Chapter 12 : Second Skin
Dragon Reserves
Several Dragon Reserves are located across the globe to maintain stable populations of all extant dragon species. Although no tame dragons are known, these highly magical creatures contribute a large amount of highly magical reagents, including important alchemical and potions-related ingredients, as well as wandcores.
[...]
The largest Dragon-reserve of Europe is located in Romania, and is the most active dragon research location in the region. The most common species found are the native Romanian Longhorn as well as the Ukrainian Ironbelly and Hungarian Horntail from neighbouring countries. All three species are considered rare due to their relatively small habitat – Muggle encroachment on their usual locations has contributed to their shrinking population, though a stable population has been maintained for the last two centuries.
The Romanian Dragon Reserve currently hosts eleven species for research purposes; since regulations against Dragon breeding remain active, all procreation among the species is uninfluenced by wizards, and mixed breeds are not known to exist at this time.
From 'Unspeakable Primer' Selected Passages, P. 490
"This is insane." Harry muttered as he shoved a pile of books to the side, balacing precariously on the edge of the large table he's appropriated.
"Having trouble?"
Harry glanced up, unsurprised– an amused Asami Watanabe was looking on from the next floor of the library, hanging precariously over the railing, though she didn't seem to be worried about falling.
"I have a ton of research to do and too many topics to focus on, honestly." Harry admitted, nervously threading a hand through his hair. "It doesn't help that I'm likely to be off on another mission tomorrow."
"They've got you running, huh?" Asami answered with a smirk, dropping down elegantly to the floor in a move that had Harry jealous. "You must have impressed the Minister."
"That makes no sense," Harry pointed out tiredly. "The last mission was pretty much a failure – I mostly ran around chased by vampires and it was another couple of criminals that took care of subduing the targets. It went about as well as can be expected, I suppose, but I was hardly an unflinching rock like some of you."
"That's not very nice, you know," Asami said with a pout. "What're you researching anyway?"
Harry sighed, shoving a few papers aside and uncovering a book on old family histories. "I'm going undercover, and I've only got a few hours to get the basics into my head so I won't stick out too much. It's a hassle, I tell you."
"You're researching a cover in the middle of the library?" Asami wondered with a raised eyebrow. "Not afraid you'll be found out?"
"I had Moody equip this place with all the Dark Detectors he could scrounge up," Harry answered with a shrug. "Nobody short of Dumbledore can come in here and sneak a peek at my work without me knowing, at least."
"Could be useful on the entire Department, couldn't it?" Asami questioned, slumping into a chair nonchalantly while twirling a short dagger on her finger, as Harry had often seen her do before.
"The Department's got plenty of enchantments to detect everything from mosquitoes to mice, it's just not very helpful to me since I'm not the one receiving that information," Harry retorted dryly. "It's just a precaution – Moody approved, as you can imagine."
"Be careful you don't get as paranoid, gaki." Asami stretched and looked interestedly over the various books and documents spread out over the table. "I can't read much more than the covers – some kind of befuddlement charm?"
"A simple one, yeah. I noticed one of the Unspeakables at the Thought Room using it and managed to bribe him into teaching me. A few cups of coffee did the trick, actually." Harry smirked, taking a sip of his own drink – a pint of pumpkin juice. "What are you doing here, Watanabe? Just indulging your ninja wiles and sneaking around?
"Eh, I was bored. Rafe's all pumped about some mission or another, and our poet ghost couldn't stop quoting Yates at anyone who would listen – it got really tiring hanging around there. Figured you were always up to something interesting." Asami picked up one of the books and flipped through it. "Hmmm, old families, eh? Can't read any of it, but the pictures tell me plenty."
Harry grunted in agreement. "I figured you'd already know what I was up to – the Minister said you and your team had some of the highest clearance in the Department."
"I know a bit," Asami admitted. "Not much that I miss around here, honestly. I did the whole Unbreakable Vow thing so I tend to hear the juicy bits. I hear the Prophecy guys have been all over you lately, for example."
"Everyone knows that, I've been going there way more than anyone else cares for. I was talking about this whole hidden identity thing. Shouldn't you be an expert in that, seeing as you call yourself a ninja of all things?"
"Ninjas are just wizards with a unique skill-set," Asami answered with a frown. "We use many of the same spells to hide that British people do – we're just better trained at them. Personally, I've always been more of the sneaky type and worse at blending in. More thief than assassin, I suppose."
"Yes, well, it seems it's my own fault that I got this assignment," Harry said with a shrug. "I changed my features with a basic illusion spell, and apparently I was a bit unfocused – and I practically replicated a dead man. The Minister took advantage of the situation immediately. Just like him to do that, too."
"You managed to replicate a dead man by accident?" Asami asked in confusion. "How on earth did you manage that?"
"Don't ask me, this kind of thing has been happening to me since I started Hogwarts." Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I mean, I accidentally found I was a parselmouth. How do you do that? Not to mention this whole vision thing I've got going on…"
"Did you know the person you turned into?" Asami suddenly asked with a strangely distant look.
"Heard of him, vaguely," Harry said with a grimace.
"Preposterous." The self-proclaimed ninja rose to her feet and started pacing. "Illusion spells are based on the mental image one puts forward when casting the spell. It makes no sense to alter one's appearance into something one didn't imagine, except via Polyjuice Potion."
"Yes, well, I can't explain it either," Harry said with a sigh. "Chalk another up to the weirdness of Harry Potter, I guess."
"If you find out what you did, let me know – if one could actually change into people without knowing what they looked like, that'd be quite a boon for my profession – if that's what you did. I'm pretty sure you'd be breaking a rule of magic, though."
"Eh, rules of magic. I already beat the Killing Curse," Harry said lightly.
"I know."
