Author's Note:
This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.
Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.
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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "What's a Little Death Between Friends?" by kathryn518.
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Chapter 6 – The Truth Comes Out, or Close Enough for Government Work
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That was when they recognized love: this torture on seeing someone, the greater torture when they were out of sight. In short, a torture without end.
– The Tin Flute
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Confusion and amusement were warring for dominance within Sirius Black's febrile brain.
Being dragged from his dorm by his thin-lipped Head of House to the Headmaster's Office was not an unusual enough occurrence to warrant much attention. Nor was the fact that the other Marauders were also present. Nor was the cause of their meeting. Frankly, he was surprised that they hadn't been brought up on charges sooner, thanks to Wormtail and Lily's little rampage across Hogwarts. Padfoot had to hand it to the little vermin: it was certainly an impressive feat to prank the entire school in one night. But to somehow convince the staid and stolid Head Girl to join him – and to unleash such chaos openly! Openly defying anyone to stop them or punish them … that was a thing of true audacity, and thus a thing of rare beauty. He just wished that he'd been let in on it. He was an expert in making a disgrace of himself!
Pettigrew was being threatened with hundreds of further points losses and detention until he graduated. A threat that didn't cow the rodent in the slightest. Of course it didn't. He may have been their smallest, weakest, most cowardly, most unintelligent, most uninitiative-having member, but he was a still a Marauder. And Marauders could shrug off punishments like normal wizards shrugged off crippling injuries. Now they were talking about possible expulsion, an even more preposterous proposition. If Wendelin the Weird and Dagfroth the Destroyer could matriculate from Hogwarts without expulsion, there was no way a mere prankster couldn't!
Now they were talking about taking away Evans' badge and bumping her down to being one of the peons like the rest of them. He snorted to himself, as if that were in any way a credible threat. There wasn't a girl in the castle more qualified to be Head Girl than Lily Evans – the very fact that she'd beaten out not only a host of candidates a year older than her, and in their final year of Hogwarts no less, but also bucked over a thousand years of tradition by becoming the first muggleborn Head Girl Hogwarts had ever seen, was proof enough of that. And all at the tender age of 16 to boot!
There was no way the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress and all of their Progressive confederates on the Board of Governors and the Wizengamot would ever strip the first muggleborn Head Girl of her headship in abject disgrace, it would give their faction a hell of a black eye and provide their enemies with ammunition, especially in these fraught times where every faction was angling for any advantage in every arena. Perhaps more importantly, it would make them a laughingstock to the rest of the wizarding world. Firing a Head Girl for pranking people? For participating in a noble tradition as old as the stones of Hogwarts themselves? Riddikulus. Lily was putting on a pretty good show though, caterwauling as if her life were ending. Not a bad performance, Sirius thought, though too melodramatic and overblown to be truly convincing. He made a mental note to offer some pointers at the next opportunity.
It was at this point that things started to get interesting.
The Headmaster revealed that he'd been contacted by his dear friends and allies Fleamont and Euphemia Potter about some seriously concerning problems in their House. This caused James to perk up in interest. It seemed he would finally discover the details behind that vague, maddening letter he'd received from his father a week ago. A short Floo call later, and James' parents were present, along with Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea. Sirius bounded over to give his de facto parents and aunt and uncle fierce, joyful hugs.
When everyone was settled again, Dumbledore revealed his extensive searches amongst the Wizengamot and Ministry records, and what they had revealed. Namely that, through circumstances unknown, the Headship of House Potter had shifted a week or so ago, from Fleamont to an unexpected and improbable party.
"Perhaps you'd like to take up the narrative at this point, Mr Pettigrew?" the Headmaster asked him benevolently, eyes twinkling.
Pettigrew sighed and without a word, stood and held out his right hand. To Sirius' shock, the Black Ring and the Potter Ring appeared on his fingers! This had to be a prank, it just wasn't possible for an unrelated stranger to snatch control of Houses from blood heirs! From the tumult it was clear his reaction was not exceptional. It took a long time for the cacophony to die down. Padfoot merely sat in his seat, trying to absorb the implications. This could be huge! Prongs simply stared in a dazed silence, jaw hanging open.
"Well, so much for keeping things a secret," Peter sighed. Then explained how on the Hogwarts Express he'd somehow received an influx of memories from someone he believed lived some 20 years or so in the future, the impact of such a sudden influx precipitating his prayers at the porcelain altar, where he was discovered by the others. The memories were of a person who was the Heir of both the Potter and the Black lines. The person and his friends had (for some reason unknown to him) undertaken a bizarre time ritual that has sent his memories back in time to him. Peter was under the impression that the identity of the recipient was a mistake, since the memories were scattered at best, unrelated to him and his life, and seemed to contain no instructions.
When Peter recovered from the pwnage, he discovered (to his amazement) the Potter and Black rings on his fingers. No, he had no idea how he'd become the Lords of both Houses. No, he had no idea how to reverse it. Now that Sirius thought about it, Pettigrew had been acting very strange that whole train trip, and that night at the Feast. And he'd been especially eager to go running off at the first opportunity. Weird as it was, things were starting to make more sense (in the most convoluted way possible).
"Well," said Charlus finally, after sharing a long discussion with the other four Potters behind a privacy charm," that is certainly an intriguing story, young man. However, we must insist that, however you might have obtained it, you restore the Lordship of House Potter back to a blood relative immediately."
Peter nodded so vigorously Sirius wondered if his head would bobble off. "Naturally," he said. "I never had any intention of taking anything away from you. Your nephew and your relatives have always been very kind to me, Sirius and Remus. If there's some way to transfer the ring to you, I'm happy to do it."
"Glad to hear it, my boy," Charlus replied with a touch of relief. He must've been designated the spokesman for the rest of them. James still looked furious that his lackey had usurped him in his own House. He kept casting Peter baleful glares. Pettigrew squirmed uncomfortably under their heat.
"So, what do I have to do?"
That stumped everyone. After much hemming and hawing, Dumbledore eventually announced that he would look into it, and advised Fleamont that he engage the Potters' attorneys to do likewise. In the meantime, Peter could formally designate one of them his proxy for the House of Potter, and task them with running the House.
"So will that be you, Mr Charlus? Or Mr Fleamont?" Harry asked politely.
"Certainly not," interjected Aunt Dorea. "It shall be me, young Pettigrew – the men have made quite enough of a hash of our House's business, it's time somebody competent took the reins." She cast a gimlet eye at the others. The three male Potters looked as if they wished to rise in defence of their gender and the past management of the House, but clearly none had the courage to stand up to the redoubtable matriarch.
"Excellent," said Peter happily, completely oblivious to these undercurrents of family politics. "Then it's settled. I will make Dorea Potter-Black the proxy for Potter house, and sign a legal transfer that will take effect on James' 17th birthday. On that day, I will formally renounce my Headship and pass the ring on to him as my Heir. I understand Lords can pass on their titles to the next generation while still living?" he asked the Chief Warlock. Dumbledore nodded. "Done," Peter stated, with uncharacteristic decisiveness. "In the meantime, you can run House Potter however you wish without any interference from me. Good enough?" Charlus and Dorea nodded in satisfaction. James was still glowering.
He turned to look at Sirius. "Padfoot, I'm going to hang on to the Black Ring until you turn 17. Before then, I have a few ideas about how to deal with your 'loving' family." His thin lips stretched into an evil smile. "I've already started cleaning things up."
"By doing what?" Sirius demanded suspiciously.
"Whoa, mate, take it easy! It's not like I'm going to kill them. Though, knowing the Black family, after I'm done with them, they'll wish they were dead. And you want to talk about parents wanting their children dead — chances are Orion and Walburga will have a hit out on my head before the night's end."
"Point," Sirius conceded.
"What did I do? Let's see: I put the fear of Merlin into your parents, locked up the family vaults and reinstated you, Andromeda and her kid into the Black family as full members. Oh, and you're the Black Heir again. I've set up a special vault for you at Gringotts so you can keep living in style." He tossed Sirius a gold vault key. Grinning at Padfoot's speechless state, Peter continued, "But that's only the overture. You haven't seen my opening act yet!"
"Do tell," urged Dumbledore, whose posture and gleaming eyes betrayed his thorough enjoyment of the proceedings.
