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 or anything else.
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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.
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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).
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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Larceny, Lechery and Luna Lovegood!" by Rorschach's Blot.
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Question of the Week: Ever wonder why Harry or anybody else never bothered to go back to the Chamber of Secrets to discover its secrets? (Besides the giant hulk of a snake!)
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Chapter 17 – Diplomacy
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If you spill the beans, you open up a whole can of worms. I mean, how can you let sleeping dogs lie if you let the cat out of the bag? Bring in a new broom and if you're not very careful you find you've thrown the baby out with the bathwater. If you change horses in the middle of the stream, next thing you know you're up the creek without a paddle. And then the balloon goes up. They hit you for six. An own goal, in fact.
– Yes, Prime Minister
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"Hi Hermione," Harry greeted one his oldest friends. It was still gut-punching to see her in such a state, trapped in the form of their deadly, toadlike enemy, but for the sake of their decade-long, war-tried, us-against-the-world, loving friendship, he tried manfully to look past such trivialities. He was sure their bonds would see them through this, their darkest hour yet. "Thanks for meeting me here."
They were standing outside the Shrieking Shack. It was faster to access the Chamber of Secrets going through secret tunnel into Hogwarts and then through the girls' bathroom on the second floor, than trekking all the way through the Forbidden Forest to the external entrance.
"Still," Harry mused, "there is something to be said for the scenic route. We've had a lot of adventures in the Forest. So many fond memories."
"Fond memories?" Hermione eyed him oddly, as they trotted briskly through the secret tunnel. "What are you talking about, Harry? Did that French Veela suck out your mind along with everything else?"
"Gaah!" Harry shuddered, trying manfully to purge that disastrous trip from his memory. "Please," he said in a pained tone. "I'd rather not talk about France or Veela right now. Or Ever."
Now Hermione was really concerned for her friend. "Harry, you're turning green! What the heck happened to you?"
"Anyway," Harry said brusquely, "how can you say there's no fond memories. What about our visit to Grawp? Don't tell me you've forgotten about him already, Hermy, you heartless witch?"
"Prat," she punched his shoulder. "Don't ever call me that!"
"What, a heartless witch? Very well, your wish is my command, my dear Hermy. Ouch!" He rubbed his shoulder. "Getting a bit violent in your old age, eh Herms? Owgnfrb!" He bent down to cradle his bruised shin. It was painful, but at least he'd successfully distracted her.
Hermione primly stepped over him into the halls of Hogwarts. They disillusioned themselves and made their way silently through the empty corridors, careful to avoid the ghosts. Finally they reached the entrance in the second-floor girls' bathroom and slid down the chute.
"Filthy," she commented disdainfully, scourgifying her robes several times.
"Well it is a thousand years' worth of grime. Don't worry, it gets better in the main chamber. Kreacher and Ron did a pretty good job of clearing out all the dust and mould. §Open!§" he hissed to the giant serpent gate. With a responsive hiss it rolled to the side, giving them access. The torches attached to the walls simultaneously burst into flames at their approach, lighting the Chamber with a harsh glow.
Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the main Chamber of Secrets in all its glory for the first time. Taking in the blindingly orange walls, floor and ceiling, Chudley Cannons posters and banners adorning the walls, beige and brown furniture, faux-marble statues of cavorting nymphs, and of course, the hordes of petrified students in his 'collection' (frozen in poses that cowered in terror or were about to unleash rage-fuelled hexes) arranged tastefully to give the impression of a silent garden party. Or public art piece.
"You know, I used to have nightmares about this place," she said slowly, head rotating to absorb it all. "I'd wake up screaming every night that whole summer break after second year … But now I see that the reality is far far more horrific than I ever imagined."
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"Are we all set?" Harry asked. Hermione triple-checked their equipment and nodded decisively. "Alright, let's get this hippogriff-and-unicorn show on the road."
Taking out a vial of mandrake Restorative Draft (extra concentrated)™, Hermione forced a few drops through the frozen lips of the three young men in front of them. Seventh-year Slytherins Rudolphus Lestrange, Amycus Carrow and Cyrillus Selwyn gradually relaxed their stiff pose, slowly sliding down to the ground into limp pools of misery. Presently, colour returned to their cheeks, the wooziness wore off and they groaned and stretched. With a few flicks of her wand, they were levitated and tied securely to three uncomfortable and shoddily-conjured wooden chairs.
Eventually they retained the wherewithal to look around and try to determine their location. They appeared to be in some sort of cave. Before them was an empty desk, with the only source of light emanating from a flickering candle in a golden holder. The weak light provided visibility only for a few feet in either direction. Their eyes widened in recognition as they noticed Harry, seated next to a businesslike woman who strongly resembled the product of a union betwixt human and amphibian.
"Hello Rudy, Amy, Selly, I can call you that, can't I?" Harry asked cheerfully. "Welcome back to the world of the living. Sadly, I can't in all honesty say we've missed you."