It didn't take long for Asami to vanish back up to the railing and return wherever she came from – Harry only caught a glimpse of her stalking through the shadows cast by the tall bookshelves before she vanished, seemingly into thin air. With a weary sigh, he returned to his notes.
He's been studying the history of the Black family for the last hour – a tangled mess, all things considered, especially when one considered the many marriages with other pureblood families. He even discovered a Potter or two in the extended family tree, which probably meant he was distantly related to practically every pureblood family in Britain, just like Sirius had been.
Sirius came up several times – most of the books had been updated sometime after his incarceration and were dismissive of him, given that he fit neatly into the profile of a Dark Arts-obsessed madman, much like many of his ancestors. Strangely enough, it seemed that Regulus Black, the man he'd be impersonating, was the only confirmed Death Eater of the lot.
Harry vaguely recalled discussing the issue with Sirius once, but he was pretty sure Regulus hadn't come up as much. Several family trees simply had his face depicted as a skull, though he's scrounged up half a dozen family photos. The likeness with the illusion he's put on was staggering – he had indeed looked near identical to Sirius' brother, though somewhat older. The face was reminiscent of Sirius, though he was somewhat less handsome and a bit pudgier around the cheeks, and the eyes didn't have the warm quality that he was used to.
Not much of Regulus' history was known after he joined the Death Eaters – merely that he'd vanished more or less out of the blue not very long after first joining Voldemort's ranks. Thankfully it seemed that Regulus had relatively little contact with anyone he'd likely meet – none of the Order even came up save Sirius, and he was pretty sure Bellatrix Lestrange nor Narcissa Malfoy would have enough contact with him to figure out the deception. Hogwarts Teachers were probably the ones to worry about most – they'd most likely met Regulus while he was still at school, after all.
Next to the stacks of books on the Black family was a smaller one that focused on that illusive symbol – the Deathly Hallows. Remarkably little was told about the subject, though Harry had not yet had the time to study in-depth. He had more pressing topics right now, given that he only had a few more hours till the meeting with the Order and Minister, and he'd need to have his act ready.
Moody came by for a few moments later in the afternoon, though merely to inform him that Remus would be there that evening. He'd gotten into the habit of changing his scent as well when disguising his features, ever since Rafe kept sniffing him out whenever he'd try to test if he could pass as a stranger. Harry wasn't entirely certain if Moody knew about the plan for the evening – he'd probably not be there, since Dumbledore had promised only members that weren't in the Ministry. This, Harry realized, cut out quite a large number of the people he knew from the Order. Moody, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, he was sure he was forgetting a few others as well. Perhaps it was for the best though – having a few new faces there probably meant he wouldn't be recognized as easily.
With a sigh, Harry jotted down a few of the known details of Regulus' time in the Death Eaters, and then packed up. It was nearing dinnertime and he'd better polish up his illusions using the pictures, given that he couldn't rely on another fluke .Thankfully the voice would be easier to replicate, and the illusions were good enough that he could sneer like an actual Black. He'd probably just have to imagine how he'd look at Malfoy to get the expression right.
Evening came quickly – dinner had been a decidedly uninteresting affair, given that only half a dozen people were even present, and they'd all kept to themselves. Granted, Rafe had been eager to share details on his mission – but the only person who cared to listen already knew. The werewolf had agreed the moment Harry had even offered to bring him along on the rescue mission for Charlie and the other Dragon Keepers; he'd been thrilled that he was even considered, really. Harry had a sinking feeling that the open discrimination against werewolves was only subdued in the Department, not actually gone, and it was a rarity for the werewolf to be asked rather than assigned to a mission without his choice.
Harry nervously walked past the mirror in his room – he'd quickly muted the talking charm on it, as he'd had quite enough comments about his skinny frame by its Hogwarts brethren. The charms he applied were pretty sophisticated and wouldn't fail at the slightest provocation – though Moody's eye undoubtedly made short work of them. Dumbledore could probably also take a peek through them, were he anywhere he could actually use his particular technique of looking through such magic. Thankfully Dumbledore would be in the warded Ministry tonight, and Moody was elsewhere – though the man would probably not comment on the matter. He'd have to check with Scrimgeour later on whether or not the Auror would be in the loop or not, since a solution would have to be reached either way.
Harry finished his modifications, quickly altered his scent and eye colour and shoved his hood over his face, just to be sure. He'd also put an illusion on his wand – it wouldn't do to have Regulus Black show up with a holly wand, after all. Finally he put the most difficult spell he knew on his arm – one he'd only learned a few days before his trip to the Americas. The modified Protean charm actually did conjure up a convincing Dark Mark – just not a genuine one, thankfully. Much like Hermione's coins used for DA meetings, this one only heated up, though on his command rather than Voldemort's, and was relatively easy to remove. It looked rather horrible and would probably pass a cursory inspection, though.
The trip to the Minister's office was swift – he only need to go up one flight of stairs to get there from his room, after all, and the secretary waved him through without comment. Minister Scrimgeour sat in his usual seat, seemingly preoccupied with a thick stack of documents before him.
"Unspeakable Black reporting as requested," He stated formally, resolved to stick to character as long as he wore this disguise, even if his hood prevented anyone from seeing his face.
"Please sit, Mr. Black. You're early, actually – our guests will be arriving in a few minutes. Is Unspeakable Wolf coming?"
"Unspeakable Wolf?" Harry asked with some incredulity, and Scrimgeour smirked. "I was not instructed to bring him along, though I suppose I could fetch him. I'll tell him what was agreed upon later, in any case. That codename really has to go, though. "
"We can do this without him. Between you and me, he's not the most patient of employees here – cooler heads are probably better." Scrimgeour chuckled then, "The codename's just tradition for Phelan, honestly. He's never been interested in the whole secret identity thing, considering he doesn't really consider his actual identity to be very vulnerable. His condition, you see, it doesn't get him much sympathy."