Peter put on his most innocent expression. "The House of Black, darkest of the dark families, is going to get dragged, kicking and screaming into both the 20th century and into the heart of the Light faction." Sirius' eyes widened. The room was filled with gasps at the audacity.
"Impossible! … They'll never stand for it! … Have you put into a box for worm-food before they'd agree …" and similar watermelon-watermelon sound effects in the background.
Peter replied flippantly, "If they don't like it, then in short order the entire House of Black will comprise only myself, Sirius, Andromeda and Nymphadora. Maybe Regulus too. We'll see how they enjoy being blasted off the family tapestry and left disinherited and penniless." His words were light, but laced with steel. A fierce joy in his eyes.
Sirius couldn't help it. A deep guffaw broke free of his throat. Before he knew it, he was sprawled out on the rich carpet of the Headmaster's office, howling in mirth, so hard he was worried he'd cough up a lung or split a gall bladder. Peter laughed along with him.
"You do realise, dear boy," Dumbledore intoned solemnly, "that this would be a major political earthquake? You may well become a marked man for such a radical realignment. There would be no shortage of parties who would want you dead for it."
"Story of my life," he shrugged. And didn't that just beg a whole lot of questions! Peter looked at Aunt Dorea. "Madame Potter-Black, would it be possible for you to call a meeting of all the Wizengamot representatives who are aligned with the Light? There's no rush, whenever it's most convenient. I presume a formal alliance would need some sort of magical treaty to be agreed and signed?" he asked respectfully. She nodded, still speechless. "Good. Then I will instruct my new proxy for House Black to contact you and make arrangements for such an alliance."
"I am quite sure that the Light families will be falling over themselves in their anxiousness to be a part of your project," the grand lady remarked.
Dumbledore coughed delicately. "There is still one other, major issue regarding the House of Black which stands unaddressed. That is the matter of your marriage."
"Marriage?" asked Peter, forehead crinkling and nose twitching in a very mousy manner. "What do mean? Don't tell me there's some outstanding betrothal contract that mandates Lord Black marry some woman or creature and I'm the first person in however long that meets the criteria?"
The Headmaster's eyes twinkled in silent laughter. "Nothing so dramatic, I assure you. I am referring to this." He produced an ancient, greying parchment, almost as large as his desk (where on earth has he been hiding that? Padfoot speculated). The Great Seal of the Wizengamot embossed in the centre. Sirius smirked to himself: even the illustrious Leader of the Light wasn't above filching things from his place of work whenever he felt the urge.
A parchment that replicated the information on the Black Family Tapestry. At the bottom, in golden script (to indicate the current Lord), was the name 'Peter Pettigrew-Black'. A black line linked him to Sirius Black, implying that Peter was his son, of all things. There were no other lines linking it to any other name of a Black family member. Of far greater interest however, was that Pettigrew's golden name was linked by a horizontal bar to a name gilt in silver (to indicate the current Lady): Lily Evans-Black.
Pandemonium erupted once more. Lily was bellowing something, Merlin, that girl had a set of lungs on her when fired up. After plenty of yakking, insults, accusations and hurried explanations, it eventually came out that Peter and Lily had snuck off to the Forbidden Forest the night before to do some weird secret ritual that only the Head of House Black knew about. And that they refused to elaborate on. Which was why they'd gone crazy yesterday and the day before, their cores had been out of balance or something.
Dumbledore drew on his vast knowledge of tedious detail to deduce that, by jointly doing a ritual that was only intended to be undertaken by the sole Lord of Black, they had somehow become magically linked. Some complicated rot about being married according to magic but not in any legal sense of the word, or some such, Sirius had stopped listening by that point.
"My dear girl," Dumbledore asserted, "the fastest and most effective way to test our theory is to summon the Blacks' house elf. If it comes to you when called, that would be strong evidence in its favour."
"Uh, Black family house elf, come to me?" she called. With a pop, the surly elf was there.
"Unworthy mudblood bitch of a mistress wishes Kreacher?" he spat hatefully. Numbly she shook her head, and he disappeared again with a contemptuous sniff.
"Most interesting," the Headmaster mused. "Now, if you would be so kind Miss Evans, try to summon the ring of Lady Black? Just concentrate on it appearing on your finger."
Lily obliged. After a minute or two of furious concentration, there was a flash, and a silver ring adorned her ring finger.
"So does this mean we're married?" she asked sickly.
"Only in the eyes of Magic, child," Dumbledore comforted her. "Not legally. You can still marry somebody else under the law, and you will still have to register it with the Ministry and muggle authorities like normal."
"You said 'in the eyes of Magic' – so we're like soulmates or something?"
"Of course not," scoffed Professor McGonagall. "What a ridiculous notion, Miss Evans; you've been reading far too many muggle romance storybooks. Having a magical bond with someone isn't the same thing as merging your soul – a witch or wizard has a magical bond with anyone they have signed a magical contract with, for example. You are not compelled to do anything, in your case." Lily sighed in relief. Her Head of House patted her shoulder comfortingly.
Charlus was chortling to himself. "A muggleborn Lady Black! My, won't Orion be displeased! This'd almost be worth turning up to Wizengamot meetings, just to hear the old windbag huff and puff."
James (sadly, but entirely predictably) did not take the news well. "I can't believe it, Peter!" he bellowed. "I just can't believe it! How could you? First you steal my inheritance, and now you steal my bride? Just how low can you sink to take what's mine? What about your oath, you backstabbing, cowardly, thieving, dirty, double-crossing rat!?"
Pettigrew shrank against the full force of James' belligerence. But Lily, unfortunately, brilliant witch that she was, latched onto the most important word in that boiling sentence-stew.
"What oath are you talking about, Potter?"
Their bespectacled friend froze, suddenly realising that he'd said too much. "Just a turn of phrase, Evans. Nothing to worry about," he simpered smoothly.
"What. Oath.?" she growled through clenched teeth.
"James made the Marauders swear a wizarding oath on their magic that they'd never kiss you or date you or do anything else of that sort," interjected Remus. Prongs threw him a betrayed look. Ratted out by a fellow Marauder! Moony was unfazed. "The cat's out of the bag, Prongs. Sorry. There's no point in pretending now. It's best if it all comes out tonight."
"And what," Lily asked sweetly, "pray tell, does 'it all' refer to?"
Remus heaved a regretful sigh. "We were a bunch of thirdies, we didn't know better. Nobody had a clue how serious magical oaths are. The three of us thought girls were icky, and so we didn't have a problem with James demanding we swear that oath or he'd stop being friends with us." Euphemia shot a disappointed glare at her son, who cringed.
"Go on," said Lily mildly.
"If the Gryffindor Quidditch team wanted James to play Chaser, they all had to swear that oath too, otherwise he threatened to quit the team forever. If a student wanted his help tutoring, they had to swear the oath. Same if a student wanted to borrow his broom. Or wanted him to smuggle in contraband for them. Or to prank someone else. Or to help them brew love potions. Or to give them an alibi. Or to stay at his house over the holidays. Or to get him to stay at their house over the holidays. Or to teach them an unusual spell. Or to use one of his quills. Or to save them a desk. Or to help them carry something. Or to open the Fat Lady to let them into the common room. Or to open a door for them. Or to give them directions. Or to pick up an object they'd dropped. Or to … well, you get the idea," Remus finished lamely.
"How many …?" she choked.
"Have to be at least half the castle," Remus responded sheepishly. "I'm pretty sure it was only males though. Girls had to give him candies or gossip about you, and such. So at least the entire female population is in the clear …" This did not appear to mollify the Head Girl.
Sirius winced. When it all got added together like that, it did sound awfully over-the-top.
Lily's face had become increasingly white over the course of Moony's explanation, except for a single bright red spot in the middle of each cheek. At the end, she wordlessly got up and walked with deliberate purpose to the opposite side of the office. With a swish of her wand, a silencing charm was raised, and Lily began to pace back and forth, gesticulating on occasion, as she silently ranted. Professor McGonagall looked torn between wanting to comfort her favourite student, and tear strips out of her former-favourite student.
Eventually Lily calmed. Ceasing her furious pacing, she cancelled the silencing charm and returned to the group. She had a rather terrifying grin on her face. "So you like magical oaths, do you Potter?" she said, in a slow, deliberate, deadly cadence that could kill a man at 50 paces. "Well, I have an oath for you: I, Lily Evans, do hereby swear on my magic that I shall never kiss, hug, date, be intimate with, marry or otherwise have any romantic relations with James Potter so long as I shall live – so mote it be!"
