A/N: Hello to all my lovely readers! I'm so sorry – I know this chapter is now over a month in coming! As a treat for your patience, I am intending to get Chapter 12 up super soon as well (read: will work very very hard to make this happen by Monday evening). I promise I haven't gone cold on this story or anything … the delay has been due to some madness in my personal life. I don't know how many of you might have seen from my profile, but James and I actually eloped mid-June! We took a fortnight or so on honeymoon, which was wonderful but did not leave a lot of time for writing. Things have been a little nonstop since we returned to London… and then this week-end we've had some additional news, which I shall keep under my hat until the next instalment, as I think it more appropriate to share there.
Anyway, I do apologise for the long wait. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed in the interim, I REALLY appreciate it (especially as I made you wait so long!). A few responses to reviews with questions are posted below (read at your leisure, some are lengthy), and enjoy Chapter 11!
Love from, C.S.D.
PS: There is a brief conversation in this chapter that takes place in German. Forgive me if you are a native speaker – it is not my first language and my German remains quite rough. I've included a translation at the end of the chapter.
Guest (Chapter 7 Reviewer): Excellent deductions! You win the proverbial prize on that one.
Psitomer: Thank you for your review and your support! I think we're a way off from friendship and/or neutrality at this point… but we'll see how things unfold. Tensions are only going to grow between Severus and Sirius for a little while – not least because they're all in the same place several months earlier than expected.
Halfblooddemiwizard: Thank you! I'm very happy you're liking the story so much. The Snape/Sirius confrontation certainly will happen… when it does (or, is there only one?!) is not information I want to share just yet – but I do think you will enjoy it when we get there.
The plants/herbs gathered in Chapter 10…
Yes, there is definitely significance in the plants and fungi Snape had Harry collect in the previous chapter; although perhaps their most important purpose is to instruct Harry on the properties of different ingredients and the methodology behind gathering them – something they do not often get practical instruction on in potions class, where the focus is in brewing. Beyond this, some of the herbs serve as an opportunity for Snape to give veiled advice to Harry, about both potions and his greater destiny – something Snape is often trying to do both here and in canon. We see this particular scene from Harry's perspective, not Severus's, so exactly how much he means to convey through this advice is not entirely clear.
Lecturing Harry on the death cap toadstool, he warns him that meaning well but lacking knowledge can be a deadly combination ('It is often ingested merely by accident… but then, ignorance and good intention are often silent killers.'). Later, he reminds Harry what Golpalott's First Law is, and gives him advice which is actually quite similar to what Grindelwald says to Dumbledore in Chapter 29 of Part I – that in order to defeat something evil, you have to understand it ('All antidotes and anti-venoms have a measure of the poison they counter within them, Potter. You cannot defeat the killer without understanding what it is made of; what it is that makes it deadly.'). Perhaps even more so than Gellert, Severus actually suggests you may have to partake in or possess a bit of such evil in order to counter it.
Snape next sends him after wormwood – which Harry notes for its somnolent qualities. Harry is familiar with its uses in Draught of Living Death (which we know from canon will come up in N.E.W.T.-level potions) and in Shrinking Solution (which is on the third year syllabus). But Snape points out that wormwood is also a key ingredient in most healing potions – several of which Harry has had to take in his time at Hogwarts. He also informs Harry that milder doses of wormwood can be used in 'mind-altering' potions… a type of brew that – like poisons – could prove dangerous to the unwitting drinker. Snape tries to get Harry to guess the additional uses of wormwood by asking him about the properties of the herb, from which we learn that wormwood is quite bitter – a quality that suggests the taste of a potion infused with wormwood should be able to give away its potent ingredient.
Nettles are a fairly common plant with stinging hairs – they are used in several potions as well as different teas and beverages (even wine). Most popular use is probably in Boil Cure – which Harry studied last year.
Wiggentree bark gets only a passing mention in the chapter, but it will become important later… so I hope people didn't miss that it was one of the ingredients Harry was asked to describe. For those who are not as familiar with the supplementary canon, the Wiggentree is a magical rowan whose bark is used in potion-making (for the Wiggenweld Potion, among others), and the tree is often guarded by Bowtruckles. Most importantly, anyone who touches the trunk of a Wiggentree will be protected from Dark creatures as long as they are doing so.
Star Grass is a medicinal herb (in both HP universe and the Muggle world). It's used in HP in a healing salve. In the Muggle world, it was a popular treatment for colicky babies until the 1940s. Sneezewort is used in the befuddlement draught and in powdered form as (gasp!) sneezing powder.
Knotgrass is an ingredient Harry should know well, as it is a central ingredient in Polyjuice Potion. Actually, it's scientific name is Polygonum aviculare, and it was once believed to halt the growth of both children and animals (William Shakespeare's Lysander mentions it as such in A Midsummer Night's Dream, MND .329).
Snape collects mistletoe, which is a bit of a shout-out to the druid influence that has permeated parts of this book. Mistletoe plants are extremely poisonous, actually, but the berries (which are comparatively non-toxic) are also used as an ingredient in the Antidote to Common Poisons and the Forgetfulness Potion. The ritual of oak and mistletoe is a Celtic religious ceremony, in which white-clad druids climbed a sacred oak, cut down the mistletoe growing on it, sacrificed two white bulls and used the mistletoe to make an elixir to cure infertility and the effects of poison. The ritual, known from a single passage in Pliny's Natural History, has helped shape the image of the druid in the popular imagination, although it is unknown how much of Pliny's account is accurate. The oak tree makes an independent appearance here as well – the death cap mushrooms grow around its roots.
