Power Known Not

Disclaimer: Yes, I am JK Rowling. I own Harry Potter! [evil cackle] And if you believe that, I have some ocean front property in Missouri that is going for cheap…

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"I don't understand this obsession, Lils," Alice said as she lowered the oversized teacup to the polished wood of the table. They were taking a risk meeting in public like this when they were both so close to their due dates. The only excuse they had was a thin one that would not hold up if their husbands questioned them too closely. It remained a tragic fact that the muggle world was just safer at the moment. Death Eaters did not frequent there. It was also easier to get baby things. To any of the other occupants of the same teashop, the two friends were simply that: friends enjoying a shopping spree. "I had to practically drag you out of the library today. Why are you researching runes anyway?"

"You know why, Al," Lily replied. Her hand gripped the handle of her cup, causing her knuckles to turn white. Nerves gave her entire body a slight tremble, noticeable only by the ripples across the surface of her tea. "I'm trying to find a solution - - some lasting protection. There must be a way to prevent - -" She bit off the sentence with a whispered click of her teeth. The rest didn't need to be said to be heard. Lily refused to even acknowledge the thought. She forced herself not to sneer at her weakness. She had been channeling her inner Severus too much lately...

Alice did the only thing that she could have done. She reached across the table, and wormed her fingers between Lily's hand and the abused cup. Once Lily's hands had been successfully captured in both of Alice's, the tiny brunette gave a squeeze meant to reassure. Green eyes met warm brown as if startled.

"I'll pray with you, my sister," came Alice's quiet reply. Lily felt something within her that she didn't know was tense relax. It was like a switch had been thrown. In that moment, she knew - - she didn't know what she knew, but it felt like a fog had been lifted and everything was just so amazingly clear. Maybe faith really was the key to it all - - or could she use faith as a binder for the other elements? "We'll pray."

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The attic had a virtual treasure trove of things. It appeared that instead of nothing of his parents left, there were six large trunks and several more boxes all full of books, papers, pictures, and smallish keepsakes. To Harry, starved for knowledge of his parents as he was, the find was a feast. How could Sirius not have shared this with him?

"Perhaps he forgot, Harry," Hermione had said when he had posed the question to her. She slid one finger into the thick tome that she had been reading, preserving her place while she refocused her attention to answering Harry's question. Harry was fairly certain that the book was on that came from one of the boxes in the attic rather than the sanitized library. For some reason that he was not willing to analyze - - alright, he'd admit it: brood over - - this fact did not annoy him as much as it would have if it had been someone else. Further reflection on his part was cut short by Hermione continuing. "Long term exposure to dementors can have that effect. He was in Azkaban for almost twelve years. That does qualify as long term."

Her explanation made sense, but the question continued to nag at him. Perhaps it was only because there was not much to distract him from the topic. Except for chess games with Ron (all of which Harry lost spectacularly to no surprise despite Hermione's claim that he was getting better), Harry spent most of his time looking through the attic items or brooding. Hermione, of course, insisted that a bit of each day be spent in study. Kreacher was rarely seen except late at night due to his stalking of Umbridge. Harry took to staying up late just to have a snatched visit with the surprisingly pleasant elf...well, at least comparably pleasant. (Perhaps Hermione was on to something with the better treatment idea?) As much as Harry cared for both of his best friends, after several weeks with only them, and the occasional mad house elf, to talk to he was ready for a distraction.

Fate provided just that one night in September.

The trio of friends was in the library. Both Harry and Hermione were reading unfriendly-looking tomes from the attic. Ron was working his way grudgingly through an essay that Hermione had assigned them all a few days before. Harry had already finished it that night before while keeping watch for Kreacher. At the first sound of Dumbledore's voice, all three heads had snapped up. Books forgotten and instinctively armed, they made their way to the entry hall to be faced with the well-cloaked form of a familiar werewolf. After the shade of the Headmaster had been dealt with, Lupin found himself staring down three wands.

He did not draw his in return. Carefully, he raised his hands in the air by his head. His hazel eyes were suspiciously bright when they met Harry's. The pale skin of the claw scars across his face was whiter than normal, standing out against his tan. He looked a bit desperate to Harry, though the seventeen-year-old could not put his finger on what exactly gave him that impression.

"What was my grade on the Red Cap essay?" Hermione questioned. The Ministry did have a good idea from time to time after all. If a thirteen-year-old could brew Polyjuice successfully, who knew who else can?

"Blimey, Hermione, how would anyone remember that?" Ron protested while the actual person in question let out a weak chuckle. 'You know, Ron may have a point - - '

"Because she spent a half an hour in my office arguing over it," Lupin answered, his voice raspy as if he had been yelling recently. Harry felt his jaw tighten at the thought and his feeling of something being off grew. "I don't think I ever truly convinced her that she deserved that 'E'. She was most adamant about its quality."

Silence reigned between the foursome for a moment before wands were lowered and they made their way to the abandoned library. Hermione and Ron resume their spots, though they refrained from picking back up their activities. Harry stood facing the doorway that Lupin was lingering in, one hand resting on the wingback chair in which he had been sitting prior to the ex-professor's arrival. Lupin was picking at a loose string from his cloak. 'Nervous,' Harry's mind practically screamed at him.