"I suppose that's alright. He obviously knows about the identity I'm taking on – do any of the others get to know?"
Scrimgeour considered it for a moment. "I'm keeping it silent for now – it's probably best if we make sure that nobody in the Order knows, to prevent things from slipping back to Dumbledore. Moody wouldn't go for an Unbreakable Vow on the topic; that means he's probably to be kept in the dark." Scrimgeour grimaced. "It'll be tough, but there's an answer to every problem."
Harry didn't answer, gazing worriedly at the door. "Do you know which members of the Order are coming?"
"As I understand it, the group will consist of a few veteran members and a couple promising recruits. George and Fred Weasley, I believe."
Harry smirked. "They'll keep morale high, I suppose. Their mother must've finally gotten sick of trying to mother them. I bet they bullied Dumbledore to include them, considering their brother's among the missing."
Scrimgeour shrugged, but he perked up when several voices sounded from the door. The warm voice of Remus Lupin was the first Harry picked up and he shifted slightly, getting ready to act like a proper pureblood – at least he'd had enough exposure to a bunch of those to know the basics. Harry felt a shiver run down his back at the concept of acting like Malfoy of all people – even if he seemed to have mellowed out a bit of late.
Remus Lupin strode in first, his amber eyes focusing briefly on Harry's robed form before nodding at Scrimgeour. He was followed closely by Fred and George Weasley – both looked decidedly morose – as well as a witch Harry couldn't quite place – Hestia something or another?
The last arrival elicited a slight gasp from Harry – though behind his hood he paled. Why hadn't he thought of this possibility? Playacting as a Death Eater was all well and good, but he hadn't taken into account the possibility of the genuine article. Though the robed wizard had a hood over his face – much like Harry himself, there was no mistaking that nose peeking out from under it. Severus Snape.
"Please take a seat," Scrimgeour said morosely as he pointed to the seats. Moments later Dumbledore also passed through the doorway, locking and warding it in passing. Snape immediately swept back his hood though he made no effort to straighten his greasy mop of hair.
Harry received more than a few curious stares – Dumbledore particularly kept sending puzzled glances in his direction, though that was expected. Snape seemed somewhat irritated that Harry hadn't yet put back his own hood – probably he'd expected his own willingness to do so would be sufficient to convince the Unspeakable.
"Now that we're all gathered, we'll have to work out a plan. Officially, you are here to discuss a treaty with the Ministry – I can't just vanish from my station regularly without accounting for my time, after all. " Here, Scrimgeour briefly looked at Harry in amusement. "As such, as of right now the Order of the Phoenix is provisionally tolerated by the Ministry of Magic. I'm sure you have no problem with that – I wrote up the agreement earlier and you may look through it at your earliest convenience, Albus."
Dumbledore seemed somewhat surprised; he'd probably not expected to get anything done so easily with Scrimgeour in charge.
"You five have been elected by your organization to take part in a covert operation on foreign soil – the Ministry will not be held responsible if you happen to be caught and jailed for your activities. Being captured could lead to considerably nastier repercussions than mere jail time, if we were to take responsibility – hostilities would not be excluded from the possibilities."
"Romania would go to war over such a thing?" Remus questioned, his lined face betraying a recent transformation, though he looked worse than Rafe had.
"Romania has never been the most liberal in terms of politics – the Wizarding Ministry there is quite harsh on foreign influences. The Dragon Reserves are really the only location where wizards can visit with relatively little trouble, mostly since the country itself doesn't have particularly many experts in the field. Beyond that, the death penalty remains in effect for many offenses, especially when international elements are involved."
Remus looked decidedly disturbed while Dumbledore merely frowned; the old man likely already knew about these potential problems. None of the others even reacted, not even the twins.
"The seven of you are to infiltrate the country using international Portkeys – they will be traced, though it is unlikely that the Romanian Ministry will have enough time to arrive and take you into custody if you move on immediately. A second set of Portkeys will be taken along to return to the Ministry after you have completed your task." Scrimgeour gestured to a map he'd pinned to the wall – it was decidedly crude, having the look of an old pirate's map, including the red X. "The arrival point will be some fifteen miles from the last known location of the dragons and missing Dragon Keepers. It's approximately fifty miles from the border, so escaping across it would not be easy."
"You mentioned seven – I only count six of us," Remus pointed out. "I doubt Professor Dumbledore is coming along, considering his high profile."
"Unspeakable Wolf, the final member of our group, will be briefed later tonight," Harry said, and Snape gave a start at the sound of his voice. "I can vouch for his allegiance."
"This is Unspeakable Black," Scrimgeour said and he obviously enjoyed the start that several had at the name –Dumbledore had evidently not informed the Order on who was coming along on this venture. "He will be joining you as your primary Ministry contact, and should be sufficiently capable. He and a chosen individual from the Order of the Phoenix will be in command of the operation. I trust him implicitly."
"How can we trust an anonymous Ministry stooge?" Snape asked harshly, "He may well be a Death Eater; we'd have no way to tell."
"Ironic, coming from you, Severus." Harry slipped into his decidedly Slytherin role, leaning forward with an arrogant posture. Snape stiffened, his eyes narrowing to slits as he gazed into the shadowed cowl of the Unspeakable.
"Who are you?"
"You've forgotten me already, Severus? I am disappointed, I must say." With that Harry lowered his hood, unveiling his illusionary features. The long black locks, pale complexion and somewhat emaciated cheeks were just as the pictures, with his sharp grey eyes piercing the Potions Master with an intense look. Snape, for once, seemed speechless.
"Black." He finally ground out, sneering.
"That is my name." Harry agreed, giving a mock bow. "It has been many years since we last saw each other. It was under rather different circumstances, wasn't it?"