The tell-tale flash of light and silent blast of power indicated to all that the magically binding oath had taken effect. James looked as if someone had punched him in the gut with the shards of his own racing broom.
Peter was muttering to himself. Sirius' sharp canine-enhanced ears managed to catch, 'started dating later on … Head Boy and Girl … once he deflated his head some … miscalculation … stupidstupidstupid!'
"Hang on a sec," James protested, "I just thought of something: since Peter took the oath, how is it possible that they're magically married?" He said that last with infinite distaste.
The Chief Warlock polished his monocle and chuckled. "Ah, the vicissitudes of youth. Mr Potter, a magical oath based on the feeble power of a third year student would not hold a candle to an ancient familial rite of marriage enacted by a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. Any contradictory oaths, especially with such weak magical force behind them, would be easily superseded."
"Dragon dung," James deflated again.
"Language!" Euphemia scolded.
"You keep saying you have memories of 'someone' who lived 20 years from now. Yet you speak in vague generalities. Who was this person?" queried Fleamont out of the blue, in his calm, steady cadence.
Peter winced, as if he really didn't want to answer that question and had been hoping that nobody would think to ask. But looking around, he seemed to realise that no one in the room was going to let him off the hook. So he sighed, slumped back into his chair, and bit the bullet.
"Harry James Potter, only son of James Potter and Lily Potter-Evans," he admitted miserably.
Another shocked silence. Sirius felt like he was watching one of those muggle Mexican soap-operas. This had all the same sort of twists and turns and astounding developments to keep the viewer on the edge of their seat. Pity there were no surprise pregnancies (yet), or mysterious doppelgangers, or faked deaths, or people coming back from the dead. All he needed was the popcorn. With caramel and butter. Mmmm aaargghhh. He wondered if there was some way to convince the Hogwarts elves to bring some to him without alerting the others. Or if he could sneak out to the kitchens and back undetected.
"YES!" James cheered, the most animated he'd been the whole evening. He jumped out of his seat and began vigorously performing his happy dance (complete with the lewd pelvic thrusting that Sirius had taught him). "I knew it! I KNEW we were destined to be soulmates, Evans! Our love has had to endure your constant hatred, but this just proves it survives and flourishes in the end regardless! It's destiny! Thankyou Fate, you wonderful, gorgeous goddess!"
Sirius applauded Prongs' dance number enthusiastically.
"Ah yeah, about that," Peter muttered in embarrassment at his kinda-father's behaviour, "that may not happen anymore; what with Lily's magical oath and all."
The Head Girl, who'd been cringing at the obscene display her would-be husband was presenting to the room, immediately perked up. "Hey, you're right – I'm saved!" she cheered.
"Oh yeah," James immediately deflated. "That damn oath. Merlin Lily, why did you do that? Stop testing our love!" he whined plaintively. Lily responded by standing up and very deliberately performing her own happy dance. Though hers was much more slow and ballet-like.
"So you know what's going to happen to all of us?" asked Euphemia curiously. While the children's histrionics were always entertaining to watch, there were important considerations to importantly consider.
"Oh heavens no! This 'Harry Potter' person lived 20 years from now, and was never taught anything about this period of time. Apparently Binns is just as effective a history teacher in the future as he is now." – Sirius could not prevent a snigger from escaping his lips – "Nor did he show much interest in learning about our bit of history for himself. His knowledge of everyone in this room is extremely limited. I don't think he even knew your first names, Mr and Mrs Potter. And I very much doubt that his 'past' had a Peter Pettigrew who got messages from the future! I'm sure my behaviour since the start of term has been dramatically different from what the ordinary Peter would've done, as a result of these memories."
"No kidding, mate," Sirius agreed. It was almost as if his friend was a completely different person. A much more decisive and charismatic person. One that the Great Sirius Orion Black (the Great S.O.B.) might even deign to take notes off of.
"So there you have it," Peter concluded. "The timeline is now different from what he knew, so any knowledge he had is superseded by new events." Euphemia and Fleamont looked vaguely disappointed by this. "Lily's behaviour is just one example."
"Hey!" she objected, irritated at being singled out. "I take exception to that! I'm a rational and logical individual." Sirius thought she sounded fairly believable; she might even believe it.
"Peter," Remus piped up nervously, "Why didn't you tell us you have some memories of the future? Why keep it a secret? I mean, think of how useful they would be."
Pettigrew looked at his fellow Marauder as if he were mad. "Tell people? Are you nuts, Moony? If word got around that I know stuff from the future, I can guarantee you three things will occur: (1) people would swarm to me demanding to know their futures, like a bloody fortune-teller! (2) Whenever anything bad happens, people will immediately blame me for not telling them about it, or preventing it. Even if it were something my other self didn't know and would have no conceivable way of finding out! Humans are irrational beasts at the best of times. And (3) Voldie would find out and send the Death Munchers to kidnap me and wring every scrap of information out of my brain using whatever tortures they could imagine in their sick and twisted minds."
Remus, Lily and Professor McGonagall paled noticeably at the thought.
"And of course," he added, "there's that whole 'his information is now useless' thing."
"You gotta admit, this all sounds awfully far-fetched," commented Remus reasonably.
"I understand that it sounds like a wild story," Peter admitted. "But there are a couple of things I can do to corroborate it. With your permission, Headmaster?" At Dumbledore's nod, he called, "Kreacher!" And with a pop, the bane of Sirius' childhood appeared in the office. Padfoot shook his head. His lingering doubts that this was all the second part of Wormtail's extremely elaborate prank of the century, finally dissipated. There was no way Kreacher would ever follow the orders of a 'stinking' halfblood, especially one who wasn't part of the family. Only Lord Black could command the House's house elf.
"Go to the 'Come and Go Room' here at Hogwarts. If you don't know where it is, ask the Hogwarts elves. When you're there, go into the 'Room of Forgotten Things'. Find the diadem sitting on top of a bust, it looks something like this." He grabbed a parchment and quill of the Headmaster's desk, not even bothering to ask permission, and quickly scrawled a crude picture and gave it to the elf. "It reeks of dark magic. Fetch it and bring it here at once. Do not go anywhere else, do not do anything else until this task is completed. You are forbidden to speak of anything that's happened today to anyone, human, elf, painting, ghost, recording device, or anything. Go now!"
Peter forestalled their questions until a grumbling Kreacher returned. The elf was gone for less than 15 minutes. He reappeared holding a gleaming silver diadem encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. Looked like one of the headpieces the Ladies Malfoy were rumoured to wear to Royal Balls in days gone by. Harry levitated it over to the Headmaster.
"The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw," Professor McGonagall breathed in awe. She and Lily approached the artefact and examined it with something akin to religious veneration.
Dumbledore had his wand out and was casting diagnostic charms furiously. Abruptly he ordered, "Nobody touch it!" The room froze. This was not his usual easy-going, genial, half-wit tone of voice, but a sharp, implacable word of command from the Leader of the Light. Lily, who had been about to reach out to caress the cool metal, withdrew her hand as if it'd been burned. Very slowly and deliberately, Dumbledore cast a range of other spells, brow becoming increasingly thunderous. An ominous silence fell as the rest of the party held their breath.
"Albus, what is it?" McGonagall was getting visibly agitated at his uncharacteristic behaviour.
"A most foul and horrible act," he whispered. And then to his second-in-command, and the rest of the company, "Something that is highly classified and cannot under any circumstances be disclosed to unauthorised parties. I am sorry, my friends, but it cannot be avoided." The Headmaster's head swivelled slowly to look at Pettigrew, who met his eyes unflinchingly. They appeared to have a silent conversation for some time. "Is this what I believe it to be, Mr Pettigrew?" His voice was cold ice. Peter nodded firmly. "And are there more?" Another nod. "You know how many? And where?" Another nod.
Pettigrew gestured with his head towards a locked cabinet in the corner of the room. "If you would, Professor, it would probably be faster than words."
"Of course." The two rose and a flick of the Headmaster's wand opened the doors to reveal the artefact within. Padfoot's eyes widened yet again (he seemed to be doing that a lot today; just how many more surprises were in store for him?) at the sight of a device so rare he had only ever read about them in the tatty, older volumes in the Black Library. Dumbledore was now holding his wand to Peter's head and extracting strand after strand of glowing energy and placing them carefully into the rune-inscribed bowl. Finally it was completed and the two stepped towards the bowl. With a flash, they were gone.
