HARRY POTTER
AND THE DEATH EATER MENACE

Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

CHAPTER 10: Reactions and Overreactions pt 3.

5 August 1993
From the front page of the Daily Prophet

DEMENTORS UNLEASHED!
FUDGE UNVEILS CONTROVERSIAL NEW PLAN!
WILL USE DEMENTORS TO GUARD HOGWARTS AGAINST
DEATH EATER MENACE!

by Rita Skeeter

As astute readers of the Prophet assuredly know, yesterday saw the Wizengamot in Emergency Session for the first since the fall of You-Know-Who, and what an historic day it was. After the morning session's Roll Call and Unity Vows, followed by the Chief Auror's report, deliberations resumed in the afternoon with Minister Cornelius Fudge's controversial proposal to reinstitute the so-called Death Eater Laws, a proposal that was soundly defeated by the Wizengamot. Instead, the peerage, consistent with their prior rulings in times of civil unrest, invoked the Praetor Maximus Clause of the Wizengamot Charter, a rarely-used clause which grants the Minister of Magic unfettered authority to deal with this specific crisis so long as his actions and commands do not violate any rights enumerated under the ICW Charter of Wizarding Rights, do not contravene any rights guaranteed to the peerage under the Wizengamot Charter, and do not extend to any matters unrelated to the Azkaban Crisis. The motion for Praetor Maximus was made by Peter Pettigrew on behalf of House Potter and seconded by Elphias Doge on behalf of House Doge. The vote passed by a close margin of 125 to 123 with seven abstentions.

Having effectively placed the burden of addressing the Azkaban Crisis solely on Minister Fudge's shoulders, the Emergency Session was brought to a close soon after. But it was not until the Minister stepped out into the Atrium to address reporters that the true fireworks started. For it was there that the Minister announced that his first act under Praetor Maximus was to summon a contingent of Dementors from Azkaban itself to pursue, recapture, and Kiss the escapees! Even more shockingly, the Minister stated that the bulk of this cohort would be stationed at Hogwarts to help defend it against any Death Eater attacks. Minister Fudge's announcement sent a frisson of terror through those in attendance, but it soon became clear that such a course of action was completely within his extraordinary Praetor Maximus powers. This reporter hopes that our Minister knows what he's doing, for while he now holds unprecedented executive power, it is not an authority that Dementors are any more likely to respect than the Death Eaters they now pursue.

4 August 1993
Ten minutes after the conclusion of the Minister's press conference.

Cornelius Fudge entered his office and deposited his bowler hat and overcoat onto a hatstand before taking his seat. Then, he pulled open a drawer and removed a flask from which he took a quick shot of firewhiskey to fortify his nerves. There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," he said wearily as he put the flask away. Dolores Umbridge came in bearing a worried expression. She too had changed out of her plum Wizengamot robes and into one of the reserved and sensible tweed outfits he'd come to associate with her.

"Bones and Potter are on their way here. Neither of them look happy."

"I hardly expected them to, Dolores. James has two sons and a wife at Hogwarts while Amelia has her niece and ward there. And honestly, I imagine I rather blindsided James with my announcement. I told him nothing about Dementors when I asked him to have his man make the motion for Praetor Maximus."

The Undersecretary nodded and then hesitated before speaking. "Minister, you hired me as Undersecretary to advise you about the details of the Ministry's treaty obligations. Are you ... open to advice in other areas?"

He studied the woman for a moment. "Yes, if offered in good faith, I suppose."

She took a deep breath. "Then ... be honest with them. Swear them to secrecy if you must – and I understand why you feel you might need to – but you need them to be publicly on your side in this matter. If they both have family at Hogwarts, they will never support you in this if they don't know the true reasons for your decision. And even your emergency powers can't protect you from a no confidence vote if led by the two most influential members of your own administration."

Fudge made a sour expression but then nodded in agreement. Seconds later, there was another knock on the door. Fudge's secretary came in to announce that Potter and Bones had arrived, but the two angry officials brushed past her into the office.

"Dementors?! At Hogwarts?!" James spluttered. "Have you gone mad, Cornelius?!"

"I'd like an explanation as well, Minister," said Amelia Bones just as angrily. "This seems incredibly reckless!"

The Minister dismissed his receptionist, activating the room's privacy charms as soon as she'd closed the door. "All of you have a seat. Dolores, please stay. I may need your input to answer any specific questions they may have."

With varying degrees of reluctance, the three sat down across the desk from Fudge, who took a deep breath before he began.

"None of this leaves this room. I have too much respect for you both to insist on a vow of secrecy, but if anything I'm about to say makes it into the Prophet, I promise I will do my very best to end your political careers. The official story is that we are making use of Dementors because their innate magical senses can allow them to detect the magical auras of the escapees at some distance, which makes them uniquely qualified to act as hunters. That story has the benefit of being true as far as it goes. We are also stationing Dementors around Hogwarts – not on the grounds, mind you, but at the periphery of the wards and over the Forbidden Forest – in order to demonstrate our commitment to protecting the next generation of wizards and witches from the Death Eater threat."

He paused and took an even deeper breath before continuing. "All of that is ... a diversion from the real truth: We don't actually have any choice in the matter. Under the Treaty of Azkaban, the Dementors have the right to pursue the escapees. I was able to work out an agreement with, well, the one that seems to be their leader if they even have such a thing. I persuaded them that the escapees could be recovered more quickly and efficiently if they did as we asked by placing small groups of Dementors under the authority of aurors assigned to the national search but with the bulk of the Dementors confined to Hogwarts. I also managed to convince them that the escapees were likely to target Hogwarts because Jim Potter was there. Nonsense, I know, but they bought it and have agreed to station most of their number over the Forbidden Forest where they can't hurt anyone. Or at least agreed to do so until the end of the school year, so we're a bit pressed for time."

James started to interrupt, but Fudge held up his hand. "But make no mistake, James. If we sought to forbid the Dementors from pursuing the escapees, we would be in breach of the Treaty of Azkaban. And if that happens, all of the Dementors will be free to leave Azkaban en masse and hunt whoever and wherever they will. And I cannot risk that, no matter what the cost."