Silverweed is another plant that was used in medieval medicine in Europe, usually to treat abdominal cramping and open sores.
Belladonna, the last plant Snape goes off to collect, is part of the standard potions kit that all Hogwarts students are required to have. Its association with magic and witches is actually quite widespread (outside of the HP universe), going back to the Middle Ages. Like Aconite, belladonna was once believed to be a key ingredient in witches' flying ointment, and in the Middle Ages, some believed belladonna to be the favourite plant of the devil. Because it is used in a lot of common potions, I didn't choose it for any particular purpose here.
Finally, valerian. Valerian is used as an ingredient in Treacle fudge, which is one of Harry's favourite foods. It is also used in Draught of Living Death, the Draught of Peace, some sleep potions, and the Forgetfulness Potion – as valerian root has sedative and anxiolytic effects.
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DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.
Chapter 11: Whispers on Wings
The soft call of the eagle woke him.
It was nearing dawn. He could tell by the sliver of cold light through the high slit in the curved tower wall that he liked to pretend was a proper window. It was much too narrow for a man – but just wide enough for the bird. Gellert sat up at once, bones creaking with age and disuse, and tottered closer to the beam of bluish light. He carefully wrapped the threadbare blanket around his forearm and gestured with one gnarled finger at the eagle. She leapt lightly from her perch on the sill, gliding down to close her sharp talons around his cushioned arm. He groaned a little at her weight.
Owls could never pass the wards. Not unless Albus allowed a particular bird through – and Albus was disinclined to do so… or, at least, he had been until recently. The only owls that had graced this fortress for half a century were those that delivered the newspapers, and they went only to Lakai. The house-elf sent the newspapers up with his meals, but Gellert never saw the owl. Even those that had brought Albus' correspondence these past few months had dropped their missives with the elf.
But common birds… they could come in and out as they pleased. They were no threat, really. They were wild creatures. Mundane.
But they could be tamed.
Training the eagle had been difficult. Much more so than he'd anticipated, having never bothered much with animals of any sort before now. Even at the height of his own power, he had considered owning an owl nothing but a liability; an avenue by which he might be tracked or tricked by his many formidable enemies. He had never utilised the same post owl twice in a row. And, of course, this bird wasn't magical by nature, and so it lacked the inherent ability to commune with wizards in the way that owls were able to do.
Still, he'd always had an affinity for golden eagles. They were the national emblem of his country – both his nation of birth and his adopted homeland. They were proud and strong. They dove in from above – unseen and silent – and they took what was theirs.
He'd received Flüstern by accident. A fledgling, she had just flown her eyrie in a nearby tree, or perhaps in one of the fortress's many disused turrets. She'd been much smaller then, when she'd slipped through the slit into his little chamber. She'd flapped clumsily about the circular room, trying to find a way out. She hadn't known how to tuck her wings to slip back through. Gellert watched her impassively as she struggled, banging off the walls and ceiling and working herself into collapse. In the end, she had ended up crumpled on the stone floor; exhausted and injured from her efforts. Gellert picked up a heavy tome and stood over her broken form, thinking to put her out of her misery.
But something had stayed his hand.
Possibility.
So instead of executing her, he'd nursed the golden eagle back to health in a makeshift nest by his own derelict hearth. It had not been easy. For several weeks, he felt sure she would die from the injuries themselves; and his healing magic was rudimentary at best, without his wand. She hadn't trusted him either, snapping viciously if he attempted to touch her and gouging deep marks in his hands with her talons. Golden eagles were generally quite silent by nature… but Gellert still feared that the house-elf might discover her presence if he crept into the tower in the night.
Luck had been on his side. Over the weeks of her recovery, the eagle grew to know him… perhaps even to love him. And Gellert, in his turn, began slowly to train the bird. He christened her Flüstern – for she was all silence and discretion, and in time she had learned to carry the whispers of the world on her wings. Over the years, he had grown closer to this creature than he had ever been to any living being.
'What have you brought me today, my sweet?' he crooned to the eagle, stroking one long finger across her head.
Flüstern nudged at the finger affectionately and adjusted herself to free her left leg, where Gellert could see a tiny scroll was furled. He detached the note with an easy flick of his hand, and withdrew a scrap of last night's chicken for the successful bird. She took the treat gratefully before swooping off through the window again.
Gellert unfurled the missive. He recognised the script – this had come from his contact in London. Sinking down into the spindly wooden chair, he scanned the letter's contents by the light of the coming sun.
No word on the location of Azkaban's escape artist… wandless magic reported in Privet Drive… Potter had not been seen at his relatives' house since the start of the month, and was rumoured to be back with Albus at the school… and in town, odd groups of people had started to gather; started to whisper…
What interesting news.
Gellert finished the scroll and set the end aflame, watching as the blaze slowly consumed the ink. When the last of the message had turned to ash, he brushed the remnants off his little desk and pulled a blank sheet of parchment from the battered drawer. He scratched out a hasty message of his own.
'Lakai,' he called, waving the scroll a bit to dry his wax seal.
The house-elf appeared, looking highly put-out to be called upon.
'Was ist es, dass Sie sich wünschen, Miststück?' the elf enquired.
