"Is it really appropriate for Potter to be here for this conversation?" Snape asked, though not rudely. "He's had an unpleasant experience, to say the least, and ought to be resting, not trying to understand obscure magical theories well beyond the comprehension of a twelve year old."
"I see no issue with Harry's presence," Dumbledore said absently, "so long as Sirius is comfortable with it." Harry went from beaming at Dumbledore, to shooting Sirius a pleading look. Sirius nodded at Snape, who rolled his eyes, but looked unsurprised.
"Well, first thing, I think," Sirius said, "is to find it. It- he- Tom will have to be living in something, right? Or someone?"
"The Dark Lord was greatly weakened by time outside of a host," Quirrell said, nodding. "Or at least that was the case last year. Even moving between hosts was a massive drain for him-"
"And fatal for you," Snape said, eyeing Quirrell, "were it not for your stolen remedy." Fawkes ruffled his feathers, looking as unimpressed as Sirius had ever seen any bird look.
"Ours was a long term arrangement," Quirrell said.
"Paul Morton's wasn't," Sirius said.
"A few weeks," Quirrell said, shrugging. "That's long enough. And I daresay the Dark Lord wasn't gentle when he left; it's not like him to leave loose ends, and Morton would have been one, had he survived."
"So you think the person he was in might be dead?" Harry asked, looking ill.
"Unlikely," Quirrell said. "If it's an unwilling possession, he'll have been subtle about it, and limited his time in them to avoid raising suspicion. And, if he's found himself another ally-" Quirrell sighed at that, but what the sigh meant, Sirius couldn't have said. "-he won't let them die until he's convinced he's won or lost."
"If it is an unwilling possession," Sirius said, unwilling to let on about horcruxes – because he didn't trust Quirrell with that information – but needing answers, "then he wouldn't be spending all of his time with them, would he?"
"Probably not, no," Quirrell said.
"So then he'd have another- place. Another person, or an object-" Dumbledore – who'd been sitting quietly in his chair with a frown on his face for the last few minutes – looked up at that.
"An animal, perhaps," Quirrell said. "Yes, probably."
"And one in the school," Harry said.
"Not necessarily," Quirrell said. "We used owls last year-"
"But you said that moving around makes him tired."
"Yes, Potter-"
"So then I have to have had some contact with whoever he's with, or-" Harry caught Sirius' eye. "-whatever. Right?"
"Correct," Quirrell said slowly, frowning.
"So he is in the school," Harry said. "Or he was today." While Harry looked pleased with himself for working that much out, both Snape and Dumbledore looked as ill as Sirius felt. Quirrell just looked thoughtful.
Dumbledore turned to a portrait on the wall, and gave it instructions; that McGonagall was to gather Sprout, Flitwick, and someone to see to the Slytherins while Snape was with them, and to get the students to their common rooms. Once there, they were to be asked about any suspicious behaviour or magic they'd seen that day; most specifically, the hours before Harry'd gone to Quidditch (because there was no way of knowing when he'd been possessed), and in the last half hour, since Tom had left Harry's head.
"Fred and George were with me for most of the afternoon, and on the way down to Quidditch," Harry said. "They might have seen something."
"Then I am sure they will volunteer the information when Professor McGonagall asks," Snape said. "Those boys are menaces, but they're not Death Eaters." Sirius supposed it was a testament to how far he and Snape had come, that Sirius didn't even think to come up with an insult to follow the Death Eater statement. "And, if you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I'll not have another teacher managing my Slytherins under these circumstances. I should be there with them."
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said. Snape made a gesture that could have been a wave at Sirius, or could have been him simply shaking his sleeve, or shooing a bug off his robes, and then stared at Harry for a bit. For a moment, Sirius thought he was going to say something like 'be careful', but then Snape turned and left the office without a word, and Sirius wasn't surprised at all.
