Heart racing, Andromeda apparated home and hoped her sister had not gone out. She found her and Teddy in the garden, enjoying the evening summer heat.
Teddy was crawling on a magical net attached to the roof and neighboring trees while Narcissa lounged on a reclining seat, book in hand. Fiction, for once. Gone was the stiffness born of worry, grief and those long months of torture. Her loose hair tumbling around her, she looked relaxed and utterly at home.
She smiled upon noticing Andromeda. "Teddy's had dinner already. Do send Harry my way tomorrow. I may have found a way to restore dementor-removed memories." Narcissa the socialite had given way to Narcissa the scholar (or the-destroyer-of-dementors as George Weasley liked to call her). "I'm thinking to ask for volunteers for a trial..." She frowned, taking in her sister's frazzled appearance. "What is it, Meda?"
"Stay seated. I've got news. Good news."
"Nana, look!" Teddy jumped, landing in a tangle of limbs and bouncing on the midair net stretched like a trampoline.
"Impressive! With rabbit ears, you'd jump even higher."
Recalling White Rabbit from one of his storybooks, the fifteen-month-old scrunched up his face in concentration and rubbed his ears, his blue hair turning a brilliant white.
"We're soon leaving to see Harry, Teddy, last bounces."
Andromeda turned back to her sister. Hands clasped in her lap, Narcissa waited expectantly.
"Cousin Regulus. He's alive. Kreacher just apparated him home."
Narcissa's mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds. She stood up, eyes bright. "How?"
How indeed. Morgana, this was all so abrupt. "He told me he'd come to me in October '79. Ted and I obliviated each other immediately afterwards, so I never... We staged a suicide with his marked arm. I bound his magic. He's one-armed and a squib but... he's well. He's happy. He's father of magical girl, Lyra, she's six."
"You bound-"
"Harry and I have managed to extract his memories and put them in the pensieve. He wants us to see them." For now, except for the very solid Lyra, everything felt so surreal, like a tale rather than Andromeda's own life.
Narcissa grasped Andromeda's arm tightly, a dazed smile blooming on her face. "Well..." she breathed, "take me to him!"
"Jump to me, Teddy," Andromeda called, drawing her wand to summon him to her. His bushy hair was still white and sticking up in spikes above his ears. That little monster could well give himself rabbit ears by Yule.
Regulus was still with Harry when they apparated. Lyra had disappeared somewhere with Kreacher. Unlike with Andromeda, Regulus didn't hesitate to come forward and embrace Narcissa.
The blonde, struck silent in amazement, fiercely hugged him back.
"I'm so glad," Cissy finally whispered in Regulus' hair. "I'd never quite managed to forgive myself."
"I'm sorry I didn't write. I... I became Reginald, a muggle, and... I was useful. I helped children. But... I had a child and realized I was still a coward."
Narcissa shook her head with a laugh. "Don't be absurd, you were right to hide. I'm happy. I'm so happy to have you back!" She frowned at his stump and muttered an incantation. The skin twisted and extended, taking the shape of a new unblemished forearm. The hand looked stiff but workable.
The spell wouldn't last until nightfall. Regulus smiled wistfully as he flexed his new fingers. Eyes sparkling, he picked Cissy up and made her spin. Narcissa let out a decidedly girlish squeal.
"I've been back less than an hour, cousin, and already you're trying to fix me?"
Despite his smile, Harry was standing back, staring at this new piece to the puzzle that was the Black family.
Andromeda went to him, sliding her arm around his shoulder and pushing him back among them. In her other arm, Teddy started playing with Harry's thick hair, cooing for attention. "I've shown you just memories of Sirius, haven't I? Not the ones where my little sister fools around like a perfectly normal little girl."
Narcissa cleared her throat. "I'm claiming veto power on those. I haven't showed them to Draco."
"It's okay," Harry muttered, his smile growing as he reached to take his godson from Andromeda. "I know they're private. Come here, Teddy, you've got a cousin to meet."