'Ein Post-Eule,' Gellert replied dryly, holding out the letter. 'Diese Nachricht ist für Dumbledore. Stellen Sie sicher, dass er sie schnellstmöglichst erhält.'
The elf glowered, but snatched the parchment. 'Und was ist wenn der größte Zauberer der Welt nicht von Ihnen zu hören wünscht?' he asked distrustfully.
Gellert gave a sinister smile. 'Ich habe meine eigene Gesellscht schon immer vorgezogen,' he quipped. 'Und mit Albus... Ich werde das Risiko eingehen.'
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14 July, 1993
Dear Harry,
I hope your summer is going well, and that your time at the Dursleys' was not too horrible. I miss you already – it seems an age since the end of term.
I've been keeping quite busy, of course. I've nearly finished with first drafts of our assigned essays, but I can't wait to get into Diagon Alley to get a few books for background reading on our new subjects! I suppose it will be a few more weeks before we get the official lists… but it's never too early to prepare. I might post an owl order…
The trouble is, Mum and Dad are rather nervous about going into Diagon Alley without Mr and Mrs Weasley or another qualified wizard at the moment. I've been getting the Daily Prophet delivered – it's so lovely to keep up with the news from the wizarding world! – and I've been letting Mum and Dad read it as well. You know… they like to have a bit of insight into our world. It's hard for them, not being able to understand most of what we get up to at Hogwarts. Anyway, I'm sure you've heard about Sirius Black's escape by now – it's been all over the Prophet. There's still no sign of him, but apparently the Ministry's set up all sorts of extra-security measures and cautions – especially in high-wizarding-population areas. Mum and Dad think we ought not to go into Diagon Alley without a proper wizarding escort – just in case.
I would ask Ron, but he's off on holiday – did you see the picture of the Weasleys in the Prophet? I'm ever so happy for them, but so jealous; the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating!
Well, I suppose I'll just have to wait until we return from our own holiday. Did I tell you? Mum and Dad have decided to take a few weeks in France – we're leaving on Sunday. I think we're doing a bit of a tour, but I'm sure Hedwig will be able to find me no matter where we are. I don't think I'll be able to write you again unless Hedwig arrives to carry the post… I really do need an owl of my own. I do hope you'll write – I want to hear all about your lessons and news from the castle. Ron's such a horrid correspondent, and it gets quite lonely without you two.
Take care of yourself, Harry. Perhaps we can all go to Diagon Alley together when Ron and I get back.
Love from,
Hermione
18 July 1993
P.S.: Harry, Hedwig only just turned up – and lucky she did, because I was beginning to worry I wouldn't be able to get this off to you before we left! Please, please promise me you'll write while we're in France… I can't stand so many weeks apart, and I hate that we'll miss your birthday this year. I'll send you something wonderful from the Continent.
Mum is calling for me now – I'd better run. Lots of Love!
Hermione
Hermione Granger finished the letter with a flourish and rolled the scroll neatly. Harry's beautiful snowy owl watched her through amber eyes as she completed the task, and stood docile and dignified with one leg in the air so that Hermione could tie the letter to her leg with a length of ribbon. Hermione gave her a bit of crust from her toast as a reward, and Hedwig took off again through the open window with a hooted acknowledgement.
Hermione sighed. Perhaps for her birthday this September, she could convince her parents to get her a post owl of her own.
'Hermione, dear, come along!' her mother called again from the landing. 'We're going to miss the train if we don't get on.'
'Coming, Mum!' Hermione replied quickly, jumping up from the desk and swinging her bag over her shoulder.
She hurried out of the room and down the steps to join her parents in the front hall. Her father was just adjusting the alarm, while Jean Granger selected two brollies from the stand in the corner. She handed one to her daughter.
'They're predicting quite a gale later this afternoon,' her mother explained, as Hermione took the brolly with a word of thanks. 'You ought to wrap up a bit.'
'I've a jumper in my holdall,' Hermione assured her. 'But it's lovely out at the moment.'
'All set, then?' her father asked, turning from the controller.
The women agreed at once, and the little family loaded into the car for the journey through town. Hermione rested her chin on her palm, gazing out the window as they crawled slowly down a congested Prince Albert Rd, idly watching laughing families and holidaymakers in the park.
'Are you alright, love?' her mother asked, turning round in her own seat and scrutinising her daughter. 'You're very quiet this morning.'
Her father too glanced back at her with concern through the rear-view mirror, eyebrows raised.
'Oh, yes,' Hermione assured them. 'I'm quite well. Just thinking.'
Her mother gave an indulgent smile. 'Thinking about Harry and Ron?' she clarified with a knowing look. 'I shouldn't worry too much, darling. You'll be together again before you know it. And at least France will be such a lovely diversion from all that horrid unpleasantness in your Prophet of late.'
'Quite right,' John Granger agreed, giving a short blast on his horn as they were cut off by an insolent cabbie.
'Yes, I suppose that's true,' Hermione said. 'It's all very strange as it is. The Ministry seems to be in an uproar. I've read all about Azkaban, and the fortress is supposed to be impregnable. And Sirius Black was supposed to be among the most heavily-guarded in the prison… there's a particular ward for people who committed terrible crimes working under You Know Who.'
Her father snorted. 'Well, even wizards can't have thought of everything,' he reasoned. 'It's not common, of course, but breakouts do happen. They'll have caught him before long, mark my words.'