Dolores Umbridge stepped in. "By doing it this way, only a fraction of the Dementors will leave Azkaban for Britain, and most of those will remain stationary over the Forbidden Forest next to Hogwarts. The school has the largest concentration of wizards in Britain who know the Patronus Charm. Most of the faculty members and several of the students do."

"That was the real reason I wanted the Death Eater Laws reinstated – I would have had the authority to conscript every wizard and witch in Britain who can summon a Patronus in the event of a Dementor invasion. Anyway, I discussed stationing the Dementors at Hogwarts with Albus during the afternoon break," Fudge said. "He has agreed to make the Patronus Charm part of the curriculum for all seven years of DADA."

"Albus agrees with you on this?" Amelia asked in shock.

"Grudgingly, yes, but after we showed him the relevant treaty provisions, he did reluctantly agree that this might be the safest solution until the crisis is resolved."

"Still, the Patronus is a very difficult Charm," James said. "How many students do you think can possibly learn it fast enough for it to matter?"

"Apparently, a Second Year mastered it this past spring," said Umbridge, "and so the Headmaster is reevaluating his views on its teachability."

"Uh-huh," he replied sarcastically. "And have you mastered it?"

"Yes, actually," she replied before pulling out her wand and summoning a silver cat patronus. "I learned it just in time for my DADA NEWT."

James actually did a double-take. "You have a DADA NEWT?!" he said in surprise.

"As a matter of fact, I do, Chief Auror," Umbridge replied somewhat frostily. "It was only a low Acceptable, so not enough for the lofty heights of the Auror Corps, but I do have one."

"We're getting a bit off-topic," Amelia said. "You said that only a limited number of Dementors were coming, with most staying at Hogwarts. How many Dementors are we talking about?"

Fudge licked his lips nervously. "About a hundred or so."

There was dead silence in the room.

"A hundred?" James finally said incredulously. "And that's a fraction of their total number? How many Dementors are there at Azkaban?"

Fudge simply nodded to Umbridge, who produced a clipboard containing her notes on that very subject. "After all these centuries, we still have no idea how Dementors reproduce or indeed if they truly do. It seems, in fact, that they simply ... spring into existence somehow. We do know that they cannot be killed by any means known to us, though there is speculation that a sufficiently powerful Patronus might be able to do so. Headmaster Dumbledore is likely the only one powerful enough, and he's never been put to that particular test. Anyway, the last attempt at a census was in 1972. It was inconclusive but indicated that the Azkaban population, which seems to include every known Dementor in the world, exceeds 1,000. It is likely quite a bit higher today."

"Merlin," Amelia whispered.

"Oh, the good news gets even better," Fudge said bitterly. "Dolores, kindly explain the Azkaban occupancy requirements."

Umbridge coughed delicately and flipped through her notes, pausing to adjust her glasses. "Pursuant to the treaty, the Ministry is obliged to maintain a prison population within certain agreed upon limits. Relevant to this discussion, we are required to maintain a minimum number of convicts on the Maximum Security level at all times. The rules are somewhat complicated, as a prisoner who is Kissed by a Dementor is deemed by them as remaining a prisoner so long as his or her body is still alive even if it has been removed from the prison. That is why it is against Ministry policy to euthanize former prisoners who have been Kissed and why they are instead placed in a special ward at St. Mungo's and kept alive as long as possible. The longer those soulless husks endure, the longer we have before we are required to find someone else to replace them in Maximum Security."

She paused as if to collect herself before proceeding. "As of July 31st, we are in violation of the Occupancy Clause. Previously, we maintained a cushion of two extra maximum security inmates in case any of them passed away unexpectedly, but with the escape, we are now three below the minimum occupancy. We have a year and a day to cure the violation, either by capturing at least three of the escapees and returning them to Azkaban, by arranging for at least escapees to be Kissed ... or by finding at least three other people who have been convicted of crimes worthy of being sentenced to maximum security. Or, I suppose, some combination of those three options. Otherwise, on 1 August 1994, the treaty will become null and void, and the entire Dementor population will be free to ravage Britain at will."

Potter and Bones stared at the woman with horrified expressions.

"So," said Fudge, "in light of the scope of the disaster facing us, do I have your support?"

Peter Pettigrew's Apartment
6:40 p.m.

Peter stepped out of his floo and threw his coat over a chair angrily without even bothering to shake off the floo powder. Without slowing down, he went straight away to his secret chamber where he retrieved a small silver mirror (one of several grouped together on a shelf) and held it up to the light.

"Greyback! It's Peter! Where are you?" he barked into the mirror. A few seconds later, the notorious werewolf's face appeared in the mirror's image.

"What now, Peter?" Greyback said.

"Another change of plans."

"Another one?!" he scoffed. "I think you should stop calling these things plans, Pettigrew. At this point, they're barely aspirational goals."

"Very funny," Peter said sarcastically. "The Minister has just announced that a rather large contingent of Dementors will be coming over from Azkaban to search for their missing prisoners, and some of them will be stationed around Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts itself. So Operation Damsel is a no-go for September 1st. We need to study the situation more and try again later."

Greyback shook his head. "Dementors at Hogwarts. What idiot came up with that plan?"

"The worst kind of idiot, unfortunately – one who now has near-dictatorial authority when it comes to hunting down Death Eaters."

"Right. And we're still completely sure that none of our side was behind the breakout?"

Peter snorted. "Well I'm not involved, and neither Malfoy nor the Selwyns have a motive I can think of. Other than us, none of the remaining free Death Eaters are remotely competent enough to pull this off. More importantly, if Rookwood was able to do so, he'd have contacted me by now. If Bellatrix was able to, she'd have contacted Narcissa by now, and she'd have contacted me. And if Sirius has been speaking to someone willing to listen, I'd already have aurors kicking down my door. So I honestly don't know who is responsible. But I'll tell you one thing – if I can find out who does have our missing compatriots, that moves up immediately to the top of our priority list."

"Rescue?"

"Of Mr. Nemo and Miss Demeanor, certainly. Those two Lestrange idiots? Maybe, if it's not too much trouble. But our number one goal is snipping a loose end I have tolerated for nearly twelve years. We're going to find Sirius Black, and we're going to end him whatever it takes!"

Longbottom Manor
7:30 p.m.