None of them said anything as Harry left (fled) with Teddy. Regulus sat on one of the new couches, his frown betraying his bewilderment at seeing the house so changed. "I could have given you more warning..." he allowed, nonetheless wholly unapologetic. "So, our new Lord Black is more your kid or Meda's?"
The two sisters shared a glance. A rueful chuckle escaped Narcissa's lips.
"Oh I'd forgotten how ridiculously at ease you were with such things. Stand warned : he's most certainly not a child, and he doesn't need anybody. Teddy's the only one worthy of hugs and kisses."
"You've told him to hug you? You've hugged him? I mean, how's he to know you're family rather than technically family?"
Narcissa didn't blink at Regulus' ruthlessly inquisitive tone. Andromeda now could see it, Regulus badgering Narcissa about her marriage to Lucius, asking point-blank questions about love and devotion. To think this was Walburga and Orion's flesh and blood...
"The moment he's ready to see it, he'll figure it out. We've been obvious enough. Problems will arise when he realizes Draco is family, and then I'm going to have to artfully parent two proud young men who would swear under Veritaserum that they have everything figured out."
They laughed, and it was like something soft and light had brightened Grimmauld Place. Suddenly, it was easy to remember how to be a family. The family they'd always wanted to be.
"I... why was it Kreacher being hurt that made you decide to move against the Dark Lord?" Harry said, still stunned by what he'd seen in Regulus memories. "I mean, of all the things -"
"Because it was Kreacher. What happened to him was unnecessary and cruel and there was no way I could rationalize it. I'd become very good at denial. I was too scared to be outraged on behalf of acquaintances, but Kreacher?" Regulus chuckled mirthlessly. "I was furious. I couldn't pretend anymore that the Dark Lord had any respect for me or Father. Or that the Dark Lord's ascent would also mean my own." He shook his head, a shadow of old anger narrowing his eyes. "When I wrote that note in the locket, I felt like Sirius. Brazen and reckless. It felt great. Pointless, but great."
"It wasn't pointless," Harry protested. "I found the note. We'd never have figured it out otherwise."
Andromeda let them talk, too distracted to pay attention. The Horcrux, Regulus' revelations about the war, those all had been fascinating and upsetting, but not a shock. No, what had hit her the hardest was that, eighteen years ago, Reggie had told her. Told her that a face-to-face conversation with Cissy might be enough to mend things. That this distance between Andromeda and her sisters was a chasm of stubbornness, not one of true hate. And then Andromeda had forgotten.
Had she realized then what she'd made herself forget? Could things have been different? Would Nymphadora have called Cissy 'Aunt'. Would Andromeda and Narcissa have been able to join forces and convince Moody or Dumbledore to hear Sirius out instead of each failing, alone?
Lyra, clearly used to having a lot of independence, had vanished again, so Andromeda decided to go after the child. She found the girl in the tapestry room, her fingers following the woven threads. Lyra greeted Andromeda with an easy smile. How long had it been, if ever, since a child had looked so at ease in the ancestral house of Black?
"I found Appa! Re-gu-lus," Lyra sounded out. "Where are you, Amma?"
"I'm on that patch, over there." Andromeda, in tiny letters, like Sirius, a small piece of fabric magically woven back in, hiding the charred hole beneath it.
"Where am I?"
"We're going to have to add you. Hand out your hand. I'm going to need a drop of blood, it won't hurt."
Fascinated, the girl stared as Andromeda whispered Sirpo Familia Lyra, the bloodied tip of her wand tracing a line underneath Regulus' name. Golden threads began to weave themselves. Lyra.
"What about your mother," Andromeda asked. "What is her name?" Regulus had skirted the question in a way strongly suggested out-of-wedlock mishap.
"Neetu gave birth to me. She couldn't take care of me. Jayanti, Christine and Sanjana were everyone's mamas. The others didn't have a father all to themselves." Lyra took a step back as if to look better at Andromeda, an increasingly smug expression on her face. "And now I have a whole family to myself. Will I soon meet all these people? And where is Kreacher's name?"
She gasped when the house elf popped next to her. Her shock dissolved into laughter. "You scared me! I was talking about you. Where's your name?"