'What do you mean – people who worked under You Know Who?' her mother repeated curiously.
Hermione hesitated. She'd read up on Wizarding history before her first term at Hogwarts, and she'd shared quite a bit of it with both her parents. But they'd never really talked much about Voldemort… certainly not since Hermione had actually gone to school. It wasn't done in the Wizarding World, if one could avoid it. And it was a habit Hermione had carried back with her to Kensington. Moreover, she did not want to frighten her parents into thinking Hogwarts was too dangerous a place for her to be.
'Do you remember what I told you about the war in our – in the Wizarding World?' Hermione asked. 'It ended when I was about two?'
Jean Granger furrowed her brow. 'Yes…' she said hesitantly. 'The one with Lord –'
'Yes, that's the one,' Hermione interrupted quickly. 'Sorry,' she said, as her mother looked stern at the interruption. 'But we never say his name. It's something of a taboo in wizarding society… people are still afraid, even after so many years.'
'But, didn't you say he'd gone? After he went after your little friend, Harry?' her father put in. Hermione grimaced.
'It's… a bit more complicated than that,' she admitted. 'He did go – for a time, at least. He was defeated that night in Godric's Hollow, and everyone who had backed his side of the war was either captured and imprisoned or killed… except those who managed to lie their way out of it, of course.' Her father snorted again, while her mother looked scandalised. 'But You Know Who – that's what he's generally called – he wasn't killed. He's sort of… well, I'm not really sure. He's lost his body, though. And most of his powers.'
'He's a ghost?' Jean asked. 'Like your history professor?'
'Not a ghost, exactly,' Hermione said. 'He's more like… a shadow, I suppose. A sort of spectre that's somewhere in between the living and the dead. At least, Professor Dumbledore told Harry that he can't really be killed, because he's not really alive. Not at the moment.'
'And what has he to do with Sirius Black, and the others in the wizarding prison?'
'Sirius Black was part of his group of followers,' Hermione explained. 'You Know Who called them the "Death Eaters;" they were rather like henchmen – they committed all sorts of crimes and atrocities, in You Know Who's name and often at his instruction. When You Know Who went after Harry's family and then vanished, his followers were thrown into chaos. A lot of the Death Eaters tried to escape, or claim they hadn't been at fault for what they were doing at the time – that they were just following orders without knowing.'
'A likely story!' her father scoffed. 'Following orders… it's the Nuremberg defence; as old as the Second World War in our Courts, likely even before. And it's not a defence at all according to the House of Lords. Not to guilt, anyway; it is permissible only as evidence to –'
'Mitigate the punishment,' Hermione finished. 'I remember. But it isn't the same in the Wizarding World, Dad,' she explained. 'There are curses and potions which make it so you have to follow orders… or so you cannot control your own mind at all. They were very popular with You Know Who's supporters. They used these methods to control or subdue many people, when it was more convenient for them to have the victim alive than to kill him outright. Curses often fade or break when the caster is killed or otherwise vanquished… so, after You Know Who's destruction, people who'd been bewitched came back to themselves. Of course, it could be exceedingly difficult for the Ministry to work out who had been genuinely impaired, and who was attempting to avoid consequence.'
'I imagine,' said John, looking highly disturbed now.
'In any case, some of his supporters tried to make that argument,' Hermione repeated, 'But others continued to fight even after he'd gone – to avenge his death, in some cases; to discover his whereabouts, in others. I'm not sure what Sirius Black believed about his master's disappearance, but he attacked and killed a wizard and twelve Muggles in broad daylight the day after it happened. That's the mass murder you read about in the Prophet. The Ministry caught him then, obviously, and he's been in Azkaban ever since, in the top-security ward. That's where they put all the Death Eaters they caught.'
'So… do you think this – You Know Who? – has got something to do with his escape, then?' her mother asked.
Hermione shrugged. 'Maybe,' she said. 'But I don't see how. Professor Dumbledore says he's abroad – what's left of him, anyway – and he's certainly not in any position to break in to Azkaban, let alone break out. But his followers are quite dangerous in their own right. Even if You Know Who wasn't involved in his actual escape… I'm not surprised witches and wizards are panicking.'
'Well,' said her father in a reassuring tone, 'I highly doubt this bloke's decided to holiday in Paris.'
'No,' Hermione agreed, with the ghost of a smile. 'I'm sure he hasn't. But I'm not so much worried for me… I worry about Harry.'
'But what has Harry to do with any of it?' asked her mother.
'Nothing, particularly,' Hermione said. Privately, she wondered why, exactly, she was so much more worried for him… it wasn't as though he could be in any safer place than Hogwarts. She just had an ominous feeling about all of it; and, somehow, Harry was always at the centre of any drama where Voldemort had a part to play.
Aloud, she continued, 'It's just that Harry is all on his own all summer… and I think it's quite hard for him. And I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be extraordinarily busy with the Black situation.'
'Harry stays at the school during summer hols?' her mother clarified. 'That wasn't just for last summer?'
'Yes,' Hermione said. 'He spent a week at the beginning of the summer with his aunt and uncle in Surrey but… it isn't a particularly pleasant household for him. Professor Dumbledore keeps him at Hogwarts for the rest of the holiday.'
Her parents exchanged a significant look. Hermione felt rather awkward… but the situation wasn't really hers to explain; and she didn't know quite how to explain it, in any case.
