Marking Time

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1975 January

It had been an incredibly long and very trying near-year since Charis' death.

Septimus had spent most of that time, alongside Harfang and Charlus and Arcturus, fighting tooth-and-nail with the Wizengamot. They, and the Neutrals, had the majority vote in there, but that didn't stop a lot of very bitter and vociferous arguments, or a boatload and a half of stalling tactics, bribery and blackmail attempts and a whole host of other problems. They'd eventually gotten their way, but they'd had to fight for it.

As of last month, all the changes in laws they'd wanted were in place. Casting, or bearing, Voldemort's symbol was now punishable by a minimum of six months in the minimum security wing of Azkaban. Of course, if you got caught doing more than that, the time (and where you got put to serve it) would change, but the punishments for doing things like casting Unforgivables were already on the books and widely known and had been for a long time.

Similarly, the Auror department was now awash in more money than it quite knew what to do with, and recruiting and training Aurors had begun as of the first of the month. None of the new recruits would be ready for at least six months even if their training was compressed, but it was better than nothing.

Alastor Moody had been chosen to lead the special anti-Death Eater task force - the Aurors, Hit Wizards and other specialists dedicated to bringing down Voldemort and his cronies. Septimus couldn't think of a better man for the job. The Moody's had made a family tradition of being Aurors, Hit Wizards and other levels of law enforcement for centuries. While the odd incompetent forced into a career they hated was inevitable in such a family ... so was the occasional family member who was truly gifted at the family's traditional occupation.

Alastor was most definitely in the latter category. While Septimus hadn't been an Auror for decades now, he still had contacts in that community, and got to hear quite a bit of gossip because of it. He'd heard nothing but praise for Alastor from any of his contacts, and Alastor had risen rapidly in the ranks, and not just because he was a Moody. Even in the supposedly 'peaceful' years between the Grindelwald war and now, Alastor had managed to track down and put away quite a few Dark Wizards.

Quite a number of folks experienced in ward construction had volunteered their time to beef up home security and figure out wards for places like Diagon Alley. Interestingly, people had quietly withdrawn their offers of help or their membership in the anti-Voldemort squad when it became known that checks for Dark Marks would be made both before being allowed to sign up and after one had signed up at unannounced intervals.

Septimus had been rather thoroughly amused when Augusta Longbottom and several of the other elder ladies of the pureblood community had begun to wear robes with short sleeves. Septimus hadn't expected much help from that quarter. Not because he thought them incompetent or unwilling to assist, but because they had come from a time when women just *didn't* get involved in such things. Ironically, they had found a way to help that they were comfortable with and that Septimus hadn't even considered - by beginning a new fashion trend that would make it all but impossible to hide a Mark.

Their daughters would follow their mothers' lead, either because it was expected of them to do so, or because they realized the benefits of the short sleeves in the current struggle. Those daughters would ensure their children had such robes. From there, the men following suit was a foregone conclusion, either because their wives were holding the revocation of certain privileges over their heads, because they did not wish to be seen as more cowardly than a woman, or because they too realized the benefits of the short sleeves and wanted to help in some small way.

Septimus had been quick to follow their lead for the latter reason, of course. So had Harfang and Charlus. Arcturus had taken a week or so to catch on and adjust his wardrobe accordingly. After that, the rest of the Neutral faction following suit was a foregone conclusion. From there, the Light-siders would eventually pick it up, Dumbledore's approval or disapproval be damned. Or at least, so Septimus hoped.

Septimus had been deeply tempted to offer his services to the anti-Voldemort squad. They had made it clear they'd take anyone with usable skills, not just Aurors and Hit Wizards. Septimus had kept himself in fighting trim after leaving the Aurors. Other than his hair color starting to fade and wash out, there was no indication of the fact that Septimus was in his late sixties. He appeared to be mid to late thirties thanks to the extended lives witches and wizards enjoyed.

In the end though, he hadn't. It felt wrong on a fundamental level to wade into a fight of any description without Harfang and Charlus at his back. Even if that hadn't been a factor, he was going to be rather too busy with other things that would be taking up the lion's share of his time and attention. He would be wrangling with the Wizengamot in general, and with Dumbledore and Malfoy in particular, doing 'secret' raids to get muggles out of the line of fire or responding to attacks that managed to stay under the radar of the Aurors or the new squad.

Most of his attention was going to have to be on Dumbledore.

Malfoy, after all these years, Septimus knew how to handle. The bastard was at heart a coward and a bully, and that sort Septimus could handle in his sleep. Dumbledore, though ... that one bore watching. Septimus didn't know what he was up to, but Septimus didn't like what he was seeing.

You'd think that the champion for the Light would actually, you know, fight for the Light. And maybe that was what Dumbledore had convinced himself and his loyal followers that he was doing, but from the outside, it looked shady as hell.

Dumbledore had fought incredibly hard in the Wizengamot to keep the death sentence for murderers - regardless of the method used to end the victim's life - from being passed. He'd quibbled about raising wartime wards everywhere humanly possible. And he'd all but had a coronary about ensuring that the general populace both knew how to fight back and would be comfortable doing so if it became necessary. He didn't fight the anti-werewolf legislation someone tried to sneak in under the radar. Thankfully, the Alliance had caught that one, and kept it from getting through. Things were bad enough for werewolves as it stood. That piece would have made it worse.