"You know this man, Severus?" Remus questioned, though he looked at Harry oddly. "He's vaguely familiar…"
"Of course he's familiar," Fred said with a raised eyebrow. "He's in several pictures at Headquarters. That's Regulus Black."
Dumbledore's eyes in particular were focused on Harry with an intense look of contemplation, which flicked to Harry's forearm and back to his face several times. The woman didn't betray any recognition, which set Harry a bit at ease, at least. Just one that actually seemed to have knowledge of his persona would be coming along.
"Shouldn't you be dead?" George asked, confused. "I swear it said you died as a-"
"Death Eater? Yes." Harry answered, and both the twins gasped, though none of the others seemed surprised. "It has been some years since I was involved with that particular group."
"You disappeared," Dumbledore mused, his eyes sharp. "How long has the Ministry known of your survival?"
"Since the beginning," Harry said, glancing at Scrimgeour. "The day I vanished is the day I joined the Unspeakables – my identity was hidden to prevent my former – colleagues – from finding me. Suffice to say that with the re-emergence of the Dark Lord, my survival will not remain a secret much longer."
"Why not?" Remus wondered. "If you keep that hood up, nobody would even guess you were hiding here, except the people in this room. Everyone thinks you're dead."
"Do you believe the Dark Lord is stupid, Lupin?" Harry asked harshly, pained to have to snarl at his old teacher. "I may have left his service, but not all marks of the position can be easily erased. It will be a matter of time before He discovers that my particular brand remains active." It was a calculated lie – though it was true that Voldemort could send signals to particular Dark Marks, several bodies in the Ministry morgue attested to the fact that the Dark Mark continued to activate even on a corpse – the person in question was merely beyond responding to it. It would be rumours rather than Voldemort's own tricks that would inform him of Regulus' alleged survival – and it was doubtful that the dark wizard would admit to such a lowly source of the information.
"How can we trust you? How do we know you're not still a Death Eater?" George asked, sending a glance towards Snape as well.
"I have made an Unbreakable Vow to take my position, Mr. Weasley. As you may know, such an oath cannot be broken, except through death." Harry observed dryly. "I will not require you to do the same – the restrictions would be problematic for you more so than for myself."
"Very well," Dumbledore said, still gazing at Harry with some degree of wonder. "Mr. Black, I require a conversation with you at a later time – I shall make an appointment. For now, I believe I will trust the Minister and his safeguards to ensure your loyalty."
"I have been loyal to the Ministry since my arrival here," Harry said genuinely. "I will not betray my position."
"Why did you not let your brother know you still lived?" Dumbledore asked sadly, melancholy in his eyes. "He would have loved knowing that you escaped Voldemort's clutches."
Harry hissed at Dumbledore speaking the Dark Lord's name, thinking it was decidedly odd he was now acting like Ron had in first year, just for a role. "I have heard of the claims regarding Sirius' innocence. Honestly, I was as convinced as anyone that he was responsible for the crimes he was jailed for. I believed much like anyone that he betrayed all he'd ever stood for. I admit I was tempted to contact him after his escape, but I convinced myself it would be better to do so when I actually knew where he was. He was dead before I had a chance."
Harry felt terrible for recounting such a decidedly false perspective on Sirius' life and the thoughts of his deceased godfather must've shown on his face – his grief-stricken pallor was not faked and the look in Dumbledore's eyes softened.
"It seems the last generation of Black turned out well after all," Dumbledore muttered, smiling slightly. "I wouldn't have thought it possible."
"You've not met my cousins, I take it." Harry said lightly, eliciting a guffaw from Fred and George and a sardonic smile from Dumbledore.
The conversation quickly turned to serious matters, covering the means of entry via a rubber tyre Portkey, the target location and the approximate number of foes to be expected – at least twice their number, perhaps more. Snape kept gazing at Harry with those hawk-like eyes of his, though his face otherwise betrayed nothing – the rest of the Order had seemingly accepted his presence, at least for now.
It took almost three hours of constant debating and disagreeing between Dumbledore and Scrimgeour, but a semblance of a plan had been formed. Harry had largely tuned out the conversation in favour of studying the people he'd be travelling with; He knew four of them fairly well, but not the woman – he remembered her now from the year before, as she was among those who's gotten him to Grimmauld place. She's been introduced as Hestia Jones somewhere along the way.
Snape seemed satisfied with glaring at Harry, his eyes suspicious though he's not tried using Legilimency – not that he'd have quite as easy an entrance to Harry's mind as last time around. It was possible that Regulus and Snape had met as Death Eaters, though it didn't seem likely that the two would have had any significant contact there. It seemed for now that only Dumbledore had any significant memories of Regulus – and a solid decade and a half could probably account for a lot of the differences he might display compared to the old Regulus. He knew for example that he should've been severely prejudiced against Remus – anti-Werewolf sentiments were rather common among the old families. The fact that he'd allegedly worked as an Unspeakable for over a decade could account for his relaxed attitudes, though.
It was finally agreed upon that they'd all set off the next morning at nine – border patrol was even stronger at night, so the odds of getting caught went way up if they went now. Nobody seemed quite fit anymore after the lengthy planning session, in any case. Thankfully, it seemed unlikely that the Death Eaters would rush his prizes away – for one, there was no way they'd be able to transport half a dozen dragons at once without a lot of preparation.
When the Order members finally left, Dumbledore remained behind the group, looking back at Harry who'd followed him to the door.
"If I had known-" Dumbledore stated, looking particularly frail. Harry shrugged.
"I found my own solution, much like Severus it seems." Harry said carefully. "I considered going to you, but I was afraid I'd be taken in before I could reach you. I never did have anyone at school that could really be trusted."