'His relatives aren't all that keen on magic,' she said, when the silence had dragged on too long.
'Well, that's nice of the headmaster to take him on,' her mother offered. 'It can't be easy having to care for a student all summer, especially at his age. I'm surprised he agreed to it.'
'Well, wizards and witches can live quite a long time… and Dumbledore has much more energy than you would expect, even if he is getting on in years. And Harry isn't really just a student to Professor Dumbledore,' Hermione disagreed. 'At least, not anymore. He's always been quite famous in our world, after what happened with You Know Who. It was very difficult for him at first. He was like me – he didn't know he was magical until someone from the school came to speak to him. His aunt and uncle knew, but they never told him. And then on top of all that, he had to learn to cope with the fact that most of the Wizarding world saw him as some sort of miracle baby, or hero, even though he can't remember what happened the night his parents died. I'm amazed he hasn't gone mad from it all, to be honest. But in any case, Professor Dumbledore has always looked out for him, particularly since last summer. I think he's more of a parental influence than anything else, at this point. Harry has never really had that before. The headmaster doesn't seem to mind. I think he enjoys it, actually. He and Professor McGonagall are quite protective; she's at the castle over the summer as well.'
'That's your Head of House?' her father asked.
'Yes,' Hermione said. 'And I think she and Professor Dumbledore… well, I don't know. I shouldn't gossip. But they seem… quite close.'
'How lovely,' her mother said with a smile.
'But why should Professor Dumbledore be caught up in this business with Black any more than the average person?' asked her father with a frown in the rear-view. 'He's the headmaster at your school, isn't he? He's hardly warden for the prison.'
Hermione gave a small smile of her own. 'Professor Dumbledore is a lot more than that, Dad,' she explained. 'He's… well, I don't know exactly how to explain it. We have a Ministry, as you know, and there's a Minister for Magic. But in a lot of ways, Albus Dumbledore is a lot more important than the Minister, Cornelius Fudge. He's much older, much cleverer, and much more accomplished. Obviously, he's had a lot of academic success, but he also defeated Gellert Grindelwald, who was probably the most infamous dark wizard in history, until You Know Who. And Professor Dumbledore led the resistance to You Know Who as well. Most of the Wizarding World considers the headmaster the greatest wizard of modern times, and his advice and counsel means a great deal. People look up to him.'
'Why isn't he your Prime – that is, your Minister for Magic, then, if he's so important in the leadership of Wizarding society?' John reasoned.
Hermione frowned. 'I'm not really sure, to be honest,' she admitted. 'There's a lot of mention in the Wizarding history books of people clamouring for him to take the position… and he's both Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot – that's our High Court – and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. But as far as I can tell, he never stood for Fudge's job. I suppose he never wanted it, for some reason.'
'Smart man,' her mother approved with a nod. 'I've always said politics is a most horrid and bloodthirsty sport.'
Hermione laughed, as her father at last pulled into the car park at Kings Cross.
'Enough chatter,' he rebuked, shooing them both out of the car and unlocking the boot. 'We'd best get on if we want to join the train.'
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'Go on, Scabbers, you love chicken,' Ron coaxed from across the table, trying to feed a bit of meat to his ugly grey rat. The animal did not move to take it, merely sniffing listlessly on Ron's shoulder. The boy gave up, frowning.
'Not looking too well, is he?' George observed, as he stuffed a forkful of roast chicken into his own mouth.
'He's fine,' said Ron, defensively. 'I just don't think the climate here agrees with him much.'
Bill exchanged a significant look with Arthur.
'What!?' snapped Ron, looking between them.
'Nothing, Ron,' said Bill in a soothing tone. 'It's just – well, Scabbers is quite old now, isn't he?'
'At least twelve years,' Percy put in, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose and taking a sip of elderflower wine. 'He was full grown when I found him, and that was about Christmas, eleven years ago.'
Ron scowled. 'Meaning what, exactly?'
'Rats don't live forever, Ron,' Bill said gently. 'Twelve years is a very long time. Scabbers might just be –'
'He's fine,' Ron snapped. 'So you lot can stuff it. He's just not used to the heat!' He pushed his chair back, stowing Scabbers in a pocket.
'Ron –' Bill started, apologetic.
'I'm going up to write a letter,' Ron said irritably. He stormed from the room.
Bill sighed as he watched his brother disappear up the staircase. 'I didn't mean to upset him,' he said. Arthur refilled his own goblet, then topped off Bill's as well.
'Don't worry about it,' his father said. 'It's hard for Ron to face.'
'Don't know why he's so bothered about it, really,' put in Fred, reaching for the bottle of elderflower wine himself. 'That rat's nothing but a fat, lazy bore on his best day.'
'Not a chance,' Molly said, flicking her wand in a routine sort of way so that the wine sailed smoothly from Fred's hand to her own as he went to pour it. The twins scowled at her. 'And don't be so insensitive, Fred,' she added. 'Your brother is quite fond of Scabbers. There is nothing wrong with affection for a pet.'
Fred rolled his eyes as he turned back to his dinner.
'Heard anything new on Black, Dad?' George asked from across the table.
'George!' Molly hissed, flapping a hand to quiet her son as several other diners in the room turned toward their table. 'That's hardly appropriate conversation for dinner, particularly in a public setting!'
'Why not?' George challenged mulishly. 'Everyone's talking about it anyway, even here.'