"What do you think you're doing, you half-blood filth?" Selwyn spat at Harry, finally finding his voice. With a vicious lurch, he tried to drive himself forward towards the object of his hatred. An object who continued to recline placidly, indifferent to their words and their ineffectual struggles to free themselves from their bonds. "You think gnome sputum such as yourselves can get away with kidnapping us like this? We're Heads of Ancient and Noble Houses – the Wizengamot will hack off your limbs and feed you to the Dementors within a day, and the Dark Lord will eviscerate whatever they leave behind!"
"Terrifying," Hermione replied dryly. They had agreed beforehand that she would take the lead in these 'negotiations'. "As to what we're doing, we're here to discuss your ransom of course. I admit to a certain level of presumption by assuming that you do wish to get out of this black prison of despair sometime within the next century or two?" She paused for a response. Taking their murderous silence as an affirmation, she nodded in satisfaction and laid out three stacks of documents on the desk in front of her. "I have before me three contracts. Each of you is going to sign one. I don't care which. According to my digging, your families are about equally wealthy, so it doesn't matter to me in the slightest."
Rudolphus and Carrow remained silent. Selwyn growled, a low rumble that would've made Padfoot proud.
"Perhaps you're wondering what they're about? It's a funny story, you know – there I was at Gringotts in Paris, about to sign off on some rather large and important projects, when suddenly inspiration struck," Harry snapped his fingers dramatically. "I remembered what those 'Missing' posters in Diagon and The Daily Prophet said. Oh yes," he replied to their expressions, "your families have been very diligent in searching for you these past few weeks. I daresay all of wizarding Europe could recognise your ugly mugs. So touching," he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Anyway, the posters informed me of an interesting fact – that among the missing students were three 17 year old Heads of families. Which means they can authorise major financial transactions, fully backed by their Houses' assets. After all, why should I spend my own Houses' gold to pay for the war when I have a few Lords in my 'collection' who can pay it for me? I'm sure you understand what I'm getting at."
"Not going to happen," Rudolphus rasped, speaking for the first time. But his gaze was locked onto Hermione. "I recognise you, Dolores Umbridge. D-level Ministry flunky, no power, no connections and no patron. Only a defunct Wizengamot seat with no Head. Set us free right now and I'll forget you had anything to do with this. Snap that halfblood's wand for me and I'll even make you my client."
"A fascinating offer, but ultimately irrelevant to your current predicament," Hermione replied sweetly. "Since your inbred-rotten brains are having trouble grasping the situation, I'll spell it out: we are currently a mile underneath Hogwarts. Nobody knows you're here; nobody can hear you scream. The Hogwarts wards do not penetrate to this depth. It's currently Christmas Break and the castle is empty – the four of us are the sum total of its population. At present, your only two options are as follows: sign the documents with the proper magical intent, or we leave you here to feed our pet giant basilisk, and maybe your families will find a piece or two of your remains in her leavings in a decade or seven from now. You do remember Sallie don't you?"
Her grin was almost feral; an expression Harry remembered seeing only on very special occasions. Like plotting her revenge on Skeeter during the Triwizard. Seeing it on Umbridge's sickly-sweet features was downright unnerving.
"You're bluffing," Carrow blustered, but they could see the first hints of uncertainty starting to trickle in. "You don't have the guts to murder people."
"How fortunate for us then that there are no people in front of me – only rabid dogs who deserve nothing better than to be put down. As painfully as possible," she drawled, in a tone so icy that Harry shivered. He almost expected frost to start gathering over his skin. It apparently had a similar effect on their interlocutors, at least to judge from their rapidly paling visages.
"And what guarantee do we have that you won't simply murder us as soon as the ink is dry?" Rudolphus sneered.
"You're hardly in a position to bargain, Rudy, but if you insist on being difficult," she gave a long-suffering sigh, "My confederate and I will both swear a magical oath that upon signing, we will release you from this cave and not kill you or cast any spells upon you, say for the next 24 hours. Good enough? Well, it doesn't really matter if it's good enough or not, as that's the only offer that's going onto the table. So take it or leave it."
A long silence followed. The glares and struggles of their captives matched by the calm façade of their jailers. Selwyn, Carrow and Lestrange seemed to keep alternating between contemptuous defiance and gnawing dread, as the severity of their situation began to truly sink in.
"Better make your decision sharpish," Hermione commented idly. "Sounds like Sallie is getting restless." They froze; in the darkness something quietly shifted around.
"Why don't we bring her out and give her a sniff of your scents," Harry suggested. "To provide proper motivation. §Ssssallie! Close your eyessss and come over here. Take a whiff of your prey! I need you to ssscare them a bit.§" Their captives flinched at the sound of Parseltongue, but then froze in horror as the gigantic snake quietly slithered into view. All in all, it was an impressive imitation of their former, petrified state. Selwyn began to whimper softly as Sallie's forked tongue delicately explored their faces.