"So…"

Harry and Lupin looked at each other as they both attempted to speak. Ron was staring at his essay with his quill in hand. It did not fool Harry, but he did appreciate the effort that the youngest Weasley male was putting into the appearance of not listening. Hermione was watching them closely, however. The fingers of her left hand traced some idle design on the blank front of her book while her right hand was wrapped tightly around the handle of her wand. The witch was careful to keep that hand tuck close to her side. Harry only saw it because of his angle. Reading those books from the attic must be making him paranoid if he was thinking that Lupin was a potential threat.

"How's Tonks?" Harry asked in an effort worthy of the Dursleys to appear normal. Lupin winced as if pained at the thought. Assuming he understood, Harry rushed onward, his mouth moving just as fast as his thoughts. "I guess she wouldn't be 'Tonks' any more, would she - - being married and all. Congrats, by the way, on your nuptials. I'm sure that Sirius would have been as pleased as punch that you finally settled down. So how is - - you know, it would be better if I knew what to call her..."

"Dora," Lupin answered hoarsely. That string was under attack again as the werewolf's hands began to pluck at it in his nervousness. His eyes, focused as they were on the floor, seemed to have too much gold to Harry. The Gryffindor dismissed it as the angle the light was hitting them. "She is - - will be fine. She's pregnant."

"That's great," Harry replied, perhaps too brightly from the pained look that crossed Lupin's face again. Perhaps it was too soon? Wasn't there some superstition about waiting until the third month or starting to show or something? Harry was never certain what to say when it came to family news. The Dursleys had made sure that he was never included by anyone in the neighborhood in things like this. "A little Marauder could be just what we need about now."

"I want to help you, Harry," Lupin said in a rush. Harry recognized the tone he was using. Seamus used it when he was attempting to talk his way into trouble or back out again. Ron's eyes flickered up to meet Harry's in a brief flash of blue. Harry didn't need to exchange words to know that Ron recognized it as well. It was not until Harry saw Hermione's wand twitch that he realized the implications of that small statement. Hermione's nod was almost imperceptible. "I don't know what, but I do know that Dumbledore charged you with something. I can help! You've got to let me, Harry. For Dora's sake."

"What about the baby? I don't know how long our mission would take, sir," Harry replied. Dumbledore had told him not to tell anyone, but what good did it do when he had given Harry next to no clues as to what to do? Dumbledore had destroyed the ring in some way that he had never disclosed. They couldn't stab every Horcrux with a basilisk fang, now could they? After all, they were fresh out at the moment. But he wouldn't steal a baby's father away, someone's husband. "Doesn't T- -Dora need you?"

"She's better off without me," the werewolf whispered. It echoed in the quiet room. Harry saw red. His hand tightened on the back of the chair. After weeks of inaction and stress, Harry's temper finally found some target to focus on that was not Voldemort. But before the Boy-Who-Lived could do more than draw in the breath to yell, there was a loud thunk as Hermione's book dropped to the floor. Harry and Ron could only stare as Hermione stalked from the couch to where Lupin stood. The slap was just as loud as the book's thunk had been and Harry felt the same small thrill at this slap that he had gotten from Hermione slapping Malfoy back in third year.

"Never, ever, ever, doubt that Tonks loves you, you ingrate," Hermione snapped. Magic crackled in the air, but Harry couldn't tell if it was from her or him. The tiny part of him that was not thoroughly pissed off, pitied Lupin having to face down Hermione in a rage. It was a tiny part that was easily ignored. "It is times like this that we should pull together as family, not segment ourselves!"

"Would my father have left my mother while she was pregnant?" Somehow, Harry managed to not shout while still conveying the depth of his anger. All the pictures from the attic flashed through his mind. That man did not look like he would leave the angel at his side for anything. Harry felt the anger begin to ebb at the thought of his parents. They would have done anything to save him, even if it meant sacrificing time with him. He knew it instinctively. But would either of them have claimed that the other was better off without them? "Hermione's right. This is the time we should pull together, but Dumbledore said not to share my mission. If Voldemort knew - -"

Kreacher chose that moment to pop into to library. The little elf was grinning maniacally and was practically glowing with pride. He had scratches on his cheek that seeped a greenish-blue substance that must be blood. The clean pillowcase that Harry had forced upon him a couple of weeks ago in gratitude of his determination of getting the locket back for them was now stained with ash and blood - - the red human variety. What drew all conversation in the room to a stop was the golden locket in his tiny hand. The light flashed off it tauntingly.

"Kreacher has it, Master Harry! Kreacher has it!"

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Author's Note: So this chapter does further plot; I swear it does. I finished this and decided not to wait until my next day off to post this. Just for future reference, I will probably move my update schedule to Wednesdays after this week. That said, I love the amazing response that I've got for this story. Thank you to all of you who have favorited this story, put this story or me on alert, and reviewed. I look forward hearing from y'all!

Edited 03/13/2012: Fixed slight error concerning the Polyjuice comment. It now reads "thirteen-year-old" rather than "third year".