At the head of the table, Arthur was looking strained.
'Not much to report, it looks like,' he said in a low voice. 'The Ministry's increasing the effort to find him – they put a special task force together last week. There's people from all the departments involved now, not just the Magical Law Enforcement. And I heard from Shacklebolt that Fudge is thinking of pulling everyone off their regular assignments at the end of the month if they haven't found him by then.'
Molly pursed her lips. 'I hope they won't be needing your assistance in this, Arthur,' she said pointedly. He sighed.
'Molly, dear, I can hardly duck out if the entire government is called in for the task,' he reasoned. 'But it's neither here nor there at the moment. We'll boil that cauldron if we get to it.'
'Blimey, I'd love to know how he gave them the slip,' Fred said, a dreamy expression coming over his face. 'The entire guard at Azkaban… And now he's managed to avoid the Ministry and everything. It's brilliant.'
'I hardly think topping the international most-wanted list is something to aspire to, Fred!' Molly chastised in clipped tones. 'And if you can't show some measure of maturity, perhaps you ought to get on to bed.'
'Keep your hair on, Mum, I wasn't saying I wanted to try it,' Fred complained. 'But, you've got to admit, it's unbelievable he's pulled it off.'
'Which goes to show what a dangerous wizard Black is,' Bill cut in, before his mother could explode.
'Exactly,' Arthur agreed. 'In all my life, I never thought we'd see the day a wizard could escape from Azkaban. The Dementors alone are enough to drain the power and will from most prisoners… to retain enough strength to escape them, especially after a decade in their company, is astounding. I would not have thought it possible. And we all know what Black is capable of. It is essential that we find him, before he makes it to H –'
'Arthur!' Molly warned loudly, drowning out the last of his sentence. Fred, George and Ginny leaned in eagerly.
'Pardon, Dad?' George pressed, in a politely interested voice. 'Didn't quite catch that last bit. Makes it where?'
'Never you mind!' his mother snapped at him, shooting a furious glare at her husband. 'Up to bed with you three!'
'Mum –'
'It really is getting quite late, and we have a full day ahead of us,' Arthur said. 'You ought to get a decent night's rest.'
'How come Percy gets to stay?' Ginny shot back with a frown.
'Gin, Percy's of age,' Bill pointed out.
'He's still at school,' George countered.
'And we're fifteen; we're not children,' Fred said angrily. 'I don't understand why you lot can't –'
'Now!' Molly shouted.
The twins jumped up, heading grudgingly for the staircase. Ginny gave Bill a pleading stare, but he shook his head with a half-guilty smile. She stalked off after her brothers, looking thoroughly betrayed.
'Arthur!' Molly spat furiously, once her younger children were out of earshot. 'You really must watch what you repeat in front of those two! Do you want to be the reason half the school goes into a panic?'
Arthur held up his hands in surrender. 'You're right, of course, dear,' he confessed. 'But I don't know that we can hide it forever. Dumbledore's bound to tell him at some point, and no doubt the boys will hear it from Harry.'
'Hear what?' Percy asked curiously.
Molly frowned. 'I doubt Albus would share that information with Harry, Arthur,' she disagreed, ignoring Percy's query. 'It would terrify him. The headmaster would never –'
'Dumbledore would never leave Harry unprepared,' Arthur said firmly.
'It would terrify him!' Molly repeated in a screech.
'It's not about terrifying him, Mum,' Bill said, breaking into the argument again. 'It's about putting Harry on his guard. Dumbledore's not ignorant. He knows Harry, Ron and Hermione get up to… a bit more mischief than is perhaps in their best interest,' he pointed out. 'Leaving him in the dark only sets him up for more danger, in the end.'
'Fudge doesn't want him told,' his mother pointed out.
'Want who told what?' Percy asked.
'That won't matter,' Bill countered.
'But if Fudge says –'
'Bill's right,' Arthur said. 'Fudge has little say in what Dumbledore chooses to share. And Fudge doesn't know the boy at all; Dumbledore does. He's Dumbledore's responsibility. And Dumbledore has never been afraid to countermand the Minister.'
'But there's no way to really know that Black's after him in the first place!' Molly insisted, spilling a bit of her wine as she banged the table in frustration.
'After who, mother?' Percy interrupted again.
Molly bit her lip, looking between Arthur and Percy uncertainly.
'You might as well tell him,' Bill opined. 'You let him stay down here. He's seventeen. You can't protect everyone from the truth forever.'
'I think I can parent well enough on my own, William!' she snapped at him.
Bill held up his own hands in surrender this time. It was very rare, these days, that his mother ever took her temper out on him.
'Molly, you know that isn't what he meant,' Arthur said soothingly. He turned to address Percy himself with a heavy sigh. 'Your mother is concerned,' he said, 'Because it is believed by the Ministry that Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban with the express purpose of attacking Harry Potter.'
Percy looked startled. 'But – how?' he asked. 'Azkaban is supposed to drive wizards mad…'
'Perhaps,' his father agreed. 'But not everyone within the prison is completely out of their mind. Fudge was told that Black has been talking in his sleep for a while now, muttering "He's at Hogwarts," over and over. We believe that the school will be his ultimate destination, with the purpose of reaching Harry.'
'I'll look after him, father,' Percy promised. 'It's my duty as a prefect – maybe even as Head Boy, if I'm fortunate enough to wear the badge.'
