Chapter Two

Melok wondered when it had stopped feeling strange to stand on one side of Hermione with Sirius Black on the other, as if she was a woman with two husbands. She held Caelum in her arms, who was giggling softly, although Filius held tightly to his own hand between his Father and Godmother in a smart looking black dress robe as they all stood in the front row of the funeral service. Regulus Black had died on May seventeenth after a long battle against Menspina Mors. Three days later the Blacks were gathered at the manor in Wiltshire, laying one of their own to rest in the family cemetery. Melok knew intellectually that Regulus had not been Sirius' son by birth, although one wouldn't have guessed it by how close they'd become these last few years. Sirius had gotten close to all of his three assumed children, although Hermione had said he made special effort with Regulus of late knowing he'd only be with them a short time.

Regulus Black, of course, held a dear place in Melok's heart as well. He was Filius' biological father, and he and the boys visited the youngest of that generation of Black siblings fairly regularly, Melok thinking it important for Filius to get to know Regulus while he had the chance to. As he watched tears cascade down the four and a half year old's cheeks, he wondered if he'd done more harm than good in allowing Filius to build a relationship with Regulus. Not yet five, and his son was burying a second parent, in effect. Filius wasn't quite old enough to understand it at this point, but biologically speaking, he was an orphan now, both his mother and biological father dead. That Melok had been his Father from day one by virtue of adoption helped, but it still seemed sad to have the child lose so much in such a short time.

The funeral came to a close after a while, Melok paying more attention to his children than the actual service, and when not doing that, losing himself in memories of the man who'd given him his firstborn. Genia had been buried, at her own request, in the Prince family cemetery. Hermione had needed to bully Octavian and Regina into allowing it, but in the end Wizarding law had been on their side. In the case of Human and Goblin marriages, they were legally recognized by Goblin law but not by Wizarding law, and thereby as far as the Wizengamot was concerned, Genia Flitwick had never married, even if she had produced two bastard children. While Wizarding for a few generations, the Flitwicks didn't have a family plot, although Genia's mother was a Prince and therefore her place of burial, legally speaking, was appropriately in the Prince family cemetery. When Genia had been dying, it had been offered to have her interred among the Blacks given the surrogacy Regulus had done, producing Filius, however Genia was adamant that her final act would be to give her children a connection to their maternal family - proof that they were Princes - by ensuring she was buried among her maternal ancestors.

Melok mused that when his time came, it would be yet another place of burial for his sons to visit. Goblins were buried in catacombs, although not all of the burial catacombs were in the deep vaults of the various Gringotts banks around the world. Most weren't, in fact. Given his own family legacy, he himself would be buried in the London Gringotts Catacombs, and he thought he could arrange the same for Caelum despite his being a half blood, if Caelum wished it, although Goblin raised or not, that would not be an option for Filius. He wondered if his elder son would prefer to be buried with the Princes, like his mother, or among the Blacks, like his biological father. As Melok watched Filius lean into Hermione's leg, and her hand tenderly run through his hair, he was reminded that she'd taken Genia's place as a mother in the lives of his sons, best as she could, and that perhaps Filius would favor being buried with the Blacks because of his affection for his Godmother. Who knew?

Melok was pulled from his thoughts as the crowd finally moved back inside the manor to mingle with light refreshments, both boys toddling off in search of playmates in the form of any number of young Blacks, Prewetts, Weasleys, and so forth. Hermione settled on a bench beside him. "How are you holding up?" she asked him softly.

"Well enough," he said. "A bit worried about how Filius will cope with the loss. I think Caelum is still too young to really grasp it, though."

"I think Caelum will get it in an abstract when the visits to see Regulus stop," she replied. "It won't be much different than it was for Filius when we lost Genia. He may not be old enough to comprehend that Regulus has died, but he is certainly old enough to miss a man who has been present in his life."

"True," Melok conceded. "They may benefit from you being by a bit more than usual in the coming weeks, in that case."