Kreacher shook his head with a tutting noise. "Master Reggie being teaching you nothing. Master Reggie always very bad about house-elf rules. House-elves don't be going on tapestries."
Lyra crouched to be closer to Kreacher's height. "Why?"
The sight of the child and the old elf suddenly brought Andromeda back to her childhood, and another elf, one they'd thoughtlessly taken for granted.
"Kreacher, whatever happened to Bean?" Old already when Andromeda had been a teenager, she couldn't possibly be alive today.
"Bean has gone with Cygnus Black to the Americas after Miss Bella being arrested. The bond being dead years ago, but it was no violent breaking." Something stubborn darkened Kreacher's face as he hugged himself. "Bean was a good elf."
"Yes, she was." She'd protected them in her way, and Andromeda had never thought ask why.
"You should ask Appa to give you English classes. Your grammar's all wrong."
Kreacher glowered indulgently at Lyra. Andromeda's smile soon died, replaced by a faint shame. "Is that something you'd like, Kreacher?"
It had exasperated Ted when wizards had talked for muggleborns instead of letting them speak for themselves. Perhaps it was high time house-elves too were give a space to talk.
"How did you get a working TV here?" Regulus marveled as Lyra happily plopped a VCR in the recorder.
"It's my job. Ted and I started offering services as spell-crafters and soon realized the people that come to us usually just needed existing spells. Most haven't gone to Hogwarts and don't have personal libraries so we sell them the incantation for a few sickles and recommend a tutor if they needed extra-help to cast it. Some just need us to cast spells for them: household permanent enchantments, basic warding and the like. But some do need spells that don't exist and there's quite a demand for integrating muggle electronics in wizarding dwellings."
"This place isn't some half-blood's new house. You've got permanent enchantments for everything and warded it for a war. How are you making electronics work -"
"I'm just that good, Mr. Black."
Regulus grinned as they settled in the kitchen. "That you are." He shook his head, suddenly more grave. "There something I've been wanting to talk to you about, Meda. Why is Harry Potter Lord Black? Even had he been raised for the role, he's much too young. The Lordship should be yours."
Morgana, that man just said things, didn't he? Sirius had spat in tradition's face when he'd named Harry his heir, but not even Cissy had dared challenge the claim.
"And what would I ever do with such a title?"
Regulus swallowed, looking annoyed. "There was this girl in my year at school, Gladys. We used to argue about the merits of revolution before reform. Her grandmother was a warden in the Order of the Phoenix : Dorcas Meadowes." There was a question there.
One that Andromeda unfortunately could partially answer. "Dorcas was murdered by Voldemort himself in '81. Gladys... I don't know. Cissy will know who to ask.
"Thank you." He shook himself. "Reform didn't happen after the first war and it's not going to happen here unless the people who were in charge, not just a few people up top, but most of the people, are replaced. What happened under Fudge's Ministry cannot be wholly blamed on the Dark Lord. Legally, a Lordship gives power. If only the power to accuse somebody and force a trial. Harry's doing nothing with it."
"How can I expect the boy to? He - "
"He's eighteen! It's not his job to do anything." Regulus rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Meda, you know them, the people who've been sidelined for generations. Shacklebolt, Ogden, Longbottom, Marchbanks, Doge... they're old blood and old money, no matter how decent they may be. Even Arthur Weasley and Sturgis Podmore are from families who've always been close to power or close to those who had it. They support better rights for all mages on principle, but if they fail, their personal lives, their personal privileges, won't be affected. They're too entwined in the system to effectively change it."
"I'm as old blood as they come, for the record." A petty, avoidant answer, but Andromeda was beginning to grasp what her cousin was asking, and viscerally rejected it.
"Elphias Doge replaced Rowle as director of the Daily Prophet, but what of the others? How can we expect truthful, brave journalism from people who were hired because they wrote what the Ministry told them to? What of those who assisted Albert Runcorn in rounding up muggleborn instead of resigning? I'm not advocating for Azkaban, but they can't stay in positions of responsibility. Someone needs to call them out and it has to come from outside of the Ministry, from someone who was never involved and cannot be accused of having also turned a blind eye. And because powerful people will be upset, it needs to be someone who doesn't care that speaking up will brand them a troublemaker."
