Surprise, it's me! I know that it has only been a few days since the last chapter was posted, but I wanted to gift you all something nice for the holidays in case you need to have something to do while sitting through boring family talks, or cannot reach your friends or family due to the current situation.
thanks a lot for all the nice comments on the previous chapter, I'm glad that so many of you liked Harry showing off some of his newfound skills :)
massive credit to Adams_Riddle, who co-wrote some pieces of scenes I was struggling with ^.^''
Check out her latest HPLV stories on Archive of our Own, Two Kingdoms and Wanderlust.
enjoy!
Chapter seventy-two – Alliances
The whispers that went all around the room had been expected. Harry didn't care much for whispers, having witnessed too often how violently the general opinion of large groups could swing from one side of the spectrum to the other as easily as the massive, brass pendulum of the Clock tower. What he did care for was the uncomprehensive looks he was thrown by his best friends. Both looked reserved, wary as he guided their newest member into the room.
It wasn't as if he could blame them. If anyone else had shown up with Parkinson at their side at one of these meetings, he'd have given them a piece of their mind and kicked them out. But this was his group, was it not? Hermione had vocalised that more than once. Both of them should know that he would never risk the safety of the D.A. Him bringing in the one person who'd given them so much grief before should be a message showcasing the girl's change of heart. No matter the reason why.
As he searched the room, he met Draco's eyes. He hadn't yet forgiven the Slytherin for running away. They hadn't spoken for over a week as a result, neither initiating conversation. Draco looked uncomfortable and concerned, and Harry wondered if there'd been words exchanged between him and his cousin at all since the incident. Breaking eye contact, his gaze instead wandered across the other doubtful faces in the room and finally came to rest at the girl at his side. Pansy kept her head down and hadn't said a word yet. She'd spoken precious little since their trip into the forest.
''As you may have noticed these past days, Umbridge has lost one of her previous allies. I wish to welcome Pansy Parkinson into our army. She and I have had a few chats and I'm absolutely convinced that she's seen the error in sticking up for the toad. Umbridge doesn't know, of course, so Pansy has expressed her willingness to spy for us if necessary. I implore all of you to leave your grievances with her in the past if you can. There's no need for more antagonization. With her joining, we have a chance to close the rift that remained in the student body, especially regarding the other Slytherins,'' he spoke as calmly as possible. As expected, there were no positive responses. He was met with doubtful glances and frowns. Pansy had hurt a great many of these people. Then again, so had Draco and the blond had also been reluctantly accepted in time. They'd all need to adapt.
To their credit, no-one raised a word of heated protest, as he might have expected at the very start of the D.A. It was clear that every one of these people had some modicum of trust in Harry's capabilities. Ron was the only one to step forwards, crossing his arms. ''Will she admit that she was wrong in front of her friends, then? Parkinson may have started a lot of fights, but she only could because so many supported her. Who is to say that those won't take over instead, like they did when Malfoy showed his support of you?''
A sharp inhale at his side made Harry wait with his own response. ''I would be a worthless spy if I straight up told my friends that I agree with Potter now,'' Pansy spoke, with more bite than he'd expected. ''It would reach the ears of either the Aurors or the Professors soon. Besides, I am not willing to give up on the position I have in Slytherin right now, that would be stupid and wasteful.''
''Then nothing would change!'' Ron exclaimed.
She shook her head firmly. ''My influence remaining means people will look to me to instigate larger fights, or for acceptance of their own schemes. As long as that is the case, you have an advantage, for no-one else will take over and I can warn you about others.''
''Why did you change your mind?'' a dreamy voice asked with honest interest. ''Not many do. Even very good and nice people hold onto their own beliefs for stability, even if they're wrong.'' Luna looked briefly at Hermione, then directed her large eyes at Pansy again. ''What happened?''
''I… I…'' she stammered, her image faltering. Harry saw how she tensed up and clenched her hands not to tremble.
''We had an encounter with one of Umbridge's dementors,'' he answered for her. ''It tried to attack Pansy despite her being one of Umbridge's stellar students before. I got Pansy out of there, and she realised just how far Umbridge is willing to go with her power plays.'' Harry shivered lightly at the memory. How utterly shocked he had been when the Dementor had floated right past and dove for the girl… To this day, he didn't know what had overcome him, what exactly had transpired. There'd been a deep, ancient feeling that he'd grasped at. Words just out of reach, so he'd reached beyond to catch them. From the few incoherent sentences he'd been able to drag out of the girl, when he'd woken up standing in front of a few tattered pieces of skin, he'd concluded that the Dementor had been sucked in on itself in a brightly glowing light.
Thinking about it still sent his mind reeling in disbelief. Nothing he'd ever heard about or read had mentioned anything about how Dementors died. Up until that moment, he'd almost believed the spectral beings to be immortal of sorts. He certainly hadn't done it on purpose, pretty sure that he could never reproduce this spell or whatever it had been consciously. Maybe it was like accidental magic in children… Long before Harry had known what magic was, he'd pulled off a wandless apparition to the school roof, a feat he surely wouldn't be able to ever manage again. Learning regular apparition had already taken intense training with Barty…
Most surprising about the entire situation though, was that there had been no mention to the students about a Dementor going missing, so either the Aurors didn't care to count them, or had kept it hushed up. Considering how the Ministry used these beings as tools, it might even be the former. He sincerely hoped that the Dementors themselves didn't care enough for their own to find the murderer and enact revenge.
''That's right,'' Pansy spoke, jutting her chin up again. ''I realised that much larger things are at work. All of Umbridge's study books would not have kept me safe from the real world. From what Harry told me, Defence is only the first step in a larger plan to de-weaponize our generation. I see now that we cannot let this happen. So if you will have me, I wish to fight at your side.''
It was a nice piece of acting, Harry had to admit as he watched Pansy stride forwards and curtsy or shake hands with the other members. She didn't care about Umbridge, nor about how the Hogwarts curriculum would develop. The holiday tutoring her parents could afford was sure to close any gaps in knowledge necessary to pass her exams at least. It wasn't as if she wanted to cooperate with people of any other house either. No, she was purely here out of a skewed mixture of fright and greed. He'd shown her powers that she wanted to possess and at the same time feared being turned against her. That was all.
