66

Dinner Conversations

The secret cave:

The soft splash of the dark water against the side of the boat almost lulled Regulus into complacently. There was something eerily seductive about the way the boat glided through the water towards its destination. The acoustics in the cave were very good and even the slightest sound was magnified tenfold. There was subterranean chill in the air and mist rose up off the surface of the lake, reminding Regulus of the ancient Greek myths he'd read as a boy, of the lost shades hovering on the sides of the River Styx, moaning and wailing for their lost lives and family they could no longer remember. Regulus felt like a captive soul being towed into the Realms of the Dead, despite the fact that he had willingly set foot in the boat.

Voldemort spoke not a word to him, simple sat in the prow, facing north, watching as the island drew nearer and nearer. The darkness stirred and hissed, and Regulus wondered what lived in it. No sooner had he thought that than he wished to never find out. An evil aura permeated this place, oozing a fetid slime from the rocks, making Regulus' stomach roil.

At the same time, however, the slithering darkness seemed to beckon to him, whisper in his ear of power beyond imagining, if only he would surrender . . . shuddering, he managed to close off his mind, using some Occlumency tricks Severus had shown him. The coaxing whispers faded, but Regulus still felt soiled, as if he had bathed in manure. He knew why the darkness called to him, it sensed the Dark Mark, the brand of evil, and thus it accepted Regulus as one who belonged.

Jaw clenched, Regulus looked ahead to the island, sensing that whatever was upon it was the thing Voldemort was seeking. And it was pure unadulterated evil. He longed to jump out of the boat and swim away, but he forced himself to be calm. This could be the chance he had been waiting for. The chance to discover a weakness of Voldemort's. Now all he had to do was wait and watch and remain calm.

The boat's keel scraped up against the bedrock, the sharp sound echoing in the cave and making Regulus wince. Voldemort seemed not to notice, stepping out of the boat and onto the island, his face bearing a keen look of anticipation. Regulus followed, swallowing back bile as his boots touched the rock. The oily sensation of dark magic flowed over him as he followed the Dark Lord to a large jagged pillar in the center of the island.

"Regulus, come." Voldemort beckoned, his voice hushed, as if he was in the presence of something sacred.

Regulus approached the pillar, noticing then that it looked like a roughly carved stone chalice, almost half the height of a man. Its stone basin seemed filled with a kind of viscous transparent green liquid. "Master, what is that?" he made himself ask, the smell—similar to rotting seaweed or a decaying corpse—almost causing him to vomit.

Voldemort turned to him, his dark eyes shimmering with insanity. "That, my son, is a relic old as time—a Chalice of Darkness. It will hold whatever you place inside it safe, for it is a poison to the flesh, eating away skin and bones in minutes . . . unless you are sworn to me. I brought you here to show you this in case you need a place to store some dark objects from the shop, things which you don't wish those imbeciles in the Ministry to find and confiscate. If ever you find a need to hide an object, bring it here and toss it into the water. You can retrieve it later, and no Ministry stooge can remove it from here without destroying themselves. The magic is such that any not bound to me who attempt to remove an item will be compelled to either drink the water or reach inside, and so doom themselves."

"Thank you for showing me this, Master," Regulus said. "But I still don't know how to get here."

Voldemort frowned impatiently. He handed Regulus a yellowed finger bone. "Here. Use this Portkey." The dark eyes narrowed. "You will be discreet, I trust."

Regulus nodded, his mouth dry. He took the bone and stuck it in his pocket. Then he waited to see if Voldemort had anything more to say.

Voldemort continued staring into the chalice, as if entranced.

Regulus inched away, though he did not dare go too far without the other's permission. He waited and waited.

Finally Voldemort came out of the trance and whispered, "Get in the boat, Regulus. I shall be along shortly."

Regulus obeyed, but he glanced over his shoulder and saw Voldemort drop something into the chalice. He felt a thrill go through him. Whatever Voldemort had placed in there must be something he wished to preserve at all costs. Regulus had a feeling he knew exactly what it was. If he was right, he would need to return and retrieve the object and destroy it. If it could be destroyed.

The young wizard quickly sat down in the boat and waited for Voldemort's return.