"Oh, Regulus…" Dumbledore said sadly. "I have misjudged you severely, it seems. Just… could you do an old man a favour?"
"Name it." Harry said, rubbing his arm absentmindedly as his illusionary Dark Mark tingled – Dumbledore noticed the gesture but didn't react.
"You must know that Harry Potter has joined the Unspeakables recently – you might've already met. He was quite close to your brother and I believe you two should meet. I dare not hope for the kind of relationship Harry lost, but perhaps it could give him some closure."
"Harry and I have spoken." Harry said, feeling decidedly weird in talking about himself in the third person. "He approached me, actually. At times, I feel he's handling the loss better than I am." Harry chuckled internally, smiling thinly at Dumbledore. "I believe we will survive."
"Very well. I will arrange for a conversation at a later time – I'm sure you know what it is about. We must pool our resources before this war gets any worse." Dumbledore turned, his eyes twinkling merrily. "I have every confidence that you will return the missing, Mr. Black."
Harry remained behind until Dumbledore left, smiling vaguely. Dumbledore, it seemed, was willing to give anyone a shot – though really he hadn't expected any different. If Snape could make his way into Dumbledore's good graces, anyone could.
Then, he frowned. Dumbledore's vague mentions of a future conversation weighed on his mind, as he had little to go on regarding its subject. He'd need to do more research into the wizard's activities close to his death – though he had no clue where to get them. He knew very few sources of information from that time, and scant few witnesses to call upon.
"Can we trust him?" Hestia asked seriously, her neutral expression finally giving way. She'd managed to keep her surprise at Regulus Black's appearance quite hidden, though she suspected that Regulus himself had picked up on it.
"He's a Black," Snape muttered darkly. "He might not be the black sheep, but that entire family has been unstable, particularly in the last war. The last I ever saw of him he seemed as committed as ever to the Dark Lord's cause."
George and Fred were discussing the meeting between themselves, often interrupting each other halfway through their comments, as if they knew what the other was thinking before they'd even verbalized it. Remus briefly tried to figure it out but gave up and focused on Dumbledore.
"I do not know if we can trust Regulus Black," Dumbledore began with a frown, "though not for the reasons most of you would suspect. The Minister has assured me that Black made an Unbreakable Vow – one that includes a rejection of Voldemort's ideals. No, I am more worried that after a long time in the employ of the Ministry, he may be little more than Scrimgeour's personal spy."
"Scrimgeour seems willing to work with us, though." Remus said with a frown. "You'd think if he were suspicious of us he would not invite us here."
"He allies with us because it is convenient," Dumbledore said carefully. "We are a means to an end – if the Ministry had a suitable group available, we would doubtlessly have been ignored. He views the Order as a resource, rather than a true ally. I'm sure his heart is in the right place – he wishes for victory as much as we do – but his means are not the most scrupulous."
"That is somewhat rich coming from us," George snorted. "We're an illegal organization, sort of. We're practically a private militia."
Remus glared at George, though Dumbledore shrugged at the accusation. "We do the things we must, in times of war. That doesn't mean we cannot prepare for the actions of others. I would suggest keeping a close eye on Black, to see where his true allegiance lies – whether he is in this to conquer Voldemort, or merely as a Ministry puppet."
"Should we really be upset if he is a Ministry man, though?" Hestia questioned lightly. "Clearly the Ministry saved his life in the First War – he's made it to adulthood without anyone even knowing he survived. A remarkable feat considering who was Minister before this – I suspect that the Department of Mysteries itself may have something to do with it and the Minister merely snatched up the potential later."
"The Department of Mysteries does prefer being prepared," Dumbledore agreed. "I do not claim that the Minister is incompetent – and certainly not the Unspeakables – merely that we should be careful. There is more than mere politics that plays a role here, and we cannot see all the plots."
"I will coax Black into answering some questions," Snape said suddenly. "We share a history, of sorts. Perhaps he would be more willing to explain his survival to one who has also left that fold."
Dumbledore agreed, turning to Snape. "Remember, Severus, you should keep yourself hidden, as your role may be compromised if the Death Eaters catch on to your identity. If I knew anyone else to entrust the security of this rescue to, I would have chosen them."
Snape acquiesced, bringing up his hood. "Charles will return safely."
"I have no doubt of that, Severus." Dumbledore concluded softly, as the group made their way to the nearest apparition point – unlike Dumbledore, none of the others could do it from the Minister's office. Dumbledore pondered to himself as he followed – the appearance of Regulus Black threw a new variable into his carefully considered plans. Someone outside his personal circle knew one of the most important secrets that could be known.
I really do not understand your blind belief in the boy, Rufus. You're sending him into another country – undercover - without training!"
Scrimgeour scowled as he turned to the enraged Jocelyn Burbidge who had once again chosen to invade his office – this time she'd brought a colleague along, though Aeron Croaker seemed merely amused and raised a scornful eyebrow at his glance.
"I have my reasons, Jocelyn," Rufus declared, though Jocelyn jeered immediately.
Croaker coughed, forgetfully fiddling with the rings in his ear that tinkled softly against each other. "The lad will be fine."
Jocelyn glared at Croaker, sighing deeply. "Et tu, Brute? What on earth do you see in the boy? He's probably more driven than most his age, but he's been here for, what, a month or two? He's imitating a long-term employee! He might get people killed!"
Croaker smiled enigmatically. "You misjudge him, for one. Do you believe it chance that he resurfaced just as Potter was assigned to the mission in America? I don't believe in such luck."
"The traitor." Burbidge spat. "The report I read was hardly stellar – Potter was barely in control and was ultimately released, he didn't escape."
Croaker shared a conspiratorial look with Scrimgeour. "Yes, well, perhaps there is more going on that even you know, Jocelyn. Shouldn't you prepare for a far more local menace?"