Andromeda closed her eyes. Regulus' sudden passion grated. She wanted him to shut up. He couldn't possibly imagine what it had cost her to carve a life for herself in a country that-
She took a slow breath, forcing herself to calm down, to have the conversation. After all, wasn't that what they blamed the wizarding world for? Muffling the voices of those who had grievances? Wasn't this what she had wanted? To be able to speak?
"When I chose freedom, and Ted, I had to make peace with being looked down upon," she admitted after a pause. "I did, and finally I could live. I was happy raising my daughter and crafting my spells." She'd gone to space, damn it. She regretted nothing. What Regulus was asking... She was dark witch, a Black. Power wasn't good for their sanity. "If I convince myself things can change, that I can... Then I can't ignore it anymore : how so many people that were happy to spit on Umbrige the moment she and Fudge fell out of favor said nothing back when it would have cost them. How everyone was happy to loathe Rita Skeeter when the lies had grown so obvious nobody could deny them, yet somehow nobody thought to ask questions before." Death Eaters had gone to Azkaban, there had been a semblance of justice for the war, but for everything that had led to the war -
"You're telling me you're not furious now?" Regulus said gently. "That the reason that medal the Ministry gave Nymphadora is buried in a drawer, as if the Ministry had any right to hand out medals, isn't because you're furious?"
The empty chairs slammed against the kitchen counter. One splintered with a crack, sending pieces of wood all over the floor. Andromeda unclenched her hand with a wince. She was much too old for uncontrolled magic. It's just that nobody called her daughter 'Nymphadora'. Only she had.
She blinked at the sight of Kreacher suddenly hovering protectively around Regulus. When had the house elf appeared? "I'm not going to harm him, Kreacher. If I accidentally do, it'll be nothing I can't heal."
The elf glared, arms crossed. "Mistress should fix Reggie's magic. Then Reggie not in danger among wizards."
Fix his magic. As if - An aggravated sigh left Andromeda's lips as the wards warned her of an apparition.
Harry alarmed and a little disheveled, stared at the three of them. "Uh... Kreacher vanished saying Regulus was..." He blushed and lowered his wand. "Sorry, I got worried."
Regulus put a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Kreacher, how did you know I might be in trouble?" he asked gently.
Kreacher muttered something about a tracing spell that detected magic use and Regulus' distress.
Andromeda frowned. "How are you rooting it? He's a squib."
"Reggie's arm is magic," the elf stiffly answered, staring at his feet like he was struggling not to punish himself. "Kr- I borrowed Master's wand while Master being sleeping."
Her eyes on the transfigured stump, Andromeda found herself at a loss for words. Such magic... oh she could have managed it herself by the time she was sixteen, but... "You should have asked," she said, hating how surprised she was. At what point did ignorance stop being forgivable? "You should also get a wand of your own so you won't feel the need to steal, and you should ask permission before casting such spells on any of us."
Kreacher slumped, looking perilously close to crying. He dared a look at Harry who just nodded. "Sure. I'll go talk to Mr. Ollivanders."
"Master being changing every rule..." the elf muttered. "Reggie safe?"
"Quite, thank you. Go stack Teddy's toys, they're all over his playroom."
Relieved to be given an actual task, Kreacher scurried away.
"So... what was the argument about?" Harry said.
Regulus sighed. "Are you aware that by accepting the Black Lordship, not just on paper, but by changing your magic so you have ownership of the wards at Grimmauld place and all artifacts keyed to the Black bloodline, you're giving up the Potter claim? Well, you have no manor and no Potter house-elves so bloodlines magic might be a moot point, but you're magically disinheriting yourself from your birth family."
No, Harry hadn't been aware. Guilt stirred in Andromeda's chest, but she hadn't found a way to have that conversation. Not with Harry so obviously desperate to be welcomed among them. "What... what's the consequence of that?"