Soon he heard the slight scrape of the other's boots over the algae-covered stone and then Voldemort's slender form settled into the boat. Regulus noted that the other looked paler than usual, and sweat sheened his brow. Was the Dark Lord nervous? Or was he coming down with a sickness? One could only hope a disease would carry him off, but Regulus figured that was as likely to happen as frost in the middle of July in the Caribbean.

"My lord, are you well?" he asked, trying to sound concerned.

"Fine." Voldemort replied, his manner curt.

The ride across the black water was swifter than before, and as soon as they stood on the opposite shore, the boat glided back across the lake. Voldemort took Regulus' arm and DisApparated back to Knockturn Alley.

He placed a finger against Regulus' temple and hissed, "You will remember, but tell no one."

"Yes, Master." Regulus agreed, then nearly cried out as Voldemort sent his probing Legilimancy into his mind, searching for any hint of betrayal.

Regulus kept his traitorous thoughts buried deep down and shielded with everything in him. I am your most loyal servant. I am your most loyal servant. He projected that thought over and over, trying to assure the paranoid dark wizard that he could be trusted. Had Severus not taught him some basics, he would have been discovered and killed. But Voldemort was clumsy and crude when it came to using Legilimancy, he assumed that the first thoughts he encountered were an indication of a person's true mental state, he did not bother to look beyond them, assuming in his arrogance that he could not be lied to. And so Regulus' secret was safe.

He bowed to the dark despot and kissed the Slytherin crest ring upon Voldemort's left hand. "I live but to serve, Master."

Voldemort smiled. "Continue to do so. And now, adieu, my son." Then he was gone upon the wings of magic.

It was a few minutes before Regulus could collect himself and then he Apparated home, wanting only a long hot shower and to sleep for a year next to his wife. Unfortunately he had forgotten that tonight was the weekly dinner at Grimmauld Place, and he couldn't skip it. His mother had said an important announcement was to be made and he had to be present for it.

He had barely time to change and hug his wife before it was time to leave. As it was, they were going to be fashionably late due to Voldemort's bad timing. He hoped after the day he'd had, the mysterious announcement was good news.

Page ~*~*~*~*~Break

Malfoy Manor:

Pettigrew glanced about the lushly appointed drawing room as he stepped from the fireplace. The room was done in the French style, Louis XIV, with rich brocade cushions and cherry wood furniture. The wallpaper was a brilliant wine color with gold foil accents, and the carpet beneath his dusty shoes was probably worth more than his whole house. Peter had never seen such opulence, not even at Potter Manor. The room spoke of centuries of wealth and prestige, and Pettigrew felt keenly his peasant roots. No wonder Malfoy tended to lord it over his classmates, with such a background.

He gazed about in awe and envy. This was what he had always longed for, to escape his merchant ancestors and to dwell in luxury, as his former friends had. Malfoy had even more power and wealth than the Blacks and Potters, and Peter craved that recognition the way a drunk craved a bottle of gin.

"Stay here, Pettigrew," Lucius instructed. "I must tell Narcissa we have a guest." He clapped his hands. "Dobby!"

A house elf in a worn tea towel appeared. "What may Dobby do for Master Lucius sir?"

"Bring refreshments for my guest, Mr. Pettigrew and keep him entertained for a few moments while I go speak with Lady Narcissa." Lucius was no fool, and didn't trust the pinch-faced little wizard, so he made sure Dobby would be there to keep an eye on him.

"At once, Master!" Dobby bowed and snapped his fingers. A silver tray appeared on the table with small appetizers and a pitcher of cold ale. "Here you go, Master Pettigrew." Dobby bowed and perched atop a small stool he had summoned. "What does Master Pettigrew do?"

Lucius hurried from the room before Peter replied, finding his wife, now four months pregnant, awaiting him in the dining room. The table was set for two, the crystal flutes and delicate china place settings winking in the light of the mage globe chandelier. Narcissa was dressed in a lovely blue day robe that flowed to her feet, cinched light about her waist with a gold lame sash, her dark blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders in a golden chestnut wave. "You look sensational as always, my darling," he murmured, coming up behind her to plant a kiss on her cheek.

She turned towards him. "You're home a bit late, Luc. Something happen at the office?"