Bill forced himself to stifle the urge to laugh. He knew Percy would be highly offended, and that his brother was well-intentioned, if in a completely pompous and somewhat naïve manner.
'There are plenty of fully qualified wizards to watch out for Harry,' Molly said firmly. 'You do your bit to make sure he and your brother stay out of mischief at the school, but don't you go throwing yourself into any danger.'
'You really ought to tell Ron, you know,' Bill said in an undertone to his father, as Percy and his mother began a side conversation across the table. 'He's going to find out anyway, if Dumbledore shares the information with Harry.'
'It's more complicated than that,' said his father in a whisper. 'I don't know exactly how much…' he trailed off, shooting a glance at his wife. 'Wait until your mother goes up. She won't approve.'
It was another twenty minutes before Molly Weasley announced she was headed up to check on the other children. Percy stood as well, saying he wanted to write Penelope before bed (and, Bill suspected, while Fred and George were not around to alter the letter). Arthur and Bill said they would remain for a nightcap, and bid the others a good evening. Bill ordered two glasses of Zibib.
'What is this?' asked his father, staring doubtfully into his own glass as Bill returned to the table.
'It's Zibib,' Bill told him. 'A local Muggle delicacy. Give it a try – it's not half bad, I promise.'
Arthur still looked dubious, but he took a hesitant sip. 'Mmm,' he said appreciatively. 'Bit of a kick, but rather nice.'
Bill smiled, toasting with his own tumbler. His father took a second sip of the bracing alcohol, and shot a privacy charm inconspicuously around their table. Bill raised an eyebrow.
'Rather delicate conversation,' his father explained. 'Best not risk it.'
Bill nodded, and added a second charm for good measure.
'So,' he said, when their spells were in place, 'What is it that's so complicated?'
Arthur sighed. 'I should not really be telling you this,' he said slowly. 'I've never even told your mother… and I can't now, it'd send her into even more of a state.'
Bill waited, his curiosity mounting.
'When You Know Who was powerful, there was a society of individuals organised against him – to fight the Death Eaters and gather information that would help our side. I was a part of it. Dumbledore was the leader, naturally. It was difficult work. We had some extraordinary witches and wizards – the Prewetts, the Longbottoms, the Potters, of course – who lost their lives or their sanity in the fight. It was exceedingly dangerous. Your mother knew I was involved, but she was caring for you and all of your siblings… and she was very distressed after her brothers were killed. I tried to shield her from the bulk of what we did. The trouble was, it meant keeping a lot of secrets, including the names of most of the others involved in our efforts. In those days, we did not trust anyone – which was why we were working outside the Ministry to start with. We took oaths of silence, and had to keep our secrets even from our family and closest friends.'
'I remember, a bit,' Bill said, as his father paused. 'I remember what it was like at the end; how worried she was every time you left the house. I didn't really understand all of what was going on at the time, but I knew things were bad.'
'They were… terrible,' Arthur confirmed. 'Worse than I could possibly describe; even now, when I have had years to think it over. We were outnumbered, and we were losing. Day by day, no matter how much we accomplished, brilliant men and women fell in the fight. Innocent people were maimed, or killed. Houses and villages were decimated. Families were destroyed. If You Know Who had never gone to Godric's Hollow, he would likely have conquered us all.'
He paused again, taking a larger sip from his drink.
'In those days, the best weapon we had was information. We had several useful contacts – people on the fringes of unsavoury society and, of course, a few well-placed informants in You Know Who's ranks. The trouble was, he had his own spies in ours. Dumbledore grew suspicious that some of our most useful information was changing hands, around the same time as we learned that You Know Who intended to go after the Potters.'
'He was after them?' Bill put in, surprised. 'I never realised… I thought it was a random attack.'
Arthur gave a wan smile. 'He was after all of us, Bill,' he said quietly. 'Everyone who opposed him. But… yes, the Potters in particular. I am not sure what drove him to it, but Dumbledore did not seem surprised. We learned some time before his eventual attack that he intended to target Lily and James. I knew them well, though they were several years younger than your mother and I. They'd joined our group straight out of Hogwarts along with several of their friends, and they were both highly gifted magically. James was a good man – very brave, and exceedingly loyal. He loved his wife as fiercely as I love your mother, and his son as much as I love you and your brothers and sister.'
'And Lily?' Bill asked.
'Was a treasure,' said Arthur. 'She was beautiful, smart and talented. She had a fiery temper – quite unlike James, who was more laidback in general – a bit like yourself, actually. They would have made wonderful parents for Harry, if they had lived.'
'I can't imagine,' Bill said quietly. 'It must be so difficult for him. It must have been so difficult for them, if they knew You Know Who was after their family.'
'It was,' Arthur agreed, seriously. 'It is always difficult, in the first place, to have a baby during a war. I should know,' he added, with the ghost of a smile. 'Lily and James were anxious enough, when they were expecting Harry. But then we learned that You Know Who intended to go after them. There are not a lot of options – not when you're facing such a formidable wizard. In the end, Dumbledore convinced the Potters to use a very old protective spell called the Fidelius Charm.'
'I know it,' Bill said, at his father's inquiring glance. 'We learned about it in N.E.W.T. lessons, in my seventh year at Hogwarts. We've even used it here, a few times, to protect some of the more valuable tombs that we haven't explored entirely.'