Regulus stood at the foot of the four-poster bed in a Longbottom guest room and gazed down at his brother's still body. Sirius Black looked dead to the world, and from some technical perspectives, he was. The house elves had cleaned him up and changed him from filthy prisoner's stripes into fresh pajamas, but thanks to the Draught of Living Death, Sirius still looked more like a fresh cadaver than a preternaturally deep sleeper.

At present, Augusta and Harry were downstairs discussing the day's events. Regulus had heard the preliminary reports and was horrified by them. Not even in their most dire contingency plans had he and Lucius considered the possibility of Fudge summoning Dementors to search for the escapees. Madness! All of the Azkaban co-conspirators agreed that it was now essential to move things forward as quickly as possible. Harry's Legilimency instructor, Mr. X, would be arriving in the morning for his job interview, and if he was up to snuff, they'd start interrogating the Death Eaters over the weekend. With any luck, this whole mess would be over in a week's time.

Regulus frowned at his own sentimentality. Intellectually, he realized that it was foolish to start with Sirius now while everything else had gotten complicated. Better, surely, to keep Sirius sedated until the situation with the actual Death Eaters had been resolved. But Regulus had waited so long for the chance to see his brother again, to apologize for the wrongs committed against him. And who knew what the coming days might bring? Steeling himself, the metamorphmagus looked over at his reflection on a wall mirror. He closed his eyes and then shook his head violently, and the elderly Asian man known only as Kato (Gilderoy Lockhart's faithful manservant) blurred and stretched into Regulus's true visage.

Removing a small vial from inside his pocket, Regulus moved to his brother's side and carefully poured the antidote to the Draught of Living Death down Sirius's thoat. Then, he sat down in a chair and waited. A few seconds later, Sirius gave a small gasp as his body emerged from magical stasis. After a few seconds more, the man's eyes fluttered upon. Slowly, painfully, Sirius Black turned his head, and as he took in the face of his long-lost and supposedly dead sibling, his eyes widened in a mix of wonder and fear.

"R-R-Reg?" he croaked.

"Easy, brother," Regulus said gently. "Don't overexert yourself."

"Am ... am I dead?"

"No," he replied as reassuringly as possible. "Merlin, no, Sirius. You're not dead and neither am I. You are safe."

"Safe?"

"Yes," Regulus said with a smile. "Safe."

It was, perhaps, ironic that Sirius responded to that assurance of safety by transforming into an enormous black dog that snarled and leaped at Regulus, seemingly intent on ripping out his throat. The other wizard let out a startled yelp as the beast hit him squarely on the chest, its momentum knocking Regulus and the chair both over. Then, with another blur of magic, Sirius was suddenly a man again. And a furious man at that, one who was now sitting astride Regulus's chest.

"MY BROTHER IS DEAD, YOU LYING BASTARD!" Sirius screamed as he rained down blows on the other man's head.

A few rooms away, Augusta and Harry paused in their conversation as the sounds of screaming and violence reached them.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked anxiously.

Augusta produced her wand from one of her sleeves and headed for the hallway. "Oh, I imagine it's just the sound of an overcomplicated Slytherin plan blowing up in our faces. Stay here."

"Lady Augusta!" he objected while producing his own wand.

"Stay here, Harry! You cannot use magic without triggering the Trace and drawing the Ministry's gaze to us!" With that, she ran (with surprising speed for a woman of her years) out of the parlor and in the direction of the commotion, while Harry remained behind frustrated.

Seconds later, she reached the corridor leading to Sirius's bedroom just in time to see the man himself stagger out while holding his brother's wand. As soon as he saw her, Sirius fired off a Stunner but it went wide. Augusta took shelter behind a suit of armor and called out to her attacker.

"Sirius Black! This is Augusta Longbottom! Frank Longbottom's mother! You have nothing to fear from us! Please, let us help you!"

Unfortunately, Sirius's only response were a few more attempted stunners which only missed because he was using an unfamiliar wand.

"Right, then," Augusta said irritably as she touched the suit of armor with her wand. "AVIFORS." Instantly, the armor was transfigured into a flock of starlings which hurled itself at Sirius and quickly surrounded him. Desperately, he batted at the small birds but was unable to draw a bead on Augusta who quickly advanced. "EXPELLIARMUS!" Instantly, Sirius's stolen wand was sent flying, and he dropped to his knees, putting his hands over his head to ward off the swirling mass of birds. Augusta advanced, her wand pointed at him.

"Stay down, Mr. Black. I do not wish to stun you, but I will if you continue to resist."

Sirius seemed to do as she asked, though he did not look up from his position on the floor. With a slash of her wand, Augusta dispelled the flock of starlings which flew back past her and reformed into the suit of armor from whence it had come. But in her brief instant of distraction, Sirius tensed ... and suddenly was a grim once more. Caught by surprise, Augusta tried to stun the beast, but it moved with alarming speed, knocking her to the ground and causing her to lose her own wand. The great hound bounded past her and down the corridor. For with its keen hearing, the animal could detect the nearby crackle of flames. And in a wizarding home, where there were flames, there was likely a floo connection.

Following the sound, the grim turned straight into the parlor where Harry was waiting. The young Slytherin held his wand up but did not aim it. As Augusta had noted, any use of magic by him under these circumstances would draw an Underage Magic Use warning and possibly even more stringent Ministry attention. The grim growled menacingly and slowly moved towards him.

"Typical," thought Harry ruefully. "Moody and Jim both mentioned that Sirius Black might be an Animagus, but we didn't bother to prepare for that possibility. And of course, he's something big and scary. God forbid that his Animagus form should be a hedgehog or parakeet!"

The dog continued its slow advance. Unable to use magic, Harry turned to his second greatest power: his knack for talking his way out of problems. Carefully, he positioned himself between the grim and the floo, while the dog crept forward, growling the whole time. Harry assumed that Sirius was sticking to his animal-form rather switching back to his human shape so as to be better able to dodge a spell. And truth be told, the dog was probably better at dodging attacks than the man. Desperately, Harry tried to think of something to say that would deter Sirius or at least make him hesitate until help arrived. Unfortunately, he didn't actually know much about the man on any personal level, and so for once, his Legilimency seemed to be of no use... until, in an act of supreme concentration that surprised the boy himself, a memory popped into his head, one from so far back in his childhood that it should have been impossible for him to recall.