"Will someone please explain what's going on?" asked Remus politely.
"That's a Pensieve, Lupin," Lily explained, still eyeing the diadem. She and McGonagall were staring warily at the object, as if afraid it would sprout limbs and attack someone. "It allows you to see thoughts and memories of another person. The two of them are no doubt reviewing whatever memories Peter claims he received from this future Potter."
"I never thought I'd see one in real life," Sirius commented. He got up and walked around it, glancing over the complex runic array that encompassed it. "It's really, seriously ancient and complicated magic. Only the highest-level enchanters can make them. I wonder where Dumbles got it?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore," corrected his Head of House absently, "has travelled far and wide and collected many strange and wonderful artefacts. And if you bothered applying yourself in Ancient Runes for once, Mr Black, you may have the opportunity to examine similar items up close."
"But then I'd have to study," Sirius shot back cheekily, making the final word sound like the foulest of diseases.
"That is the entire point of Hogwarts, Mr Black," she replied, somewhat sharply.
"But if I studied too hard then terrible things may happen," he shivered dramatically. "I could turn into a swot – or worse, turn into her!" His finger swung and pointed adversarially, a j'accuse towards the most terrifying thing Padfoot could ever imagine transfiguring into: Lily Evans.
The terrifying thing in question rolled her eyes, but her response was stymied by the return of the two memory-voyagers. Dumbledore looked as if he'd aged 100 years in a couple of minutes. And been run over by a street-sweeper. Which had paused to back over him a few more times. And then stolen his gold-purse. Sinking down heavily into his chair, the Chief Warlock raised his wizened hands and rested his head in them.
"What did you show him?" Sirius whispered conspiratorially. "He looks like he just saw the end of the world."
"Just some memories that Future-Him gave to the person who's memories I've got. Which Future-Dumbledore had collected from other people's memories," Peter whispered back. "So it's like memories of memories of memories. Hmmm, I wonder how many times you can do that before the quality starts to degrade. Like taping copies of copies of other tapes. Or can memories be replicated forever …?"
"Albus?" Charlus queried worriedly.
"I am fine my friends," the old man said tiredly. "I have … simply received one too many shocks today. At my age, one cannot handle too many surprises piling up on top of the other. If you please, I request that we continue this discussion another time. I must … I must think on this. In the meantime, I must ask all of you, by all that you hold sacred, to not breathe a word of what has transpired tonight. It could mean the difference between life and death for many." He stood. "I feel I must retire for the night. Please feel free to continue using my office for as long as you wish. Fawkes!" With a musical chirp, the restored-and-now-magnificent-once-more bird fluttered over to Dumbledore and perched on his shoulder. The old man staggered away to his private bedroom, levitating the diadem in front of him as he went, and shut the door firmly.
With his exit, the rest of the room seemed to let out a breath they hadn't realised they were holding, and the tension flowed away.
"I do believe that Professor Dumbledore is correct," Professor McGonagall opined. "It may be best for all of us to retire."
"If you'll permit me, Professor," Charlus said. "There is still one minor matter that needs to be resolved before the evening is through." He gestured to the stack of legal papers on the Headmaster's desk, and smirked at Peter's dismayed groan.
The corners of McGonagall's lips curled upwards. "Quite right, Mr Potter. It is important for students to learn the full weight of their responsibilities to our world. What better opportunity than right now?"
"You're evil, you know that," grumbled Peter.
His Head of House favoured him with a reproving glare. "I suggest you get to work, Mr Pettigrew, if you wish to complete all of your paperwork before dawn. Rest assured that you have an exemption from the curfew rules for this night only, in light of your official lordly duties."
Pettigrew did not seem thrilled by such a prospect, muttering something that sounded a lot like 'hand's going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow'.
Lily and Remus decided to call it a night and returned to their dorms, James following along on autopilot, still wearing a shell-shocked expression. Padfoot really couldn't blame the guy. Sure, Prongs could've handled the whole situation with a boatload more grace and tact (and let's face it, if Sirius Black is telling you that you need to act more tactfully, you KNOW you have a real problem!), but it wasn't every day a man gets the rug of his entire life/hopes/dreams pulled out from under him in the space of a couple of hours. He sighed to himself. James was going to be a right wreck for ages. Padfoot'd have to think of some way to cheer him up. Get his mind off his troubles and learn to embrace whatever life presented him with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. Yeah, this was going to be a bitch to manage.
There was silence for a time, broken only by the scratches of the quills that Charlus and Fleamont were using to fill in blank spaces of forms, and that Peter was using to sign and authorise the numerous documents. Halfway through one such document, Pettigrew suddenly lifted his head and addressed Aunt Dorea. "Madame Potter, I know I've asked a lot of you tonight," he requested politely, "But if you could possibly do me one more favour I would be forever grateful?"
"And what would that be, young Lord?" she asked, a regal eyebrow arching. "After the revelations of tonight, I wonder if there be any secrets remaining in the world."
Peter smiled wearily. "Nothing so dramatic. I would like you to deliver a letter and an offer of investiture to one of your relatives."
"That is all?"
"Ahh… if you could possibly persuade her to accept, that would be most appreciated."
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Healer Theodore 'Ted' Tonks eyed the rather overweight and overpale sixth-year student, more than a bit impressed at the way the hypothyroidic-looking boy had managed to separate and isolate him from the other Healers at St Mungos.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, trying and succeeding to look friendly. Being a former Hufflepuff gave him enormous advantages in bedside manner. "Do you have a medical issue you want me to take a look at?"
"You've married a former member of my House," the student said bluntly. "Her uncle has already thrown her out of the family and disinherited her. This won't be enough for her aunt, who's probably already put a hit out on her: Andromeda'll likely be killed along with you and your entire family."
"Are you threatening me?" Ted growled.
"Warning you," the boy replied. "I almost forgot: my name is Peter Pettigrew, the new Head of House Black."
"Ted Tonks," he said dryly.
"I know."
"So I see. Why come to me? Why not Andromeda?"
"Because Andromeda doesn't know me from Bill Wyman. And she'd never have been stupid enough to be led to ground of my choosing," Peter said cheerfully. "And she's also a lot more dangerous than you." The boy paused to think. "Oh, and she'd probably hex me a few times just on general principle so that her former family members wouldn't think she was getting soft before she went anywhere with me, and then she'd hex me a few times so I didn't look so pretty that the other Healers start wondering what we were up to when they couldn't see us."
"Oh." Ted found it hard to believe that any female would be suspected of indecent dealings if left alone with this 'fine' specimen of manhood.
"And that's assuming she didn't decide that it would be safer to wipe my memories and enact her escape plan. This way, I have a hostage in case she comes charging in."
"Hostage?"
"Touching that door handle was a very bad idea," the boy explained. "Not as bad as if one of the other Blacks were the one who wanted to meet with you, but bad enough to at least make her think about things before she started hexing. You may want to tell your wife that when you see her."
Ted closed his eyes and slowly counted to 10. His wife was lucky that she was gorgeous, fun to be around, blessed with a delightfully dry sense of humour, and the mother of his adorable bundle of joy, or he'd be giving some serious thought to whether it was all worth it. "Alright, what do you want?"
"To help you of course," the boy said, looking at him like he was as dim as one of the Carrow twins. "Why else would I have arranged this meeting?"
Ted closed his eyes and counted to 20. "Exactly how can you help us?"
"I'm the Lord. Means I get to use all sorts of stupid rules that haven't been used in forever," Peter explained slowly and clearly. "I'm going to use one of them to give Andy a bit of cover. Won't do much for you or your family if the other Blacks went all out, but at least she and Nymphadora will be safe."
"That's something, I suppose," Ted allowed.
"And I should be able to help with that if Andy cooperates," Peter continued. "All I need from you is your signature on some documents, and your price."
"Price for what?"
"The price for you. To be sold as a slave, your family needs to receive something of equivalent value in return or it doesn't work," Peter explained.
"You want to do WHAT to me?!"
"Sell you to Andy as a slave, of course."
"How am I going to ... how is that even legal?"
"Normally it wouldn't be," Peter admitted, "but you're a muggleborn so it's allowed in your case."