Ironically, even after everything that had happened and the full-blown Necromancy ritual he'd shown, Pansy still didn't believe that Harry could be a long-term asset to anyone with connections to the dark. She was far too convinced of her own theory of that the Dark Lord would forever see Harry as an enemy due to him causing the first downfall of Voldemort. Accepting her in the D.A. nonetheless without a single shred of actual loyalty was a dangerous game, but he didn't mind playing it for a while. In only a few weeks, Pansy's beliefs would be thrown into the wind when the Dark Lord would reveal himself and Harry would be there as a welcome guest rather than an adversary.
At the very least, Pansy was now one problem less on his long, long list. And having someone in Umbridge's ranks would absolutely be useful. Having wasted enough time with this introduction, he started the lesson. It was with the Gryffindors, Slytherins and Ravenclaws this time, which probably was a good thing. Harry was sure that Cedric would have had a few words to say about them getting a spy of all things. Well, he'd answer to that when it came to it.
The question came sooner than expected however, and not from Cedric. No sooner was the lesson over, did Ron drag him to the couches, where they sat in silence till the rest had left. Even Hermione didn't stay with them, admitting with a guilty look that she had far too much homework on her plate to start a discussion right now.
''Parkinson? Really? And… and as a spy?'' Ron opened their conversation in bewilderment when the door slammed shut. ''Harry, you can't just spring that on us without notice! How did this happen? When?''
''Last week,'' he curtly answered, not really feeling up for a crossfire interview. He'd much rather go back to his dorms and dive into his books. ''It's not as if I didn't try to tell you,'' he said in defence. ''But each time we're in the common room or dorms you… well, you know.'' Harry tried not to sound too accusatory, but it was hard. Being in one room with Ron when no-one else was around was a constant stream of complaints and bad moods. ''I always have the feeling as if you're not interested in listening to anything I'd say.''
Ron looked as if someone had hit him with a troll club for a moment. ''That's not true… Harry, I know that I haven't been very… Alright, maybe I see your point,'' he finally admitted, face falling. ''Merlin, I've been so caught up in my own crap that I haven't been there for you at all. I'm sorry. I didn't notice.''
''Hey, better than when you accused me of cheating in the Triwizard Tournament,'' Harry spoke with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. ''It's not as if I've done much better. I mean, sure I listen to your ranting about Quidditch and classes, but I haven't done much to support you with any of it.''
With a heavy sigh, Ron kicked aimlessly against another chair. ''I don't know why communicating is so hard this year. I used to tell you everything, we used to share jokes and spend evenings goofing about. Not even that bloody tournament stopped us from doing that once I got those stupid thoughts of jealousy out of my head. I wish that we would go back to that. Don't know how though.''
''Me too. And me neither,'' he confessed quietly. ''I almost feel like a completely different person, looking back on it.''
''Yeah, you became quite the bookworm,'' Ron joked with a lop-sided smile. ''Hermione infiltrated your brain or what?''
Harry shrugged, unable to answer honestly. 'The Dark Lord demanded that I pass my exams and I want to impress him' wasn't an acceptable answer here. That was the crux of the matter in the end, wasn't it? Half of what he spoke with Ron about was unimportant stuff. The other half was lies. And how could he be honest with all that was at stake? The few who did know the truth were either already on Voldemort's side or had been blackmailed into staying silent, like Sirius or Fleur.
The only alternatives to lying were omission or admitting that he couldn't tell the truth. The latter option only worked a few times before it'd get too suspicious.
''Harry, talk to me. Please. I'm still your friend, right? I can see that you're burdened by something and you always bottle it up. My angry rants may not be very helpful either, but I do feel better after getting it out of my system. Try it, really.''
''I'm pissed at myself,'' he bluntly blurted out. ''I feel like I'm heading in directions I can't predict or control. I hate how much it makes me drift away from everyone else. It's my own fault, yet I can't stop, which sounds too stupid to be true, I know. I don't recognise myself sometimes.''
He stared down at his hands, the same hands that had directed a swarm of corpses not long ago. It had been practical, but had it been right? He was grateful for all that Necromancy had given him, from a new cherished memory of his parents to a functional arm after Umbridge's destruction of his real one. Not to mention what would have become of Sirius otherwise. However… when he practised it, Harry felt like turning into someone else entirely. Time spent in the Black Cosmos felt consuming and peaceful alike. Detached was probably the best name for it. He'd watched Pansy cry out and hadn't stopped, unbothered in that moment by emotions.
It wasn't just Necromancy either that weighed on him so much, or magic in general. Whenever he spent time in Voldemort's presence, everything else appeared bleak in comparison. The knowledge of the Dark Lord's great new world not positively influencing the lives of other people he cared about didn't stop Harry from pursuing that goal as well. Harry's determination about halting Dumbledore's quest could result in the Headmaster's downfall, which many would be devastated by. In short, every decision he made would be met with resistance of his friends if they'd know about it. It made him unwillingly alienate them as he saw no better alternative. Draco mocked him for not leaving these people behind and perhaps the Slytherin was onto something… Harry wished so desperately for everyone he cared for to get along, to work together, but it was an unrealistic goal.
''Is this about Dark Magic? Or about how you want to stay with the Malfoys?'' Startled, Harry looked up, not having spoken to Ron at all about the guardianship situation since the Dursleys had been murdered. ''I do have some perception skills,'' his friend smiled, swatting Harry's shoulder awkwardly. ''Also, Mione gave me an update about only the Malfoys and Tonks' parents being an option. With your family history, it's not surprising that you'd be hesitant about agreeing to people whom you've never even met.''
''It's about both, I guess.'' And much more, he added silently.
''You know that after your whole explanations, neither Mione nor I buy into the idea anymore that magic is evil per se only because it is labelled as dark. That classification book was super helpful too. Regarding the Malfoys, I still think you are nuts for trying to befriend Draco and absolutely worried about Lucius Malfoy having any sort of influence over you, but I don't think it's too big of a deal. You'll only be there during a couple of holidays until you turn seventeen. There's no way that they'd try to harm you or bring in their Death Eater buddies either, that would look way too suspicious.''
''Tell Dumbledore that,'' he spoke with chagrin. ''During our last lesson, he basically insisted that I had to support the Tonks'. Only after I admitted that he had a bit of a point against the Malfoys, did he even reveal to me that I have been called as a witness to speak in the court trial about it. If I'd been adamant about the Malfoys to his face, who knows if I'd have had any sort of say over it.''
Ron frowned in concern. ''Professor Dumbledore withheld information?''
Reluctantly, Harry admitted: ''Not quite. Umbridge withheld information from me that Dumbledore made copies of. He gave me most of it up front, which I do appreciate. The last piece about being called as a witness though, he held over my head until I basically agreed with him.''