"I am aware of the looming Death Eater attack, if that is what you mean," Burbidge answered coldly. "I maintain that we are not satisfactorily prepared."
"I understand your concern, but it is misplaced," Scrimgeour said airily. "The rat believes he has found us out, but he has been tampering with irrelevancies ever since he arrived. Though the exact date of the attack is unknown, we do have a ballpark figure – within three weeks."
Croaker glanced over at Jocelyn and smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure things will be fine. Certainly Potter will be. That boy will go far – I could tell when I first met him."
Burbidge didn't answer as she stood, turning to the exit. "If something happens to Potter, I will hold you two accountable. You toy with lives far too easily. If you'll excuse me." She left quickly, leaving the two in silence.
They sat together without speaking, Scrimgeour leafing through the thick folder that hadn't left his desk in weeks. "Do you believe we can maintain this?" the Minister asked inquisitively.
"It is necessary. I have no doubt that things would get quite problematic if Burbidge's boss got involved in all of this." Scrimgeour sighed weakly. "I'm the Minister for Magic and yet there are still people that perhaps know more than me about the whole enchilada. It's an uncomfortable thought."
"They'll get mistrustful if Potter keeps getting these missions – and you know that report has plenty more in store, if you keep following it to the letter. Have you read what's-"
"Yes, Aeron," snapped the Minister. "It is unbelievable and if I weren't convinced that these reports were sincere, I'd probably have thrown them away as so much baloney. But they're not – and I can't afford to diverge from the path I've set out on. It's the only way to keep going. Time will follow this path."
"People will be devastated." Croaker retorted nervously.
"I know. " Scrimgeour jumped to his feet, striding through his office. "I am aware of the stakes. If my plan goes wrong, we might well lose all. I can't envisage things will be pleasant for a while in any case. But I know more than you – I know the moment of truth."
"You have already told me that the file is from a time when conflicts remain. The war is still going when this was sent back – how would you know what you should do? Who could possible send you that message that you'd force everyone-"
"The person I trust most in the world." Scrimgeour said, his eyes narrow as he dared Croaker to contradict. "I appreciate your help and your understanding, but believe me when I say that I have chosen the best possible road to end this war. The events in this folder will happen, and things will go wrong – but that does not mean I cannot make things go wrong in the best possible way."
"Now you sound like you're from the Temporal Division, honestly." Croaker answered with a wry leer. Croaker stared at his friend for a while before shrugging. "Rufus – don't screw this up."
"I won't." Scrimgeour replied softly, turning his back to Croaker. "I dare not."
Harry spent the remainder of his evening much as he'd spent the afternoon – studying. He'd already packed his bag - he'd left his Invisibility Cloak behind as he'd have a tough time explaining how he'd managed to get one given their rarity, and it'd make an unfortunate connection to his true self. He'd already gone over his spell repertoire – although he knew no real dark magic, he had enough spells to probably come across as a pretty decently educated Hogwarts graduate, though with a handful of nasty Post-NEWT surprises. It would have to do – he could always explain his disinclination to use dark magic as relating to his rejection of being a Death Eater.
He hadn't hit a goldmine regarding Regulus Black until he, by accident, came across a peculiar book regarding Hogwarts graduates – Black appeared in it as his sixteen-year old self, likely shortly before he joined the Death Eaters. The advantage there was that the pictures were sufficiently charmed that they responded audibly – even if they weren't terribly sentient like the Hogwarts paintings. The picture-Regulus did inform Harry quite surreptitiously that his brother was a lout and that he had a secret crush, though he was reluctant to tell for whom. More prodding had led to the picture spilling quite a lot of information on his former class, though Harry barely recognized any of the names. Apparently the pictures were at their best when asked directly about what they got up to in school. A handful of the tales included people he was familiar with – Sirius, Snape, and even one that featured Harry's father, which led to him tearing up slightly – the little picture actually looked remorseful after that.
He'd closed off the night with a last look at his data regarding the 'Deathly Hallows' ; several sources pointed to 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard', the children's fairy-tale book that was resting in his bookcase, while others pointed to far more obscure works, most of which were on loan from the Ministry Archives. Two of them, it seemed, to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts – ever since the forties. Harry snorted as he imagined the kind of fine that was probably warranted for hoarding obscure research works for half a century. Likely the books had simply been donated to the school and forgotten about.
The Tales of Beedle the Bard had found its way into his bag for the following day – he'd read a tale about a stump with some casual interest, and perhaps he'd get to continue his reading in a calm moment. He made sure to charm the cover a dull grey, also packing his manual with the same veneer – it'd probably stop uncomfortable questions on why he was reading a children's book.
Harry was convinced he'd only just closed his eyes when the old clock on his bedside table chimed him awake quite loudly. He sprang up with a sputter and slapped it off, though not before he fumbled clumsily out of his bed, his legs tangled up in it.
Tetchy, Harry went to his mirror and cleaned himself up – he immediately put up his disguise as he would be able to put his flattened hair right properly. Harry casually wondered why he'd never looked up this spell while at Hogwarts – the tangled mess he was used to was finally under control and he actually sort of liked having it down – though he knew that he couldn't afford to actually do it while others were around, given that it'd look remarkably like Regulus' Black current style. With a sigh Harry altered his voice and put on a remarkably nice black-and-iridescent-green robe. Harry was thankful it at least didn't have any snakes on it, though he supposed to the Slytherin colours fit Regulus well – as they should, given that it had been his house.
He still had some trouble putting himself in the role of Regulus – Harry supposed it would take some time to get used to, though it had come fairly easily the day before. Thinking like a Slytherin was not too difficult for him – of course, it had been a toss-up between Gryffindor and that house with the hat, so it only made sense. Embracing one's inner Slytherin – Harry figured Ron would be appalled at the very idea. A content smirk made its way onto Harry's face – on Regulus' face, it looked quite natural.