"All right all right, we'll do it, Khorne curse you!" howled Rudolphus. "Let us go and we'll sign whatever Merlin-be-damned contracts you want!"
"Excellent," cheered Harry. "We knew you'd see reason! §Please wait further back in the cave for a bit, my dear. There are a few little things left to take care of.§"
§Very well,§ the basilisk groused, §But my stomach rumbles.§
The three pureblood Lords sighed in relief as the snake slipped back into the darkness. "We demand our wands back too!" Selwyn asserted.
Harry shrugged. "Sorry. The DMLE confiscated them after you went missing. Evidence you know," he lied, making a well-what-can-you-do? gesture. "I'm sure such fine, upstanding and well-connected gentlemen of means such as yourselves would be able to persuade the Aurors to release your property in due course."
After sharing another silent conversation, Rudolphus turned back to them. "Deal!" he snarled. "But you'll both be feeling the Crucio from my wand for this! I'm going to take great pleasure slowly stripping the flesh from your bones before I deliver you to my Master."
"I look forward to it," Harry stood and took half a dozen steps to the left, giving himself a good range of fire over the group, while putting himself well out of reach of any sudden punch or tackle. Pulling out his wand he made the requisite magical oath. Hermione did likewise. He then dispelled the Slytherins' restraints. "Now, if you'd be so kind…"
Hermione, who had remained seated, laid out a blood quill next to the contracts. Grumbling words whose indecipherability was probably for the best for all concerned, the three cautiously approached and began to skim through the contents for several minutes. Eventually they all signed in the appropriate places. A sudden flash and a pulse of magic, soundless thunder. The edges of the pages turned a glowing gold colour, signifying a validly formed contract, backed by magic. Hermione nodded in satisfaction.
"Congratulations, House Selwyn is now the proud patron of wizarding Europe's newest newspaper, The Quibbler, the new vanguard of British anti-Purist journalism. Non-profit of course, so I wouldn't recommend expecting returns on your investment anytime soon, though any awards received will of course be dedicated to your memory – I mean, in your honour. House Carrow is funding the upgrading of wards and issuance of emergency portkeys around the country, particularly to underprivileged muggleborn and their families. And House Lestrange is now the generous funder of numerous special services on behalf of House Malfoy, for the betterment of all magical society. Again, a non-profit venture, but one I think we can all agree is galleons well spent."
§Open!§ Harry hissed, amused to see them jump in fright once more. The dark tunnel was abruptly flooded with light as the entrance to the Forbidden Forest opened. "There's your exit gentlemen, a pleasure doing business with you." The gentlemen in question wasted no time, bolting away in an awkward, staggering gait as their atrophied limbs slowly awoke from their convalescence.
The friends waited for a minute or two, enjoying the silence and the fresh breeze wafting in from the forest. Presently Hermione offered, "You do realise that as soon as the new Heads of the Lestrange, Carrow and Selwyn Houses realise that their former Lords have contracted to spend huge sums of galleons, they'll immediately cancel the contracts, right?
"Yep. Which is why Apolline made sure the contracts included a clause allowing the goblins to draw the entire cost in one lump sum and deposit it in escrow vaults on the day of signing. All expenses will be paid out from those vaults instead of the family vaults."
Hermione nodded. "Removing it from the control of the Heads. And if the Houses try to cancel the agreements, the goblins will no doubt stonewall them as long as possible. Say, until the terms of the contracts have been completed and there isn't a knut remaining in those vaults?"
"No doubt."
"How much are we talking exactly?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know, didn't bother looking at the figures. I told the goblins to inflate the numbers as much as they liked. Their percentage is fixed, so it's in their interest to cost things as high as possible. Plus there's a rider that says, in the event that carrying out the terms of the agreements costs more than the initial lump sums, the goblins are authorised to top up the escrow vaults from the family vaults as often as necessary. So probably a few million galleons or thereabouts?"
"So you've just bankrupted three of the Sacred Twenty-eight families."
"Who can say?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped the subject. Casting a quick Tempus, she noted, "It's been over ten minutes since they left. Long enough?"
"More than sporting," Harry agreed. §Ssssallie!§ he called to the basilisk. §The sun is setting, you're free to go outside now. Happy hunting!§ The enormous creature didn't need to be told twice. Moving with surprising stealth for something so huge, she shot out of the entrance of the cave in search of her prey.
"Kreacher!" The elf popped into existence in front of Hermione. "Could you please deliver these contracts to the goblin Kakarot at Gringotts, Paris branch? And then return this quill to the hidden compartment under my desk at the Ministry?"
"Kreacher understands Missy Bridge!" And with a snap of his fingers, he was gone again.