A long time ago...

The big man's face looked so different then. His hair was shiny and his beard neat, and there were no lines around the eyes that seemed to twinkle almost as much as Dumbledore's. Then, the big man let out a broad grin, and Harry could hear himself gurgling in delight.

"Hey there, my little lion," the big man said in a soft voice. "I'm your Uncle Sirius. Yes! Yes, I am! Course I'm not really an uncle, though you can call me that if you wish. I'm something better than an uncle. I'm your godfather! Hello!" He held up a hand and wriggled them down at the baby.

"That means I'll always be there for you. Always! And look what your godfather has for you on your very first birthday!"

The big man reached into his robe and pulled out a stuffed black dog. "This is Padfoot, Harry. Which is also my name, but you can't use that all the time. When we're alone, though, you can call me Padfoot or Uncle Sirius, whichever you like. And Little Padfoot here can stay with you and watch over you whenever I'm not around to remind you about me." He placed the stuffed dog into Harry's arms, and the one-year-old embraced it tightly.

"Pa-foo," the infant Harry said. Sirius froze, and then his face lit up in delight.

"Padfoot?" he inquired.

"Pa-foo," the baby answered.

Sirius let out an excited "HEE!" before slapping his hand over his mouth and looking around the room to reassure himself that no one else was there.

"Okay, little lion, while that was undeniably awesome and probably my new Patronus memory, let's not do that in front of your Mum or Dad for a while. James would have an absolute cow if he learned that you'd said 'Padfoot' before 'Da-da' or 'Ma-ma.''

Little Harry said nothing else except to giggle softly as he clutched the stuffed dog tighter.

Now...

Harry blinked three times in astonishment at the thought of summoning up a perfectly clear memory of something that happened when he was one-year-old. Then, he shook it off as the grim took another step forward.

"Pa-foo," he said. "I mean, Padfoot. That's your other name, right, Uncle Sirius?" The dog froze instantly.

"You said I could call you either when you gave me that stuffed grim for my birthday. Do you remember that day? You told me that you were my godfather and that you'd always be around to protect me and look after me, right? That's why I know you won't hurt me now."

The dog began to whine softly. Harry slowly inched towards it and carefully put his hand out palm-up. The whimpering grim leaned forward, sniffed at his hand, and licked it once. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was Sirius Black once more, a crying distraught Sirius Black who immediately snatched the startled boy up in a tight embrace. A few seconds later, when Augusta Longbottom came into the room with her wand drawn, it was Harry who waved her off, as the weeping man could only hold onto him for dear life while brokenly sobbing over and over again.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Five minutes later ...

Once he realized by the boy's scent that Harry was indeed his godson, all the fight went out of Sirius Black. He allowed Harry and Augusta to escort him back to his room, and along the way, he apologized to Augusta for knocking her down. He did not apologize to Regulus when he met up with his younger brother in the hallway despite the mass of bruises on his face and the chipped front tooth. After taking a few potions, Regulus's injuries were soon repaired, but there were no potions or spells on hand to immediately fix the two black eyes his brother had given him. Also, his earlier desire to beg Sirius's forgiveness was strangely muted now. Finally, once back in bed, Sirius spoke to his younger sibling.

"So. You didn't die."

"Obviously not."

"It's a pretty crappy thing to do, letting your family think you're dead."

Regulus shrugged. "If I remember correctly, in our last actual conversation before this one, you reminded me that you had the legal authority to execute Death Eaters and that you wouldn't let whatever weak bonds of affection you had for me stay your hand if we crossed wands."

Sirius nodded. "And did you become a Death Eater?"

Silently, Regulus pulled up his sleeves to reveal the absence of a Dark Mark. "Grandfather wanted me to join so we'd have Blacks in both camps, but he also gave me the means to fake my own death if I changed my mind. A modified Fidelius of some kind, designed to activate when I cleaned out the emergency vault he'd left for me. Anyone who knew Regulus Black would just assume I had died somehow without thinking too much about the details unless someone who knew the truth corrected them. Of course, it's not a true Fidelius, and sufficiently clever or strong-willed people can see through it, so if you want to rat me out to the DMLE and ship me off to Azkaban, the spell won't stop you."

"Good to know. Have you done anything worthy of Azkaban, Little Brother?" Sirius asked in a low voice.

Despite himself, Harry stiffened uncomfortably. "Do I sound like that when I call Jim 'Little Brother'? That ... hateful?"

"Lord Black," Augusta interrupted. "I know you must be under a great strain at the moment, but let me reassure you. Your brother and his allies rescued you from Azkaban despite enormous risks. Whatever issues remain between you and Regulus, I would ask you to set them aside for the moment, for the stakes are higher than you could possibly know."

Sirius appeared to tune out everything except her first words. "Lord ... Black?"

"Grandfather died in 1991," Reg said almost blandly. "You've been Lord Black ever since, despite your incarceration."

"Uh-huh," Sirius said dully while absorbing that information. "Okay, I'll ... process that later, I guess. So where's James in all this? I saw him at Azkaban. Wasn't he part of the rescue?"

"That was me, Sirius," Regulus said. "I took James Potter's form. I'm a metamorphmagus."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Since when?"

"Since my seventh birthday, when my hair grew back overnight after some imbecile lopped it all off as a cruel joke."

"WHAT?!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

"Pfff," sneered Sirius. "It wasn't that mean of a joke." Regulus gave him a foul look while Harry just shook his head.

"No, no. It's just ..." he muttered before turning to Regulus. "We've got too much else to talk about now, but later on, I'd like to hear that story. For ... reasons."

Regulus stared at the boy before finally shrugging. "I'll make a note of it."

"So let me get this straight. You've been a metamorphmagus since you were seven and concealed it from me this whole time?!" Sirius said in disbelief. Regulus pursed his lips in annoyance. Then, he closed his eyes and concentrated. With soft pop of magic, he suddenly looked like James Potter once more. Sirius's eyes widened in shock.

"And speaking of James Potter," Regulus said, "you will be disappointed to learn that not only was your old partner-in-crime not involved in your liberation, he is still firmly convinced that you are a Death Eater and a spy, as well as the person who betrayed his family to the Dark Lord."