''Or pretended to?'' came the careful question.
Harry shook his head briefly. ''I truly did see his points. From his perspective, they're valid too. It's just that… he doesn't have the full picture and am not willing to give it to him either. It's my business, not his.'' Being reminded of that conversation also made him starkly remember that the court trial was a meagre four days away now. Four days until a large part of the future years would be decided for him. He'd thought of strategies of course, of what to say. There wasn't anything else he could do, not even contact either family vying for guardianship as it would alert Umbridge. He'd thought of having Draco write a note to his parents as he'd bragged about that post not being checked, but a) they weren't speaking now and b) it was still a risk he couldn't afford to take. Here was to hoping that luck was on his side…
''Whatever happens… I want you to know that I'm there for you. Through everything, okay?'' Harry looked up and met Ron's trusting look. ''You've done so much for all of us here. We never could have started this underground rebellion without you for example, or learned even half of what we did. And before you say anything, I don't think it is your fame that pulls people here. You're a born leader, a great wizard and an even better friend. Even when you keep secrets.''
''I'm not such a great friend as you are,'' Harry managed to choke out, touched. Would he have been able to stick with Ron if the roles had been reversed? As shameful as it was to admit, probably not.
''Thanks.'' Ron seemed to mull over something, then spoke: ''I hope that you'll see in time that you can trust me. No matter what. I hate feeling as if… as if Parkinson or Malfoy are better friends of yours than I am.''
He truly wanted to reply with something positive. 'I do trust you' or 'I'll tell you everything in time', but those would both have been lies as well and he was sick of those. So, he opted for the little truth he could give: ''Parkinson is not my friend. Not by a long shot. Friendship and trust aren't mutually inclusive. You're correct that Parkinson knows more about my secrets that you do, but only because she had something to gain from it whereas you would have everything to lose.''
''Being your friend is frustrating, you know that?'' There was no venom in it, only a weariness that Harry felt nagging guilt at.
''Yeah. I do.''
''As long as you are aware of it.''
Ron got to his feet and was about to fetch his school bag, when Harry called out: ''Wait, I never properly listened to your troubles. Since you say that it helps to speak about it… maybe I can try to actually offer some advice this time.''
His friend looked torn, which was a very fair reaction after being brushed off so much before. ''I doubt there's much you can do, mate. I wanted to quit the team, but Angelina won't let me. She says that they cannot afford another player switch this far into the year, that I shouldn't let other people get to me. I don't know if that's even the reason I want to quit though.'' The teen aimlessly walked around for a bit before sitting back down. He sighed deeply. ''Like, yes, Parkinson's stupid song got stuck in my head and it's frustrating when I get bullied in the hallways for it. More than that however, Quidditch itself isn't all I dreamt up it was. Playing in the backyard with my siblings was fun. Throwing a couple of balls, having a laugh on holidays where our only other worry was a few household chores… Quidditch at Hogwarts is nothing like that. It's getting out of bed early in the most horrifying weather, sitting through empty speeches and training schemes that have a low chance of success, it's avoiding injuries and insults that the opponent attempt to throw you off with on the field... I don't know how you dealt with it for years, how any of the other players deal with it. Most of it is training with only four actual matches that I play in throughout the whole year. Two of those are over now, and both were won due to the stupid snitch. It's as if my job as Keeper isn't even worth anything. I let through fourteen goals last time. Fourteen! The first match, it was even more. And we still won 'cause of our Chasers and Ginny. When being just an on-looker, I know it makes sense due to the way scores are counted together over the season, but when actually playing, that loses most of its meaning. It's just so draining, without any tangible reward,'' Ron complained with heavy disappointment.
''I wonder if I would have thought Quidditch as much fun when being a Keeper,'' Harry mused. ''Being a Seeker really does give a huge advantage, it being the most celebrated position after a won match. You know, I don't think I would have tried out for Quidditch if McGonagall hadn't given me the position as 'punishment' in my first year. Too many eyes on me. I took that in stride eventually, but the start was nerve-wracking. I never got to like that aspect of the game. Due to all the things you mentioned, from harsh training to annoying weather, I also think that I don't actually like playing Quidditch that much. I love flying and Quidditch gave me an excuse to pull off reckless speeds and moves for hours, that's all. If you are to continue, maybe try to find what does draw you towards it.''
Ron's face fell even further, ears turning pink. ''Standing out in a positive light for once. I already know that's not going to happen. Three of my siblings are in the team and all are better than I. The Twins have years of experience and work together like no-one else can, while Ginny turned out to be a stellar flyer who has absolutely no ounce of hesitance in even the most dangerous situations. I'm proud of all of them for it, but also feel inadequate again. I wish that I would find something I'm good at that none of them can do. As I'm not even allowed to quit the team though, it'll be a long time before I can put energy in that.''
''I'll talk to Angelina for you if you want,'' Harry offered. ''I truly thought that you were beating yourself up so much that you were trying to stay in the team no matter what. Hearing that the captain refuses to let you quit is insane. Quidditch is a sport, an extracurricular activity that no-one is obligated to do. We are in one of the two most stressful years of Hogwarts, she cannot force you to stay for what is essentially a hobby.'' If Harry had known about this, then maybe he would have let Umbridge go through on her threats of making Ron quit the team as punishment after Harry's attack on his behalf against Pansy in the Slytherin common room. In that case, Angelina also would have needed to find a different Keeper. ''You weren't the only one who tried out for the position, so she's sure to have people who can take over. Apart from that, your last match wasn't that long ago. A replacement would still have plenty of time to train for the third.''
''I don't know, I feel uncomfortable insisting on it when the idea has already been shot down. Fred and George would never forgive me either. I can just see the endless teasing over me being a quitter.'' Ron let himself fall back in the armchair with a thud and groaned. ''I'm just hoping that Angelina will ease up on training in our final term due to exams. It's not as if it really seems to help with improvement. Like I said, not much you could do. Thanks for properly listening anyways. Whenever I rant in the dorms, I don't really feel like anyone cares, it's only talking to get it off my chest.''
''Some more privacy at Hogwarts might be nice sometimes, huh?''
''Absolutely.''
Harry thought for a moment, then pulled out his wand. ''Can you cast privacy wards? You know, like silencing wards and the like. That might help you in moments where you need to be alone or just shout at something without anyone else hearing it. It's not a permanent solution to your problem, but it might help nonetheless to feel a bit better.''
With interest, Ron leaned forwards and grabbed his own wand. ''I know how to silence other people, that's all. I've seen 'Mione cast wards around her to study better, never thought to ask her how to cast them. Do you know any?''
