what you were saying before." Remus blanked the Map and handed it back to Aletha, nodding towards the wardrobe. "Take everything we've put together to Dumbledore. He may have insights we're missing, or even know of another way to find something, or someone, hiding at Hogwarts…"
"Draco!"
"Yes, sir?" Draco poked his head over the railing on the indoor balcony, looking down at his father. "Is something the matter?"
"Not at all. I merely wanted you and your friend to know that we are leaving." Lucius straightened the cuff of his robes. "Behave yourselves while we are gone. Dobby has orders to serve tea at four and supper at seven. I cannot say how late I will be out, but your mother should be home before nine." A moment of humor sparked in his eyes. "Do attempt not to destroy anything irreplaceable between now and then."
"Yes, sir." Draco watched his father return to the well-warded room where he'd been meeting with his friends, then started back down the corridor, breathing deeply to keep his heart from racing out of control. Beside him, Orion huffed encouragingly, and bumped his shoulder against Draco's leg without losing his pace.
"Thanks." Draco rested his hand briefly on the dog's broad shoulders, then tapped on the door of a particular guest room.
"Come in!" called a hesitant voice, and Draco pushed open the door.
Neville looked up from his examination of the carvings on the mantelpiece. "I can't believe you really live here," he said. "It's like a house people would pay money to go and visit."
"It's not all that great, to be honest." Draco flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I'd rather have my four-poster in the dormitory any day. Or a room of my own in a townhouse somewhere, or even just a bunk in a corner bedroom. At least those come with good company, instead of a whopping great load of 'Malfoys must always' and 'purebloods may never'."
"I thought you didn't care about that." Neville scratched behind one of Orion's ears in greeting.
"I try not to. But it isn't easy." Draco sat up. "Speaking of which. Are you sure you're okay with this? Like I told you, if you're not comfortable with it, I won't make you."
"No." Neville shook his head. "I want to try it. If the dreams are right, this is something important. Something special. And…" He looked away. "I'm not," he said indistinctly. "Not important, not special. People like Harry, or Hermione, or you are worth twelve of me—"
"Hey!" Draco shot to his feet at the same moment as Orion's indignant bark. "You stop that! I'd hex anyone who was running you down like that at school, so don't think I won't hex you if you keep doing it to yourself! Hold still, I've been meaning to practice my Leg-Lockers—"
Laughing, Neville dodged out of the way of Draco's half-speed casting. "But it really is true," he said, sitting down on the edge of the hearth. "I can't do anything right, magically, I mean. I forget half of what the teachers tell us in class, and all my spells keep coming out muddled." He sighed, staring at his hands. "I know, from the dreams, what it feels like to be a proper wizard. To be confident, and strong, and fit in with the rest of you like I belong there. But maybe, for me, all that's ever meant to be is a dream."
"I don't buy that." Draco shook his head. "The dream you is still you. He's just you with more going for him. And some of that's out of your control, but some of it isn't. Like going ahead with a risky plan, because you believe it's worthwhile." He nodded towards the door. "Ready to give it a shot, Captain?"
Neville produced a recognizable, if trembling, grin. "Yarrr."
Together, the boys slipped down the stairs, Orion following behind them, his nose lifted to catch any hint of competing scents within the house. A few twists and turns brought them to the drawing room, where Draco knelt and folded back the rug with its sinuous pattern of green and tan. "Here goes," he said, and laid his hands on the planks of the floor. One of them found a slight irregularity and pressed down, and the other slipped into the space beneath the other end of the floorboard and fit its fingers into the slender slots within. He squeezed in a particular pattern, and a click sounded through the room, as a section of the floor rose up in front of him.
"Wow," Neville breathed, gazing down into the cavity thus revealed. Orion, too, came to stare, as Draco got to his feet and backed away. He'd seen this hiding place opened several times before, but he'd failed to remember just how many things his father had tucked away inside. Bags and bottles, scrolls and jewelry, packed the shelves which lined the walls, chests lay open with tempting piles of gold spilling out of them…
And all we know about the thing we're trying to find is that it's "ordinary". He glanced over at Neville. Well, not quite all we know.
"You ready?" he asked.
"No." Neville swallowed hard. "Let's do it anyway."
"Right." Draco looked back at Orion. "Keep your ears open," he said. "Let us know if someone's coming."
Orion barked once, softly, and retreated to the door of the room, where he took up a sentry's stance. Draco turned back to the hiding place and slid over the edge, lowering himself down with his arms, Neville copying his movements once he realized what his friend was doing. Safely inside, they looked around, trying to get oriented.
"Start here?" Draco asked softly, indicating the chest nearest to their entry point.
Neville nodded, and went to one knee in front of it, sliding his hand into its contents. After several moments, he stood back up. "Just gold, I think," he said. "Maybe some jewels. What's next?"