Sirius leaned back against his pillow and shut his eyes tight. "Damn you, Wormtail."

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise at the mention of one of the four Marauders who created his enchanted map, specifically one who by process of elimination was perhaps the last person he'd expect to have betrayed the Potters. Meanwhile, Regulus shook his head violently and reverted to his true form.

"You used that name back at Azkaban. You said that was who really betrayed the Potters. Who is Wormtail?"

Without opening his eyes, Sirius hissed out a name. "Peter Pettigrew."

There was dead silence for a few seconds before Harry, despite himself, barked out a laugh. "Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater? James Potter's Seneschal, proxy, and personal solicitor? Jim's godfather? He's just been hiding in plain sight for ever a decade? That's ... incredible!"

"Jim?" Sirius inquired.

"My twin brother. You do remember Lily having twins right?"

Sirius rubbed his face for several seconds. "Yeah, yeah, I think so. I mean, I just never had much to do with him. He was Peter's godson, not mine. I guess I don't have any memories of him that survived..." Then, he shuddered and began to hyperventilate. Augusta rushed forward and unstopped another Calming Draught for him. "Sorry," he said quietly after his anxiety attack had passed.

"It's quite alright, Lord Black," Augusta said. "Perhaps we could move on to memories that are less triggering. What do you remember about your trial? Do you know how you were forced to issue your false confession?"

Sirius stared at her dully. "I never had a trial. I never confessed to anything."

The others looked at one another in confusion. "The trial transcript is still sealed, I think," said Harry. "But it's supposed to run more than fifty pages, most of it you testifying in detail and under Veritaserum about all the innocent people you Imperiused into taking the Dark Mark against their will."

"I. Never. Had. A. Trial." he growled. "I spent about two days in the DMLE lockup begging for a chance to tell my story to someone. Then, an auror came in and stunned me. Next thing I know, I'm in my cell in Azkaban."

Harry sat back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. "So, question one. How did Voldemort loyalists fake a whole trial that was overseen by a respected three-judge panel without the involvement of the defendant?"

"And question two," Regulus added. "How did someone convince James and Lily Potter that Sirius was the Secret Keeper instead of Pettigrew? It can't just be a memory spell. Potter is an auror and, I assume, must have handled a Remembrall in open court as part of every single criminal trial at which he's testified over the last twelve years."

"And question three," Sirius said rather archly. "How did Harry get involved in this if James doesn't know the truth? Why are you even here at Longbottom Manor this time of night?"

"Well," Harry said with some embarrassment, "I live here, during the summers at least. There's some ... legal issues between James and I that stop me from living with the Potters."

"James? The Potters? Do these legal issues explain why you talk about your family like you're not even related to them?"

"Yes," Harry replied tersely and without elaborating.

"Harry..." Sirius began, but Regulus interrupted.

"Harry's upbringing is not even in the top ten of our to-do list, Sirius. Let's cut to the chase. The Dark Lord's body was destroyed in 1981, but his spirit lingers on, bound to this plane by cursed magical items called ..."

"Horcruxes," Sirius finished. The other three stared at him in shock.

"How the hell did you know that?" Regulus asked.

Sirius gave a throaty chuckle. "Grandfather Arcturus made me study the Codex just like I reckon he did with you after I left the family. Also, Bellatrix spent a lot of time ranting about how the Dark Lord would someday be restored to his former glory. And occasionally singing peppy tunes about the subject. She gave me enough information to guess what he'd done."

Harry looked over to Reg. "Well, I guess we know who has one of them, at least."

Sirius continued. "I could never tell anyone because of Arcturus's oaths... But I can now, which means you three already know about the Codex. Which, in turn, raises the question: WHY THE HELL IS MY GODSON MUCKING ABOUT WITH THE ANATHEMA CODEX!"

After Sirius finished bellowing, he fell back onto his pillow, coughing and wheezing. Augusta muttered a soft expletive and fed him another potion.

"Lord Black, you must control your emotions. You're still very weak from your time in Azkaban and must not overexert yourself!"

"Fine, fine. But for pity's sake, call me Sirius. Lord Black was my grandfather, and I'm not sure I want to follow in his footsteps."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to, at least for tonight," Regulus said. "The reason I fled the Death Eaters and faked my own death in the process was that I learned that he'd made a horcrux out of Salazar Slytherin's locket, and I stole it away from him. We've since learned that he made more than one, but the one I recovered has been hidden at Grimmauld Place this whole time. We need you to summon Kreacher and have him bring the locket here."

"Oh no, we most certainly need not!" Augusta interrupted testily. "You will not summon into this house Walburga Black's house elf that has been trapped in 12 Grimmauld Place for more than a decade with naught by the horcrux of He Who Must Not Be Named for company! Who knows how deranged that poor elf might be by now. And who knows what powers that locket might bring to bear once it's brought here."

"But Lady Augusta, we must destroy the locket," Regulus said.

"And so you shall, but there's no reason to compromise the wards of Longbottom Manor to do it." She turned to Sirius and fixed him with a somewhat motherly gaze. "Lord, er, Sirius? If you will but say 'I, Sirius Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, do hereby grant admittance to 12 Grimmauld Place to my brother Regulus and his allies," that will be sufficient to let Regulus go himself and destroy the locket-horcrux there."

Sirius coughed and then did as Augusta asked.

"Right then," Regulus said. "I'll be off." He turned and strode out of the room without another glance towards Sirius. Harry glanced around at the grown-ups in the room before rising himself.

"Um, excuse me," he said before following Regulus out, ignoring his god-father's calls as he left.

"Regulus! Wait up. You might need me with you."

Regulus stopped and whirled on the boy in surprise and a bit of annoyance. "Mr. Potter," he said, slipping briefly back into his Lockhart persona, "I am a dueling champion, a ex-Death Eater, a former auror, and the best DADA instructor Hogwarts has had in years. What on earth makes you think I might need a thirteen-year-old boy to help me in the relatively simple task of retrieving and destroying an item from my own home?"

"Well, as it happens, after you told Mr. Malfoy and me about Slytherin's locket, I looked it up and noticed that the big S-insignia on the front looks like a snake. And since it is Slytherin's locket, I'd bet good money that a Parselmouth can talk to it and maybe learn about the other horcruxes we don't know about yet."