She sighed. "I'll see what I can manage, although Reg picked a shite week to kick off. I'm up to my ears in drafting legislation for that new bill regarding ethical sourcing of Potions ingredients that Helen, James, Newt, and I have been working on. Of course Newt will be presenting it, but the Wizengamot is set to see him at the beginning of next month and that only gives us a limited amount of time to finish organizing our argument."

"Well I'm not going to stand in the way of that," Melok grumbled, thinking about how part of this bill was meant to protect the burial grounds of creature groups - Goblins included - so that those seeking Potions ingredients or otherwise wanting to desecrate their bodies - would be legally held accountable, and prevented from pilfering. He knew his Mage's wand core was a Goblin artery, but he admittedly shuddered to think how that core was acquired by Ollivander. Rarely, a Goblin committed a crime so heinous his or her body was donated for parts instead of buried in the catacombs, but most of the time Goblin parts came on the black market; they were not acquired ethically.

"I know, this bill will help protect a lot of creature groups," Hermione muttered. "The more I research, the more I have half a mind to toss my wand out in sheer protest."

"You'll do no such thing," Melok said, putting his hand on her knee. "You can't undo what may or may not have been done to acquire that core. Goblins above most others understand the greater good, Hermione. None of my people will begrudge you having that wand, regardless of how its core was obtained. You share a true kinship with that wand."

"Ah," she said, looking sheepish. "Speaking of kinship, I may have assisted my step-son in a bit of cleverness prior to his passing."

"Cleverness?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," Hermione grinned, "Regulus was concerned, you see, about the fact that Filius is protected by the Blacks because he's a Black by blood, and Caelum because he's my Godson, but he didn't like the idea of you being left out of the fun. I may or may not have nabbed a bit of your blood and activated a familial Kinship bond between yourself, Filius, and Caelum. Effectively, it makes all of you Blacks."

Melok crossed his arms. "You might have asked."

"You would never have agreed," she countered, arching an eyebrow. "So I opted against asking permission. It's for your own bloody good, Melok. Especially if worse comes to worse and I'm forced to resort to older protective spells."

A thought struck him, and his eyes widened in horror. "Hermione, tell me that my counterpart did not teach you how to cast Domus Fidelius. Tell me he did not."

She let out a sigh and touched his arm. "It was a world at war, love. Of course he did. If the war here gets bad… it's a practical option that would protect all of the Blacks, including you and the boys, regardless of your location."

He gripped her hand tightly and forced her to face him. "Not at that price, dammit! Don't you dare…"

She glared at him and pulled away. "My life is no more valuable than anyone else's, Melok," she said, voice hard. "I'd thank you to remember that."

"You are a Mage, Hermione," he hissed. "Mages don't exactly pop up all that often. Even setting aside my personal feelings, you are not that easily replaced. To cavalierly…"

"I'd hardly make that sort of choice cavalierly," she scoffed. "Every arithmancy equation I run suggests that James and Lily Potter dying is a crux event. Sirius continues to implore me to find another way, and I am looking, but it does not look promising. That said, if I allow history to unfold as it did before, James and Lily going to their end as they did before hinges on Peter Pettigrew remaining on the path of a traitor. I could certainly allow that, call it fate, but with what I know, there is every possibility, Melok, that I could give him a chance of a happy future in which he doesn't have to become a traitor like that. I even considered the idea of saving him but still asking him to betray them, knowing what it would mean, to bring him into our confidence, but that would be hell if he was honestly still their friend. I couldn't ask that of him. As such, if he chooses better, I am left with no real recourse but to arrange for another to betray them."

His eyes widened in new understanding. "You'd ask that of nobody in our confidence no more than you'd have asked it of Pettigrew. You mean to be the traitor yourself."

Hermione let out a heavy sigh. "It seems to be the simplest solution. Of course, if things seem to go as before, and Peter turns traitor again, then I'll allow him to play his role and I won't have to, but if he can be saved, he deserves the chance at a happy life."