Since he wasn't wearing his Unspeakable Robe, (those had so many charms on them they'd stand out like a beacon to the border patrol) Harry was wearing an actual hooded robe of the normal variety, covering as much of his face as he could manage. He used the back hallways that were usually calm to make his way to the departure location – the same long-distance Portkey location that he'd left from with Moody.
He was the second to arrive – Rafe was already stretched out on one of the benches, looking decidedly relaxed where he sat. Unlike last time the entire place was enclosed with a dark dome to shut out the light – and give some confidentiality. Likely the Minister had arranged for it to be locked off entirely this morning to prevent anyone from inadvertently noticing the group leaving.
"Are you ready, Potter?" Rafe asked noisily and Harry winced, shoving back his hood.
"I think you'll find that is not my name." Harry said grandly, looking sharply at the werewolf. Rafe snorted loudly in response with a maniacal grin.
"Look at you! If I'd known you were going with this kind of cool get-up I'd have arranged something special for myself rather than regular old me!"
"You'd better avoid outing me when the others get here," Harry muttered darkly as he sat down next to Rafe. "It'll be hard enough to keep in character without you blurting out my real name."
"I'm not an idiot – Regulus. This place is rigged with detection charms just like most of our Department – we're alone. I figured I'd see if I could actually fluster you. You did well." Rafe smiled toothily. "I hear Lupin is coming? It's been a while since I've spoken to kin."
"Kin?" Harry wondered curiously. "You're family?"
Rafe grimaced, turning away. "Of sorts. Same father, if you get my meaning."
"Greyback." Harry guessed, remembering Remus once talking about how he'd become a werewolf.
"Bitten when I was a kid," Rafe agreed. "I attended Hogwarts for a few years before I had to drop out due to personal difficulties – I got lucky, though. I lived in Ireland at the time and got myself picked up at a small school there. Nothing quite like Hogwarts but it had a large forest out back where I could rage during the full moon – and I had a talent for teaching myself anything I wished, so I didn't really bother the teachers. I don't think any of them ever found out, given that I already elected to sleep alone."
"That must've been tough," Harry said wonderingly. "Remus managed at Hogwarts, but there were some close calls."
"Oh, I know all about Remus," Rafe said in amusement. "We didn't find out about each other until well after we had gone our different ways – we'd probably have picked up on each other when we got nearer to adulthood and we got our superior senses, though. I usually used the Floo to go home for the transformations, so we didn't really interact then either."
Harry hummed in response, thinking of what it'd be like to be a werewolf – he had only seen one transformation, but it'd been quite enough. The enhanced senses probably didn't make up for the unbearably painful monthly torture.
The representatives of the Order arrived after each other in a quick series of pops and cracks – Snape landed solidly while Hestia Jones balanced awkwardly on her toes and quickly moved to the side. Fred and George had arrived on the far end and were apparently deciding which of the two had pulled them slightly off course, while Remus had immediately turned to stare at Rafe.
"Phelan."
"Lupin."
The two glowered briefly at each other, both sets of amber eyes glowing. Harry was about to interrupt when the two suddenly chuckled and shook hands. "It's been years, my friend."
"Indeed – so you've found yourself a place in the Ministry, eh? I did wonder where you'd crept off to." Remus then turned to Harry with a sad smile. "A good morning to you to, Mr. Black. I didn't get to do this yesterday – my condolences for the loss of your brother. He and I were quite close."
Harry stood up stiffly, incapable of keeping the fleeting look of grief off his face as he thought back to the events of that crazy day when Sirius died. "Thank you, Mr. Lupin. I regret not meeting him again before the end. It seems he and I shared more in common than either of us knew."
Harry felt awful – like the day before, he was spinning a fitting story, but he was really adding to Regulus' life. It was essential to keep the cover, he supposed – but it was depressingly like he was stealing the man's life.
"There is something pertaining Sirius that I'd wanted to discuss – we have a few minutes before the Portkey's set to go, we have time. You see, Sirius left something of a will, but we can't get access to it since apparently we weren't in it. It seems likely that Sirius didn't get to change it after his escape from Azkaban – after all, he was a criminal – so it may still be as it was in the first war. Do you know–"
Harry realized that this was perfect – he'd received a notification of this nature from Gringotts, weeks ago. He'd received some money from the Black vault and documents – Harry had swept it aside at the time as he really didn't need it and he didn't want to think about taking Sirius' money or things. It'd be fitting if those belongings stayed with the Black name, even if it was only symbolically – Sirius would probably appreciate the trick.
"I received that inheritance, yes." Harry agreed, scratching his ear. "Was Sirius using our old house? Could've sworn he'd burn the place down the first time he'd set a step back there, seeing as how much he disliked it."
"It is in use, yes." Remus said dispassionately. "We should discuss that some other time – I'd appreciate buying the property from you, considering moving would be a hassle."
"Hmmm, was there anything worthwhile left?" Harry inquired, thinking rapidly over what remained at the old Black house as he recalled it. "I haven't been back in forever."
"A few Black heirlooms, I suppose – and the old house-elf, of course. Quite a hassle, that one."
Harry froze. Kreacher. He had been pining over a witness of Regulus life – and now, seeing as he inherited the place and everything in it from Sirius – he actually owned one. Remus cocked his head at the wizard's perplexed expression. Harry reacted in the only way he could think of that would explain his expression. "Kreacher is alive?"
There was a piercing crack and a small house-elf with a bulbous, snout-like nose, bloodshot eyes, a great many folds of skin and white hair growing out of his bat-like ears appeared and snapped to attention. It didn't take the elf more than a few moments to go incredibly wide-eyed and pale.