"I think I'll leave as well. I don't have a noble excuse like Snape-" Quirrell's lip curled, and he rolled his eyes. "-but Black did drag me out of work tonight, and I rather think Madam Wolple will want me back in time to help her close up."
"Thank you for your… cooperation tonight, Quirinus," Dumbledore said. "Your insights were- unique."
"There's a backhanded compliment, if ever I've heard one," Quirrell sneered. "And you can save it; I have to help. You saw to that." He gestured to the fireplace. "May I?" Dumbledore waved a hand. Quirrell took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fire. He stepped into the green flames, robes flapping around his ankles.
"Thanks," Harry said to him. It was curt, and wary, but sincere. Quirrell looked up, startled, but quickly masked the expression into something that Sirius thought was meant to be derisive. It wasn't, though; it was too… curious. And then, looking only at Harry, Quirrell bobbed his head.
"Wolple's," Quirrell murmured and the fire swallowed him. Sirius looked at Harry, who was looking embarrassed and defiant all at once.
"What?" Harry asked. Sirius could feel Dumbledore's eyes flicking between them. "He did help-"
"He also tried to kill you-"
"Help's help," Harry said grimly, and Sirius supposed that was true.
S'pose that doesn't leave me with many options then, does it? Sirius took a deep breath.
"Well, Harry, if Sirius is amenable to it, I think it might be time to have you return to Gryffindor tower. You've had an eventful evening, to say the least-"
"Actually," Sirius said, "I'd like him to stay, at least for a bit. There are some things that need to be… erm… discussed, and he knows almost as much as I do about it." Harry, to his credit, seemed to know exactly what Sirius was talking about, though he did look surprised that Sirius had thought to bring it up now; after all, this was something they'd kept to themselves for years. Dumbledore looked wary, but waved a hand, inviting Sirius to continue.
After several long moments thinking of the best way to broach the topic, but getting nowhere, he decided to just go for it, and said, "Voldemort has a horcrux, maybe two."
"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked, blinking.
"A horcrux. It's-"
"You did say that," Dumbledore said softly. "I hoped I'd misheard."
"So you know what they are?"
"A way to live forever," Dumbledore said, in that same, soft voice. It turned hard and bitter, suddenly. "If one is willing to pay the price. It's been years since I've heard anyone talk of them. Horace was the last, and before him…" Dumbledore's eyes were far-away. "Voldemort has one, you say?"
"A locket. Slytherin's locket," Harry said quietly.
"And how, might I ask," Dumbledore said, frowning, "did you happen to come across this information? The existence of a horcrux is not something that every Auror and his godson-" At this, Dumbledore's mouth twitched beneath his beard. "-ought to know about."
And so Sirius told the story, of Regulus and Kreacher, and of the cave by the sea, and the boat, and the potion, with Harry quietly adding details that Sirius had forgotten about.
"We'll need to remove it, as soon as possible," Dumbledore said, getting to his feet. "Sirius, if you would agree to accompany me there, and perhaps ask Kreacher – his insight could prove useful-"
"It's not there anymore, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore's eyes went to him, and then to Sirius. The Headmaster was an old man, and – some would argue – a bit senile, but he was clever, and Sirius knew the moment he worked it out; his eyes narrowed, almost dangerously at Sirius, and then his face reset itself when he turned back to Harry.
"You have it?" Dumbledore asked.
"It's at home," Harry said.
"Sirius-"
"Not my best idea as a guardian," Sirius said easily. "Nowhere near, in fact, but it turned out all right. We got Remus back-"
"I got Moony back," Harry said smugly. "You were moping around home with hot chocolate-" Sirius scowled. "And I met you, sir. Remember, at St Mungo's?"
"I do remember, Harry, yes," Dumbledore said, almost faintly. He sat back down, and Fawkes flew to his side, chirruping. Dumbledore's mouth opened and closed several times, and then, finally, pinching the bridge of his long nose he seemed to put away the other questions and judgements he had, and asked, "And is it still intact?" Sirius felt his expression sour.