"Good work today, Hermy," Harry praised. "Damn that was a sight to behold – you were such a stone cold bitch I thought my own blood was going to freeze! I'd rather fight the fifty foot basilisk again than have you out for my hide."
"Thank you Harry," Hermione replied absently, as she banished the table, chairs and ropes. "And if you don't want to find out firsthand what that's like, I'd advise you to never call me Hermy again."
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"Hello everyone, thankyou for taking the time to attend our first official meeting," Hermione began, a trifle nervously. She'd always hated speaking in front of crowds. Which was why she'd strongarmed Harry into leading the DA last time around. Unfortunately, he'd flat out refused on this occasion, saying that since she was going to be the leader of this little militia-to-be, she would have to step up to the plate from the get-go, or else never gain her troops' respect.
"As many of you may know, my name is Dolores Umbridge; I've been worming my way up the ranks of the Ministry under the guise of a raging Purist of the most odious sort. Now that I'm up a sufficient way along the greasy pole, I feel it's time to remove the mask and do something to actually benefit our society and our next generation."
There was a light smattering of polite applause from around the room. She'd hired out the upstairs meeting room of the Hog's Head for this little shindig. Far too subversive a meeting to risk having anywhere near Diagon Alley. And, Merlin knows, Knockturn was probably infested with undercover Aurors, moles and random tattle-tales who'd sell anyone and anything out for two knuts. And then she'd proceeded to cast every single locking and privacy spell in her considerable repertoire, mindful of the breach in security last time she'd organised a meeting here.
Harry gave her a thumbs up from the back row. Yeah yeah rub it in, she grumbled to herself, albeit not without affection. Her eyes swept across the gathered assortment of human pick-n-mix who had been sounded out and responded affirmatively to their discreet feelers. Chaoticus 'Bob' Lovegood, who'd already helped them out immensely with sabotaging The Daily Prophet; Marximus McKinnon, Harry's lawyer and the father of his fellow-HA members, and his assistants, Mandy and Sally; Marximus' lawyer, Murdia Temujin, hard-nosed 'corporate killer' of the legal world; Dirk Murray of Ghostbusters, who was apprenticing Harry in Merlin-knows-what creepy magics; his master, Necromancer Aleister Dee; Jim from the Diagon Gym; Auror Jenny; Nurse Joy; Jacob, some clerk Harry had befriended; Snidely Whizzpopper, a semi-legal Knockturn wand-maker that Harry had sorta-befriended; Tom the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron; various butchers from the Butchers' Guild, necromancers from the Necromancers' Guild, and various members of the Ministry public sector guild, including a dozen of her own colleagues that were unimpressed with the lack of results the Ministry was achieving in its fight against the Death Eaters. Sitting nervously in a corner, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible, were Vernon Dursley and Petunia Evans.
"In a nutshell, what I am proposing is a magical equivalent of what muggles call a 'Neighbourhood Watch': local citizens band together to protect their streets and keep their friends and families safe from those who threaten them. This idea grew out of a group that was formed in Hogwarts by concerned students a couple of months ago, who decided to do something to combat the dangers that even they face during our current crisis. The group named themselves the 'Hogwarts Army', or HA for short, as its primary goal is to keep Hogwarts and its residents safe from harm. It has proved most effective in training students up to fight and protect their loved ones, guard the corridors, dorms and grounds of Hogwarts, organise emergency escape routes and portkeys, and prepare themselves for when, not if, the Death Eaters come knocking on the door. The HA operates as an independent auxiliary force supporting the faculty of the school, and to a lesser extent, Headmaster Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, a top-secret anti-Death Eater organisation, so I'm sure you've all heard of it already."
There were a lot of nods around the room.
"The Order themselves operate as a kind of auxiliary militia to the Auror forces. I propose that we do the same thing – operate an auxiliary force to the HA, to coordinate with them and work towards common goals, such as the safety of our streets, the removal of threats and the protection of our loved ones. I recommend the establishment of the Hogsmeade Auxiliary to the Hogwarts Army."
"Create an auxiliary force to an auxiliary force to an auxiliary force to an auxiliary force? That's exactly the kind of out-of-the-box thinking that our world so desperately needs!" cried Bob enthusiastically.
"Thankyou for that vote of confidence, Bob," Hermione smiled.
"And what if we can't?" came a voice from near the back.
She frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"What if it's all pointless – what if we can't win? If we're on the wrong side of history and everything we do is just throwing leaves in the wind against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's inevitable rule over this country?"
An uncomfortable rumble ran through the crowd. It was a reasonable question, perhaps an inevitable one for the people on the streets, who lived to the coalface and would inevitably be the feel any impacts immediately, with no cushioning to soften the blow.
"If we can't win," Hermione said slowly, "then we have nothing to lose, do we? I can only speak for myself, but I feel deep in my bones that it's better to go out on my feet, better to make sure the bastards never forgot what their victory had cost them, to make sure the surviving bastards never have a full night's sleep for the rest of their pathetic lives, for fear that there may still be members of the HAHA left in the world!"