Chest by chest, shelf after shelf, they moved around the perimeter of the hiding place, Neville running his hand along each item in turn. One or two of them made him pause, but he always shook his head and moved on after a moment. Draco fidgeted in place, and tried to resist the urge to look at his watch. Neither of his parents would be home for hours, Dobby would turn away any unexpected visitors, he had no reason to feel this nervous—
With a gasp, Neville jumped back, shaking out his fingers.
"Was that it?" All anxiety fled as Draco's full attention went to his friend. "Did you find it?"
"I…I think so." Neville flexed his hands, then stepped forward once more, staring at a tiny, incongruous item which lay by itself on a middle shelf. "That little black book there. I never would have thought…"
"Me neither." Draco regarded the book closely. "I hate to ask, but would you try it again? Just once more? So we can be sure that's it."
"Right." Neville reached slowly forward and laid the very tips of his fingers against the book, then yanked them away as if it were red-hot. "That's it," he confirmed, backing away. "And it really stings. Worse than whatever I touched in the dreams. It's like that thing was asleep, and this is awake." He scrubbed his hand against the side of his robes. "I don't want to touch it again. And I don't think you should touch it at all."
"Not a problem." Draco pulled a cloth bag from his pocket and handed it to Neville, then drew his wand. "Wingardium leviosa," he pronounced carefully, and the book rose from the shelf. Neville opened the bag, holding its mouth wide, and Draco maneuvered the book into it, snapping his wrist to end the spell. "Here, I'll take it," he said, holding out his hand.
"Thanks." Neville passed the bag across. "So we did it, then?"
"I think we did." Draco knotted the bag shut and shoved it into the pocket of his robes, then cupped his hands to give Neville a leg up and out. Clambering out himself, he went to one knee beside the opening in the floor, Orion coming to snuffle at him worriedly. "I'm all right," he reassured the dog, running his hands across silken ears. "Check on Neville, would you? He had it worse than I did."
"Hey!" protested Neville as Orion obediently began to sniff him over. "That tickles!"
Hiding his grin, Draco got to his feet. "Dobby!" he called softly.
"Here," said the house-elf, popping into the room. "What does Master Draco—" He cut himself off, staring wide-eyed at the opened hiding place. "Master Draco should not be doing this," he breathed. "Master Lucius is being so angry, so angry if he finds out—"
"But he's not going to find out, Dobby." Draco shook his head. "Not if you're willing to help us out, the same way you do when I come back from my days out with Tonks. As long as you clean up any traces we might've left, Father will never suspect a thing."
"He is suspecting if he looks for a piece of his treasure, and it are gone!" Dobby pointed a long finger at Draco's pocket. "And he is noticing if anything are moved or missing, Master Draco, you know that he is—"
"No, I don't think he will." Draco grinned across at Neville, who returned the expression shakily. Orion's tail was describing perfect semi-circles in the air above his back. "Not unless he happens to check within the next three days, that is…"
Dear Tonks,
Can you pop out to a Muggle shop sometime soon and buy me a little black diary? Four by six, softbound, not too fancy. I'm playing a trick on Father and this would really help me out.
Any luck with getting a day off for Diagon Alley, like we talked about?
Yours,
Mal
Dear Mal,
Little black diary enclosed. You'll have to tell me what it was for sometime.
Let me know what day's good for you two. I'm off work from now till the New Year thanks to being, according to one Kingsley Shacklebolt, the fastest-shooting apprentice in the Office in years. That's right, you heard it here first—I bagged a Death Eater. Me! An honest-to-Merlin Death Eater! I haven't quit smiling since it happened. Only way it could've been better is if it was my dear old uncle, but maybe next time.
Say hi to Neville and Dobby for me, and give Orion a scratch.
See you soon,
Tonks
P.S. Have you heard from Harry lately? I wouldn't want to tell tales out of school, but let's just say it's been an eventful holiday all the way around…
(A/N: Does anyone know if fanfiction dot net is having issues? For some reason, the review page hasn't updated in days. The review counter still goes up, and I'm receiving reviews by email, but they aren't appearing for others to read. Weird. (Update from the next day: apparently all I needed to do was complain and it fixed itself? Oh well, problem is solved. Thanks to all who continue to review!)
For some reason, the scene in the middle of this chapter with the Marauder's Map was very challenging to write. I couldn't seem to figure out who should be involved, and it took me four written tries to get it right. This is unusual for me, since I do the majority of my story planning either in my head or out loud to disinterested cats. I'm reasonably happy with how it finally took shape, and hope you are as well, O readers.
In any case, as promised, things are starting to happen. Next chapter brings us back to Hogwarts, where the consequences of people's actions intersect and overlap, reshaping the world in their wake. All of which is a fancy way of saying lots more things will happen. Hope to see you then!)