"I've tried almost anything; curses, hexes, potions, poisons, I let Kreacher have a go, and I even left it with a banshee for a good while-"
"The shop assistant at Wolple's?" Dumbledore asked.
"Keira," Sirius said, nodding. "Got arrested doing it, too." Sirius could almost see things falling into place in Dumbledore's head, and let him have time to make sense of it all. "I really have tried everything; beyond magical repair is all any of the books say about getting rid of them. There was a huge purge centuries back, but no details on how-"
"No one would bother if they were easily destroyed," Dumbledore said. "Have you considered a dementor?"
"Yes," Sirius said. "But that wouldn't destroy it, necessarily, it would just… move the piece… Who's to say it couldn't take over the dementor once it- swallows? it. I'd rather deal with a mostly inanimate bit of Voldemort, than one that can move around."
"Mostly inanimate?"
"There was an incident a few years back. Things were said, I blew up the room," Sirius said, and didn't say more than that. It was an unspoken agreement between Harry and Sirius not to talk about specifics of that afternoon. Even Remus didn't know the full version of events.
"I fear I'm getting a headache," Dumbledore said, with a weak smile. Sirius grimaced. "I'm not finished hearing about this locket of yours," Dumbledore warned, "but I am willing to ignore it for a moment; you mentioned there might be a second?"
"Well," Harry said tremulously, "a horcrux seems like a good way to store yourself, doesn't it, sir? A- a good way to store Tom?"
"Ah," was all Dumbledore said.
Remus stepped into the lift, and pressed the button for the fourth floor, then wiped his sweaty palms on his robes. He, and the other three non-Auror occupants of the building – Mrs Hardy on the first floor, and Olivier Roche and his daughter Marie from the third floor - had been given small, glowing blue pebbles that let them use the lift (which had been charmed to refuse to carry anyone without one), so that they didn't have to use the stairs.
Remus was grateful for that; when Auror-arranged housing put all but two of the members of Dora's specialist group in the same building, the result was a bunch of competitive, magically talented people in a confined space. While they were good fun – mostly – and good company, and the building had to be one of the most secure buildings in the world due to the number of highly trained occupants, heaven forbid if any of its occupants got bored.
In the first few months, it hadn't really mattered, because none of them had known each other all that well, and they'd kept to themselves. As Dora's course progressed, though, and the Aurors got closer and more comfortable around each other, things had changed.
Carla, who lived on the fifth floor, took great joy in inventing spells designed to inconvenience anyone trying to use the stairs; spells with counter-spells that didn't exist yet, that were – according to Dora – a pain in the backside unless you were Joanna, who could See what the counter spells were, and waltz right through… and then proceed to sit in her flat, and scan the future for ideas to boobytrap the stairs with, and See who would fall for what.
Tarek would layer the stairs with complicated wards; some would repel people, some that would create illusions – of other wards, to waste people's time, or to make it seem like the stairs had moved altogether – some that would trap them in place until they could undo the runes that bound them. Neither Beth or Luc tended to target the staircase directly; instead, they held little make-shift skirmishes all throughout the building, and favoured the staircase just as much as the hallways, the other flats, and the small garden on the roof.
And then there was Asha, a witch very talented in mind-magics, who didn't need eye contact to manage Legillimency – though it was considerably weaker that if she did – and spent her spare time projecting her mind through the building, to see how her abilities were limited by distance. It was common for Remus and Dora to have settled down to dinner, and then – generally Dora – would hear her voice telling them that their dinner looked good tonight, or did Dora just trip over the couch again, because something just thudded on Asha's kitchen roof, or Canis had found his way into Asha's flat again (and Merlin knew how he navigated the perilous halls), could one of them please come and get him before she has an allergic reaction?