She waited a minute or two for that to sink in.
Finally, into the silence, she added, "For those who do not wish to be a part of this, I perfectly understand and do not hold it against you. Please leave now. For those who wish to make a difference in our society, we need to draft up an agreed set of objectives, and organise a training regime, communications network, and so forth."
Surprisingly, nobody left. Hermione wondered if she had become used to low expectations from having to run organisations of schoolchildren. Or, and more soberingly, it could be because they felt they did indeed, have nothing left to lose at this point.
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Harry moved from the Leaky Cauldron into Umbridge's small but opulent estate for the remainder of the Christmas Break, under Hermione's strict orders ("it's Christm-us, not Christm-you, Harry"). He continued to visit Diagon Alley every day to train at the gym with Jim, hunt ghosts and learn necromancy with Dirk, and learn anatomy with Nurse Joy and the members of the Butchers' Guild. Hermione still had to go to work each day at the Ministry over this period, but in the evenings he would drag her over to Mandy's office for Occlumency training. If Mandy thought it strange that Harry was suddenly bringing along a known Ministry flunky and pureblood bigot for his sessions, she never said so out loud. Hermione's formidable mental discipline and self-organisation stood her in good stead, and she was matching Harry's skills before long. Afterwards, they would part ways, Mandy to her family, Hermione to her paperwork, and Harry to his mysterious tutor.
It was the day before Christmas Eve when the deaths began to hit the pages of The Daily Prophet. Across the length and breadth of Britain and France, members of the prominent Malfoy family started dropping like flies, in increasingly gruesome and improbable accidents.
"Looks like your Christmas present to Pandora has arrived," Hermione commented as they trimmed her tree and hung tinsel around the lintels under the careful supervision of her kneazles. "When does she and Xeno's family get back from the States?"
"Another week and a half," he replied, releasing the faeries to adorn the fireplace.
Rita Skeeter's column speculated that 16 year old Lucius Malfoy had left Hogwarts to adventure through the Middle East; while exploring lost tombs in Egypt, credible sources indicated that he'd unwittingly freed a succubus who'd demanded he take her as his bride; his refusal unleashing a terrible curse, that was now taking its toll on the rest of his family in revenge.
Sybil Trelawney wrote in her weekly column Blue Balls of Prophecy, that the tea leaves and stars had been sending her messages for years that the convergence of Mars and Jupiter would one day initiate a purge of tainted bloodlines who pretended to be pure. She also added that one of the Department of Mysteries' blue prophecy orbs stated that only the wearing of her genuine Uranus-blessed protective amulets on your forehead could protect the wearer from suffering similar misfortune. Apparently sales of the amulets were brisk. And yet, day after day, the obituary columns continued to fill:
Xanthippus Malfoy choked to death trying to swallow a rudely shaped turnip.
Septimus Malfoy-Robards, resident potioneer of Hogsmeade, mistakenly mixed up his cologne with a vial of experimental troll pheromones, and was dragged screaming into the woods on his morning stroll near the Forbidden Forest.
Dianora Malfoy managed to hang herself with her own long lustrous hair while combing her blonde tresses.
Antares Malfoy-Sinistra, his wife and their five cousins disappeared off the coast in a freak yachting accident.
Nicholas Malfoy the alchemist turned to granite after taste-testing his latest attempt to re-create the Elixir of Life.
Septimus Ulric-Malfoy and his sister Cassiopea went on a muggle-baiting trip to the Football World Cup championship and were never seen again.
Xora Metella Malfoy and Queenie Avia Malfoy led a horse riding party through a hippogriff reserve, and were not amongst the five survivors.
Ebeneezer Malfoy tried to swim in a pool of galleons, but broke his neck diving off the high-dive into the hard mass of metal.
Marlowe Malfoy allegedly summoned a daemon to make a blood pact, but botched the ritual and was consumed.
Hestia Malfoy-Hesperia got into a blazing row with a traveller coming the opposite way on a remote mountain path, and was thrown over the side.
Armand Malfoy achieved spontaneous animagus transformation, transfiguring himself into a goose, which a muggle farmer unknowingly corralled into a gaggle destined to become foie gras.
And so on and so on.
At the same time, warders and curse-breakers employed by Gringotts began appearing all over Britain to beef up the ward protections around private homes. Families such as the Potter, Bones, Evans, Tonks, Weasley, Prewett, Diggory, Diggle, McKinnon, MacDonald, Lockhart, Longbottom, Pettigrew and Umbridge all received (thanks to an anonymous benefactor) heavy upgrades of existing ward structures (if any existed), and the addition of several extremely nasty new ones. Overlaid was the Fidelius. Homes were literally vanishing all over the country.