"I've brought home a guest, Cissy. I believe you may remember him from school. His name is Peter Pettigrew."

Narcissa frowned. "Do you mean that slippery little Gryffindor that hung about those troublemakers Potter and Black? The one who has a face that looks more at home upon a rodent?"

"Yes."

"Why would you invite him to dinner?"

"Because, my dear, he has offered to turn informer. He wishes to join our cause, and to spy on the Auror Department for us, using his schoolboy pals as a connection." Lucius whispered in her ear.

"Do you trust him?" Narcissa's eyes widened.

"Not as far as I could throw him. But his willingness could be . . . useful. I shall cultivate him and see if it bears fruit." Her husband murmured. "In the meantime, let us show him the hospitality of Malfoy Manor. How are you feeling today? Are you still queasy?" He placed a hand protectively over her stomach.

She shook her head. "No. I feel much better today."

"Good. Let me go and change and then we can eat."

"Wait. Where is our guest? I wouldn't put it past the little traitor to make off with the silver."

"Don't worry, I have Dobby keeping an eye on him," Lucius chuckled.

He quickly Apparated upstairs.

Peter had devoured most of the appetizers upon the tray, he was starving, having eaten a boring lunch over five hours before. There were salmon canapés, crisp cucumber sandwiches, tiny sausages in puff pastry, potato and cheese puffs, and teriyaki chicken skewers. He sampled all of them, then went back again for seconds. The ale was first rate too, and he sighed, wishing he could eat like this all the time.

"Does Master Pettigrew wish for more?" inquired Dobby.

"No, no. Not if I'm going to have dinner. I'll be too stuffed to eat it," Peter told the elf regretfully.

"Dobby understands. Mustn't insult Lady Narcissa by not eating dinner."

Peter nodded, thinking that if the appetizers were this good, the dinner must be superb.

Soon Lucius appeared in the doorway. "Come, Peter. Dinner is on the table."

Peter followed the tall wizard, now dressed in velvet sapphire robes with a coiled dragon upon the right breast, his hair pulled back in a neat braid. Pettigrew felt uncomfortable in his casual shirt and trousers with the red vest and maroon robes, like a supplicant. Which, in a way, he was. He silently vowed that when the Dark Lord reigned he would never be made to feel inferior again, that people would tremble when he walked into the room, and fall all over him in fear.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mr. Pettigrew," Narcissa said graciously, smiling politely.

"Thank you, my lady," Peter said, executing a small bow.

"Do be seated," she invited him, gesturing to the seat across from her, on Lucius' right.

Peter sat down, feeling every bit the gawky country cousin. The table was heaped with food. He blinked at the cuts of prime rib in onion gravy, the small roasted chickens stuffed with grapes and wild rice, the sturgeon rubbed with basil and garlic butter sauce. There were green beans in a delicate butter sauce, whipped potatoes, mushrooms in red wine, and freshly baked bread spread with herbed butter. Wine was served as well as chilled Moscato grape juice, since Narcissa could not have wine.

Dobby appeared again and served them, Peter had some of everything, as did Lucius. Narcissa partook lightly, eating some fish, a chicken leg and some vegetables.

When they were halfway through, Lucius set down his fork and sipped his Madeira. He looked at Peter and said, "Now, Pettigrew, suppose you tell me what you have to offer? And why you are offering it?"

"As I said before, sir, I am sick and tired of playing second to that arrogant git Black and his best mate Potter. All they do is brag about how many Death Eaters they've caught and how they're fighting for the greater good and all that. When I asked if I could be an assistant, they laughed at me." Peter's mouth twisted. "Black told me to keep to my ledgers and leave the catching of dark wizards to someone who knows what they're doing."

Lucius gave him a sympathetic look. "How terrible for you, to discover those you thought your friends turning out to be so . . . critical and unfeeling. What made you decide to come to me?"

Peter coughed, then took a fortifying swallow of ale. "I . . . had heard that you knew people in high places, Lord Malfoy. People who . . . appreciate wizards with certain skills. I can be very useful to you, my lord. I can go places unseen, listen to conversations, find out things about the Aurors—their recruits, their plans, I can warn you of raids."

"Can you?" Lucius looked intrigued. "And what do you want in exchange for this service?"