"Any artifacts or tomes keyed to the Potter bloodline will fail to work for you. You're also going to be vulnerable to Black blood curses... not that should be an issue. Lastly, your future children will be able to claim either the Black or their mother's heritage, but not the Potter one, even if they retained the Potter name. Perhaps the most pressing matter is the ownership of the land your grandparents' manor once stood on. Make sure the inheritance clause doesn't lock you out or you'll have to cede it to some cousin."
Harry shook his head, looking overwhelmed. "I... I just wanted to do right by Sirius. I don't care about being Lord. I..." Pleading look towards Andromeda. "I thought Teddy would inherit and that any children I'd have would be Potters. I-"
"You're family regardless," obvious, but Andromeda now realized it had to be said. "This is a technicality."
"The legal power given to a Lord is not a technicality." Regulus smiled mirthlessly. "That's what we were arguing about, Lord Black. The title gives political rights and privileges that could be used to reform the Isles right now, but it's ridiculous to expect you to do it."
"And tradition would have you Lord." Harry's voice was cool.
Regulus stared. "Me? I'm a squib. Tradition would have me drowned. I was telling Meda she should step up and got glowered at."
The consequence of said glowering were still all over the kitchen floor. With a swish of her wand, Andromeda fixed the splintered chair and charmed the furniture back to their places.
Regulus sighed, sitting back down. "You know what struck me the most in India? Muggles, as a society, have faith in the future. They're convinced this generation is building a better, more prosperous world than their grandparents could even imagine. Whereas we, the old pureblood families at least, grow up hearing stories about our glorious ancestors. We mourn how free we were, back when muggles were few and the secrecy not such a burden. Muggles don't care so much about the damage modernity wreaks on old ways of life or the environment, convinced it's an investment, that future technology will fix it all. The Ministry, light and dark mages alike, supported not teaching magic at Hogwarts, afraid of what it could do in disloyal hands." He shook his head in dismay. "There's a reason Dumbledore's Army was created by a muggleborn witch, a muggle-raised wizard and the children of one of the few wizards enthusiastic about muggle progress. You weren't ruined into thinking we must cling to the past or things will only get worse."
Andromeda blinked. She'd never quite thought of it that way, but now she realized he was right. It was a thing she'd admired about Ted. His optimism. What would he think, of her claiming the Lordship? Oh, he'd have loved it. Their revenge for everything they'd been put through for daring to build a life together. She couldn't even pretend he'd be hurt if she let others address her as Mrs. Black.
Harry now seemed more curious than upset. "So what would you do?"
"I realized why I haven't been able to let go of my anger at the Weasleys," Harry said, whispering instinctively despite the silencing spell around Teddy's napping form. "It's because of the Dursleys, mostly."
Andromeda stared. Harry talked of his miserable childhood sparingly, and only because Andromeda never pushed for more when he gave her a morsel. The fact he'd spent the last few days catching up on a year's worth of Daily Prophet editions was unusual, and now this -
"I don't want to think about the Dursleys, because it's not just them," Harry said after a pause. "So what if there were blood wards, there was a second guest room. What stopped one of the Order members from living with me and the Dursleys after Cedric died? Except the fact they couldn't bother. Why couldn't I have been given a house elf? The Weasleys didn't know everything, but they knew about the food, about the bars on the window. Even if they didn't believe the Dursleys hated me, they knew I hated it. Everyone could tell when I started Hogwarts that I was as ignorant as any muggleborn and knew nothing about my own parents. And they decided it was... regrettable, I guess, but what did they do? It was fine that I never asked questions. Saved them awkwardness, I guess. These... these people who said they cared for me. So what does it mean?"
He took a shaky breath.
"What does it mean that Dumbledore gave me house points, so many house points, for risking my life again and again. How could he tell me it wasn't my job to save people, that adults were around, when everybody's actions showed otherwise? The only adult who actually saved my life was Snape." Anger thickened his sudden chuckles. "It's easy to forgive Snape because he never pretended to give a damn. I... I never expected anything from him, and it turns out he was messed up but brave, you know? So it's easy."