"Master… Master Regulus?" Kreacher squeaked, blinking madly. "No, Master Regulus is dead. Can't be. Kreacher has been drinking too much, far too much. Oh my poor mistress, what would she think if she saw Kreacher now? Poor Kreacher…" With a crack the house-elf vanished again, leaving a bemused Harry and Remus behind.
"I suppose I'll see if I can talk some sense into him later," Harry pointed out. Meanwhile he was thinking swiftly. Kreacher had said dead. Not missing, dead. Apparently the old house-elf considered Regulus his Master, as well. What did the old fellow know?
"It'll have to wait until after the rescue, though." Remus pointed out as he moved to the thick rubber tyre that one of the others had placed in the centre of the dais. "We're about to go."
"What were you doing with the Black house-elf, Lupin?" Snape inquired with a sneer as he approached. "Nobody's seen neither hide nor hair of the trollop since its Master vanished – I believed it'd long since beheaded itself."
"Only you would think that," Lupin commented, amused. "Seemingly I've found our lost heir."
Snape scoffed. "So the mutt left the remains of the Black fortune to you?"
"So it appears," Harry said softly, eying Snape suspiciously. The man had been acting intentionally awful since that morning – was he suspecting something? Perhaps expecting something? "You seem anxious, Severus."
Snape didn't deign that with a response. He grabbed the tyre and Harry quickly followed – Rafe put his foot on it with a smirk. "Makes for a wild ride," He pointed out. Remus sighed in exasperation and was the last to touch the object – the moment he did there was a sharp jerk behind Harry's navel and in a disjointed blur they were gone.
Luna Lovegood hummed to herself as she wrote for the Quibbler with her extravagant swan feather dipped in ink – her father would certainly appreciate this stellar journalism, given that it was based on numerous personal anecdotes from several classmates she'd gotten to talk. The recounted tales of romantic woes would fit great with the interview her dad had sent her – he'd managed to talk a semi-retired curse-breaker into speaking about his profession during one of the man's solo hunts for artefacts. She read over her father's writing:
"All I wanted to do was study the settlement's remarkably well-preserved kiln," said the 58-year-old Whitman, carefully recoiling the rope he had just used to clamber out of a pit filled with giant rats. "I didn't want to be chased by yet another accursed manifestation of an ancient god-king's wrath."
Luna glanced over at the rising sun – yet another night she'd missed, unfortunately. She'd have to make sure to catch up in the weekend.
She glanced over to the stairs – someone had entered Ravenclaw Tower – entered, when almost everyone was still asleep. She got up swiftly and curiously looked over the handrail.
"Luna Lovegood," the person said, unsurprised by her arrival. He was wearing a heavy ebony-coloured hooded cloak and around his neck was a heavy golden chain with what appeared to be an hourglass at the end.
"That's me, yes. I'm afraid a tour of Ravenclaw Tower would not be very practical now – people would probably get upset over being woken up-"
"I came for other reasons," the figure said. "I come from the Department of Mysteries."
"Of course you do," Luna said with a smile. "You know you could've just sent a letter, right? Sneaking into the school at night is probably not something the Headmaster really likes." Luna descended the stairs two steps at a time.
"Do you know why I'm here?" the figure asked, his (her?) voice masked by a charm.
"You need my help with something?" Luna cocked her head to the side. "Do you need a tour after all?"
The Unspeakable chuckled briefly. "I do need your help, yes – the Ministry needs your help. You remember what occurred during the summer, correct?"
"Of course," Luna agreed. "We had that nice dinner with Harry on his birthday."
"Indeed. You recall what you were told then, by her? "
Luna's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh."
"Oh." The Unspeakable confirmed.
Luna suddenly looked flustered, toying with a flower that she'd put behind her ear the day before. "Does the Headmaster know?"
"Not yet."
"Shouldn't he know? I mean, after Harry…"
"I'm afraid that he has no say in the matter – this is entirely my responsibility." The Unspeakable tapped Luna softly on the head. "He will be informed after."
"Won't people be worried?"
"Your father knows a little," the Unspeakable said with a shrug. "The others will hear what they need."
"I suppose," Luna said. "Can I at least leave a note?"
"Keep it simple."
Half an hour later, the first students descended from the Ravenclaw dormitories. Luna Lovegood was nowhere to be found.
Albus Dumbledore stood looking out from his office, a pensive look on his face. He distractedly put his hand in his pocket, retrieving a small locket, hexagonal with an amber front. He stared at it for some time. He dangled it from his fingers, frowning. Finally, he flicked the locket open, as he'd done many times over the last two weeks.
Inside it was a folded note, yellowed and aged. The handwriting was winding and graceful, the hallmark of a proud pureblood:
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.
R. A. B.
Author's Note : Small references to the Onion, as well as bite-sized bits that point to other fanfics, though not much.
I tackled Sirius inheritance as something less remarkable than it's often portrayed – the Wizarding world never seemed terribly progressive so I figured there would simply be a shortlist of who receives things, rather than excessive readings. (Considering Dumbledore's will, this seems pretty consistent with canon.)
Stay tuned for more as next chapter, we will see what Harry, Rafe, Remus, Snape, George, Fred and Hestia get up to in far-out Romania. The fact that they're awfully close to Transylvania might give them pause, though.
Minor Spoilerific:
If you didn't get the basic gist of the inheritance : The letter itself will appear later on, but the basic idea is that Sirius' will from the first war remained active – it listed James and Lily as the primary recipients of what he owned (at the time not that much) for their help after he was kicked out of the house; as a result, Harry received everything. Obviously only Harry knows since he was the only recipient – and since he never did tell Dumbledore, they worried about who Grimmauld belonged to (the Fidelius remains active obviously.) Given that Regulus is alive, an obvious answer to the mystery presents itself and Harry snatches the opportunity.