Previously: After finding out who Sirius Black was to James and Lily, Harry confronted Kali, but the situation was quickly diffused, and Kali revealed what she had learned during the winter holidays about the Grim.

Chapter Thirteen:

A New Arrangement

Through the oculus window, an icy tundra stretched for miles in every direction without a living soul in sight. Glacial and forlorn, it mirrored the atmosphere of the heptagonal office.

Cornelius Fudge sat in his high-backed chair, which dwarfed him so much that he looked like a child anxiously facing his parents after engaging in a wrongdoing. Albus Dumbledore and Freyja Morrigan filled the parental roles admirably, staring at the Minister with equal parts disbelief, disappointment, and, in Freyja's case, anger—a cold, hard fury that made the arctic tundra look inviting.

"Excuse me?" she said in a slow and quiet tone, strained from the restraint she put upon herself.

"I'm afraid I don't have a choice, Madam Morrigan," said Cornelius, pushing himself back as deeply into the padding of his seat as the chair would allow. "I should have given this order the minute Sirius Black escaped."

"Cornelius, this is too much," said Albus, fighting the urge to edge away from Freyja also. "It's inhumane."

"Inhumane?" Cornelius sputtered, wide-eyed and reproachful. "What that man did to Peter Pettigrew and those Muggles was inhumane. This is protocol."

"There is no protocol." The words grated together through Freyja's gritted teeth as though her jaw had soldered itself shut. "This has never happened before. There is no procedure to follow, only choices that you must make, and this is the wrong one."

Albus nodded. "I agree. Sirius must be captured, but to subject him to the Dementor's Kiss is too monstrous an act."

Cornelius mopped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief and muttered, "Well, at least you two are finally agreeing on something."

A sigh racked through the Minister, making his jowls quiver. His skin hung from him like an ill-fitting suit, his once plump figure losing some of its girth with every passing day. The situation was a difficult one, Albus was all too aware of that, but the Dementor's Kiss was the most barbaric punishment the Ministry had at its disposal.

The Dementor's Kiss—a pretty name for an atrocious act.

Not even Albus knew what was hidden beneath a Dementor's hood, for those wicked creatures only revealed their faces to use their vilest weapon. To administer the Kiss, a Dementor had to clamp its jaws upon the mouth of the person it wished to destroy utterly, and then sucked out that person's soul and their sanity along with it.

It was possible to exist without a soul so long as the body remained in working order, but to lose your soul was to lose your moral compass and your sense of self. Combined with the Dementors' ability to feed off memories, their Kiss could wipe the human mind clear and warp it until there was little left but a shrivelled, broken carcass. To recover from something like that was impossible. Once consumed by a Dementor, the soul was lost forever, and the victim became nothing but an empty shell, capable of existing but nothing more.

That was the fate that awaited Sirius Black should he be found, a fate worse than death.

"I have received letters from nearly every witch and wizard in the country," said Cornelius, "and they all demand the same thing: that we rid the world of any threat that Sirius Black poses."

Albus doubted that. He knew for a fact that Sirius had more than his fair share of admirers. Albus had read the letters sent to Azkaban, the ones Sirius had never got to see, from men who praised his brutal act and from women who … well. Albus couldn't understand from where the women's attraction stemmed, but promising eternal love to a man behind bars seemed like the safest option for ladies attracted to violence.

Freyja leaned forward like a cobra unfurling its muscles and poising for a killing blow. Her lips parted, and Albus convinced himself that he could see venom coating them. Before her silver tongue could work its magic, Cornelius cut in.

"My decision is final," he said, his voice a high-pitched squeak. He looked for all the world like a mouse staring into the jaws of something much higher on the food chain than it was. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to."

The dismissal took Albus by surprise. He hadn't known Cornelius had the nerve.

Freyja sat frozen in place, her expression inscrutable, her wonderful mind struggling to comprehend the situation. Albus couldn't fault her for the confusion because it overtook his senses as well.

Cornelius always did what people more powerful than him told him to do. It was something of which Albus disapproved, but also upon which he relied. Wizarding Britain had avoided many unethical decisions because Cornelius was easily swayed. Yet here he sat, in front of two people who outmatched him in more ways than one, holding his ground.

A knock interrupted the tense silence, and Cornelius's new secretary, an elderly witch with stooped posture and missing teeth, cracked open the door and popped her wizened head through the opening. "Mr Ludovic Bagman is here for your meeting, Minister."

Cornelius sprang from his seat like a Bouncing Bulb, eager for this appointment to come to an end. "Very good. Show him in." His gaze dropped to Albus and Freyja, his protruding eyes and raised brows a less than subtle prompt for them to leave.