"You're upset because you're at peace with Severus Snape but not with, say, Remus?"
"Yeah... Remus forgot his Wolfsbane that night in third year and decided I had to hate him. He was so certain that I wouldn't forgive him for not revealing that Sirius was an animagus even when he believed Sirius wanted to kill me... He was so certain of so many things because he never bothered to get to know me." Harry shrugged, and it was like he'd wiped away the anger, leaving only sadness. "It's... he still made me Teddy's godfather, but... I can't help thinking it's because of Dad and Sirius, and because he had nobody else."
"Remus was depressed after the Order suspected him of treason during the first war. All his life he... Some people carry baggage so heavy that the way they treat you is very little about you. As for Albus Dumbledore, I'm sure he'd expected to care for you a lot less than he actually did."
Harry's smile was bitter. "Narcissa told me that when Sirius broke out of prison, Fudge and his people had already started trying to get Professor Dumbledore out of the way."
"Then it must be true." Andromeda didn't doubt Lucius Malfoy had been among his people then. It wasn't evil that had destroyed them all, but selfishness, greed and cowardice.
"The only person who would have looked bad in '93 had Sirius' innocence been proven was Dumbledore, and Crouch, I guess, but not Fudge and his people. They'd had nothing to do with Sirius' imprisonment. Dumbledore didn't need Pettigrew. He just needed to own the cock up and keep Voldemort's return out of it, just focus on Sirius' innocence. But that would have cost him his positions, except maybe the Headmaster one..." Harry took a sharp breath and Andromeda was struck by how much the young man had grown in the last year. Gone was the kid who had no clue who he was now that Voldemort, his fated nemesis, was dead.
"Albus told me I was 'the better man'," Harry continued gloomily."I can't imagine how hard it was for him, to make all the decisions he had to make, and I don't hate him, I admire him most of the time, but I'm still angry."
"I think he'd be happy to hear it. Anger at having being mistreated can be a sign of self-esteem."
Harry chuckled ruefully. "Right. I've got loads of that these days then." Unexpectedly, he stepped forward and grabbed Andromeda's hands. "Regulus is right. You should be Lord Black and we need to talk to people."
"Harry-"
"Lee Jordan did amazing stuff on the wireless during the war... We should round up some muggleborn, half-bloods, werewolves, squibs, poor purebloods who never went to Hogwarts, hear them out." He smiled fondly. "If Hermione was a bit more outgoing and a bit less of a studier she'd probably have that covered already... Guess she dived in her NEWTs year because it's... safe. Studying is what she's good at."
"You feel up to being in the spotlight again?"
Harry's eyes darkened. "I've caught up with the papers. They're really eager to move on from the war, aren't they? And even more eager to forget everything that happened before. It's all roses and marshmallows and everybody is working very hard to make things better."
Cynicism stole the warmth from Andromeda's smile. Roses and marshmallows, indeed. Full of praise for the brave warriors, full of apologies and excuses. Very light on any kind of true reckoning (except of course for the evil evil Death Eaters).
"Some people who bought spells from Ted and I would have a lot to tell you. Julia also knows a lot of interesting people, and the werewolves trust her."
She and Remus' mother had a relationship that could be called cautiously warm. Julia knew that Andromeda had been fiercely hostile to Remus during the last months of the war and Andromeda would not apologize for it. Remus had been a mess of guilt with an inferiority complex, and had let the Order bully him again, into serving as envoy to the werewolves instead of having him do any of the dozens of things a smart, competent wizard had been desperately needed for. He'd been in no way fit to be in any relationship, and had not even had the courage to tell Nymphadora 'I don't want to be with you', instead hiding for months and months behind 'I'm not good enough for you'. Not that it had stopped them from having sex... And the way the man had reacted when he'd gotten her daughter with child -.