"What?!"
"Purebloods or halfbloods generally can't own purebloods or halfbloods as slaves, though there are several loopholes. Muggleborn certainly can't own purebloods or halfbloods, or even other muggleborn or muggles as slaves. But purebloods can own muggleborn and muggles as slaves, without restriction. Sometimes halfbloods can too in very restricted circumstances. So you're in luck!"
"Lucky am I? Oh joy."
"Save the sarcasm, you suck at it," Peter replied, his tone indicating that his opinion of the man's intelligence had dropped yet again. "Let's cut to brass tacks: the Black Family Rules prohibit any member of the Black family from marrying muggles or muggleborn, and some categories of halfblood. Unless you're the Head – which neither of you are – who can do whatever they please. Violation of the family Rules is grounds for expulsion, and other family members have free rein to 'punish' the violators. Historically, said violators tended to vanish from the world. Occasionally a piece was found here, and other piece there. You get the idea. Andy's marriage to you puts all three of you right in the cross-hairs; however if you're her slave, then everything is hunky dory – the Rules don't prohibit the owning of muggleborn slaves, in fact they actively encourage it; family members with muggleborn slaves tend to gain prestige and higher status, more often than not. With you as her slave rather than her husband, I can readmit her back into the Black family. Which then gives Nymphadora, and you to a certain extent, status and legal protections that you otherwise wouldn't have. So, what do you say?"
"You do realise we're already married, right? Enslaving me to her doesn't change the fact that she's my wife."
"Did you get your marriage licence in the muggle world or with the Ministry?"
"The muggle world," Ted admitted sourly.
"Then there's no problem, is there?"
"I'm going to have to think about this …"
"Very prudent. I'd be pretty worried for the future of the Tonks family if you believed the first cock-and-bull story some stranger right off the street told you. Check it out with Andy, and you'll find out I'm on the level. Oh, there's one other thing: if she agrees, there's something I want from her in return for reinstating her as a Black. I'll even pay her for it …"
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Despite having gone there directly from the side-office he'd been corralled into, his wife Andromeda Tonks née Black was waiting in his private (supposedly secure) office when he arrived. "How did you get to St Mungos so fast!? I haven't even sent you my message! And how did you get into my office? The personnel wing is supposed to be the most strongly warded place in Britain outside of the DoM!" Ted greeted his beloved life-partner.
His 17-year old spouse raised a perfectly formed eyebrow and twitched her lips in a way that attracted the entirety of his attention.
"Right," he coughed. "Uh, this way." A few silent minutes later and they were outside the door to the side-office in question.
"Wait outside," Andromeda ordered. "I may have to be a bit short with my precocious new Head of House, and I would prefer for you not to see me like that."
"Whatever you think is best," he said doubtfully. "Uh, before you go in ..."
"Yes?"
"He says he coated the doorknob with something before I met with him ..."
"It's been removed now," Andromeda purred, with another fascinating lip twitch. "He should know what I would do to him if I detected it and he'd also know that I would detect it."
"I didn't," Ted admitted without shame. "He wanted me to make sure you knew that too."
"Of course he did," Andromeda sighed. The girl regarded him silently for a few minutes. "But I still want to keep you."
"That's good to hear." He didn't laugh.
"This shouldn't take long," she promised before stepping into the room.
"Hello, Mrs Tonks," Harry said happily. Merlin, it was so good to see Andromeda again! He'd forgotten how much he'd missed his aunt. Although with her barely a year older than his new body, he guessed he'd have to settle for elder sister or cousin henceforth. "How are you, cousin?" He tried the word out.
Cousin Andy … I approve of the way it rolls off the tongue, the Otter pronounced.
Prek! the Owl agreed.
She raised an eyebrow as his familiar form of address but didn't comment on it. "Why are you here?"
"Because Dorea Potter-Black refused to approach you on my behalf! Something about owning up to my own responsibilities or some rot," he grumbled, a touch petulantly.
The corners of her lips twitched up a bit at that, it did sound like something Aunt Dorea would say. "I understand that on top of turning House Black upside-down and side-to-side, you are meddling in my relationship?"
"As is one of my responsibilities as the Head of House and lord of all I survey," Harry agreed. "As you're no doubt already aware, your parents and aunt and uncle are violently displeased at your wedding a muggleborn, but the two of you look good together, so I've decided to arrange things so that it won't be a problem."
"I see." The expression on her face would have done bad things for Ted's heart-rate and sent most Death Eaters backing warily away. "How exactly are you going to accomplish this?"
"I'm going to enslave Ted to you," Harry said cheerfully. "That way, the family can't possibly object to you keeping him around underfoot in your house every day. Or him hanging around all the time whenever you visit the relatives. The rest is up to you, but don't worry, I've got that part figured out too."
Thank Merlin for all those long nights listening to Aunt Andromeda rant about her crazy former relatives! the Grim cheered.
"Oh?"
"Just be sure to tell your parents and aunt and uncle that the main reason you're going along with this is because you want someone you can easily dispose of if the mood takes you, without the Black family accounts taking too much of a hit," Harry told her. "Be sure to mention his other qualities as justification for why you haven't done it yet, and the fact that Healers are so expensive these days so it just makes economic sense to have one on hand that you never have to pay. But play up the whole convenience thing."
"That sounds entirely too much like one of my aunt's arguments," Andromeda said coolly.
"Yup," Lord Black agreed with entirely too much cheer. "Which is why it'll work. Your uncle Orion's got years of experience dealing with Walburga."
"That –" Andromeda paused to consider the matter. "Is a valid point," she conceded reluctantly. She brandished her wand. "Do I have to remind you of how displeased I will be if this goes badly?"
"Do I have to remind you of the fact that I had time to prepare this room?" Harry shot back.
Andromeda sighed, her wand disappearing back into its holster. "I'm going to have another talk with Ted about how important it is to be cautious."
"I can teach him," Harry volunteered generously. "I wouldn't want you to have to do anything that might endanger your relationship."
"I use positive reinforcement with him," Andromeda stated. "I'll explain what that means when you're older and know enough to be embarrassed by what I'm telling you."
"You're only a year older than me!" the tubby boy objected.
"Though I will keep your offer in mind," she said warmly. "Thank you, 'cousin'."
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"So how'd it go?"
"Hmmm?" Andromeda regarded her soon-to-be-official slave through half-lidded eyes.
"The meeting with Orion?"
"I find myself having to revise my opinion of our new Lord," she admitted.
"In what way?"
"The entire meeting went exactly as he predicted," she replied. "I even got a nice note from Aunt Walburga thanking me for being so considerate of the family's financial situation. Only threatened my death for disgracing the House by marrying filth below my station six times."
"That's nice?!"
"For her, writing to a blood-traitor like myself, that's extremely polite," she sniffed disdainfully.
"I take it she's sort-of okay with you because she thinks you married me for my family's great wealth," he sighed. Better than he expected and bearable since he knew it wasn't true.
"No. Because the fact that you're a muggleborn means that it will be relatively simple and inexpensive for me to dispose of you if I grow tired of you or if you annoy me in some way. It was one of the arguments suggested by 'Cousin' Pettigrew."
"You used it?"
"I am a Black," Andromeda pointed out with what, under different circumstances, would be a sultry grin. "Of course you now realize what a bad idea it would be to ever think about divorcing me. You did promise to take care of me for the rest of my life when you heard how my uncle was likely to react to our marriage."
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"And just where have you been, mister?"
"Out," Harry relied sulkily. Sounding remarkably like a petulant teenager who'd been caught out of bounds. Which is exactly what he was.
"Doing what?" The Head Girl jabbed her quill at him in a vaguely threatening gesture.
Just needs the final elongated loop at the end and it'd be a perfect Confrigio, the Lynx noted critically.
Mary MacDonald immediately slipped into a chair next to her best friend. The drama these two generated was never unentertaining.