No, it's never boring here, Remus thought, shaking his head. On the other side of the doors of the lift, something crashed, and someone shouted something. He wasn't sure whether to sigh or laugh; on the one hand, most of them were a bit younger, like Dora, and well and truly entitled to their fun. And, Dora loved it too; she'd grumble at home about how it had taken her half an hour to get up four flights of stairs, or how Luc had beaten her again (though she'd started to use spells that needed verbal counters against him) by startling her in the hallway, but she also said it kept her on her toes, and in his letters, Mad-Eye said that one could never be too vigilant. And so, Remus dealt with it in good humour, as long as he could have his blue pebble and the lift.
The lift came to a smooth stop, and Remus glanced out, checking left and right, before stepping into the hallway.
Clear, he thought, relieved. Good. He crossed the hallway quickly, unlocked his flat, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, and locked it. No interruptions, he thought, nodding to himself. But there was.
Dora and Beth were lounging on the couches, the latter scowling. Remus heard the name 'Sato' and thought that rather explained it; Dora had told him in strict confidence that Beth fancied the Auror coordinator, but refused to act on it because it would be unprofessional. Remus had replied that they'd just be a very intimidating, very capable couple, and Dora had laughed and said he didn't understand.
"Wotcher," Dora said, grinning at him. "How was school?"
"Fine," Remus said.
"You look stressed," she said, cocking her head.
"No," Remus said. "Hello, Beth," he said, though he wasn't keen to see her at the moment.
"Hey," she said, with a little wave, utterly oblivious to the fact that she was intruding.
"Remus," Dora said, her mouth twitching. "Are you really just going to stand there looking lost?"
"I'm not-" But he was. "Sorry. No. I'll- go and change." And then he cursed himself for saying that, because usually he'd change into pyjama pants, but he needed to keep his robes on, else the small, square box in his pocket would be too obvious.
"All right." Remus could feel Dora's eyes on him as he headed for their bedroom, and closed the door behind him to escape them. "Hello," Remus said, when Canis opened one yellow eye to glare at him for the disturbance. Remus patted him once, quickly, before Canis could decide to bite or scratch him. "I'm surprised you're not off menacing our neighbours." Canis yawned in response, and Remus thought about it for a moment, and decided it was best that Canis was here; that way, he couldn't yowl at the front door to be let in, and the neighbours couldn't come by – either with him, or to ask one of them to come and fetch him. Yes, it was best that the cat stayed here.
Remus didn't change, but thankfully, neither of the witches in the lounge room commented on that. Both had eaten – and Remus had eaten as school – so dinner didn't need to be made, and Remus – having foolishly assumed he'd have Dora to himself tonight – had made sure he had all of his lesson plans done, and that he was up to date on his marking.
Stuck for things to do to kill time until Beth left, he started to write a letter to Harry, but Dora asked him what he was doing, and then asked him to wait, so that she could write too. Remus set the parchment aside and tried to think who else he could write to. Matt was due to visit on the weekend, so there wasn't much point writing to him, and Remus was waiting for replies from both Sirius and Hagrid, so he couldn't write to them either… And then who else was there? He drummed his fingers on his desk, then got up and decided to read a book.
Remus wasn't in a reading mood, though; he flicked through the Defence textbook that the Beauxbatons students were assigned, for lesson ideas, but he didn't take any of it in, because he was too busy trying to listen to Dora and Beth, and work out when the latter would leave. Never, seemed like the answer; both were having an in-depth, very technical conversation about potion-making; more specifically, polyjuice and the animagus potions, or what sounded a bit like a mix of them both. More than that, thought, Remus couldn't say; he was terrible at potions.
Finally, Beth left, around ten o'clock, and Remus almost threw his book in his haste to put it aside, and stood up, not quite sure how to go about it all, yet, but being upright was probably a good start.
"Yes?" Dora asked, staring at him, from over by the door.
"I didn't say anything," Remus said, starting to sit down again, to allay her suspicions, and then deciding against it. He straightened.