She must have been making a face, because Harry's eyes were crinkling. Andromeda swallowed back her resentment. Nymphadora had been young enough to believe love could fix Remus. She'd loved the challenge presented by this man who looked at her in wonder, and no doubt their push-and-pull dance had fueled the passion with pent-up desire. If it hadn't been war, Andromeda would have just watched amused as her daughter navigated this tumultuous relationship, but the war had been a time where Nymphadora had needed support more than anything, and Andromeda couldn't help suspecting that Remus had drained her instead.
"Tonks was an adult, she made the choice because it was worth it to her."
"I know," Andromeda snapped, but it held no bite. It was embarrassing to be so transparent. "I let her take him back, didn't I?" As if she truly could have stopped her stubborn daughter anyway.
"I need to visit someone in Azkaban before I talk to anybody else. I... I want Arthur to come with us."
"Arthur?" Azkaban?
"Molly makes me feel like a kid," Harry admitted, his cheeks reddening. "But they deserve to be part of this. I want them to be. I'm tired of pushing them away."
"You're joking," Harry blurted, his voice echoing in the too-small space. "So the Browns have been writing fashion and style at the Prophet for four generations. Nobody who isn't a Rowle, Travers or Yaxley have been directing the papers since the eighteenth century. Nobody who isn't a Fawley, a Goldstein or a Mulciber has been in charge of international affairs reporting for over two hundred years."
Andromeda had to grin at the young man's outrage. Welcome to wizarding Britain, Harry Potter. Next to her, Arthur looked ashamed, as if nepotism was his fault. Merlin, the man was too sensitive for his own good.
"Why do you think I worked so hard?" Rita Skeeter said with a fierce smile. Her once curly blond hair was lank and her perfect posture couldn't make up for her tired face and overlarge lackluster clothes.
Azkaban without dementors was not a nightmare, but a prison it remained. Their visit was taking place in a repurposed cell. There was no window, only a slit under the ceiling to let the salty air in. The dark stone walls swallowed most of torches' magical light. They sat on cold metal chairs rooted into the ground, as if in fear of prisoners using one as a weapon against their visitors.
"The Daily Prophet has always been an instrument of power and control," Skeeter continued. When she'd realized Harry wasn't here for revenge but to interview her, she'd gone from wary to gleeful. "I wasn't a part of the clique, so I needed to prove I was the most loyal."
"Just working hard?" Although Andromeda had to grant that Skeeter could write. Her articles had always been page turners.
The former journalist smirked. "That article on Ludo Bagman never did get published. Nor did the one on Yaxley's nephew... Still, I got my point across. They knew that once they hired me, I'd have no incentive to blackmail them. Too much to lose." She smiled at Harry. "You don't think you could get my daughter to visit me more often? I'm allowed once every other week. She's seven and I'm her only parent, it's hard for her."
Harry's sudden unease betrayed his age, and his soft heart.
"We came to interview you," Arthur intervened smoothly, "about who told you to write what, who spoke out against the lies and who didn't, and what the consequences were."
"Harry, Harry, Harry, what are you doing!" Skeeter exclaimed, looking absolutely delighted. "Do you want enemies now?"
"I just want the truth."
"Nobody wants the truth," Skeeter scoffed. "And you'll need more than a couple of parchments if you want more than a skeleton summary."
"That's for the most important things." Andromeda handed over a small machine to the wandless witch. "This is a recorder, you can speak to it in your cell. You can also use it to record for messages to your daughter if you wish to, we'll give those to her."
Skeeter lost her smile and gave Andromeda a hard stare. "Are you going to allow all parents to record messages? Or am I special?" She turned to Harry with a honeyed smile. "I'm used to a world were some are special. Is the new world to be the same, only with you in charge?"
Andromeda put her hand on Harry's arm before he could stutter a promise to give everyone a recorder. He straightened and took a slow breath. "Actually, I don't know what the new world will be like. It's not for me to decide. But for people to collectively decide, we need to know the truth and we need to give everyone a chance to speak."
"Oh Merlin, a democrat. Like my mother likes to say, bless you. What if the majority wants muggleborn wiping their floors and massaging their feet?"
"I don't believe that," Arthur said gravely. "Most people don't care enough about muggleborn to fight for them, but they do not wish them ill."