Harry took a quick glance around the common room. A few Gryffs scattered here and there in study groups, some Koldovstoretz students huddled around the fire, a lone Durmstrang girl serenely composing a letter with a peacock feather quill. No Marauders in sight, except for a dozing Remus – curled up in an armchair in the corner – but still too many eyes and ears for this conversation. "Had to go to St Mungos to get something fixed," he replied reluctantly, hating that he found it near-impossible to lie to her under direct questioning. It was inexplicable, really: the way he'd grown up, lying had become second nature. With the whole world watching you suspiciously, if you wanted to escape trouble or to avoid unjust punishments, you quickly learned to lie hard, lie fast and lie convincingly. (Pretending to be a mediocre duffer was another vital survival strategy, one that had served him well in primary school, was a mixed bag of results at Hogwarts, and failed completely at the Auror Academy. There, if you pretended to suck at your job, you spent a week fighting Robbie the Remedial Wrestling Robot to 'brush up' on your skills. He'd logged more hours with 'Robbie The Wrecking Ball' than the rest of his Auror intake combined. Merlin, he hated that damn golem.) Which is why it was so frustrating that all she had to do was turn those piercing emerald orbs onto him and he was putty. Maybe it was a side effect of the ritual? Maybe you could no longer hide secrets from a person you had bared your soul and magical core to so intimately? He'd have to test whether it worked both ways.
A perfect crimson eyebrow arched. "Oh? And what can St Mungos cure for you that Madame Valentine cannot? I mean, seeing as you've already fixed your most serious medical problem," she said sarcastically, eyes flicking to his now-no-longer prominent overbite and normal-sized front teeth.
Oh great, she's obviously still mad at you for that ritual last week. Oh, and for wrecking the school in the aftermath. And for knocking her magical core out of whack. And almost losing her the Head Girl badge. And for you accidentally marrying her off to you. But honestly, when's she going to let it go? It's starting to get ridiculous, in my professional opinion, the Grim pontificated.
She has been spending a lot of time muttering things about being married to her son, or what she was going to do, or what her parents were going to say, and so forth, the Otter murmured worriedly.
Well, do you have any suggestions for me? Harry asked her. You know, from a female's perspective?
Harry James Potter, I may be a female Otter, but I'm still part of your psyche! I can't give you any new information! she huffed.
"Well …"
"And don't tell me it was Dragon Pox! I know for a fact that the Nurse inoculates every student who hasn't been vaccinated in the first week of first year."
"To get a face-lift and tummy tuck, of course," he posed dramatically, twisting back and forth for full effect. "Two for one special all weekend. It's not much but it's a start … "
"I find that very hard to believe," she said flatly.
"Bite your tongue! I'll not hear a word against Dr Tonks and his highly professional (and highly discreet) team of Cosmetic Healers!"
"You look exactly the same as you did last night."
"The sign of a well-done nip 'n tuck is that nobody notices anything different," he stated confidently.
Lily merely glared at him, fists on her hips. She cut a surprisingly intimidating figure for a five and a half foot teenager who was sitting behind a study desk.
Damn, my strategy of giving overly-ridiculous responses to avoid having to answer her questions doesn't seem to be working!
"Uh, would you believe, to remove a sub-dermal haematoma?"
"I find that hard to believe, as well."
"Would you believe, tar-lung?"
"Nope."
"Tennis elbow?"
"Nuh ah."
"Quidditch knee?"
"No."
"How about Scamander's Scabies?"
"Niet."
"The dreaded Flamel Flatulence?"
"Pshaw!"
"Hysterectomy?"
"Get serious."
"Achy-breaky pelvis?"
"No."
"Geostigma?"
"Nup."
"Footrot?"
"Try again."
"Smallpox?"
"It's been eradicated."
"The Black Death?"
"No."
"The Red Death?"
"Next."
"The Yellow Peril?"
"Nein."
"Ovary transplant?"
"Non."
"Uh … leprosy?"
"…"
"Ye saying ye got appendages droppin' off, lad?" Mary chortled, examining him from head to toe. "I dinna see any missin' fingers, so it must be from parts that're hidden from polite society, eh?"
"Mary!" snapped a scandalised Lily.
Harry eyed the girl speculatively. Dark auburn hair, rash of freckles dusting her cheeks, blue eyes with bright, piercing sparkles, almost like they belonged to a more vivacious Dumbledore. A girl of sudden, darting action and loud, boisterous laughter. Thick brogue and fiery temper. He knew nothing about her except his own observations, and what he'd gleaned from Snape's dying memories. That she was Lily's best friend and … didn't she marry a Prewett or something? Unbidden, a scrap of memory surfaced, something Remus had said to Ron at some point. What was it again? Something about how she always knew exactly what to say and when to say it? Judging from the flush in Lily's mortified face (its redness matching her hair perfectly), if the intended aim was to wind the Head Girl up as much as possible, then she certainly fulfilled that criterion. What else did he say? A person resembling a goblin-made artefact, whatever doesn't kill her makes her stronger. Nothing fazed her and she always bounced back. Something along those lines.
Someone with such Nietzschean qualities would make a valuable ally, the Lynx suggested. But she is your antagonist's friend, not your own. You will have to offer her something of value to entice her support.
How in Merlin's name do you know what 'Nietzschean' even means? demanded the Otter.
Though whether the question was directed at the Lynx or Harry himself, Harry did not know.
Was Moony in love with MacDonald? The way Ron told it, it sounded as if the Marauder had carried a torch for the Scotswoman for decades. Only one way to find out. Perhaps Harry had a chance to get the werewolf a chance at some love and affection of a non-brotherly sort, several decades before his tumultuous and ill-fated marriage to one Auror Nymphadora Tonks.
"Ladies, please," he interrupted the girls' hissed argument. Which turned out to be an ill-fated mistake, as he was now the target of both muggleborns' combined laser sights. "Alright fine, maybe I was kinda lying …"
"What a shock. Only 'kinda' …"
Harry cringed under Lily's gaze. It was hard to have her look at him like that, even on such petty matters like this, when she used those eyes … his eyes.
"Family business," he conceded reluctantly.
"Actual business from your actual family, or fake business about the fake family you swindled your way into?"
Harry winced at the cutting tone. "The latter option. The swindley one. But I can't talk about it here. If you two want to hear about it, we have to go somewhere more private. Far too many gossips and stickybeaks in the common room."
The girls had a rapid, fierce row through eye and silent gesture. Harry took the opportunity to stroll over and gently wake the snoozing Marauder.
"Hey Moony," he hissed.
"Grmwephsafrfnlgle," grumbled the werewolf, opening his eyes blearily. "Go 'way, Wormy. Trying to sleep."
"Don't tell me you were up all night again doing your mysterious 'research'?"
"'S none of your business."
"Fine, be that way," Harry crossed his arms petulantly.
"What do you want?" Remus sighed, finally coming fully awake.
"Oh nothing much," he said lightly, "was just going to show the girls a good private place and have a chat about this and that. Maybe do some study, catch up on some training, stuff like that."
"I'll pass, thanks." Moony settled back to resume his nap.
"Mary's coming too," Harry added casually, starting to walk away. "I thought we'd make it a two-on-two sparring and study session, but if you're not interested …"
He got three paces before … "Ah well, on second thoughts, you can never study and train too much can you? Especially in these trying times!"
"So true," Harry agreed sagely.
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"Is she always this hyper?" Harry asked Lily in an undertone.
"Unfortunately," Lily sighed. The trotted at an even pace, trying to keep up with the energetic brunette who raced ahead like an excited child. Moony brought up the rear at a far more sedate speed.
Harry reached the seventh-floor corridor that was his target and walked past a certain statue. He stopped, changed direction, and turned around, leaving a confused Lily behind.
"Hey!" Ignoring Lily's cry he strode to the other corner, leaving Lily to run up. He stopped suddenly and she collided with his back. She fell back and only Remus's grip on her arm stopped her from falling ingloriously on her behind. Harry smirked and grabbed her hand. Walked the other way again, dragging the Head Girl behind him.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lily burst out in irritation, her emerald eyes beginning to flash. Harry ignored her again and reached the corner for the third and final time. He turned and pointed to a section of the wall.
"Watch," he instructed. His companions gasped as a door appeared out of nowhere. He opened the door and led them in.
Remus strolled in, sniffing curiously. "Cool," he breathed. "How did we never discover this hidden room? I thought we'd found everything."
"It's a secret of the Hogwarts elves," Harry explained. The Room of Requirement had taken the shape of a large room with high, vaulted ceilings and a set of comfy chairs tucked away near a roaring fireplace.
And because it doesn't show up on the Marauders' Map, added the Otter. The artefact is useful but hardly infallible, unfortunately.