Glad to have some practical advice to share, Harry nodded enthusiastically. The next thirty minutes were spent with demonstrations and practise that let him forget his worries about Ron for a while. His best friend finally let himself drop to the floor and dramatically spread his arms. ''I'm too damn tired for this, Harry. You saw it though, did you? Some shield went up, that's progress isn't it?''
Harry put his hand to his ear. ''What?'' he joked, pretending not to hear. ''Put down that barrier!''
Ron instead threw his wand at him, which Harry deftly caught. ''That's nothing compared to the snitch,'' he smirked, throwing it back. He sat down on the floor too, leaning back on his hands. For some reason, he felt more energetic than before, magic rushing through his veins. They hadn't even practised any heavy magic, so it was wondrous that he'd feel this invigorated. Maybe it was simply his attitude and happiness over spending some time with his friend again.
''Hey, Harry?'' Ron asked, still staring up at the domed ceiling. Harry hummed questioningly. ''Can you tell me one, at least?''
''One what?''
''One secret. Not your largest or anything. Just… one thing that you think you need to hide from me, so I can decide for myself if I want to know more or not.''
He didn't like the idea. There were good reasons for keeping any and all of the secrets that he hadn't previously shared with Ron. If there'd been even a slight chance in his mind of his friends agreeing, he'd told them. Ron already knew that the person Harry had a crush on was definitely not on their side, as well as Harry's hesitance about following Dumbledore. ''What would that bring?'' he carefully asked.
''Mutual trust,'' the other replied with a shrug.
''I've already told you some that were rather dangerous. That I never stopped using dark magic for example, even when I didn't need it to protect myself in the Tournament anymore.''
The teen sat up. ''You did, which I'm thankful for. I'm only wondering… why it stopped there. I supported you fully didn't I? Have been practising it with you when we performed weather magic. Did I do anything, say anything that made you doubt I'd be able to understand more?'' Ron's voice was laced heavily with insecurity.
Harry rubbed his face and groaned. ''No, you didn't at all,'' he confessed. ''However, with dark magic I could explain to you why I thought the views on magic that you held before weren't entirely correct without it influencing anything else in your life. Most of my other secrets… you might get torn between me and your family, I don't want that.''
Ron laughed and shook his head. ''I don't understand. You're on the side of my family too, right? I mean, you saved my dad only months ago! You saved Ginny before!''
''I love your family, I'd never agree to anything that would hurt them,'' Harry stated firmly. ''Some of the decisions I've made though, some of the people I've spoken to... they wouldn't have their best interests in mind regardless.'' He fought with himself about how much to fess up to. One secret, Ron had asked. Was that really too much of a price to pay? He had so many now, surely there could be one that was not as important to keep as the others, especially as Ron was nothing like Draco, who'd instantly told other people. Anything regarding Voldemort was obviously out, but there were many others still. ''One secret,'' he finally agreed. ''I'll tell you, yet only if you promise to tell no-one else. Not even Hermione.''
Ron opened and closed his mouth, looking both surprised and ready to protest the demand. ''Fine,'' he conceded after a minute.
''Just… give me a moment.''
What had he gotten into again? Why couldn't he simply tell Ron to stuff it? That thought instantly brought forth an image of his best friend, staring at him in utter sadness, a sight that he couldn't bear to see. Instead, Harry concentrated on mentally listing every single thing he hadn't told Ron out of fear of rejection. The Necromancy rituals, the interview he'd given being more in favour of the dark side instead of Muggleborns, the fact that he was never in true danger in the Tournament due to Barty, his lessons with Snape being a sham now, his ability to apparate… but everything he came up with ultimately would lead only to more questions and from that to his contact with Voldemort or Death Eaters. And if he was going to spill one secret, then he wanted to give Ron a few answers at least. Besides, it had to be one that would ensure his friend indeed didn't want to know more. Else a different can of worms would be opened altogether.
''You mentioned that I saved your dad,'' Harry spoke with hesitance. ''First of all, I fully think that Bill saved your dad, I was only there to see it. Secondly… I'm the reason why he didn't get any sort of… justice.'' At Ron's confused look, he continued with: ''Nagini didn't escape on her own. I set her free. I let her go.''
Completely flabbergasted, his friend stared at him. ''Why? That was You-Know-Who's pet! He uses that snake to attack people! What if others meet the same fate as dad do?''
''Nagini isn't evil. She wasn't there to attack anyone, only be on the lookout. Your dad pulled his wand, she bit him because she thought he would hurt her otherwise. After Bill stunned her, she was taken prisoner at Sirius's place and they… Dumbledore ordered them to…'' he broke off, feeling sick. ''I had another vision where I was in her head a few nights later. She was in so much agony. They tortured her, Ron. She didn't know what was going on, woke up in a cage that she didn't fit in and was shot at with awful spells.'' Harry curled up in on himself at the memory. ''I practically flew down the stairs and the ones who were hurting her got stunned. I sat next to Nagini, comforted her and told her it would be okay. She's a wonderful animal, so full of compassion even to those who aren't shown it by others. I sent her away and covered the tracks.''
''You sent her back to him?''
Trying to keep his cool at the disgusted tone, Harry answered: ''Yes, back to him. It's where she belongs, it's her home. She was missing him dearly,'' he couldn't help but add. ''So now you know. One of my secrets, by far not the worst.'' He gave Ron a challenging look.
His friend exhaled slowly. ''That is quite… a lot to take. Does anyone know about this?''
''I had to fess up to Sirius. He didn't take it well, but in the end covered for me to not get me in trouble,'' Harry truthfully explained. No, Sirius definitely hadn't taken it well… Harry's insides twisted with guilt at the memory. He blinked rapidly and took a sharp breath as the emotion almost overtook him. This was not the right moment for bad memories. Ron snapped out of his musing look as well and came closer, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Mate, I- It's a lot to take but, it's also just so you that I'm not really surprised.'' Bewildered, Harry took in Ron's bemused smile. ''You said you had a vision as the snake and were feeling her pain or something? I guess that's just your saving people thing. Even if it was You-Know-Who's snake, you've never been able to not help when someone is hurting. I don't think you have to worry so much about not feeling like yourself if all you mean is that whom you are helping changed. I'll keep your secret." Ron promised solemnly. Harry could see a dozen more question dance behind his friend's eyes, but Ron didn't ask anything else, which was appreciated. Despite his determination to elaborate a bit, he wouldn't be able to open up about exactly how he'd ensured Nagini was brought back.