Melok punched the wall, the ache in his chest still hurting more than his now bleeding knuckles. He saw exactly what she meant to do, if worst came to worst. She'd cast Domus Fidelius to protect the family, and break it on the evening of October thirty first, nineteen eighty one. This would free Voldemort to move against the Potters - her traitorous act - and he'd kill them. That the breaking of the Fidelius would kill her would mean no accountability for her last act. "For the love of the gods, Hermione, don't do this," he whispered.

"It's a last resort," she countered. "I have years ahead of me to come up with a better plan, and if I go forward with it at all will depend on Peter Pettigrew's path. It may not even be necessary."

"Maybe I'll just make sure he does turn traitor," Melok muttered ruthlessly.

"Don't you dare," Hermione hissed. "That isn't something to even joke about."

"Who said it was a joke?" he said angrily. "I told you Goblins are prone to see the greater good. From my current viewpoint, the greater good would be served with one man's well being not being served, so that you survived!"

"That's corruption, not the greater good," she growled. "You're better than that, Melok. I sure as hell hope this isn't the sort of example you plan on setting for your sons."

With that said, Hermione stormed off, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Hogwarts was out for the summer holiday before she spoke with him again after that argument.

Sirius hung up his Wizengamot robe in the closet outside the counsel chambers with a heavy sigh, and was not surprised to see Octavian Prince standing ridiculously close to his face when he turned around. "Lord Prince," he greeted, forcing himself not to step back.

"I cannot believe you are for this bill," Octavian hissed. "Squibs? With equal rights to Wizards? Next you'll be saying House Elves should carry wands, for Merlin's sake! Honestly, Lord Black, I used to be able to count on your support. What happened to you?"

"A great deal," he said with a wry grin, "as I keep trying to explain to you. I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to get used to the new me, m'lord. House Elves with wands, though. Now there is an idea…"

Octavian paled. "You wouldn't dare."

"The more you're up in my face, the more appealing the notion of doing so just to piss you off," Sirius shrugged.

The other Lord took a large step back. "Better?" he sneered.

"A bit, yes," the other Wizard agreed. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get home in time for supper. I hadn't wanted to come in today at all, you know. I did just lose my son. Having to put my grieving time on the back burner and set aside this time with my remaining children just to come in and argue with you was not my first choice."

The girl at the desk cleared her throat. "Lord Prince, a Patronus arrived a bit ago from your wife requesting you make haste home."

Octavian frowned. "Did she say why?"

"No, m'lord," the girl said, face void of expression.

"Merlin, what did I do now?" the dark haired Wizard muttered to himself.

Without even pausing to say goodbye to either of them, Octavian Prince banished his own robe into the closet and bolted out the door, heading for the main atrium and then undoubtedly, to home.

"Thank Merlin," Sirius said, sagging against the wall.

"Thank me, anyway," the girl at the desk said, smirking a little. "Regina may send demands for Lord Prince to hurry home often enough that he'd believe me at my word, but today was not one of those days, Lord Black."

He grinned widely. "You are a saint, Miss…"

"Hornby," she replied. "Olive Hornby. You seemed to be in need of rescue, m'lord. I hope you didn't mind the less than honest means."

"Hardly. Slytherin?" he asked.

"Ravenclaw, actually, Lord Black," Olive reported.

He eyed the girl - young woman, really - critically. She seemed nice, like someone he wouldn't mind being friends with, although he'd made more than a few attempts to be friendly with the lower level employees at the Ministry thus far and none of them up to this point had been able to see beyond who he was. They were friendly to him, but they still called him Lord, no matter how many times he insisted they were free to call him by his given name. However, he hadn't been a Gryffindor for no reason, so he was going to try again. "Call me Sirius," he offered. "Anyone willing to stick it to Octavian Prince is more than deserving of my friendship."

"Alright then," she replied, offering a confident smile. "Sirius. Of course, I don't get the impression you're often very, well, serious."

He laughed. "Not many dare make that joke."

Olive grinned. "I was torn between that one and just conjuring a dog collar around your neck. Honestly, your name leaves you wide open to be the brunt of numerous jokes. You're almost safer insisting on being called Lord Black."