Peter licked his lips. "I want what you have, sir. Power. Wealth. I want people to tremble when they see me coming. Magic is might, is that not so?"

"It is indeed. Money is no object. The other . . . we shall see. Would you be willing to perform a service for me? A test, shall we say, of your loyalty?" Lucius asked, though they both knew it was not a request.

"Yes, my lord. What do you wish me to do?"

"Keep watch on Auror Headquarters. Let me know if they begin changing their patrols, stepping up their raids. If you notice anything, report it back to me."

"How, my lord?"

"Send me an owl, with a piece of blue parchment, with the phrase "The eagle has flown", to indicate they are changing their patrols, and I shall meet you in my office at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Send me another parchment with the phrase, "The eagle nests on the cliff" to indicate everything is the same. We shall speak more in two weeks time. If you do well, I shall consider bringing you to the attention of my master."

"I will do everything I can," promised Peter.

Lucius reached into a pocket and withdrew a small leather pouch. "Here. There will be twice that if you uphold your end of the bargain."

Peter opened the pouch. Inside there was two hundred Galleons. He bit back a gasp.

"One more thing. If you betray us, you will learn a new meaning for pain and suffering before you die." Lucius' eyes were cold as frost.

Peter gulped. "I won't. I swear it upon my wand." He tucked the pouch into his vest pocket.

"Good. Then we have an understanding." Lucius finished off his glass and called Dobby to bring in the dessert.

Trays floated down filled with small dishes of peaches with brandy and cream, small slices of buttery pound cake, a chocolate torte, and strawberry trifle.

Peter eagerly ate the sweet, it was rare he ate so sumptuously, and figured he might as well enjoy it while he could. His hand fingered the pouch in his pocket, which held more money than he could make in two years working in his father's business. His conscience pricked him suddenly, but he smothered it. Let James and Sirius look out for themselves. Remus too. He was through with them. His new friends would help him on his way to greatness, and someday he too would be a person to be reckoned with.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Potter Manor:

"I can't believe Sirius is finally going to tie the knot," James remarked, his hazel eyes sparkling with laughter. "I would have placed a bet that he'd be the last one of us to ever settle down, Remus."

"Me too. But that was before he met Annie." Remus said, pushing back his plate. "This was delicious, Liana," he told James' mother, indicating the remains of the apple pie upon his plate.

"Thank my house elf, Remus, not me. She's the one who made it." She dabbed her lips with a napkin. "I'm happy for Sirius. I'm sure he'll make a fine husband now that he's decided to marry."

"He had better, or else I'll lend Annie my skillet," Petunia remarked, and they all laughed.

She cupped a hand around her swelling midsection and looked over at her husband. It was good to see James smile again, for in the past months he smiled less and less. What sort of world will my baby be born into? She wondered pensively. Oh, how I wish this dreadful war would end. It saps the life from all of us, and I want my child to grow up safe, not jumping at shadows or hidden away. But she knew what she wished might never come to be, for the atrocities committed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters continued, despite the increased vigilance and patrols of the Aurors.

They were spread too thin, she reflected sadly, recalling those nights when James would return home exhausted, and force himself to eat and wash up and then go to sleep, hardly speaking to her. Several times this past month she had woken up to him moaning in his sleep, and once or twice he had wept also. She had tried to comfort him, but he had shrugged her aside, insisting he was fine, though they both knew it was a lie. She had tried numerous times to get him to discuss what was happening, but he became more and more withdrawn, saying she didn't need to know details.

It made her want to scream. She knew he was hurting, but she couldn't help him if he continued to shut her out. She hadn't seen him smile in weeks, and even when she managed to coax him into a run with her through the woods as Prongs, it didn't relax him as it used to. She considered writing a letter to Lily, to see if her sister could offer her some advice. Had Severus ever shut out Lily this way? Did James think she wouldn't understand because she was not actively fighting Voldemort? Or was he trying to protect her, now that she was carrying his child?

Smoothing the fabric of her dress down over herself, she caught the tail end of James' comment.

" . . .Sirius asked me to stand up with him, Moony. I hope you're not . . . offended."

Remus shook his head. "No, it's fine. He's already promised me that I'll stand as godfather to one of his children."