Regulus opened his mouth to chastise the boy for the silliness of his suggestion, but then, he paused when he realized the suggestion was, in fact, quite sound. Finally, after a few seconds, he reluctantly acquiesced.

"I have three rules, Mr. Potter. One: Once we're in Grimmauld Place, touch nothing except at my direction! Two: If I tell you to do something, you do it instantly and without stopping to ask any stupid questions. And three..." He paused for a moment. "Well, I guess I'll just think up the third rule when we get there. Come along."

12 Grimmauld Place
Islington, London
9 p.m.

About twenty minutes later, Harry and Regulus stood on a lonely street in Islington before a row of town houses that seemed to have once been quite elegant but had since fallen on hard times. From the look of things, most of them were fairly shoddy apartments now. Regulus looked around to make sure they were unobserved. Then, he produced his wand and slashed it in the direction of the houses marked 11 and 13 while whispering "Toujour Pur." For a second, Harry thought it odd that there was no Number 12, but then, the other houses slid apart and the missing town house came into view as if it had somehow been squashed between the other two. He looked up at the older wizard in amazement.

"The house is Unplottable, which means it cannot be physically perceived by those not keyed into it, as you and I now are." With that explanation, Regulus started towards their now visible destination with Harry following behind, reshouldering the book bag he carried as he went.

"Why did the Blacks buy a house in a Muggle neighborhood?" he asked. "Weren't your lot all...?

"Violent bigots?" Regulus replied. "There are some things that trump Pureblood disdain for Muggles. One of my ancestors discovered an untapped ley line convergence in this neighborhood back in the 1800's. At the time, Number 12 was just thought by Muggles to be a haunted house, but it was because the ghosts of the Muggles who had died there were being supported by the magic from those ley lines."

"And what are ley lines again?" Harry inquired.

"A good question, and one wizards have been debating for centuries. All we know definitively is that are these invisible, intangible, and largely theoretical lines that criss-cross the whole planet. We can't actually detect the lines themselves, but the places where they connect are magically reactive. That is, if you perform magic where these lines intersect, it's possible to do high level magic more easily than in other locations and also to work spells whose results will last indefinitely. Hogwarts is located at the junction of a large number of ley lines, as is the Ministry of Magic and Diagon Alley, which is why all of those were chosen as locations for those structures. In fact, the British Isles possess an unusual number of such junctions and an extremely unusual number of junctions in which more than two ley lines intersect. That's why our ancestors came here from Rome in the first place. It's also why Magical Britain has influence over the rest of the magical world that's somewhat out of proportion to our population and the relative military and economic strength of the Muggle nation within which we reside. When push comes to shove, we can generate more raw magical power than all but a few of the other wizarding nations"

He continued talking as he paused to disable the remaining wards on the house before casting an Alohomora on the door. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place sits at the intersection of two ley lines that had somehow gone undetected for centuries. My great-great-grandfather found the place, acquired the house from the Muggles who lived here, and diverted the magical energies of the intersecting ley lines into defensive spells and spatial expansion."

"So the place is even bigger on the inside?" Harry asked looking up to the top of the three story building before following Regulus inside.

"Yes. About thirty or so rooms, I should think, including an orangery on the top floor if Mother never got rid of it. Father was the one who always had to have a fresh orange for breakfast. Oh, and watch out for the troll's leg."

"The wha-OOOF!" Harry said as he tripped and fell over what appeared to be the calf and foot of a troll which had been stuffed and used as an umbrella stand.

"Sorry. Should have remembered. The stand is cursed. Anyone who is descended from House Black but who is not at least three generations Pureblood will be confunded to bang their shin on it if they get too near. Mother's way of establishing dominance, I suppose."

"Charming," Harry said sarcastically. He turned to look down the gloomy hall as Regulus summoned a Lumos. Harry still couldn't use his own wand, and he was annoyed that he hadn't thought to bring a torch. Still, even a single Lumos was enough to reveal how dusty and filthy the house was. Suddenly, both of them jumped in fright at the sound of a hysterical voice shrieking in the gloom.

"WHO IS THERE?! IS SOMEONE THERE?! WHO DARES INTRUDE UPON THE SACRED HAVEN OF THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! WHO! WHO!"

For a few seconds, Regulus went as white as a sheet. But then, he realized that the screaming was coming from a nearby wall-hanging covered by heavy velvet curtains. Steeling himself, Regulus walked over and pulled back the musty curtains to reveal a beautiful oil painting depicting heavyset older woman sitting on an overstuffed chair. She wore elegant clothes and expensive-looking jewelry, but her hair was disheveled and her eyes looked wild. And when she got a look at Regulus, they got even wilder.

"Hello, Mother," he said quietly.

"Regulus," she whispered. "You live? How is this possible?!"

"Grandfather arranged it for me," he replied. "He foresaw the possibility that the Dark Lord might be a monster and that a time might come when I would need to flee him for my own safety."

"But ... why didn't you tell us?" she asked in shock.

"Well to be honest, Mother, I suspected that if you knew I was alive, you would give the information to the Death Eaters as a punishment for not living up to your ... ideals."

The woman's face darkened. "And so we would have! You who turned your back on the Dark Lord! And on the Ancient and Noble House of Black! I see now you're no better than your miserable brother Sirius!"

"Thank you, Mother," he said calmly. "That's perhaps the best compliment you've ever paid me."

Then, he gestured with his wand, and the curtains fell back across Walburga's painting, muffling her words but not silencing them. It sounded to Harry as if the woman had begun weeping and wailing behind her curtain. Regulus turned away from the curtains with a stony expression, and Harry followed him further into the house, carefully picking his way past dusty furniture and old cobwebs. Regulus led the boy into a sitting room and cast his Lumos spell again, but instead of lighting his wand, the spell caused various oil lamps and an overhead chandelier to light themselves. Though visibility improved, the additional light somehow only made the decrepit home even more gloomy and sinister.

"So if you don't mind me asking, exactly what is your relationship with Sirius? I mean, beyond the mere fact that you're brothers. You went to great lengths to rescue him and you just defended him in front of your mother's portrait, but when you're actually with him, you two are at each other's throats."