Sirius felt the smile on his face reach his eyes, her humor reminding him of Remus in how caustic and clever it was. "Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine," he said. "I have to assume since you felt inclined to save me from Octavian at all that you've been taking note of my political stances over the last few years, so how do your own line up next to mine?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean to inquire how I feel about equal rights for all, including the likes of Werewolves, Goblins, House Elves, and creatures otherwise. How I feel about Squibs having more access to community support? How I feel about a Squib taking full control over all creature regulation?"

He crossed his arms. "Well when you put it like that, you make me sound like a damn bleeding heart."

"You are a bleeding heart," Olive said pointedly. "Besides, you've worked other cases as well. I was particularly interested in that bill you supported last year to make it illegal for Wizards to exchange more than a certain percentage of their wealth in the Muggle world per month to prevent economic abuses of the system. I agree that it shouldn't be outright illegal to exchange currencies, as otherwise our kind would have to maintain jobs in the Muggle world to have currency there, but yes, the system could be easily abused in a situation where the exchange rate was not as balanced as it is right now. A war on our side or theirs could easily tip things."

"And regarding my bleeding heart?" he inquired, conjuring a chair and taking a seat across from her.

She shrugged. "I'm probably not as much of a bleeding heart as I should be, but I can understand the merits in equality, especially in the case of the Squibs. You were right in arguing that Squibs have a high probability of parenting Wizarding children, and that if we treat the parents poorly, exclude them from traditions, then the children will come back into Wizarding society angry at how their parent was treated and ignorant of our traditions. There's no good in that. The creatures, again, how we treat one generation will reflect in how the next generation treats us. It makes sense to foster peace. The only of your pet projects I have real reservations on is handing over all control of creatures to Doctor Magnus."

Sirius nodded. "What are your concerns about Doctor Magnus? Maybe I can help alleviate them."

"Well, I get transcripts of all the Wizengamot sessions, of course," Olive said, "so I've gotten all the information you've given them. I've heard all you've said about her."

"I figured," he replied. "I'm thinking more along the lines of maybe your questions will help me understand what I should be saying in session, but clearly I'm not. If I can help convince you by answering your questions, maybe that will help me get some more of the swing votes on the Wizengamot."

Olive nodded amicably. "My primary concern is the issue of how she is a Squib. There are some creatures, I hate to say it, that are just so magical that you require actual magic to control them. Muggle technology isn't going to cut it. The simple solution would be for her to employ a few Witches and Wizards, but you've not mentioned in any of the sessions of her intention to do that."

That had been discussed privately, but Olive was right, it wasn't something he'd brought up in session. "May I borrow a bit of parchment and a quill?" he requested. "I agree one hundred percent, and so does Helen. That's something that has been tabled for discussion with Helen and she is open to it, although clearly I've forgotten to mention it during the debates."

"I'm pleased to hear that," the young woman replied. "My next concern is an issue of access. Doctor Magnus, by all accounts, sounds very protective of creatures and while that's well and good and I can appreciate that on a certain level, the reality of the matter is that many Potions Masters' livelihoods depend on an ability to find and harvest from certain creatures. Sometimes this means harvesting from them while they are living in a completely ethical manner, and sometimes this means killing them, typically because they are a creature which reproduces so frequently that killing a few isn't an issue. I question if a woman such as Doctor Magnus would allow Potions Masters access to creatures they'd need to harvest from, and if so, at what price and to what extent. How much proverbial red tape will they need to cut through just to do what they've been doing freely for generations?"

That was a good point, he begrudgingly admitted. "I will have to talk to Helen about that one, and I appreciate you bringing that issue up. I'm honestly surprised nobody has point blank argued that before, although to be honest, a few of the ones on the Wizengamot who are currently against the idea of handing over control to the Sanctuary are Potions Masters, so them holding out makes a good deal of sense if they are concerned about this."