Harry sighed in relief and sagged down into a slouching posture. "Thanks Ron."
''To emphasise that, how about we perform some of your beloved darker magic? I sort of don't want to leave yet. Not now. How about we step outside for a bit and call for a different room?''
Raising his eyebrows, Harry asked: ''Which one do you have in mind?''
''The one with our Animagus potion and weather magic materials in it, of course! If we wait any longer with continuing our training, I might forget how to properly cast all those spells! You'll have to tell me the correct pronunciation again for sure.''
A sudden bout of enthusiasm came over Harry again at the suggestion. In no time at all, they'd snuck outside, paced in front of the wall a couple of times and entered the far smaller and emptier circular room. In its middle stood the altar they always used, untouched. It looked like no-one else had been here, thankfully. Not that he'd expected so, not many people knew of the Room of Requirement in the first place and Harry had not revealed all of its details to the rest of the D.A. Most members only knew that the wall covered a hidden room which could be accessed by thinking of 'I wish for a place to train in secret with a group of people', which resulted in their training room showing up.
This one was far darker and smaller, round shelves and cabinets covering the walls in which Ron and he had stored a great many useful items the first few times they'd cast weather magic. Harry had forgotten whether the stocks were still full, so he first checked the shelves and drawers, relieved when finding they had plenty of glass and feathers left. The Thunderbird feathers were their main problem during this ritual, as Snape was sure to notice when too many went missing. They'd already stolen six feathers by now as they did wear down and three were used at once. Three more would be far too suspicious. The feathers he had now had been use twice already and were still in decent shape, but whether Harry would need to replace them would depend highly on how many times they'd have to call forth a thunderstorm from now on.
As they had done before, Harry and Ron went through the stages of the weather ritual, soaring magic combined with the pounding of a drum and chants to draw the elemental forces from the skies above. Claps of thunder rewarded their efforts almost as much as the heated magic that sent his blood singing. Ron's chest pains had waned as well ever since actively knowing that it was his own brain that hindered him from casting dark magic, not an inevitable natural affinity.
They both took a minute to gather their bearings, listening to the raging storm outside before moving on. The potion was as foul as ever, slimy and earthy as it went down his throat. It hadn't become any easier not to heave it back up, but Harry managed somehow, concentrating on the next part. Ron and he gave each other encouraging nods while pointing their wands at their own hearts.
''Amato Animo Animato Animagus,'' he repeated over and over again, manifesting the will to change the shape of his body.
It was both easier and harder than the previous attempt. Easier as his body recalled the shape he wished to transform in by now, this being the fifth try, and harder as it had been so long. Almost two months had passed since their last try, whereas before, there had never been more time in between their transfiguration attempts than a couple of weeks. Trying to recall the actual feeling consciously was sheer impossible, Harry found. If the Locket would still have been here, it would surely have sneered at Harry's lack of imagination. Maybe he was going at this the wrong way. The very first time, he hadn't had any previous experience to go on, yet had managed to transfigure a whole arm into a wing. His intrusive thoughts weren't helping much either. Every time he tried to relax and clear his mind, worries and images popped up. What was Voldemort doing right now? What evil plans was Umbridge coming up with? Had Dumbledore found that cave yet? Why did Harry still see the wisps of the dead even after completing a full Necromancer ritual by himself? The sliver of soul had taunted him in the dorms again as soon as he'd returned from the Forbidden Forest and hadn't waned over time….
Harry growled, frustrated with himself. Trying to concentrate on the feel of magic and the spell rather than his memories was perhaps the most efficient-
A roar that sounded as if their summoned thunder had broken through the roof interrupted Harry's thoughts. In shock, he snapped open his eyes and wildly poked his wand around, freezing when seeing that the source of the noise had not been the storm. Not two yards away stood a mighty, big lion. Over the course of his life, Harry had only seen a real lion once, at his trip to the zoo on Dudley's birthday. They'd been rather far away then, so it had been hard to guess their size. Now that one towered over him, a snarl on its snout and sharp nails scratching the stone, Harry stiffened in absolute fear. His brain tried to inform him that this was Ron, this was his best friend, but the flight or fight-response cause by the flood of adrenaline didn't listen. All he saw was a threat. Harry didn't deal well with threats. Before he knew it, he'd risen in a half-crouch and was about to cast a spell to fling the beast away. He only halted in confusion as the animal hastily backed away in a very un-predatory manner and sat down on its ass like the friendliest cat he'd ever seen.
''Merlin,'' Harry breathed, finally grasping the situation in full. ''Ron?''
Now that his racing heart was slowing down ever so slightly, Harry noticed the differences. The expression that was curiously human still, possibly due to being stared at by two piercing blue eyes that lions definitely weren't supposed to have. On a second look, he also noticed the entirely ginger plume of hair at the end of Ron's swishing tail. It was a funny sight, considering that the mane itself was a regular dark, sandy brown. The lion yawned, showing off big fangs, but the non-threatening pose made it look almost comical instead.
''Congratulations,'' he spoke weakly, stuffing his wand in his back pocket. He stepped closer. ''May I?'' he asked, knowing full well that Ron should still understand what was being said. Sirius had described his own experience as an Animagus as having wilder, more animalistic thoughts, but still knowing what was going on and being able to understand English. As this was Ron's first attempt however, his mind might be a bit more in disarray still. His friend stayed entirely still as Harry reached out and felt the mane though. ''That looks awesome,'' he spoke, then whistled. ''I'm speechless.'' As he walked around Ron, he almost stumbled over a bunch of cloth that was ripped to pieces. Well damn, apparently Ron hadn't managed to transfigure his clothes with him. Good thing they'd taken their outer robes off before to not accidentally damage the uniforms, but considering that Ron didn't have that many spare clothes in the first place, Harry was sure it would be a loss nonetheless that the undershirt and pants were pretty much done for. ''I'll buy you a new outfit,'' he promised with a grimace. ''Least I can do for dragging you into this. I err.. I'll turn around while you change back, okay?''
He stepped away. A few growling noises and rustling later, Ron spoke in awe: ''That was amazing. Harry, I didn't dream that, right? I managed it, right?''
''You sure did,'' he grinned, turning back. Ron was covering himself up as best he could, though didn't appear to be bothered by the lack of clothing at the moment. ''Congratulations. I almost thought you were a real lion for a second. You didn't need to get up in my face!''