Regulus sighed. "Honestly, I don't even know myself. I've waited years for the chance to confront Sirius, to admit that he was right and I was wrong, and to beg his forgiveness for my transgressions."

"But?"

"But when I'm actually talking to him, all of the sudden, it all comes back. The hostility we had for each other all through school. His arrogance. His self-righteousness. His vindictiveness. All of it." Regulus rubbed his forehead and then winced from the bruising on his eyes. "Him kicking my arse back at the Manor didn't help, I suppose. Still, there was a reason back at Hogwarts that I made it a project to get you and your brother on better terms. Though I was unsuccessful there, I hope you will take the lessons of Sirius and myself to heart."

"I have. And Jim and I are getting along much better. To be honest, James is the only one I have problem with at the moment, and that's mainly because I still don't understand why he was so hostile before so I don't know how to prevent it happening again."

"So you're no longer seeking revenge against them for abandoning you?"

Harry made a wistful face. "Well, I certainly haven't forgotten about it, but with everything that's going on with Voldemort and the horcruxes, I just don't feel that I have enough hours in the day for a cruel Slytherinesque revenge. So I'm putting it on the back-burner. We'll see how long that lasts."

"Mm-hmm," Regulus nodded. "By the by, why were you so interested in Sirius lopping off my hair when we were kids?"

Harry hesitated. "When I was seven, my Aunt Petunia got mad because she couldn't do anything with my hair ... so she got some clippers and shaved me down to the scalp. I cried all night because I thought I'd have to go to school nearly bald, but the next day, my hair was right back the way it was. That scared her enough for her to never mess with my hair again."

"Interesting. And you're wondering if you have the potential to be a metamorphmagus?" Harry nodded. "Well, your Great-Aunt Cassiopeia had it, so it definitely runs in your bloodline. If you're interested, we can explore that possibility next summer."

"Next summer? Why not now?"

Regulus laughed. "Because you're about to go back to Hogwarts. Shapeshifting takes years to master. If you start training now, there's a risk you might get stuck in a partial transformation for days or even weeks. When I was eight, I once spent four whole days with purple hair, blue skin, and cat-eyes before I could change myself back to normal. And if you get caught as a Metamorphmagus while at Hogwarts, you're on the Conscription List for sure."

"Good point," said Harry as he resigned himself to waiting a year to explore this possible gift.

"Also, spend some time talking to Sirius now that we know he's an Animagus. As your godfather, he may offer to teach you that gift instead. Being an Animagus and a Metamorphmagus are mutually exclusive. It is impossible for a single person to develop both gifts."

Harry nodded. At the moment, he was far more interested in metamorphmagic, in part because he suspected Jim was studying animagic and he had little interest in following in his brother's footsteps. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask Sirius a few questions.

"So where's your house elf?" he asked, changing the subject.

Regulus turned pensive. "I don't know. I'd have thought he'd have shown up by now since we're the first people to come into this house since Mother died." He cleared his throat. "Kreacher!"

There was a loud, angry pop that startled them both, and suddenly there was an aged and decrepit elf standing before them . For a second, he looked up at Regulus with wonder and joy, but then his eyes narrowed.

"Master Regulus ... lives?" he said slowly.

"Yes, Kreacher," Regulus said as he studied his former elf with a sad expression.

"Kreacher grieved for Master Regulus," the elf said in a rasping tone. "Kreacher wept for Master Regulus."

"Kreacher, I'm ... truly sorry to have caused you pain, and I promise I'll make it up to you. But, well, I'm a bit pressed for time, I'm afraid. Could you please bring me the locket that I entrusted to you all those years ago?"

Kreacher stared at Regulus with a disturbingly vengeful expression before popping away.

"He doesn't seem to like you very much," Harry said nervously.

"No, he's obviously more upset than I'd realized because of my deception," Regulus said somewhat guiltily. "He basically raised me, you know."

"Did he?" Harry replied without taking his eyes off the spot Kreacher had just departed. "Well, I'm sure he was a splendid caregiver."

Seconds later, Kreacher returned with the locket in his hands. With exaggerated care, he placed the locket on the floor in front of the two wizards. Then, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Regulus with an intense gleam in his eye. Harry and Regulus looked back and forth between Kreacher, the locket, and each other.

"Thank you, Kreacher, for your ... devoted service," Regulus finally said. "You can, um, return to your other duties now." Kreacher did not move. Then, Regulus looked around the room and ran his fingers across a nearby credenza that was caked in dust. He rubbed his fingers together to get rid of the grime while looking expectantly at the house elf. Finally, with a low grumble, Kreacher popped away.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "A right Mary Poppins, that one."

"Quiet, you. Let's just get this over with."

Harry nodded and carefully moved around the locket so that it was between the two of them. He leaned over to study the snake insignia, took a breath, and then hissed at it.

"Hello? Can you sssspeak with me?"

The locket twitched slightly, and then the S-shaped serpent insignia on the cover slid around in a figure-eight pattern before finally coiling in the center. Then, the tiny snake's head lifted itself up and addressed Harry directly.

"Ssspeaker. What isss thy name?" Regulus suppressed a shudder. Despite the snake's tiny size, its unearthly hissing seemed to echo through the darkened house.

"Harry," the boy hissed in reply. "And what should I call you?"

"Great Sssalazar Ssslytherin never sssaw fit to name me. Call me ... Locket."

"Very well, Locket. What can you tell me of the one who posssssesssed you lassst."

The tiny snake hissed angrily which, ironically under the circumstances, Harry thought was a good sign.

"Powerful isss that one, Little Sssspeaker. Ssssteeped in the darkesst artssss. Even though he issss far away, he leachesss Locket's power for hissss own."

"What can you tell me of other objectsss like yoursssself that he hasss corrupted?"

The locket-snake hissed painfully. "Arggh. That part of the Dark One inssside me awakenssss. It growsss angry at Locket'sss indissscretion. Quickly! Locket only knowsss of one other sssuch vesssel. Yearsss ago, Locket passsed from thossse of the blood to one not of the blood. A vacuoussss cow of the line of Hufflepuff. The Dark One took her family'sss greatessst treasssure when he claimed thisss one. Now, Locket begsss you. Sssstrike down the perversssion and end Locket'sss ssssuffering!"