"I'm surprised Orion didn't say something," Olive said. "That boy could brew, not that he ever took much interest. Far too busy pining after that bloody Gryffindor."

Sirius laughed. "My grandson, Orion? Went after a Gryffindor?"

Olive nodded. "Certainly. It stopped after he and Walburga were betrothed, of course. Merlin, I can't remember the girl's name, to be honest. Scottish. A few years older than us."

"Hard to imagine," Sirius mused. "I mean I know he and Walburga are hardly a great match, but Orion and a Gryffindor? Seems barmy."

She shrugged. "All I know is the pair lost their respective Houses a fair amount of points the year they were together for getting caught snogging in the corridors. Ravenclaw won the House cup that year thanks to them."

He smirked. "Well, there's that."

The easy banter with Olive, while not blatantly flirting, reminded him of the early days of his relationship with Hermione nearly as much as it reminded him of Remus. Mostly, he was just enjoying how comfortable it was with this woman. He knew he needed to get home to Arcturus and Lycoris, who were struggling to deal with the loss of their brother, but he also knew that Hermione was unlikely to be home yet. She was probably still at Melok's, helping him with Filius and Caelum, or at Aberforth's, working on plans for the Resistance.

He didn't believe they were having an affair, but he knew he was sharing his wife with the Goblin on an emotional level. He knew that his wife was unwilling to have children with him, and he knew that despite that, she'd become mother to Melok's two sons. He tried not to be jealous, and most of the time it worked, because he was hard pressed to be jealous of a bloke who'd gone through the worst sort of pain of losing a wife, and it was only through that pain that Hermione was so deeply involved in his life as she was. Still, he missed his wife. He missed seeing her, kissing her, and knowing she'd be there for him.

Sirius was lonely.

But, as he looked into Olive Hornby's blue eyes, that loneliness seemed a bit further away, so despite needing to be home, he stayed a little longer.

It was a slow afternoon at the Hog's Head, and Aberforth was keeping himself busy doing some minor repairs to the barstools that had built up some general wear and tear from use over time. He did this sort of thing about once a year, presuming they weren't broken in a brawl in between. With magic, he only needed to replace them once every decade when repairing charms began to break down. The barkeep looked up when the bell above the door rang, signaling a customer entering. He let out a heavy sigh when he realized who it was. "Albus," he greeted, stopping what he was doing and moving to the other side of the bar, intent on getting himself a drink to steel himself for what was sure to be a tiresome conversation. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to you about Riddle," his brother said casually. "Attacks are growing more frequent, even if they have remained isolated since that incident a few years ago in Diagon Alley. Only last week there was an attack on the Pince home up in Yorkshire. Irma's brother and sister-in-law were killed."

"I heard," he admitted. "Bad business."

Hermione had been talking about trying to recruit Irma Pince, but felt it was too soon to attempt recruiting from within Hogwarts, right under Albus' nose. After the attack last week, however, they'd been reevaluating that standpoint. Hermione wasn't sure Irma would be inclined to join up after what happened to her brother, but there were others they could recruit. She was especially keen to get Chesley Keating on board, having already established a rapport with the Head of Ravenclaw and a good working relationship with him on other fronts.

"I believe it may be time to establish something of a counter insurgency against Riddle," Albus confided. "An Order to fight against him."

Aberforth took a sip of the Firewhiskey he'd just poured himself to hide the smile of amusement on his lips. "Is that so?" he said after a pause.

"I admit that as I consider where to begin with recruiting," his brother went on, "that I pause when thinking of the Blacks. They've such a history of dark leanings, and I fear they may have already been drawn into the fold of Riddle's forces. I believe it's distinctly possible that all of the political movement toward equal rights they've been spearheading of late may simply be a ruse meant to garner sympathy in those communities, drawing Werewolves and Goblins and other such groups into Riddle's forces in the long term."

He couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed loudly, having to put down his glass so he didn't bloody spill it everywhere. "Oh Albus," he finally said. "Of all the ridiculous…"

"How is that ridiculous?" the elder of the pair asked sharply. "It would be an effective ploy."