Freyja rose from her seat. Her lips parted, but the words wouldn't come. With a shake of her head and a straightening of her long coat, she spun on her heels and forced a grinning Ludo Bagman to jump out of her way when their paths met at the door.

"You're making a mistake, Cornelius," said Albus as he too got to his feet.

Cornelius's jaw trembled, but he held Albus's gaze and even raised his chin. "That isn't for you to decide."

Albus maintained eye-contact, hoping to dampen the Minister's resolve, but Mr Bagman finally tore his gaze away from Freyja's retreating form and whistled as he skipped up to Cornelius's desk. "Had to deliver a spot of bad news, did you, Cornelius?"

Mr Bagman clapped Albus on the back. "Headmaster, it's been too long."

"So it has, Mr Bagman." Albus did not let his displeasure at the interruption show and instead turned to smile at his former student, who had speedily risen through the Ministry's ranks and was now the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Ludo's impressive build had gone to seed since his Quidditch days, and his robes stretched over his large belly. Not a spot of grey marred his blond hair, and his rosy complexion and round eyes gave him the look of an overgrown child.

"What a year we've got coming up. Isn't that right, gents?" Ludo rubbed his hands together and hunched his broad shoulders so that his height matched Albus's. "What with the Quidditch World Cup and that little something special going on at Hogwarts next term"—Ludo jostled Albus's elbow and threw him a wink—"I don't know what's got me more excited."

Cornelius sighed and dropped into his chair. "I told you, Ludo, with this Sirius Black situation, we may well need to cancel all that."

Ludo bounced on the balls of his feet and waved away the concern. "Nonsense. The Dementors will catch Black long before that, and if they don't, old Barty Crouch will." His bouncing stopped and his eyes widened, but his smile didn't fade. "I've never seen him so hacked off. You'd think Black spat on Barty's honour with the way Barty goes red in the face any time Black's mentioned."

Albus did not doubt that Bartemius Crouch, the current Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, would take Sirius's escape as a personal offence. After all, Mr Crouch was the man responsible for imprisoning Sirius as well as most of Azkaban's other occupants. His ruthless efficiency at putting away criminals had been compared by many to the viscousness of the Dark Side, which was why he had been demoted at the end of the war. That was the man who had sealed Sirius's fate, someone as morally reproachable as many Death Eaters.

"I'll take my leave now, Cornelius," said Albus, "but I urge you to reconsider your decision."

He nodded at Ludo and left the Minister's office.

Thoughts of the last war swirled through his mind. For years, fear had been all anyone had known. People had been as afraid of leaving their homes as they had been of being murdered in their beds. Neighbours had turned on one another, friends had betrayed each other, and families had fallen apart. Trust became a rarity, and society had crumbled without it. Mistakes were made by all, not just the Dark Side, and lives were lost because of them.

Albus had acted with absolute certainty because leadership left no room for indecision. He'd buried his doubts because they had slowed him down, but now they resurfaced like an old wound reopening, and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd been wrong.

The big green doors opened as Albus stepped up to them, and the chilly evening air crept into the short corridor.

Two Aurors stood by the Roman columns. Their full-dress uniforms covered them from head to toe in scarlet with black undertones in their hats, belts, sashes, sleeves, and hems. The gold blazon of the Ministry of Magic glittered on their chests. Neither Auror acknowledged Albus when he bid them goodnight, and he didn't expect them to. They stood stiller than the statues in the courtyard, their postures rigid and immobile.

Snow crunched beneath Albus's feet as he followed the winding walkway through the garden.

Only the firethorn bushes added spots of colour to the scenery, their bright red berries contrasting with the crisp whiteness of fresh snow. Winter fairies flew from one bush to the next, collecting berries and carrying them to the nests hidden within the leafless trees. Their shimmering wings caught the light of the single streetlamp that stood in the middle of the courtyard, giving the fairies the appearance of little, glowing orbs.

A small flock of them flew in front of Albus and began formation gliding. Fairies were vain creatures that would do most anything for attention. Albus watched the show with a courteous smile and clapped obligingly when the dance ended.

He picked up his pace to avoid another performance but stopped when he rounded a large firethorn.

Beneath the lamp post, on a backless stone bench, sat Freyja Morrigan.

Sitting straight-backed with her legs crossed at her ankles and her hands in her lap, she looked regal even though her gaze was miles away. Her dark hair fell to her waist and framed her face in loose curls, bringing out the sharpness of her cheekbones and the strength of her jawline.