Ron didn't comment on that, instead trying to describe the experience. ''I cannot wait for you to get it down too! It feels really weird but also strangely pleasant? Like the difference between wearing one of my maroon jumpers and a pair of new robes. Both fit and belong to me, but one is so much better than the other! As if… as if my soul recognised this as my real body or something, I can't explain it better,'' he breathlessly finished. Harry didn't think the analogy was entirely fair to Mrs Weasley's knitting skills as her jumpers were one of Harry's most treasured pieces of clothing, but he could see where Ron was coming from as he always got one in a hated colour.
''I didn't have any luck yet today,'' he shrugged, trying to brush it off as no big deal, not wanting to rain on Ron's parade.
''Did I really fully transform?'' Ron asked, suddenly a bit anxious. ''Or were there still some bits left? A toe, patches of skin?''
''Nothing I noticed. Your eyes were blue and the tip of your tail was the colour of your real hair, but those might be your 'markings'. I couldn't see any other out-of-place parts. Unless you think that you need to do some colour-correcting, your training has ended. Although, maybe practise a couple of times with the clothes,'' he recommended in good humour.
Ron agreed to that, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. Together, they tried to mend the cloth with magic for now and got at least a decent pair of briefs back for Ron to put on. They'd accidentally mixed the fabrics, so there wasn't enough left to form any other functional pieces. ''Mum is going to kill me for that,'' he sighed.
''Not if she won't find out. If you don't have enough spares, you can have some of mine in the meantime, I'll ask Hermione to re-size it. She has a knack for that spell. I'll buy some new clothes for you in Diagon during the Easter holidays if you give me your size. Maybe a couple more so you have enough to rip up during practise,'' he joked.
''Very funny. You can be happy about becoming smaller instead of larger when transforming,'' Ron pouted. ''Come on, the storm is still going. If I can do this, then surely so can you!''
''Don't sell yourself short,'' Harry commented, then sat back down nonetheless and tried to concentrate. After thirty minutes, he was stuck on the same form that he had been in last time: having two wings, bat ears and some fur on his cheeks. His legs and torso stayed completely human, as did most of his face. Finally having enough, he gave up for today. Ron eyed the potion as Harry put it away. Hesitating, he held out the second phial.
''I should not need this anymore now I got it down, right?'' he asked. ''That's what Sirius told you?''
Harry nodded and gratefully accepted the potion, trying to push the thought about how his father and Sirius had done the same for Wormtail out of pity, to the furthest corner of his mind. Wormtail had only needed it because he hadn't even managed after finishing his own potion. Harry still had two tries left, maybe three if he was sparse enough. Not managing it after five attempts was still acceptable, he told himself. He carefully stored Ron's potion next to his own. It couldn't hurt to have some backup just in case. ''What are you going to do now? Will you still accompany me for my training?''
His friend nodded fervently, looking affronted. ''Of course, I won't leave you hanging just because I got it! Besides, you are onto something about me needing practise to transform my clothes as well. And most importantly, my wand. Can't exactly leave that behind each time. Hey, good thing you don't need to worry about that, even if you haven't fully transfigured, both your sleeves and your wand disappeared and re-appeared with your wings. Come on, let's pack up for today, I'm exhausted.''
At those words, Harry became aware of his own sore muscles and the way his legs wobbled from fatigue. Crashing in bed sounded great…
While working on homework in the common room two days later, his Animagus practise was the furthest thing from Harry's mind. Most of his current thoughts were focused on the mirror he'd taken from the Room of Requirement. It was a risk, but Harry was getting bolder in his attempts to reach Barty. He missed the Death Eater dearly, not having spoken face-to-face since January. Harry had no clue what Barty was up to, what missions he was working on or how he was dealing with the fears they'd last spoken of, of being seen as unworthy. From the scarce information that Harry could pull out of Voldemort at night between talks about runes, magical history and transfiguration, he'd figured that Barty was still living at Riddle manor and took care of the house when no-one else tended to it. That wasn't much to go on, though. The Gryffindor was determined to not waste any further days on trying to reach the man at odd hours when sneaking into the Room of Requirement when it was empty. He couldn't afford to wait longer if he still wanted to hear Barty's opinion on the speech he'd prepared for the court, the date being two days from now. Of course, Harry was only one witness, but as this circled around his life, hopefully the words he spoke would pull the Wizengamot's decision more firmly into one direction.
Thus, he'd taken the mirror with him. By doing so, he could try to pester Barty at all hours he had access to the common room instead of being limited to when he could sneak in trips to the Room of Requirement. It had worked for talking with Sirius, so why would it not for Barty? Ron and Hermione were aware of him being in the possession of a two-way mirror as Hermione had questioned at one point why he didn't write Sirius letters anymore. Carrying it around wouldn't be odd if they were to spot it in his bag. They had no way of knowing that a second, identically-looking mirror existed. It wasn't as if he spoke to either Sirius or Barty when anyone was present either. So as long as it was safely tucked into his school bag instead of lying around in the dorms, Harry could be reasonably sure that no-one with ill intent had access to it. Or that Ron would try to call Sirius for some reason and be in for a shocking surprise. Harry actually wasn't sure whether calling someone else's name even worked to activate it. He hadn't tried it out before.
Storing things in his school bag for safety reasons had become logic he applied to quite a few objects now: anything that wasn't so bulky that it would permanently take up space needed for school books went into his bag and was carried on his person at all times. Both Ostara invitations, a couple of thinner books on questionable material that he was reading at the moment, even the dried flower that Voldemort had given him were in there. Okay, so the latter was maybe not something that anyone would steal, but he didn't want his dorm mates to make fun of him keeping a pressed flower at his nightstand either. Reluctantly, he also secretly admitted to himself that the peek of purple petals never failed to cheer him up when spotting it during class or in the library when he was moving books in and out.
It would not be long anymore until he'd be faced with the one who'd given that flower, he realised with a start, nervous feelings coiling in the pit of his stomach. Less than two weeks now until the Easter holidays would start, which was when he'd see Voldemort at latest.
Unlike in their shared nights, where the haze of dreams, absence of magic and talk of dry subjects smoothed any tension, he just knew that he'd be a nervous wreck again when meeting the man in person. It was made worse by that they'd be in an uncomfortable environment instead of Riddle Manor, surrounded by other people.