Aberforth shook his head and conjured his goat Patronus. "Albus is here wanting to know if you're on Tom's side, Hermione," he said, and then sent off the wispy messenger.

"I didn't realize you were that close to Lady Black," his brother said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You aren't the only one who uses me as an information source, brother," he said cryptically, "and we have a number of mutual friends."

He didn't mention that they were also friends, mutual friends beside the point. Albus couldn't play the Slytherin game if his life depended on it.

They didn't have long to wait before Hermione arrived with a loud crack, irritation clearly written on her face. "Honestly, Albus, of all the nerve!" she ground out. "You already know I'm Muggleborn! Voldemort would hardly ally himself to the likes of me, and I assure you that my husband and I want no part of him, nor will we allow our family to offer their support either. Besides, I'll remind you who whispered the name Tom Riddle to you in the first place as a candidate for consolidating Gellert's forces!"

"You call him Voldemort?" Albus inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Well that's what he's calling himself these days," Hermione retorted. "I'm not about to call him the Dark Lord, the way his followers do. I'm not afraid to call him Voldemort, even if I know that name will be feared in the years to come. I certainly won't be calling him You-Know-Who."

"So you assure me that you are not, nor will you be working for his cause?" the elder Dumbledore asked. "What assurances can you give me of that?"

She huffed. "Assurances? Short of a magical vow, which is off the table, what assurances other than my word would you ask of me?"

"I'm beginning a group to defy his rise to power - the Order of the Phoenix," Albus replied. "Would you join the fight?"

"Under your leadership?" Hermione asked. "I think not. Your crusade to serve the greater good will have far too many casualties for my liking, most of them innocents."

Albus gave her a calculating look. "I'm getting the distinct impression I have given you some great offense, Lady Black, however I can't for the life of me figure out when or how. I don't suppose you'd enlighten me, would you?"

Aberforth almost pitied his brother as Hermione gave him a sly grin that would have told anyone that she knew something vital that they didn't. "Oh Albus," she said, pity in her voice. "One day, I promise, I'll explain. For now you must take my word that we work toward the same aim - Tom's downfall - but that there are very good reasons we must work separately. In the meantime, I shall merely advise that you keep Minerva McGonagall close, at all costs. She is more important than you can imagine."

He gave her a curious glance. "I had the impression she has a bright future."

Her gaze softened. "The brightest."

"Any other insights on my fellow Professors?" he inquired.

Hermione considered for a moment. "Encourage Horace to be more involved with his students, and not just the ones that show promise of fame and glory. Every student has value, not just the ones who might serve him in the future. Chelsey may be gruff, but he's probably the best Head of House you currently have, although Herbert is a close second and he's chosen a worthy successor in Pomona Sprout. You have also chosen well for your own replacement. Horace, I suspect, will be around for a while yet, so he really should step up his game. Chelsey won't go anywhere for a bit yet, either. I know you're in line to be Headmaster, Albus, and taking initiative on such things now is prudent as it will be your responsibility when that time comes. Oh, and when you do become Headmaster, I would not be even remotely surprised if Riddle makes an attempt to gain employment at Hogwarts. Likely the Defense Against the Dark Arts Post. Knowing Tom, he'll ensure that the post is open when he applies so you turning him away will have to be an issue of conviction rather than one of merit, as we both know he's technically qualified. As for Tiberius Avery, I'd suggest he be encouraged to step down the same year you advance to Headmaster, or I expect Tom will have him killed in order to make way for his own application."

Albus frowned at the information. "That's… insightful. I do think you're right about Tom wanting to gain employment at Hogwarts. Strategically it makes perfect sense. He'd be in prime position to recruit impressionable young people, potentially even learn compromising information about them to force the issue, blackmailing them into service."

"Agreed," Hermione replied.

"I have to inquire, Lady Black, do you play chess?" the older Dumbledore asked.

Aberforth answered for his friend. "Better than you, brother."

Albus huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes as Hermione let out a rich laugh.

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