Chapter Seven: The Darkest Wizard of All Time

"I - I am gonna - I'm gonna kill, Sirius."

These were the words of Daphne Greengrass who, thanks to years of high society and the ability to do pretty much anything she liked so long as she avoided her mother, loathed exercise. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been forced to endure any and, as a result, could be found with her hands on her knees and her lungs trying to force their way out of her throat. It was not dignified.

There was a moan of ascension from her sister, who had fallen into a heap at the bottom of the giant staircase. Daphne had no idea how many steps they needed to climb to get back to the Room of Requirement, but she knew instinctively it was too many.

The worst part was, he was right. They couldn't apparate, yet, and most wizards couldn't disappear into thin air mid-fight without splinching. Combine that with the fact most Death Eaters were purebloods like her and the advantage of physical stamina became all the more important. That didn't mean she didn't hate him for it.

"Remind me again," Astoria wheezed, pulling sweaty hair out of her eyes. "Why we wanted to do this?"

To show mum we're not weak-minded sheep who'll follow her every command. "I don't really fancy dying because I can't run more than a few yards, do you?"

"So much for learning to defend ourselves," Astoria grumbled.

Their little band of terrible teens had, it must be said, learned quite a lot over the last few weeks. The world might be going to hell ina hand basket out of the castle, but in the old stone walls they were learning. Funny, who'd thought it'd take an accused mass-murderer for Daphne to actually learn Defence Against the Dark Arts?

The lessons were gruelling though.

"We'll get there," Daphne said, trying to force optimism into her voice. It wasn't her style. She was usually the cynical one, while Astoria insisted on being a damnable ray of sunshine. Months in that cottage had clearly dimmed whatever her sister was powered by. "C'mon just." She tried to figure it out, failed and sighed. "However many steps to go."

"Next time you get a boyfriend," Astoria moaned, forcing herself to her feet. "Make sure he's not being hunted by the darkest wizard of all time. Please? For me. Your favourite and only sister, light of your life and best person ever."

"Who says there's going to be a next time?"

Astoria considered this. "To be fair, after all of this, there better bloody not be."

They didn't so much as run but shamble up the stairs. Daphne's legs screamed in protest but she did her best to ignore them.

"I promise."

"You really love him that much?"

"I wouldn't be doing all of this if I didn't, Tori."

"I know, still, nice to hear you say it. For what it's worth, I think mum likes him."

Daphne snorted. Their mother liked no-one, let alone Harry, who had brought ruin on their family (according to their mother anyway). "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious! Look, I know she gives you a hard time, but do you really think we'd be in that cottage - which by the way whoever gave that thing to us needs to really hire a decorator, because ew - if mum didn't want us to be? I mean, when has she ever done anything she hasn't wanted to?"

"Then why does she keep banging on about it being my fault?"

"Toughening you up as normal probably, I don't know. Does it matter? Really? No. What matters is the fact she's there, we're there, and that she didn't skewer Harry when he came to visit. Actually, she stopped me from trying to have a nose, if you must know."

"Really?" Daphne wasn't surprised by her sister's curiosity, because Astoria was the biggest gossip in the world, but her mother's protection was a shock.

"No, made me go get those stupid guards tea or coffee or whatever. Point is, she does love you. In her own weird way."

"Very weird," Daphne agreed. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Not hating me, not running away, not thinking I'm a bad sister for dragging you into this mess after years of…" Ignoring you? Hating you for being loved? "Just, thank you."

"No worries," Astoria said as she straightened up, her knees cracking audibly. "Now, race you to the top?"

"Ugh, why?" But Astoria was already charging up the stairs and despite what her body tried to tell her, Daphne was going to be damned if she let her sister win.

She did win.

But it was working. They were getting better, fitter, learning more spells, fighting dirtier and harder, but Daphne just hoped it was enough.

oOo

The halls of Hogwarts may well be filled with training, but Britain was descending into chaos. Runcorn and Amelia were publicly fighting it out for the position of Minister and, thanks to Voldemort's violence, Runcorn was losing. People were scared and Amelia was providing the shield they could hide behind.

But it was what Voldemort was actually planning that worried the Order. The majority of them didn't know about the Horcruxes, but the small cluster of them who did were furiously trying to figure out where the hell he was hiding them and how many there were. Dumbledore, Remus and Arthur were out looking for Slughorn, while Sirius and Mad-Eye were searching as well as they could based on what little Harry had managed to tell them he'd seen of the Horcruxes.

Which was a cup surrounded by gold and a room with a tiara. The second might not be any help but the first.

"Gringotts?"

"Has to be," Sirius had agreed with Mad-Eye. "But whose vault?"

With the Ministry wrapped up in internal politics, it was impossible to ask Amelia to convince the goblins to close the bank and protect the damn thing. Not that they would. Goblins didn't like human intervention. That left one option and it wasn't one Sirius was going to take lightly.

But Voldemort was soon to take it out of their hands. Snape, even thinking about him made Sirius' fists itch, had told them Voldemort was trusting a small circle of Death Eaters to move on an unknown target. But, as Albus had so kindly revealed that they knew about the damned Horcruxes to Voldemort, he knew they knew.

The room greeted his words with the kind of stony silence that was only available to the truly befuddled. There was a list, sure, but who did Voldemort trust? Merlin's beard, the man hated anyone and anything that breathed, who had he entrusted his soul to? It wouldn't be Malfoy, he'd already botched his chance. Bellatrix was the next logical step, but depending on when the thing was made begged the question if she even had access to her vault.