For the first time, Harry wondered if he was supposed to act differently. Probably. Their status as friends was known only to them – and to a lesser extent, Sirius, who didn't want to mention it. It would surely only attract unwanted attention if during the Dark Lord's first semi-public appearance, Harry would not be bowing with the rest of the crowds. He didn't want Voldemort to get the wrong idea, but standing out felt worse and might raise unwanted questions. Should he try to ask the Dark Lord about the proper way to act? Harry balked at the idea of Voldemort telling him what to do. This ball would take place at Malfoy manor, his new home if everything went according to plan. He should be able to act in the way that made himself feel most comfortable, right?
Perhaps for one evening, he could revert back to being a loyal follower, but only if it was with his own words and actions, not some the Dark Lord put into his mouth.
He groaned softly as his brain provided him instantly with an image of Voldemort's face against his, putting something else in his mouth. Harry had no experience in what another's tongue would feel like against his, yet his mind enthusiastically pulled up a myriad of fantasies about it that were normally reserved for late evening daydreams when he lay alone in bed with the curtains firmly shut and a silencing barrier up.
It ached to be so far apart. Dreams were only a fleeting balm that kept Harry content in the groggy minutes after waking up. Afterwards, it was back to throwing himself from class into teaching into homework into social stress. There was no time left to recall Voldemort's soothing voice as he described unimaginable magic. The few 'free' hours that could not be filled with stressful activities, namely History of Magic classes with Binns, were spent on power naps to feel slightly human again.
Even now the guilt crept in over not being busy pouring over homework or talking to people to keep up good relations. It hadn't even been fifteen minutes since Harry had taken a break from studying for the next Herbology test.
''You look like you should tuck in early, mate,'' he heard. Disoriented, he looked up and met Ron's bright, worried eyes across the table. It looked like his far-away gaze had been misinterpreted as fatigue. In that second, Harry realised that he'd actually moaned aloud. Softly, and it could have been mistaken for homework despair, but still. Maybe Ron was right.
''Good call,'' he admitted, rubbing his eyes. ''Not that it matters what I should do when I have a pile to finish right here,'' he sighed, patting the stack of books he still needed to read through and do homework assignments on. ''I reckon we'll work into the early hours of the night again, don't you?''
Hermione, who had been quietly scratching away at her essays, heaved a sigh. ''Go to bed, you two. I have this.'' Both boys gave her startled looks, which was met with a kind smile. ''Both of you have more on your plates right now than I do. And none of these assignments are particularly difficult, I know neither of you would have trouble with them. It only takes time. Go sleep.''
Eternally grateful, Harry got up and gave the girl a hug. ''You're the best. If I can do anything in return…''
''Put a donation box for S.P.E.W. in visible sight during training,'' she answered seriously. ''Maybe like that it'll get some attention.''
He'd almost forgotten Hermione's passion for the 'club' she'd made, which only the three of them were official members of. After learning more about the history and magic of elves from the Dark Lord and Barty, Harry had recommended a few books to Hermione. After reading them, she'd stopped leaving hand-knit scarves and hats around everywhere in the castle, so he wondered what she would spend the donation money on instead. Clearly, her fire for the cause hadn't wavered, only the chosen methods of aid. ''You have a deal,'' he spoke, too tired to question her reasoning now.
Harry chuckled when Ron fell into bed face-first, not even bothering to undress further than his shoes. He knew very well how draining Quidditch training could be and couldn't imagine dealing with that on top of everything else this year. Added to that came the fact that it was an emotional burden for his friend too instead of giving any sort of satisfaction. The redhead definitely needed some extra hours of sleep.
Greatly relieved by his schedule clearing up -four essays he'd still have needed to write! – Harry changed and climbed into bed, keeping an eye on Ron while fishing the mirror out of his bag and sliding it under the pillow. The Gryffindor cast the usual spells after closing the hangings to ensure maximised privacy, then pulled the mirror out again and called Barty's name a few times. Minutes ticked by as Harry's hope faded and was replaced by disappointment. What was Barty doing all this time? If only the stupid mirror would show at which times the Death Eater tried to call back instead of only marking that an attempt had been made, he'd at least know at which time the man was usually reachable. Grumbling in discontent, Harry broke his enchantments again and stuffed the bloody thing into his bag once again.
XxX
''Oh no, damn it!'' He'd just grabbed the handle of the mirror when it cooled down again. Here he'd even took it with him so he finally wouldn't miss Harry's call and then the boy called him this early in the evening? Looking at the clock on the wall, he realised that it actually wasn't early at all, time had just flown by.
''Put that away!'' his companion hissed back, grey eyes opening wide when seeing the mirror handle. Barty grudgingly listened, pushing the mirror deeper into the satchel at his feet again. A Muggle bar wasn't the best place to flash enchanted mirrors around. Angry at himself for missing the call and angry at Black for being here in the first place, Barty grabbed his glass and downed the contents, slamming it down harshly. The bartender got red and clearly was about to loudly protest, at which Barty simply waved his wand under the table to cast a Confundus. With so many undercover missions, he'd gotten good at casting with most of the wand hidden in his sleeve, only the very end touching his palm. Many of the other Death Eaters believed he was incredibly well-versed in wandless magic because of it, which he hadn't bothered to correct. If they couldn't use their eyes properly, that wasn't his fault.
''If you'd agreed to Polyjuice, we'd be sitting in the Leaky Cauldron right now and not have this problem,'' he huffed, watching the bartender turn around comically, grab a towel and dry some glasses that he'd dried three minutes ago.
The other man held his hands up in defeat. ''Oh, I'm sure that it would not have been noticed by anyone when Harry Potter's face would show up in a two-way mirror that some guy whom no-one has ever seen in there carries around. Come on, Crouch.''
Annoying as it was, Black's reasoning was sound. Maybe he was drunker than he'd thought before. It was hard to tell with these Muggle drinks. This garbage they dared to call whisky didn't even burn the throat. He jotted it down as one Muggle good that he'd never dare to present his Lord with. ''You should be quieter,'' he whispered, casting a suspicious look over his shoulder. They were the only ones sitting directly at the counter, but that didn't mean they were alone. He'd counted thirteen heads when entering the bar, by now that number had risen to twenty, excluding themselves. What if any one of them wasn't a Muggle at all? Some Muggleborn who hadn't cut ties with their own kind and decided to hang out with friends? He should have protested more firmly against Black's insistence that a silencing barrier would be even more suspicious. Better that some strange Muggles thought them odd for not uttering a sound than accidentally playing in the enemy's cards. Both of them were wanted men, after all.