Time had treated her well, but much like Cornelius, Freyja had aged since Sirius's escape. Wrinkles that had not been there in August now lined her face, and her skin had started losing its firmness, taking on a doughiness that would sag until she eventually looked her age. As well-practised at hiding emotions as she was, her body was less adept at managing stress.

In the low light, her dark eyes appeared bottomless like two small abysses, but they gleamed with the glassy lustre of obsidian. There was life in her yet.

With a blink, her gaze was on him. "It's rude to stare."

"I apologise." He stepped into the heptagonal space where the flagstone path widened into a sitting area. No fairies flew about here, no doubt because of the dark cloud hanging over Freyja's head.

Freyja's posture loosened. "Can I ask you a question?" Neither her expression nor her voice gave anything away. Albus nodded. "Why did you turn down the Minister for Magic position?"

Albus's eyebrows shot up, but he evened them out in an instant. He'd been asked that question before but not in many years.

He joined Freyja on the bench, taking his weight off old bones that didn't appreciate the cold, and cast a Warming Charm as well as a Privacy Charm over himself and Freyja before he answered. "I have found that there is nothing more important than passing on skills and knowledge. No amount of political power can compare to honing young minds."

There was more to it than that, of course. Freyja surmised as much. "And?"

Albus turned to face her, taking in the perpetually guarded expression of a woman whose mind not even the most skilled Legilimens could invade. "And I discovered at a young age that I was not well-suited for political power." Her demeanour barely shifted; all that changed was a slight lift to her thin eyebrows. Albus smiled and folded his hands in his lap. "How is your mother?"

Any hint of an expression flitted from Freyja's features more swiftly than a Phoenix. "She's well."

Albus was well-versed in arduous family relations, but Freyja's relationship with her mother was one of a kind. Then again, the same could be said for most of Lilith Morrigan's relationships.

Empathy, with a capital 'e', was as rare a gift as the Inner Eye. As with Seers, Empaths' skills were often called into question. Many assumed that an Empath's capacity to read people came from an affinity at Legilimency, except Empaths read emotions, not thoughts.

When Albus first met Lilith, they were ten-years-old. He had just moved to Godric's Hollow. After Lilith found him reading beneath a grove of trees, she decided they would be friends. Albus had not argued with her decision, and he soon learnt that even if he had, it was an argument he would have lost. Lilith had a patient and polite persistence about her that could wear down most anyone.

There was very little that Albus had done during his late childhood and teenage years that he had done without Lilith. They had received their Hogwarts letters on the same day and had bought their wands together while their parents had waited outside. Albus had only had to wait half an hour before Lilith had joined him at the Gryffindor table following her sorting. In their fifth year, they had been named as the Gryffindor prefects and in their seventh year as Head Boy and Head Girl.

They had grown up together, but it had been decades since they had last seen one another.

Albus wondered if Freyja was aware that he had once known her mother better than anyone, and if so, did she know of the reason for their falling-out? On the one hand, Lilith had always been very good at keeping secrets; on the other, Freyja was exceptional.

"I wish you hadn't turned down the ministerial position," she said, her gaze going to the scene of two fairies fighting over a berry larger than both their heads. "At least you can be reasoned with."

Albus nodded his agreement, a sense of dread sneaking through his mind. "This is a troubling turn of events."

Cornelius's sudden inclination toward independent decision-making did not bode well for the future. This situation with Sirius and the Dementors proved that the Minister meant to appease the masses rather than do what was right, bending to the whims of hysteria and inadvertently feeding it instead of curing it. Even without a Seer's Sight, Albus could see that this did not foreshadow anything good, especially with the threats brewing over the horizon.

If ever there were a time for powerful allies, it was now.

"I believe I may have made a mistake," he said softly. It was not an easy admission to make. Making minor blunders was nothing to be ashamed of, and he often appreciated the novelty and opportunity to learn from them, but this was no little thing.

The berry burst and splattered the fighting fairies with red. They both wailed and quickly dove out of sight. Only then did Freyja turn back to Albus. "A mistake?"

"I have started to doubt my certainty of Sirius's guilt."

Freyja scrutinised him but gave nothing away, no joy, no relief, no distrust. "You read my case file."

"When you gave a preliminary copy to Cornelius, his conviction wavered, and he asked me to dispel his doubts. I couldn't. You present a very convincing case."

"Not convincing enough."

Her hard gaze went to a gaggle of fairies. Her jaw clenched a little tighter than usual into a look Albus knew well, although not from her mother. His heart ached at the familiarity. He once again wondered how much Freyja knew of her family's past.