"What is this place?" Lily asked, looking around the enormous space. It was hard to believe a room this large could fit into this wing of Hogwarts castle.
"The elves call it 'The Come and Go Room'," Harry explained. "Aka 'The Room of Requirement'. So called because you walk past the statue three times concentrating on what you want and the room provides what you require for you. It's where they store all the trash of the last millennium."
"Wow." Lily suddenly realised that Pettigrew's hand still held hers, the warm, rough grip surrounding her slender hand, thumb unconsciously tracing a pattern. She dropped it like a hot potato and stared at him awkwardly, painfully aware of the tension that had suddenly sprung up in the room. Salvation came, as usual, from a familiar source.
"Oi, thanks for telling me ye'd stopped!" grumped Mary, head poking through the door.
"That's what you get for running on ahead like a hyperactive toddler without knowing where you're going," Lily lectured.
"What's important is that now we can put the screws on your rodent pet to dish out all the juicy gossip," Mary ably deflected her with the ease of long practice.
And just like that, Harry was the centre of attention once again. He cleared his throat uneasily. "So, where shall we begin?"
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"You've been telling us bald-faced lies, you cad!" Mary gasped. "So he didn't have leprosy!" she whispered to Lily in mock scandalised temper.
"I don't like the idea of selling muggleborn into slavery," the Queen of Gryffindor said flatly.
"Does anyone?" Harry replied rhetorically. "Or at least, anyone who isn't a raging, pureblood bigoted bastard?"
"Hmmmm," Mary said speculatively. "I can think of a few hunks o' beefcake I wouldn't mind have tending to me every whim …"
"It's good for Andromeda, she gets her family name and social status back; good for Nymphadora who won't be an outcast and misfit; good for the House of Black to have some of their most talented members back; even good for Ted."
"How is it good for Mr Tonks for him to be enslaved?" demanded Lily.
"Because, slave or not, he's now attached to an Ancient and Noble House," Harry said patiently. "Which, unfair as it is, counts for a lot in magical society. It'll open all sorts of career doors, for example."
"Yeah, at the cost of his liberty," she huffed, once again painfully reminding him of a bushy-haired bookworm of his acquaintance.
"If it makes you feel any better, from what I hear, his much-vaunted 'liberty' is already pretty much non-existent: his wife already wears the pants in the family, even though she's, like, a decade younger than he is. She organises the household, looks after the kid, decides on his clothes, their finances, their holidays, and basically runs every aspect of his life. I doubt he'd even notice the difference! Besides, his wife was born a Black, and Blacks are known for getting what they want whenever they want from whomever they want, slave or free."
Lily still looked put out. "Enslaving muggleborn doesn't happen to be another power of a Head of House, does it?" she asked suspiciously.
Harry was a picture of innocence. "Why, as a matter of fact it is. Why do you ask?"
"Don't you even think about it, Mouseketeer! You try and enslave me and Beelzebub and all his hellish minions will have nothing on what I will do to you with a quill and a tickling charm!"
Harry laughed ruefully. "Your constant paranoia about me is both disturbing and hilarious, Lils. In case you've somehow forgotten, I'm not James Potter. Tricking or forcing you into loving me would completely miss the point."
"And yet you've managed to outdo him on every front – or have you forgotten about that whole so-called 'magical marriage' debacle?"
"Something which ensures that I can't enslave you," Harry pointed out reasonably. "Nobody can. You're the de facto Lady Black, remember; the purest of the pure, the bluest of the blue bloods, in saeclo saeclorum …" He began to giggle girlishly . "Sorry, sorry," he waved his hands in surrender to try to avert the volcanic rumblings of Mount Evans, "I don't mean to make light of your situation, but whenever I think about the Ancient and Noble House of Blood Purity and Muggle Baiting and Dark Lord Supporting having a muggleborn Lady and halfblood Lord, it never fails to set me off, hehehehehe ... So whaddya think, Moony?" He cast the Marauder a shrewd glance. "Care to become a slave of a House? I guarantee you'll get all the plum jobs in the future …"
It was hard to get over the fact that, at age 16, Remus was the tallest and brawniest of the four Marauders, by a clear margin. Harry wondered what had happened to the man in the years between graduating from Hogwarts and becoming his DADA professor in third year, to transform him into the thin, frail, tired, greying, beaten-down soul he knew him as in his past life. Lupin had commented once on how difficult it was for werewolves to get employment. Had he been scratching away at near starvation levels for decades? And where was Dumbledore during all this? Well, that wasn't going to happen this time: by hook or by crook, Harry was going to drag Moony (kicking and screaming if necessary) into the heart of the rat race. The Marauder was going to be rolling in job offers and galleons, if Harry had anything to do about it!
Moony was started out of his mooning over Mary (who was completely oblivious to it), suddenly becoming aware of being the unwanted centre of attention. "Ahh … I think I'll pass, thanks."
"You sure? I'm pretty certain the Black House Rules prohibit you joining as a member or even a slave, but I'd bet galleons to Grims that the Potter House Rules have no such restrictions."
Damn those Black bigots and their discriminations against so-called dark creatures, the Otter declared piously.
"Er …"
"Sirius is already a de facto Potter these days, and thanks to that you-know-what that happened to yours truly, I am too. Just call me Peter Potter. Hmmm that sounds like a nursery rhyme or something … Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked a peck of pickled peppers; a peck of pickled peppers Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked; if Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers that Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked?"
"Enough!" commanded Lily, rubbing her temples. "You are truly exasperating, you know that? Nobody else in this castle, not even my 'dear' sister at home, can inflict migraines on me the way you can …"
Harry blinked innocently. "I'm merely giving an illustration of Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter's Practical Principles of Plain and Perfect Pronunciation," he said in a martyred tone. He was enjoying being able to enunciate without that enormous overbite and oversized front teeth obstructing him all the time. "My point is, Mr Lupin, that makes you the last Marauder who's not pottering around! Why don't you join your friends? What, is the great and powerful Remus Lupin too good to be a member of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter?" he wheedled in mock offense.
"I'll … I'll think about it," the werewolf deflated in defeat.
Harry sighed. This was probably the best he was going to get from the diffident defeatist for now. Too bad he didn't know of the awesome stubbornness that Harry James Potter had in spades! "In that case, why don't we all get some spellcasting practice," he suggested. "Lils, why don't you pair up with me and Mary with Remus?"
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"I thought you find me exasperating. Wouldn't it help your headache to cast hexes at me?"
He didn't like the evil grin that slowly blossomed on her face. "That sounds like a superlative suggestion," she purred, caressing her 10 ¼ inch willow wand. "Strong emotions do increase the power of ones' offensive curses, after all. Buckle up, buckaroo."
The things you do for love, the Grim shook his head. Moony and Mary had better start appreciating your sacrifices on their behalf and start snogging right quick, or its break-out-the-Amortentia-time, I say.
Duck! Now! ordered the Lynx. Tripping hexes down low, itching hexes to the left!
Flee for your life! cried the Dormouse.
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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~
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"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" James Potter was appalled. All of his worst fears were coming to life! The love of his life, his eternal soulmate, was having a private session with the Rat Bastard King of Bastarding, in this cosy, romantic, giant stone duelling room. And there the two conspirators were, in the flesh, staring at the two Marauders with the same emerald gaze.
Sirius looked around the room in admiration. "Wicked!"
"Hello Lily-flower!" James greeted enthusiastically, pointedly ignoring the other three people in the room. He noticed with a pang of fiery jealousy that Pettigrew and Evans seemed to have been locked in close combat, no doubt a thin excuse to get up close and personal in public. Lily even had her arms outstretched, hands clenched tenderly around Peter's traitorous throat, no doubt about to draw him close for a scorching kiss as a prelude to – no, no he couldn't ever, ever think of that!
Lily rolled her eyes, changing her stance unconsciously to face the intruders. "Oh great, the Stooge-Parade has arrived."
"But how?" Harry wondered. "We didn't tell anyone where we were going; and I know for a fact that this room doesn't appear in the ward scheme …" Or on the Marauder's Map. Which means that somebody's ratted us out. He glared over at Lupin, who furtively stowed his communications mirror in a back pocket of his robes.
Betrayed! Harry thought to himself. Lupin, how could you?