"Annie has asked me to stand up with her," Petunia said then. "And to be godmother to her firstborn. I confess, I'm not sure when I should return the favor."

"I told Sirius a long time ago that if I had a son, he would be godfather to him." James interjected. "So why not have the same for Annie?"

"But what about Lily?"

"She can be godmother to our next one." James said. He gave his wife a tender look. Then he looked back at Remus and said, "You haven't mentioned Peter yet. How did he take the news of Sirius' engagement?"

Remus' face darkened. "Not well at all. You know he's never really approved of Annie."

"He's made no secret of that," sighed James. "What happened?"

"They had a dreadful quarrel the night Sirius proposed," Remus related, telling how Sirius had practically thrown Wormtail out, after giving him a bloody lip. "Peter stormed off, saying something about making Sirius regret doing that. He said he had friends who would make him pay. Sirius thinks he was just trying to make himself look good. But I don't know. There was a look in Peter's eye that I didn't like at all . . ."

James shook his head. "That's a damn shame, that he's broken up with us over an engagement. Maybe I ought to have a word or two with him."

"Good luck. Sirius already vowed he won't forgive him, so you might have to talk him around too . . . if that's possible." Remus sighed.

"You might want to consider just letting him go," Charles suggested. "Pettigrew, I mean. That kind of prejudice isn't something that's born overnight, and I never really cared for him, James. He always made me uneasy, the way he used to look at the things in the manor, like he was plotting the best way to snitch something. I think he envied you and Sirius more than he liked you."

James looked uncomfortable. But he couldn't deny that Peter had always admired him, always looked to him to protect him. "He's not that bad, Dad. He was always loyal to me. I think he's just in a snit now, maybe even jealous that Sirius found someone. He'll get over it."

"I hope you're right," Remus said, looking doubtful. "Sirius wants to get married fairly soon."

"When?" asked Liana.

"Uh . . . in March. He said why wait, and Annie agrees with him."

"I don't blame her," Petunia said. Sirius took the same risks everyday that James did, and Annie knew firsthand how the war could catch you unawares and destroy all your carefully made plans. "We ought to be getting an invitation soon."

"I look forward to it," Charles said. "Siri's like a second son to me. How did his parents take the news?"

"I don't know. I think he was planning on telling them tonight," Remus answered.

"They shouldn't be too surprised, they met Annie at Regulus' wedding," James reminded them.

"A wedding is just what we need to brighten ourselves up and make us remember what we're all fighting for—a better world," Liana said, quietly sipping her tea.

But how long before we get one? Petunia thought sadly, fearing it might not come until some great sacrifice was made. She silently cursed Voldemort to hell and wished him a speedy demise. Then another terrible though occurred to her. Even if he was killed, who was to say his beliefs would die with him? She shuddered and tried to focus upon her best friend's upcoming wedding. She would have to take Annie to find a dress . . . and she also hoped that Peter would stay far away from James and Sirius, she had never trusted him either, despite James' belief that he was as faithful as an old hound.

"What about you, Remus? Have you a special girl you're courting?" Liana asked.

"No, not yet. Right now I'm too busy studying for my teaching degree to go out," the werewolf laughed. "But maybe someday . . ." He trailed off, knowing that was a futile hope. For what witch would tie herself willingly to a werewolf? What kind of life could they have together except one of hardship and misery? No, best to content himself with being godfather to his friends' children and teaching those of others.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Grimmauld Place:

Regulus stepped from the fireplace, turning to assist his wife as she came through. Cindy had been feeling poorly of late, and had only come because Walburga requested it, and she didn't want her mother-in-law to think she was a weak little thing. He gently brushed the soot off Cindy's dress and asked quietly, "You all right?"

"I'll be fine once I have a cup of tea or a glass of butterbeer in me." Cindy answered, giving him a small smile. "But let's hurry to the dining room, I believe we're fifteen minutes late."

Regulus gallantly gave her his arm and they headed out of the drawing room and into the formal dining room. They found Sirius and Annie already there, along with the two elder Blacks. The family was munching some dried fruit, spiced nuts, and sausage puffs. Walburga looked up as they entered. "Regulus, you're late. What kept you?"