With one last angry hiss, the snake sank down into the face of the locket which now seem pulse with an unnatural power. Harry looked up at Regulus and nodded. From his book bag, the boy pulled out two pairs of dragonhide gloves and handed one pair over to Regulus before donning the other himself. Next, he pulled a small wooden box out of the bag. Inside were two glistening basilisk fangs which he carefully extracted, again passing one to Regulus who took it with exquisite care before kneeling a few feet from the horcrux.

"You tell it to open, Harry, and I'll strike first. Stand well back and do nothing unless ... well, unless the bloody thing kills me or something. Then, I suppose you're on your own."

Harry nodded and then hissed at the locket. "Open."

There was a soft click and the locket opened. Regulus moved to strike, but before he could, a shockwave of magical force exploded out of the locket knocking both of them to the ground and causing Harry to drop his basilisk fang. Then, an impenetrable black mist erupted from the locket all the way up to the ceiling, accompanied by a hideous SKREETCH that seemed to echo in both their minds despite their respective skills at Occlumency. Harry desperately looked around for his dropped fang while trying to buttress his mental defenses, but despite himself, he glanced up at the mist and saw that some large figure seemed to be moving within it. The mist parted and Harry was left paralyzed with horror.

Looming over him was the shambling, rotted corpse of Vernon Dursley.

"YOU DID THIS TO ME, FREAK!" the maggot-infested figure screamed at him. "LOOK AT ME! YOU'VE KILLED ME! JUST LIKE YOU ALWAYS WANTED!"

"No!" Harry gasped out in terror and guilt. "It wasn't my fault!"

The Vernon-thing didn't answer. It simply issued a bellow of rage and reached for Harry with a clawed hand, and as it did, the creature's entire body dissolved into a storm of doxies that fell on top of the boy who screamed in fear and pain.

"Harry!" Regulus cried out. Then, he focused down on the locket responsible for the nightmare before him. He hefted the basilisk fang and was ready to strike when the black mist twisted and billowed against. And from within it came a second figure. Regulus was prepared mentally for the sight of Eustace Tully looming over him and baying for revenge, but it was no werewolf who stepped out of the mist.

"Hello, pretty boy," said Matilda White with a smile for her husband.

"You ... no ... not real!" Regulus gasped in shock as he tried to fight against every one of his senses that were now leading him astray.

"What does 'real' mean in a world of magic, luv," she said as she reached down to gently graze his cheek with her hand. "Aren't I real enough to touch?"

From somewhere far away, Regulus could hear the sound of someone screaming in agony, but he found he couldn't take his eyes off the image of his wife standing before him, alive once more.

"This isn't ... you're ... oh ... oh Matty, I've missed you so much!" A single tear rolled down the man's cheek.

"Shh, it's okay, my luv. We're together now. That's all that matters." She smiled again. "And not just us. He's waiting for you too."

"Who?" Regulus whispered. And from somewhere nearby, he could hear the sound of a baby's soft gurgle.

Nearby, Harry was on the ground in a fetal position as scores of doxies crawled all over him, stinging him through his clothes and even through his dragonhide gloves. His vision was growing blurry, but he could see Regulus standing nearby, ignoring him as he was transfixed by the image of his late wife. Nearby, Kreacher had returned. He stood at the entrance to the sitting room, watching the scene with quiet amusement. Gritting his teeth through the pain – "Not real! Not real!" he thought desperately – Harry rolled over and tried to pull himself forward with his hands even as the poisonous stings continued.

"Our beautiful Leo is on the other side." Not-Matilda said. "He wants his daddy, Rusty. We both want you to join us. So we can be a family again."

"How?" the man asked in a daze as tears now streamed down his cheeks.

The false-Matilda moved to embrace Regulus warmly, and she whispered gently in his ear."The answer's right there in your hands, pretty boy. One single prick of your skin. And then we can all be together once more. Forever."

Nearby, a quivering hand in a blood-stained dragonhide glove slowly closed around a long sharp pearly-white object.

Not-Matty smiled down at Regulus, and it felt so good to see her pretty blue eyes once more. It had been so long. Regulus grinned joyfully back at the love of his life, barely aware of how his hand rose of its own accord, bringing the basilisk fang ever closer to his throat.

"GAAAAHH!" Harry screamed through the pain as he brought his own basilisk fang down right into the heart of Slytherin's Locket. The false-Matty screamed and then vanished, as did the doxy swarm and the black mist that had created them both. Harry collapsed onto the floor. The agonizing pain was gone, but the memory of it still lingered, like a nightmare from which he couldn't quite wake up.

Regulus looked around wildly for a few seconds after the specter disappeared. Then, he noticed the basilisk fang he was still holding just a few inches from his neck. With a loud cry, he hurled it away down the hall before rushing to check his companion.

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright? Speak to me!"

He rolled Harry over, and the boy's eyes fluttered open. He looked up to regard Regulus with a bleary expression.

"'M ... M'sorry," he said with a slurred voice.

"Sorry? /sniff/ My dear boy, what could you possibly have to feel sorry about?" Regulus asked as he wiped his face, relieved that Harry seemed to be recovering.

"M' sorry about your wife. She was very beautiful."

Regulus smiled and nodded. "Yes Yes, she was. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry your uncle was a grotesque flatulent git."

Despite his pain (and the guilt he still felt over indirectly causing Vernon's death), Harry couldn't help but laugh at Regulus's unkind remark. And with laughter, the pain from his psychic injuries lessened.

Nearby, the locket of Salazar Slytherin lay ruined on the floor, the black lies it whispered silenced forever.

Next: "Reactions and Overreactions (Finale)," in which the Weasleys run afoul of Johnny Law, Mr. X makes a shocking revelation, and the Selwyns hold their dinner party. But what's on the menu?

AN 1: I'm not sure when the next chapter going up because I still have to send my computer off at some point for some hardware issues which means I'll be without it for a week or so. Assume not before July 15 unless I get lucky. Happy 4th of July!

UPDATED 7-17-17 to correct a minor plot hole as a guest reviewer pointed out that Harry should have already known who Wormtail was from the Map.