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Harry was sad to say goodbye to all his friends in London and return to the rat race of Hogwarts, but they cheered him by pointing out he could always owl them, and they would see each other in person in six months. He made arrangements to sneak out of Hogwarts on the weekends to continue his training with Jim, Dirk, Nurse Joy, the butchers and the unknown lady ("Miss X" as he'd taken to calling her) on Saturdays and Sundays.
On the first day of September, his potions order was finally completed and delivered. There was enough to last a whole year, along with a list of instructions as to dosages and timing. Harry packed them into his trunk with glee. Goodbye short, fat, slow, pudgy body, hello chiselled Adonis! Hermione caught him posing in front of the mirror (to the mirror's vociferious objections) and tucked away a smile.
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"Howdy lads," Harry said jauntily, as he entered the train compartment housing the other three Marauders. A chorus of greetings came back at him, James's rather halfhearted. He didn't even bother looking up from his newspaper. Morgana, that boy can hold a grudge, he thought. You'd think I'd forced him to desecrate the grave of his dead mother or something! Was I that much of a moody git at that age?
"Here you go, Belligerens Potter," Harry said sarcastically, as he dumped a stack of papers onto James' lap. "You can thank me later."
"What is this dragon dung?" James demanded, finally deigning to look up at Harry.
"I took the liberty of having my lawyers audit all of House Potter and House Black's accounts. These are the preliminary Potter results. You can thank me later. Here you go, Padfoot, one for you too." He dumped the second (much larger) stack of papers, pertaining to House Black, onto the lap of a dismayed Sirius.
"What in Merlin's name are we supposed to do with these!?" the Grim animagus demanded.
"Use them as toilet paper, duh," he replied sarcastically, ignoring the looks of horror and frantic gesturing of the Minister and her cronies in the official stamps embossed on the documents. "Go through them and learn the details back to front of course! Remember, as soon as you turn 17 the two of you'll become Heads of your families. That means you'll be responsible for running the lot! Luckily, we have hours before we reach Hogwarts. So get cracking 'coz those are only the summaries. Padfoot, you and me have a lot to discuss, my friend; seems House Black has been involved with a lot of, shall we say questionable, business arrangements over the generations. There's over a hundred years of stuff to untangle."
Ignoring his sort-of-father and sort-of-uncle's ashen faces, he stood up and stretched. "Ah, I feel so much lighter now! Moony, would you care to accompany me to the snack cart?"
"Delighted, I'm sure," grinned Remus, standing as well. "We'll just leave Their Worshipfulnesses to their important business." Arm-in-arm they promenaded away.
The remaining Marauders shared a look of horror.
"I'm starting to have second thoughts about this Lordship business, Prongs," said Sirius sickly.
"Tell me about it. Dya think if we asked nicely, he'd hang onto those rings for a few more decades?"
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The Welcoming Feast was interrupted by the entrance of a parliament of Post owls, an unusual occurrence as owls rarely arrived in the Great Hall outside of the morning mail run. A proud eagle owl adorned with a golden neck ornament landed grandly in front of Harry. Harry unwrapped the message from its leg and held out a strip of bacon in thanks. Ignoring the offering, the bird took to flight and left. Hmph, never thought I'd see an owl sneer at me. He held a scroll of parchment embossed with the Black family crest. Harry briefly read the missive, brow darkening. Quickly shoving it into his pocket, he began to think furiously. Suddenly he started as a bowl of stew appeared in front of him, complete with sparks and a soft bang.
"Whatever it is that's gnawing you, it'll feel better on a full stomach," Remus said mildly.
"Yes, you're right Moony," he sighed, "thanks for looking out for me." He made a token effort to fill his belly and interact with his fellows. Popping the cork off the first vial of his health potions, Harry dumped the contents into his pumpkin juice and drained it in one gulp, grimacing at the taste. Remus cocked an eye and Harry shrugged. James and Sirius didn't notice their interaction; both appeared to have recovered from their first foray into high finance and were hungrily consuming three times their bodyweight in pastries. "What, did James' parents starve you three over the Christmas Break?" he asked Remus lightly.
Their responses went over his head as his attention drifted, as it so often did during meals, to a certain redheaded Gryffindor sitting five paces down. Lily was neglecting her own dinner in favour of a letter clutched in her clawlike hands, face pale. Harry sighed. He could hazard a guess as to what it said. Dunking a hunk of bread to mop up the last remains of his stew (and rather surprised he'd finished the whole lot without noticing), he stood and made his way over to her. Painfully aware of the attention of a certain French Veela whose hawklike gaze followed him all the way from the Ravenclaw table. Bending down he whispered, "I have a pretty good idea of what's got you down, if you've just received the same news I have." She spun in place to eye him critically, holding the message carefully out of his sight. "Come on," he urged, "there's things we need to discuss."
"Get a grip, Pettigrew, we're in the middle of the Feast!"