Septimus supposed there might be legitimate reasons for all of those things - and more besides - but Dumbledore wasn't sharing his thought process with anyone. Cautious inquiries of the families firmly under Dumbledore's sway only ever produced variations on 'Dumbledore knows what he's doing' as answers. It made things look very, very, very fishy from an outsider's perspective.

It didn't really help that Dumbledore persisted in trying to shut the Alliance up by various means. He tried to meet with them in private at every Wizengamot meeting, and had asked to meet with them at other times as well. While the 'young and intemperate' tag he'd tried to slap on Charlus before his father's death wouldn't really work anymore to cut support out from under them in the Wizengamot, he persisted in treating them like they were fresh out of school. Septimus figured it was an attempt to make himself look aged and wise in comparison, with the hope they'd turn to their 'trusted elder' for advice.

Yeah, that was never going to work. They had Arcturus and Gaius to turn to if they needed advice when it came to Head of Family matters or dealing with the Wizengamot. Better, the Alliance actually trusted those older gentlemen, compared to the distrust and suspicion they held Dumbledore in. Nor did they have a lack of candidates if they found they needed an elder lady's perspective on things, as while both Harfang and Charlus' fathers had died, their mothers still lived, as did Septimus' mother, and Arcturus' wife.

Back on the 'good news' end of things, though, well, there was more. Septimus, Harfang and Charlus had studiously kept their noses as far away from their wives and any retribution they might have been planning for Charis' death as they could possibly manage. None of the three of them were dumb enough to think their wives would sit back and let that go unpunished. At the same time, the three men really didn't want to know what their wives were planning, for more than one reason.

That said, their chosen method of retribution had become fairly obvious to the three men when several of the more extremist types in the pureblood families came down with illnesses they really oughtn't to have. Not that their husbands were going to say a dang thing, either to them or to anyone else. Septimus was of the general thought that the folks so targeted deserved a little pain and suffering. They'd certainly dished enough out over the years.

Personally, he was waiting for Malfoy to fall prey to the women. Cedrella had never forgiven Abraxas for his pursuit of her despite her, her father and even Arcturus telling making it clear his advances were not welcomed. There was no way Cedrella wouldn't target Abraxas if an opportunity to do so presented itself.

The biggest question - and problem - that remained was figuring out who in hell Voldemort was. There had to be some sort of record somewhere. People didn't just appear out of the ether. His familiarity with UK wizarding traditions said he'd been either raised somewhere in the UK, or with UK traditions. The fact he was getting bits and pieces wrong, or not including them said he was muggle-raised for some reason, not a pureblood, or *extremely* cunning. Other than that, there was very little to go on. No one whom Septimus had talked to - and was willing to trust - had actually seen the man. The whispers he'd heard from sources he didn't trust placed Voldemort as apparently fairly young - Septimus hadn't heard any mention of white hair or other indications of old age. If that was true, that put Voldemort somewhere under the age of seventy.

It wasn't a very helpful description to go on. Someone who may or may not be a UK native, who could be any degree of blood status short of pure muggleborn, and was anywhere between seventeen and seventy.

The first, best place to start, Septimus decided, was to eliminate the purebloods, if he could. They were the fewest in number and would be the easiest to track because of it. Hmmm. He'd talk to Charlus and Harfang, and through them their house elves. The little blighters might be able to tell them more than any human knew, and if they didn't already know it, might be able to find it out. Merlin knew most people paid them no mind. Even Septimus had been that way before the war and Jinx saving Cedrella, Callidora, and half their company's support crew.

They wouldn't even necessarily have to risk their hides to do it, either. Even if Voldemort wasn't a pureblood, most of his followers were. One of their house elves was bound to have seen or heard something. And while house elves could be sworn not to tell outsiders things, not every pureblood would even think to prevent that sort of gossip. And Septimus knew from Jinx that house elves gossiped. A lot. While they doubtlessly had a lot to do - especially in the bigger families like the Blacks - their jobs didn't take up every second of every day. And apparently, there was only so much you could do to entertain yourself when you were a house elf.

All it'd take is one chatty house elf in the right place at the right time, and them not having orders to not tell outsiders things. Granted, that was a lot of ifs and maybes, but the odds against it weren't all that bad, actually. And some of the braver house elves might be willing to actively spy on the purebloods in question. Though that had its own risks. The odds of an eavesdropping elf being seen by wizards were nil, but any house elves that worked in the home that was being spied on *would* notice the stranger and would be very liable to do something about it, either on their own or by telling their master about the situation.

Still, worth talking to Charlus and Harfang about, and from there, the elves themselves. Jinx would volunteer in a flat second, Septimus was sure. The little guy was still, and probably always would be, protective in the extreme of the Marauders as a whole and of Charlus in particular. Anything he perceived as a threat *would* be dealt with, one way or another. And Jinx would very likely interpret the Death Eaters and Voldemort as a threat. At which point Septimus pitied them. A lot. Because while Jinx might not hex the crap out of the lot of them the way Septimus and the Marauders wanted to, he'd find a way to make their lives a living hell.