Regulus escorted Cindy to her seat, buying himself a little time to come up with a plausible excuse. "I . . . had a bit of trouble at the shop today," he answered. "An inspector from the Ministry came by searching for contraband and insisted on looking behind every knothole and cubbyhole. By the time he was finished, he was irritated that nothing could be confiscated, and spent thirty minutes whining to me about it and making threats that next time he would discover where we hid our Dark objects and arrest us all."

Orion sighed. "Sometimes the people in the Misuse of Magical Artifacts can be a bit . . . overzealous."

Regulus snorted. He went over and kissed his mother. "Forgive me for making you wait, Mother."

She smiled up at him and hugged him back. "Never mind, you're here now. Sit down so we can eat."

Regulus greeted Sirius, Annie, and Orion before resuming his seat next to Cindy and helping himself to some nuts and sausage puffs. Kreacher appeared at his elbow and asked what he wished to drink. Regulus told Kreacher to bring him some wine, after the day he had, he needed some. He made a mental note to send Severus a message about what he had been doing that evening. Perhaps Severus could help him make sense of it all.

"How are you feeling, Cindy?" Annie asked solicitously. "You look a little pale."

Cindy sipped her butterbeer before answering. "Lately my stomach has been very unsettled . . . but my mum says that's normal in the beginning. That it should go away during the fourth month."

Walburga nodded. "When I was carrying Sirius, I hardly ate at all the first three months. I lived off of soda crackers and chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey."

"My mother says she ate dry toast and drank ginger ale," Annie said.

"Ginger ale?" Walburga looked puzzled. "But it isn't safe to drink alcohol when you are with child."

"Oh, no, you don't understand. Ginger ale isn't alcoholic. It's a Muggle kind of soda, a drink made from carbonated water, ginger, and sugar syrup. It soothes your stomach. It was her remedy every time one of us had indigestion or an upset stomach as a child." Annie explained.

"Oh. That would explain it." She tapped the side of her fork against her wine glass. "Kreacher, we are ready for the first course."

The nuts and other comfits vanished to be replaced by soup bowls containing a rich she-crab soup with sherry. It was one of Sirius' favorites, though Regulus also enjoyed it. He began to eat heartily, as did everyone else, save Cindy who ate sparingly.

Over the soup course they discussed ordinary things, such as Annie's volunteering at St. Mungos, she told Cindy and Walburga about one of their long-term patients, a boy named Nate Grimsby, who had been very badly burned in a potions accident, he was now going to be released from the hospital and sent back to school for the rest of the term. "We're all very pleased, for awhile there we feared he might not make it, but he's a tough little scrap. Thanks to Professor Snape's potions, there won't even be much scarring."

"One thing Snape is good for," Sirius muttered.

Regulus opened his mouth to defend his friend, but closed it when Cindy laid a hand on his arm and shook her head slightly. Let it go, was her silent signal. He listened, not wanting to start a quarrel over the dinner table.

Annie poked Sirius in the ribs. "Be nice, Siri. Professor Snape made quite a difference in that boy's life. He and another student, Arthur Stephens, came to visit Nate every weekend and provide the boy with news and company."

"Stephens?" repeated Orion. "Wasn't that the name of the Muggle family who was massacred by the Death Eaters? The ones we found on our routine patrol that time?" His voice was heavy with regret and sorrow.

"Yes, that's the same one. Poor Arthur was the only survivor." Annie said.

"Severus took him in after that happened," said Regulus. "He's now the boy's guardian."

"Good for him," Orion said. "I'm sure the youngster will have a good home, certainly better than being placed in an orphanage."

The talk turned to other things, such as Sirius and Orion's work, they had made a few arrests, but nothing major, and several more tragedies had occurred. They were spread very thin and simply could not be everywhere at once. Then Walburga changed the subject, and talked about her fundraisers and various other projects she sponsored, such as raising money for the Auror Department. Cindy shared some of her stories of her small students, she taught at a wizarding primary school.

The main course was served—roast lamb with mint jelly, roasted new potatoes, a green salad, buttered beans, and crusty garlic bread. Everyone enjoyed the succulent meat and flavorful side dishes. When the meal was finished, Sirius opened a bottle of champagne from Merlin's Vineyards, a quality winery, and poured everyone a glass.