Are you really surprised? inquired the Dormouse. Remus, for all his good qualities, has history of cowardly backstabbyness. He's forever squealing on people or running away. He always kept Dumbledore and the Order up to date on all your personal dealings behind your back. Never helped you out while you were trapped like a lab mouse at Privet Drive over the holidays, mourning over Sirius or Cedric. When Tonks got pregnant, his first impulse was to run away and abandon them; real responsible way to treat the girl you knocked up! After your parents died, he disappeared and never checked up on their old child or contacted him for 13 years. You may have been hidden from the magical world, but nothing stopped him approaching Dumbledore to send some mail through him; and I doubt the old man would've objected to an old family friend dropping in every now and then to let a lonely orphan know he hadn't been abandoned. Not to mention all of his self-indulgent, self-pitying wallowing about how difficult it is being a werewolf.
Hey! I may be pissed at the guy, but that's awfully harsh! You're hardly one to judge others for cowardice! Harry scolded.
The Dormouse shrugged. It takes one to know one.
"Dammit Pettigrew, I told you to stay away from Lily! You even swore an oath on your magic!" James ground out from clenched teeth. "And now I find you … cavorting shamelessly with my love out in the open, as if she were some scarlet woman from Knockturn! Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency?"
"Buzz off, Potter, nobody's interested in hearing about your never-ending self-pity party," Lily pontificated loftily.
"Talk about an endless bummer," Mary added in her two knuts' worth.
"Listen, flower, babe, sweetheart, honey-kitten, snookums … I just don't think that he's right for you. You should find a better boyfriend … like Gryffindor's brave champion chaser, for example." James wagged his eyebrows suggestively, in a manner strongly reminiscent of one Grim animagus.
"Did Sirius feed you that pathetic excuse for a chat-up line? What's next, taking tips from 'How to Pick Up Girls By Hypnosis'? Excuse me while I go throw up," Lily challenged. "Potter, I find you about as attractive as a boil on a banshee's behind."
"I've heard enough," Harry broke in. "Guess our little study period is over, time to hit the kitchens."
"Not quite yet, we still have a little matter to deal with – Peter Pettigrew, I challenge thee to a wizarding duel! Over thy insult to me and mine House, by stealing mine inheritance."
"And stealing your bird from you," Mary added helpfully.
"Shut up!" hissed Lily.
"Yes, and that as well. Face me on the field of honour, thou cur, else be forever branded a coward and knave!"
"Is this really necessary?" Harry demanded incredulously.
"Of course it is," James replied with all due pomposity. "An honourable man cannot allow such a slight to pass unchallenged."
"Must you encourage them?" Lily scolded her best friend.
"But Lils, don't ye want to see 'em duke it out? Two strapping young men in the flower of their youth, fighting tooth and claw for the honour of courting ye? 'Tis so romantic!" Mary gushed, fanning herself. "Why the mere thought's enough ta give me the vapours!"
Lily satisfied herself by jabbing the troublemaking minx repeatedly with her wand. Mary squealed and ran to hide behind Lupin, who looked both embarrassed and incredibly pleased by this turn of fortune. About to give chase, Lily's instincts kicked in and she dodged as a colourful yellow spell shot past her head. Spinning around to face the three other Marauders, she saw that the situation has escalated into a full-blown brawl. Or, more accurately, James was firing hex after hex and Pettigrew was dodging around at a speed that made it perfectly clear he'd been going easy on her in their previous bouts.
Raising her wand into upper-guard position Lily cast a series of jinxes in warning towards James. "Now that's enough! I'm putting a stop to this silly schoolyard scuffle right now. Cease at once or suffer detentions until your graduating day – if you ever manage to pass your NEWTs, that is!"
James instinctively dodged and fired a counter-volley at the threat. Lily, not expecting a counter-attack, squawked and dived out of the way, dodging the first two hexes, but the third clipped her on the shoulder.
"Gaah!" she shrieked, as daisies began to sprout painfully out of her arm.
"Oh my Merlin! Lily, I'm so sorry! It was an accident!" James was horrified at the accident, but it was too late – that spark had lit the tinderbox, and her redheaded temper erupted in full. Cancelling the charm on her arm and banishing the flowers, she unleashed a wave of sickening grey magic at him that he was barely able to dodge. Lily was relentless in her spellcasting, forcing her opponent to dance and weave in much the same way as he'd had Pettigrew doing a minute before. It was an impressive offensive, especially since she'd just spent the past hour trying to hex Peter into oblivion.
"Come on guys, we'll get in trouble." Remus protested plaintively, standing stock still and contributing nothing to either side. Mary's auburn mop poking out from over his shoulder like a meerkat.
Sirius and Harry stood watching the carnage ensue. "Merlin, I hope I never piss her off that badly," Harry muttered, wincing at James' cry of pain. The Potter's skin began turning a reddy-orange colour, his hair green, and steam started hissing ominously from every orifice.
"Guess it's up to you and me to finish this then," Padfoot drawled, pulling out his wand. At Harry's raised brow, he explained, "I'm his second; and since Prongs is a bit preoccupied at the moment –" they both grimaced as James was hurled bodily against a wall with an almighty thump – "it's my duty to take up the duel in his stead. So, en guarde! Unless you're afraid to face the might of Padfoot!"
Harry grinned and took a standard Auror duelling stance. He'd never had a no-holds-barred fight with Sirius, in this life or the last, and was curious to see how he'd do. Pettigrew had certainly sparred with the Black from time to time, but it was clear from the wisps of memories that it was all in play. "Come for me then, varlet!" he crowed. "Peter Pettigrew has never lost yet in a battle of magic or wits with the so-called mighty Padfoot!"
Which is actually, if depressingly, true on all counts, the Otter mused.
And the game was afoot. Sirius was fast, Harry could admit, but not extraordinarily fast. He did have quite an impressive range of obscure and greyish (i.e., borderline dark) curses, hexes and jinxes, though. Harry dodged, and let loose with a set of hexes from his 'softening 'em up' basket of magical mayhem. Sirius yelped as the very air around him seemed to ignite in all directions with blue and purple flames.
The two had to leap apart as curses from Lily and James' battle strayed into their section of the room, ricocheting from walls and floor.
"Never lost yet to me, Wormy?! Mayhap your memory hath been damaged by one of my hexes, which has caused you to forget our Transfiguration assignment not a week ago!"
"You've never drawn blood from me, and you never will!" Harry declared, striking a dramatic pose, his wand pointed out impressively towards his foe.
"You run THAT fast?!" mocked Sirius, striking his own heroic stance. "But no matter your speed of retreat, this day I shall milk every drop of blood from your carcass!"
"How appropriate, because you fight like a cow!" Harry sneered.
"Whereas you fight like a dairy farmer!" Padfoot sneered back.
"You know, if this battle were taking place on Jupiter, I'm sure that your duelling speed would be quite impressive, given its enormous gravity. Unfortunately for you, this is Earth," Harry mused, changing to a different, but just as manly and awe-inspiring pose.
"You speak like a poet, but you duel like one too!" the Grim animagus retorted, changing his own stance to something far more devastatingly intimidating.
"Fool, my wand is famous throughout magical Britain!"
"Too bad no-one's ever heard of YOU at all!"
"My robe shall mop up your blood!"
"So you got that job as a janitor after all? Congratulations! It's a perfect career change, given that I've duelled with apes more proficient in magic than you!"
"I'm glad to hear you attended your family reunion!"
"I've got the courage, brains and skill of a master swordsman!"
"I'd be in real trouble if you ever used them!"
"Foolish, unskilled dunderhead! My wisest enemies run away at the first sight of me!" sneered Sirius.
"I'm not surprised! With breath like yours, you'd be better off marrying a dog!" sniffed Harry.
"Funny you should say that, you make me think your mother already did!"
"Boys, if you've quite finished all your pathetic macho strutting and posturing, it's time to leave. I'm delegating you two thespians the job of 'escorting' Mr Potter to the Hospital Wing."
They turned, and realised that all the fighting had concluded some time ago. Mary and Remus had already left the Room of Requirement. A somewhat-singed Lily Evans tapped her foot impatiently and gestured towards a groaning heap that was their fellow Marauder.
"Oooh, that's going to hurt like a bitch in the morning," Sirius noted sympathetically.
Harry cast a Tempus. "It still is the morning."
"Just goes to prove how right I am," Padfoot replied sagely, prodding their the nigh-comatose multi-coloured remains of a friend with his toe.
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