'Then you know,' said Arthur heavily, 'That the charm requires a Secret-Keeper?'
Bill nodded.
'Dumbledore offered to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself,' his father continued. 'He was worried about the leak in our security, and he feared that someone close to Lily and James had been sharing information on their whereabouts and movements with You Know Who. But the Potters declined the headmaster's offer. Instead, they chose to use James' best friend for the task – a man named Sirius Black.'
'Sirius Black was James' friend?' asked Bill, astonished. 'His best friend?'
'Yes,' Arthur confirmed. 'Black was close to both the Potters. He had been James' best friend from the time they were children, and he was best man at his wedding to Lily. They were inseparable, even as adults. They partnered on missions in the fight against You Know Who. Black even lived with the Potters for a time, until Harry came along. It was astonishing after what happened… but he had us all completely fooled.'
'So… he was their best friend – their Secret-Keeper – and he betrayed them,' Bill summed up, his expression stony.
'Yes,' said his father. He was whispering now, despite their privacy wards. 'It was a devastating blow. Black was close with many of us in the organisation. I liked him very much myself, actually. He came from a difficult past, but he was always full of life and laughter. He was quite like Fred and George, actually – always looking for the joke even when things were so bleak. Until that day, I would have picked any other person in the world as the one who would sell out Lily and James, rather than name Sirius Black. But that is the trouble with the truly Dark wizard… you never suspect a betrayal until the dagger is buried in your back.'
'And he sent them to their deaths,' Bill growled. 'His best friends, and their son.'
'His godson,' Arthur corrected quietly.
'His what?' Bill snarled, horror-struck. 'Harry was his godson?'
'Yes,' his father said, looking desperately sad. 'Harry does not know. At least, I do not think he does. It is part of the reason I am hesitant to say anything to Ron… I'm sure Dumbledore will tell Harry that Black is a particular danger to him, but I do not know how much of Black's history with his family Albus will share with him at the moment. Harry is still so young, and it is a lot to digest.'
'He's thirteen,' Bill pointed out. 'Or nearly so. And this sort of thing never stays hidden forever. Surely Dumbledore would rather tell Harry himself than let him find out from another student, or read about it over breakfast.'
'It isn't a widely known fact,' Arthur said. 'I doubt any Prophet reporter would be able to dig up the information – at least, not about the Fidelius Charm or Black becoming Harry's godfather. I'm sure he will tell Harry, one day. But he might wish to take the difficult conversations by degree. And it is not my place to interfere.'
'No, I suppose not,' Bill conceded. 'But… poor Harry. His godfather? I can't believe it.'
'Quite,' Arthur agreed. 'The entire situation was a terrible shock, for all who were close to the Potters. Peter Pettigrew, who was another of their best friends, was killed by Black himself the day after James and Lily, as I think you already know. Remus Lupin fled the country in his grief. Alice Longbottom, who was quite close to Lily, was nearly inconsolable… and then, of course, she and her husband were viciously attacked only days later. For the rest of us, the incredible joy that accompanied You Know Who's downfall was sharply tainted with blood and betrayal. For nobody more so than Harry – though he does not know it's extent.'
They paused a moment, fingering empty glasses, each lost in his own contemplation.
'I'll get us another,' Arthur said at last, rising from the table.
Bill nodded distractedly, still thinking over the weight of this information. He thought about Harry – alone in the castle with the remaining staff, and the headmaster; ignorant of this terrible story that had so heavily altered the course of his life. He wondered who else knew the truth… who else had been in this fight, with his father and his uncles and Dumbledore and so many others. Who else sat, like Arthur Weasley, with the knowledge of Black's duplicity, and the lives his treachery had cost?
How many of them even survived to remember?
'There is a reason I've chosen to share this information with you,' his father said, returning with another round of drinks for them both. 'I fear that we are on the verge of another war, Bill. There have been signs… a series of ominous happenings, over the past few years. That business with the Defence professor at Hogwarts last year; the horrible events of this past term that your sister was caught up in; and now, Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban. They all trace back to You Know Who. I can tell that Dumbledore is worried. He's called another of our colleagues from the last war back from the Continent, to Hogwarts. The rumour is that he will fill a post at the school next term, and he's already been tasked with helping to watch over Harry for the summer. I do not want to consider it, but I think it would be foolish to ignore the possibility that we may yet have to face You Know Who's attempt at conquest once again.'
'I'm sure you're right,' said Bill heavily, taking the drink with a nod of thanks. 'We always knew he wouldn't stay gone forever.'
'No,' Arthur agreed. 'And this time, my son, you are not a child any longer. I cannot ask you for anything – and I will not ask you to risk your life, if war should come to Britain again. But you deserve to know the truth. You are a man now, and you deserve the chance to make your own decision.'
'I already have, Dad,' Bill assured him, lifting his glass to clink it against his father's, and offering a smile despite the tension. 'You ought to know by now… I'm with you, whatever comes.'
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Translation of the German text:
'What is it you want, bastard?' the elf inquired.
'A post owl,' Gellert replied dryly, holding out the letter. 'This message is for Dumbledore. See that he gets it forthwith.'
The elf glowered, but snatched the parchment. 'And what if the greatest sorcerer in the world does not desire to hear from the likes of you?' he asked distrustfully.
Gellert gave a sinister smile. 'I have always loved my own company best of all,' he quipped. 'And as for Albus… I shall take my chances.'