Harry still looked flustered but Andromeda just smiled thinly. She was used to provocation. "Harry might change his mind about how democratic he wants to be when everyone will have spoken, but that's none of your concern, Miss Skeeter. Why don't you tell us your story?"
Skeeter looked torn between needling them further and finally getting a chance to speak ill of her former colleagues. The woman clasped her hands in her lap and took a slow breath.
"I spent years submitting articles for a few galleons and watching them put my name in tiny print behind theirs, as if they'd done all the work. I pitched in articles about Quidditch stars, upcoming politicians, minor celebrities. Juicy gossip, scandal, whatever it took to be read. It was such a triumph when finally they hired me. Still, we were second class, me, our Agony Aunt Belinda, Lowell at arts, and Warren, the only other half-blood, who wrote the spells column... Until Fudge demanded someone who could sell to the public that you and Dumbledore were frauds. Rowle realized he needed me. Finally, I could afford to buy a house."
"Was Rowle the only one who read what you wrote before it was published?"
"No, Rowle had the final word, but the chief editor, Eliana Goldstein, checked everything."
Harry shot Arthur a look. The wizard nodded minutely. Goldstein was indeed still at the Prophet. Rowle had been heavily fined and disgraced, but only Rita Skeeter, the high-profile name, the half-blood, had gotten six years in Azkaban.
"For the sake of a good story, let's start about the article you wrote after the mass breakout from Azkaban before the war."
Skeeter's grin was positively feral. "Funny you'd ask about that one, Mrs. Tonks."
"We have no idea how trustworthy her account is," Arthur said, disturbed by the sheer amount of people Skeeter's tale implicated.
"No," Harry agreed as they sat on the grass in Hampstead Heath, enjoying the heat and their anonymity among muggles. "We just want a start a conversation. Everyone she named will be free to answer and defend themselves. I'll interview them myself if I must. Luna agreed to print it in a special Quibbler edition." He straightened, suddenly solemn. "There's a last thing I wanted to discuss with you today, Arthur."
"Anything."
Harry winced, but Andromeda couldn't blame the wizard for acting careful around Harry these days. Poor Arthur had no way to know why Harry's attitude towards him had suddenly changed for the better (oh, it hadn't been sudden at all, but from the outside...).
"If you had the power to make a trial happen, who would you try?"
Arthur blinked. "A few names come to mind. Why?"
"Because the new Lady Black is going to flex her legal rights."
"I said I wanted to think about it," Andromeda hissed, blindsided. Bloody Regulus, and bloody Harry for being on board with this instead of clinging to the title. 'I want to stay a Potter, I know my parents would be proud either way, but this feels right. Narcissa told me there's a ritual that can get me spouse-status to still have access to Grimmauld Place's wards and everything without magically being Black.' Bloody Cissy.
Harry looked entirely unabashed. "You know the muggle saying 'you're going to have to put your money where your mouth is' ?"
Touché. "I do," Andromeda said, a smile quirking her lips. So this was the price to pay for having shared her critical opinions of the new Ministry with Cissy and Harry. "But you-"
"Be honest, Arthur," Harry cut in, "what do you think of me being Lord Black?"
Arthur bit back a smile and shot Andromeda an apologetic look. "There's enough you can already do as Harry Potter. Andromeda's better equipped to wield the double-edged blade that is a Lordship than you are. And she'll be the one stuck with the political drudgery, not you."
Bloody Arthur Weasley. But, Morgana, Andromeda couldn't deny that she was excited. To walk into the Wizengamot's halls as if she belonged...
Are you watching Uncle Orion, do you see this? Perhaps she should encourage Harry to recover the Resurrection Stone, just to see the man's face.
Author's note :
Okay, who saw that coming?^^ I won't make the end of this story about reforming wizarding institutions (too many OCs, too much speculation with little to go on from canon, and not all that fun), but I wanted to explore how Harry and Andromeda could realistically affect how things were after the war.
Next chapter will bring us back to Hogwarts (but not in the way you think^^)
Paul. Thanks for the TV Tropes' page. I'm truly honored.