"For now, let's get eyes inside that bank. Bill'll do, Fleur too. Don't tell them too much, just that we think Voldemort's circle will be eyeing the place. Should do the trick. Let's see if we can't figure out where the damned thing is."

"And then?"

"Well, Alastor, then we rob a bank."

A twisted grin contorted the man's already butchered features.

"Good to have you back, Sirius."

The words stuck with Sirius, even after the aged ex-auror had left and they'd discussed training with the kids. The thing was, Sirius felt back. The last decade and a half almost a memory to him now, no, a dream. It was as though he'd been standing above himself, lost. Dumbledore's apparent disinterest in the Order's day-to-day activity finally gave him something to sink all of his frustrated, anger-fuelled energy into and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to give it everything he had.

Because it was more than just Sirius, there was Harry to consider. Harry, who was picking up defensive magic faster than he'd ever thought would be possible. Harry, who was staying later and later at Hogwarts to focus on his Oclumency and his other training. Harry, who, if Hagrid didn't come home soon, might have to face a war he could only lose.

The Horcrux. Yes, it was in there alright. The more Sirius had learned about them, the more Harry's dreams and mood swings of the previous year made sense. In fact, it was quite apparent to Sirius that Voldemort was actively avoiding Harry. For whatever reason, the seige on Harry's mind had backfired so spectacularly that his godson appeared, if not free, himself again.

So many wasted years. The familiar pang pulled at Sirius' heart as he thought of Harry with the muggles. One thing was for certain, he was never going back there. Not if Sirius was still breathing.

Sirius' reverie was interrupted by the reappearance of Remus in the kitchen. His old friend was looking, if possible, even more haggard than usual. Lines that had been etched into his face through years of hiding as a werewolf were now more akin to fissures. But it was eyes that Sirius recognised, he should, he'd been the one looking out of eyes like that for so many years. It was a kind of tired that ate its way into the very being of someone.

"Still nothing?"

"No luck yet," Remus confessed, gratefully accepting the glass of firewhiskey Sirius passed him. That in itself was unusual. "You?"

"Mad-Eye's on board to keep an eye on Gringotts. Bill's next, but it should be fine."

"Does he know?"

"No."

"Good, the less people aware the better."

"You sound like Albus." The headmaster's name twisted itself from his mouth.

"He did what he thought was right."

"Funny thing to call cowardice. I know. I know. He's just a boy. But Voldemort made sure he was never going to be that, didn't he? All Albus did was give him something to lose."

"Or fight for." Remus countered. They had never quite seen eye to eye on this, Remus firmly believed that Dumbledore had chosen what he thought was right, while Sirius refused to see the Headmaster's actions as anywhere near 'right'. How could they be? But as the days dragged on and Albus continued to devote himself wholeheartedly to finding Slughorn, to finding Horcruxes, it was becoming more and more difficult to cling to that hatred.

"Yeah, if Hagrid gets back and if he has that damned beast and if that ritual even works."

"It'll work."

Sirius almost didn't ask, knowing he didn't want the answer, but he had to. "And if it doesn't?"

Remus didn't answer for a long, long moment. When he did, it did little to settle Sirius's racing heart. "For now, let's hope that it does."

"Yeah. Hope."

"It's more than we had before."

Blind ignorance or wilful delusion, roll up folks, take your pick. "Yeah. I guess."

"We are doing everything we can, Sirius. You are doing all you can and for what it's worth, James would be proud of you. They both would."

They all talked about them, but that hadn't made it any easier. Even seeing Harry undergoing the same training his father had done had been… eerie. Doubt, wending its way into Sirius' soul, had asked him if despite it all, despite the training and the hours, it would do any good. After all, James had known it all, so had Frank and Alice and more besides, and what good had it done them? They were still dead or worse than that.

But he had to try, didn't he? He had to give his godson every fighting chance he could. If Sirius couldn't at least do that, then what kind of a godfather was he?

But before he could ponder the question further, he was disturbed the sound of muffled chaos and his mother's instantaneous screaming. Silently cursing the Black matriarch and wishing, not for the first time, that he could have been born to any other family; Sirius snatched up his wand and headed cautiously downstairs.

But he wasn't greeted by the sight of enemy intruders, but instead by a broken table and the crumpled form of a half-giant carrying a bloody sack and covered in what looked far too much of his own blood. His skin was grey beneath the thick bushy beard that hid the majority of his face. Kind beetle-black eyes flickered as something akin to a smile twisted his slips.

"Hagrid?"

Sirius was on him in a second, training kicking in over emotional reaction. Find the wound. Stop it. Heal him. Help him. He sent out the Patronus first, then he got to work.

It wasn't hard to spot. A gigantic claw mark, likely from the mythical creature Hagrid had been tasked with finding, had cut a gigantic gash from his shoulder near to his naval. If it had been anyone else… Sirius shut the thought down. That'd do no-one any good. Muttering a small litany of spells, Sirius began tracing his wand up and down the wound. Flesh started to knit back together, but it was agonisingly slow.

"Sir…"

"It's alright, don't speak. Help's on the way. Just breathe."

Hagrid nodded lamely, his mouth hanging open. There was blood there too.

"Just a scratch, nothing to worry about. You'll be fine," Sirius muttered, "you'll be fine."

The second was a prayer and one he hoped, more than anything, got answered.