"Tea?" she asked, with slightly narrowed eyes.
"Please," he said, a little weakly, as she headed toward their little kitchen. "Did you do much today?"
And then she was off, talking about potions again, and about the traps she'd left on the staircase that afternoon; she was hoping to get Carla, she said; it'd be funny to see her with pink hair, since she so disapproved of Dora having colourful hair. Remus laughed with her, and accepted a cup of tea with a sweaty hand.
They sat down at their kitchen table, and – at her prompting – Remus told her about his day, and how next year, he and Monsieur Motte were looking into teaching alternating years next year; Remus would take the first years, Motte would take the second years, Remus the thirds, and so on. Remus was excited by the prospect, because it meant he'd have a bigger role, and more freedom with his curriculum.
Canis wandered out of the bedroom at some point, and promptly reminded Remus – who'd relaxed – of his plans, when he started to sniff and paw at Remus' pocket.
How he knew, Remus didn't know, but it was so very Canis to do something like that.
"Must have spilled gravy on my robes at dinner," Remus muttered, finally succeeding in detaching the cat's claws from his robes. Canis' ears flicked back, and Remus used his foot to nudge him toward the doorway, while Dora watched on, amused. "I hate your cat," Remus told her, resettling back into his chair.
"No, you don't; he's grown on you, I know it-"
"Grown on me?" Remus asked. "What, so I've gone from hating him to just disliking him?"
"Something like that," Dora said, grinning.
"Speaking of growing on me… or rather things- people that have-" Remus stopped there, because that was a terrible way to start things. Nervous, his hand went to the box in his pocket. "I mean- erm-"
Someone hammered on the door, and Remus dropped the box back into the safety of his robes before Dora could think anything of it. She was already up, stumbling on her chair, to get to the door.
Leave it, Remus was tempted to say. It was probably just one of the Aurors with a new staircase set-up idea. It's nothing that can't wait until morning, surely. But he followed Dora into the living room, and craned his neck around the corner to see who it was when she opened the door.
A pink-haired, rather windswept Sirius gave Dora a one-armed hug as he brushed past, motorcycle helmet under the other arm.
"I don't suppose the stairs were your doing?" he asked her, and her own hair went a sheepish pink in response. "I couldn't use the lift for some reason, and when I used the stairs-"
"Pink hair's a small price for using the stairs," Remus muttered. "You're lucky you weren't ambushed."
"What are you doing here?" Dora asked, as she fixed his hair.
"I don't suppose you've just come by because you're bored?" Remus asked. He sort of hoped he had; firstly, because if it was just boredom, Remus could and would send him home, but secondly, because Sirius didn't show up unannounced, in France, if he didn't have news. And Sirius' news was rarely good news.
"Nice to see you too," Sirius said, peevishly.
"Sorry," Remus said, offering him a small, apologetic smile. "It's just- unexpected-"
"Yeah," Sirius said distractedly, not looking at all upset or annoyed anymore. "Sorry, I just- Marly would take too much explaining, and I've done a lot of explaining-"
"I'll get you a cup of tea," Dora said, with a look between them.
"Sorry," Sirius called after her. "Remus can catch you up later, just-"
"Would you like sugar, Sirius, or milk?" she called, not sounding at all bothered.
"Both, neither- I don't mind, really," Sirius said. He turned to Remus. "Sorry to just- show up, but-"
"You've said," Remus said, mouth twitching. "What's happened? I take it Harry's not in any immediate danger or he'd be here, tucked under your wing-"
"Ha," Sirius said, scowling. And then his scent hit; angry and scared and confused and helpless and all sorts of other horrible things. Remus took a few steps back, pinching his nose. "Ah, sorry," Sirius said. He took a deep breath. "So Harry met Voldemort today, and we think we might have found a horcrux."
"I beg your pardon?" Remus asked, sitting down, hard.
"Yeah," Sirius said, grimacing.