"How could I have missed that I was interrupting your meal," he replied sarcastically, gesturing to the uneaten food on her plate.
Realising he was right, she grumbled, "This'd better be good, or I'm finding a nice, slimy, repulsive detention for you." Grabbing and apple and waving goodbye to an inquisitive Mary, Marlene and Alice, she followed him out of the Great Hall (Pettigrew carefully avoiding Apolline's imploring look) and up to the Astronomy Tower.
"Talk," she ordered.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that that note's from 'Sevvie-pooh' telling you that he's withdrawn from Hogwarts permanently, says sorry for not telling you earlier, hopes to see you in the holidays, and all that rot." He could tell he'd hit bullseye when her eyes widened in shock. Before narrowing in suspicion. "The reason I know this," he continued hastily, "is because I just received this." Flourishing is own missive. "Go ahead," he offered.
Lily read through the archaic calligraphy. "Bellatrix and Regulus have also formally left Hogwarts," she said flatly. "And I'll bet a case of butterbeer that's not a coincidence."
Harry nodded. "They've most likely all been spirited away to shield them from whatever horrid vengeance the Blacks think I'm cooking up to retaliate for the so-called 'Battle of Hogwarts'. Very clever."
"How is it clever to throw away attending the premier school of magic in the world!?" she demanded hotly.
"Since when has Hogwarts been number one in the world?" He raised his hands to forestall her rising objections. "Yes yes I know people keep saying that it is, but we're Brits, of course we're gonna say that. Have you ever seen a shred proof to justify that claim? But leaving that aside," he added, not wanting to get side-tracked into yet another argument with the feisty girl, "think about it from the Blacks' point of view: this way, Narcissa and Sirius stay here. They both like Hogwarts, have friends here and don't want to leave. Bellatrix and her 'Sevvie-buggins' go into hiding to get private tutoring somewhere. In Britain maybe, or somewhere on the Continent. And Regulus goes to Ilvermorny, to wait out the war in safety. Spread out far and wide. None of their eggs in the same basket. As I said, very clever. What happened to House Malfoy can't happen to them now." He took up the letter and waved it a bit. "And they didn't inform either of us until the first night back at Hogwarts, when it's too late for us to do anything about it. Also very clever."
"What about the rest of this? Why on earth would they tell you that this Cygnus and Druella –"
"Bella and Cissa's parents," Harry supplied.
"– have taken the Dark Mark? You could have them arrested with this!"
"Because they know I'm not going to turn them in. And because they want to let me know what they're up to."
"Which is?"
"Same thing as the school stuff. That House Black has positioned itself with a foot in every camp, so that they'll benefit regardless of which side wins this war. They have me, Sirius, Andromeda and Dorea, who are firmly in the Progressive camp. They've got Orion, Walburga, Bella and Regulus in the Traditionalist camp. And they've got Cygnus, Druella and probably the rest of the extended family as marked Death Eaters. Narcissa's a bit of a wild card, no telling to which side she'll jump to. Ah who am I kidding, the winning side of course! And there you have it: a group of Blacks in every camp, and spread out in three disparate locations. I'll have to send Walburga a congratulatory note."
"What appalling cynicism."
"Yes," he agreed. "We call it diplomacy."
"And you're okay with all this?!"
He shrugged. "They're gonna do what they're gonna do. We've had this conversation before remember? Even though I'm their Lord, I can't actually force them to do anything, just like I can't force you to do anything. Parents are free to send their children to whatever magical schools they wish. But the Dark Marks do give me a good excuse to have the goblins evict everyone (except myself, Sirius, Orion, Walburga, Andromeda, Dorea, Reggie and Cissa) from every Black property and remove their access to those properties and to any Black vaults in Gringotts. After all, they're deliberately defying their Head of House's wishes, so it's perfectly understandable that they be denied any resources of the House, right? I'll also have to change my will to ensure that if I die, the whole lot of 'em are legally expelled from the family."
Seeing the question in her eyes, he elaborated, "So they don't try and knock off Sirius in an attempt to get the headship transferred to Reggie or someone else." He mussed his hair in irritation. "Just when I thought I'd done with paperwork for a while! Maybe I can trick Padfoot into doing it for me– I mean, on my behalf. It'd be good training in preparation for him taking up his lordly duties."
"Why not just expel them now?"
"I'm not sure expelling them is the best idea," he replied slowly. "While they're Blacks I at least have some nominal control over them; expelling them makes them free agents. Nothing to stop them formally joining any of the dark families. Bellatrix Lestrange; Narcissa Parkinson; Regulus Carrow; ugh," he shuddered.
Thankfully Harry had at least some rudimentary experience in all this politicking. In his past life, he'd had two years to get his head around being Lord Potter and Lord Black, before The Incident. He silently thanked the Andromeda Tonks of the future for her extensive help in getting him to understand some of the main intricacies of House Black. It had also stood him in good stead in dealing with Goldenrod, Kakarot and the rest of the goblins at Gringotts.