"I'd like to propose a toast—to Annie, whom I've asked to be my wife, and to my family, who has been kind enough to welcome me back after I've been an idiot. Would you please welcome Annie as well?"

They all stood, glasses raised. "Congratulations, Sirius. May you both be happy," Orion said.

"It would be my pleasure to welcome you as a daughter," Walburga said to Annie, giving her a smile. "Treat her well, Sirius. May you have a happy marriage."

"It is an honor to be part of this family," Annie said, blushing a becoming rose.

"Following my example, big brother?" teased Regulus, grinning. "It's about time!" He saluted Sirius with the glass. "Annie, welcome to the family."

"I wish you and Sirius all the best," Cindy added. "Cheers!"

They all clinked glasses.

"Have you set a date yet?" asked Walburga.

"Two months from now," Sirius replied. "Because of the war, we can't afford a proper courtship." He looked at Regulus. "Reg, would you be my second witness?"

"Sure, Siri." Regulus said. He was sincerely happy for his brother. Annie was perfect for him, she would keep him grounded. And she loved him, that was plain to see for anyone with eyes.

After the apple pie with ice cream was served, the women retired to the parlor, leaving the men to their port and discussions of strategy, tactics, and battle spells.

Annie had supposed they would talk of the wedding and babies, but instead Walburga chose to speak about the war also, and her fears that it would consume all she held dear. "So far, Orion has managed to keep from being injured, but it's only a matter of time before things explode, and we have to take steps to protect ourselves from attack."

"Do you really think they would dare do that?" Cindy asked.

"Yes. They know my husband is an Auror, and they will want to strike back at the one who had brought so many to justice. Orion has assured me will be safe here, the wards he has placed are nearly impenetrable. Even so, I worry . . . He must be stopped," Walburga said softly, her mouth creased in a determined line. "For the world he wishes to bring into being is not one I would want to live in."

"Nor I," Annie said, her words edged in steel. "But what can we do to stop it?"

"I do not know." The witch admitted. "But something must be done, else we are all lost."

"Mother Black, is my baby at risk?" Cindy asked, curling a hand over her abdomen.

"We are all at risk, Cynthia." Walburga answered. "The black-hearted warlock grows stronger every day. So we must be prepared. That is the key to survival. Has Orion come to ward your house?"

"No. Not yet."

"I shall send him over tomorrow. Having decent wards protecting you can offer security and much-needed peace of mind."

"Since many witches here in London are wives of Aurors, why not organize a self-defense class?" Annie suggested. "I've always regretted not being able to defend myself better when those Death Eaters tore apart Diagon Alley and my shop. I would never wish that on anyone." She touched her scarred cheek lightly. "What do you say? At least it will give us something to do besides stay home and fret ourselves to death."

"How very interesting. But it makes sense," Walburga said. "Every witch should learn how to protect themselves."

"That's an excellent idea!" exclaimed Cindy. "Reg is always telling me it's never too late to learn a new skill, and I haven't practiced Defense charms since I finished school."

Annie smiled. "Will you help me?"

"Of course," Cindy said. "That's what sisters do." She spontaneously hugged Annie.

"I, too, shall help. We can hold classes here, on certain afternoons, down in Orion's workroom. It's warded and will not crumble over a few miscast spells. Together we can show those monsters that we witches are not mere damsels in distress, but a force to be reckoned with."

Then they began to discuss the details of the Witches Defense Society, the first ever of its kind, and who they could find that was a competent instructor.

"Perhaps I shall ask around at Magical Law Enforcement. There must be a few retired war wizards who would be willing to help us," Walburga mused.

"How about Eileen Snape Marsh?" Cindy suggested. "She's a War Mage."

"And an old classmate of mine," Walburga smiled. "Good thinking, Cynthia. I'm sure she could instruct all of us wonderfully. I shall write her and see what she thinks."

"To us!" Annie lifted her cup of tea in a toast. "We'll send You-Know-Who and his poxy scum scurrying back to hell where they came from. Because nobody messes with the Black women."

"I'll drink to that, daughters." Walburga said, and then did so.

well, hope you liked this chapter!