With a sigh and a mental rebuke for letting his mind wander so far off course, Albus said, "There is no changing the mind of someone who does not wish for their mind to be changed. Cornelius will follow the masses, wherever they may lead him, so perhaps the best course of action is to change the public's opinion."

"Which is easily done for someone with connections to the media, but my contacts in this country are limited."

"Mine aren't."

Freyja's already minimal movements paused before she slowly looked over at Albus. "Are you suggesting that we conspire together?"

"I don't know whether Sirius is guilty or innocent, but I am aware that there's only one way to find out. If Sirius is guilty, then at the very least, a trial will help uncover how he escaped from Azkaban so that it can be avoided in the future. And if Sirius did betray James, I would like to know why."

It was a blind hope, but perhaps learning the secret behind that deception would allow Albus to better understand the betrayal that had been haunting him for so many years.

"Why were you so convinced of his guilt?" Freyja asked.

"A number of reasons, none of which seem to hold up any longer. The climate at the time distorted a great many things and created a narrow-mindedness that blinded many, myself included."

Not that the war was entirely to blame. Albus had learnt the hard way that trust and friendship could crumble overnight. It was possible that he had let his experience colour his perception.

"Why are you convinced of his innocence?" he asked.

"Because my daughter was a good judge of character." A barely perceptible edge crept into Freyja's voice. Albus couldn't blame her for it.

He had spoken to Asherah on only a handful of occasions, but during their last meeting, he had behaved in a loathsome manner. After Voldemort's defeat, Asherah had come to Albus, looking for Harry. Albus had explained the situation, the protection Lily's blood relative offered the boy, but Asherah had argued. She had only stopped when he had threatened to ensure that Walburga Black got full custody of Kali.

He had been so concerned with preparing for another war that he had made threats befit of any Dark Wizard, promising to endanger a child should he not get his way.

"Sirius asked her to marry him," said Freyja when Albus's silence stretched a moment too long for her liking. "After his initial blind panic over the news of the pregnancy, he bought a ring and proposed. He didn't love her in a way that warranted marriage, and his heart and preferences lay elsewhere, but still, he got down on one knee and asked. It was presumptuous and old-fashioned of him, but he wanted to do the honourable thing."

Albus hadn't known that. In fact, he knew very little of Sirius and Asherah's relationship. "How did they meet?"

"At a party with copious amounts of alcohol. I believe Asherah was hiding from photographers and Sirius and Remus had started on another of their 'breaks', or whatever it is that young people call it nowadays."

"A fortunate encounter," Albus mused. "Your granddaughter seems like a wonderful child." The barest hint of a smile curved Freyja's lips, and she nodded. "She turned fourteen last week, isn't that right?"

Owls had flown into the Great Hall throughout all of breakfast, delivering parcels and letters to Kali. Her friends had had to help her cart it all out before they'd gone to class.

"That's right." Freyja did not have a grandmotherly look about her, but her small smile softened her features enough to let anyone know how much she cared for her granddaughter. "Did you never want children?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't have been suited for the parental role." He had proved that a long time ago after failing to raise his brother and sister following their mother's death.

The thought of having children of his own had crossed his mind only once: when he'd heard of Lilith's pregnancy. It had been a bitter reflection of envy and dread. Over forty years of competitiveness, and she had finally found a way to break the tie between them. She had won over the man Albus had loved, even though it had only been for a short while.

As it had turned out, some men never changed. They merely pretended in order to get what they wanted.

"Neither was I," said Freyja. "My ex-husband raised Asherah more than I did." Regret tightened her features, and any hint of softness vanished, but she shook her head and directed the conversation somewhere less troublesome. "That is why she was so enthralled by that awful sport."

"Quidditch." Lilith hadn't been a fan either. "Your ex-husband played?"

Freyja rose from her seat and nodded. "Professionally, but Ash was much better." She slid the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and let out a long and quiet exhale before turning to Albus. "You'll make arrangements with your contacts in the media and inform me of whatever progress you make?"

"Of course." Albus got to his feet. His old bones complained and cracked, making him regret not taking his potions this morning. Feeling his age had stopped being enjoyable a long time ago. "Take care, Freyja."

She held out her hand, and he shook it with a small smile. "You too, Albus."

The snow crunched beneath her heels, and he watched her disappear into the night pursued by a couple of performing fairies whom she deftly ignored. Albus rubbed his chest over where his heart squeezed as his mind conjured thoughts of what could have been.

A/N: How are you liking slowly getting background information on the original characters? I'm doing my best not to info-dump, but I'm worried that in trying to avoid that, I'm not giving you enough details.

What insights and data do you feel you're missing regarding Kali and Freyja?