"What about – hold the phone, why I am even talking about this with you? None of this has anything to do with me!"
"Because, like it or not, you are Lady Black. It's your House too, you deserve input into how it's run."
"I am not Lady Black," she gritted her teeth.
"That magic ring on your finger begs to differ." She made a threatening step towards him. Hastily backing up he said, "Okay, how about this? Because your former best friend has now eloped with that crazy bitch Bellatrix and is Merlin knows where doing Merlin knows what."
Her irritation suddenly switched to sadness. She turned away from him to look out over the battlements to the lights of Hogsmeade, twinkling beyond the Black Lake. Harry cautiously stepped up beside her, but remained silent.
After an indeterminate amount of time she whispered, "What do you think he's doing? Will he be okay?"
Harry replied tentatively. "Probably a lot of combat training, and some politics. For what it's worth, I'm sure he's fine. They don't have any reason to do him harm."
She exhaled loudly. "I thought you made him take an oath. All of them."
He nodded sympathetically. "We did and they did. But there's always a way around these things if you're clever enough. They just swore not to follow ol' Voldie, not to ally with the Traditionalist faction. As long as they're not working directly for the Dark Lard Ball, they're not in breach of their oaths. Still can fight for pureblood supremacy though."
There was another long silence.
"Why?" she said miserably. "Why would he do it?"
Harry had no answer.
"He wasn't born into one of the Families, he wasn't raised believing that shite. He knows what the muggle world is really like, what muggles are really like. He knows how it feels to be shunned and picked on for being different," here she shot him a furious glare. He took an unconscious step backwards. The rage didn't last long, and soon her shoulder slumped. She returned to contemplating the stars.
"I thought we were past all this," she admitted softly. "I thought we were … well, maybe not good. But at least we were on the road. Getting back to being good again."
"Well … it's not set in stone. He could always change his mind and come back to you."
"You think that's likely?" she asked skeptically.
"I think that you're Lily Evans, somebody who does whatever it takes to get what she wants," he challenged. "So the real question is, what are you going to do to ensure he sees the error of his ways?"
"Like what?" she snapped with a touch of bitterness.
"You're the brightest witch of your generation, and you know him better than anyone else – you tell me!" he shot back. "And then we'll make a plan."
She regarded him curiously for a bit. "Why would you help me? You hate Severus."
"True enough," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I want him dead or comatose or 20 pounds lighter from loss of limbs. I know he's important to you. And you're important to me. So if getting him back's what it takes to make you happy, then I'll hold my nose and do what's necessary."
Lily was even more skeptical, but didn't push the issue.
They stayed standing there for a long time in companionable silence. Eventually they realised how late it was and made their way back down the spiral staircase.
"I don't know. I just don't know," Lily mused to herself. "Was he ever the man I thought he was? Or have I just been deluding myself all these years?"
Harry had no answers.
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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~
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His dormmates' queries over breakfast as to where'd he'd gone last night were effectively silenced with the single, magic word: "Paperwork." James looked as though he didn't quite believe Harry, but was torn between wanting to ferret out the truth, and worry that it was true and that prying would result in him being dragged into balancing more accounts. An unexpected source of support for the veracity of Harry's tale appeared in the form of Mary MacDonald, who dropped bodily onto the seat next to him like a sack of potatoes.
"So," she chirped, piling her plate with bacon and sausage, "dye manage to sucker Sirius into doing yer paperwork for ye yet?"
"Told you about that, did she?"
"That lass canna keep a secret from me if she tried!" Mary declared imperiously.
"Nah, I finally remembered that I appointed a proxy to take care of all this tedious stuff! I mailed it to her this morning. She'll deal with the Ministry and the goblins. As a bonus, she doesn't share a dorm with me or dump a bag of doxies on my head while I'm sleeping if I piss her off."
"So true," Sirius nodded sagely.
"So ye're solution to yer problems is just to dump everything on Andromeda's head instead?" she demanded.
"Why not?" Sirius interjected. "The Black family pays her a ton of gold to do this shite. If it's too much for her, she can hire a gaggle of secretaries in tight sweaters with their hair in tight buns if she wants."
"Tight sweaters and tight buns?"
"The tighter the better," Padfoot said seriously. "That's very important."
"As fascinating as this discussion may be," Professor McGonagall suddenly loomed over them, "Mr Pettigrew is requested to come to the Headmaster's Office as soon as breakfast is over."
"What's this about, Professor?" asked James.
"I'm sure I do not know," and with that parting comment, she was gone.
"That woman really really doesn't like me," Harry mused. "I wonder why?" She'd always acted so fond of him in his previous life.
"Could be your grades in Transfiguration," Remus suggested. "Or the fact that her animagus form is a cat."
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