Not that he hadn't taken any safety measures. Barty cringed at the memory of when he and Evan had visited a Muggle restaurant. He'd been completely unaware of any danger and had not known how to act at all as he'd been blissfully ignorant of which details Muggles didn't know about. Maybe the effects of being under the Imperius curse for a decade hadn't worn off back then. It was a flimsy excuse for his reckless curiosity and ignorance. Having travelled across Europe for various jobs the Dark Lord wanted him to do, also in Muggle towns, left him much less vulnerable now and certainly more aware of possible dangers.
Hopefully, his dark brown hair and Muggle clothes would make him unrecognisable to the few people who'd be able to identify him. Black hadn't made any drastic colour changes, but his hair was pulled up in a messy bun that he insisted was getting popular amongst Muggles, pinned in place with some kind of stick. Some nonsense about a 'hot new vibe'. Barty didn't know enough about Muggle fashion to dispute it, they did some crazy things with their hair for sure. One guy in the back corner had spikes. ''Leaving London would have been better nonetheless. The Ministry is too close to my liking.''
Black shook his head decisively. It looked like the other didn't have as much of a problem handling his liquor as Barty did. ''That would be expected. The false rumours my friends have spread around always led my trail to remote places. They're searching for me in forests, villages, other countries even. Think I'm too savage to blend in with a regular crowd. They'd never look twice at some stylish lad drinking in a busy bar in the middle of London. Do remember that they think I'm insane and would blow up the next Muggles I come across. Regarding you, pretty sure they are having a lookout for more doubles after what you did to Alastor.'' A hint of sorrow entered Black's voice. Barty didn't feel a shred of regret for ridding the word of Mad-Eye Moody. However, a bit of guilt coiled in his stomach when confronted with the obvious sadness that radiated from Black.
Without being prompted to, he tried to defend the action in the only way he knew would get through to Black: ''Moody would have gotten on Evan's trail. Drawn and quartered the poor boy before you'd be able to say Quidditch if he'd have sniffed a hint of dark magic.''
''Maybe Harry wouldn't have gotten so involved in the stuff in the first place in that case.''
Barty chuckled at that and raised his glass. ''You don't really believe that, do you?'' he asked in amusement. ''You should have seen him during our first real celebration. You only saw your godson after he'd already gotten used to the true spectrum magic had to offer for more than a full year. That first time, it was as if he had stars in his eyes.'' It was one of his fondest memories since getting out of prison. Evan hadn't had a clue what they'd been doing that day, simply going along with the rite. It had been clear as day when the feeling had fully hit the boy, the mumbled words of thanks to magic had been utterly sincere. Even though it had been before pledging his loyalty, that was the day Barty suspected had pulled Evan firmly on their side.
Black didn't answer, staring darkly into his glass as he swirled the amber liquid around without drinking from it. Finally, he set it down again and instead started playing with a strand of curly hair that had escaped the ridiculous bun while staring off into space. ''What I cannot believe is that this is my life now,'' Black spoke with a whine. ''If Remy would see me now, sipping tea with the fucking second-in-command of the fucking Dark Lord!'' Barty groaned softly as he noticed that both the bartender and the patrons at the nearest table shifted their attention to them. A bit of quick spellwork later, he glared at Black.
''You've got to put your voice down, else I'll drag you out of here and we talk in the back alley with only a bottle of wine to share. You do make a good point though,'' he added in afterthought, sneering at his drink. ''Might as well be tea. I'd kill for some firewhisky.''
''Bet you would kill for a lot of things.''
''Wrong, I only kill for other people,'' he replied. ''Very few people, in fact. If I'm not entirely wrong, so would you.''
Black let out a humourless, barking laugh that turned into a coughing fit. Barty scooted closer in worry when it didn't cease. Black didn't let him, instead hitting his own chest a couple of times until finally taking a few gulps of wheezing air again. ''Lungs haven't been the same since that lacerating curse,'' he admitted, still wheezing. ''My own fault entirely.''
''Want to talk about it?''
He was answered with a glare. ''Heard you played therapist for a couple of guys in Azkaban during your time there. Trying the same thing with me now?''
Barty helplessly shrugged. ''Been told that I'm good at listening and giving straight advice without sugar-coating my opinion. Might do you some good. I doubt there are many people you can go to with your worries. Or any.'' From the way the glare intensified, the Death Eater figured he was right. ''Come on, this is getting ridiculous. Murum Silentii, Tutella Mugglelum Minor,'' As soon as he cast the spells, even the heads of the few people who'd directed an empty gaze at them turned away. ''Let's talk a bit more openly without constantly needing to confuse the Muggles around us.''
Black sighed. ''Fine. But if we're going all-out by leaving our signature on this building anyways, might as well do it properly.'' The man pulled the black stick out of his hair, which Barty was horrified at as soon as he realised there were lines of runes on the thing.
''Are you.. is that.. Did you use your WAND as a HAIR ACCESSORY?'' he shrieked, eyes wide. ''Black, what the fuck have you been smoking that you think you can show such blatant DISREPECT to-''
His rant went entirely ignored as Black added some notice-me-not charms and even a couple – admittedly impressive - timed Muggle repelling wards that would ensure the bar would clear out within the next hour without any further people barging in. Fuming, Barty got up and started pulling bottles form the shelf, trying to find something with a percentage that exceeded anything he'd drank before. ''Absinthe,'' he read the label on the bottle. ''Looks and sounds decently enough like a potion to attempt it,'' he decided, pouring himself a rather large glass of the green liquid. The bartender watched with an empty stare, surrounded by so many wards that he was permanently caught in a Muggle-repelling web. He didn't really care too much. Black got up instead to guide the man away from behind the bar, bringing him to the storage room. Whenever the bartender would try to leave it, he'd just get confused and walk back in again.
''I guess we'll have to add a bit more to the till to even out the losses of not letting anyone in anymore,'' Black spoke, counting a stack of bills. ''Alohomora.'' The till sprang open with a ping, at which the man put the bills in. ''That should cover it, I hope.''
''How'd you get all that money?'' Barty asked. He could not imagine Black robbing some Muggles.
''Legally. I traded it for galleons with the goblins like anyone else. My vault is still active and as long as I pay extra 'transaction fees', they don't mind keeping me as another customer.'' The answer came as a surprise. Goblins didn't have much love for wizards, so he'd expected them to jump at the opportunity to ruin the life of any witch or wizard they could by turning them in. Was greed a stronger motivator than hate? Black appeared to read his mind, sending him an amused look. ''Goblins realise very well that it is not any individual mage that oppress them, it's a couple of pricks who are in power right now. Helping me means they don't have a useless vault they cannot empty, get more of the money back from it than usually and get to silently rebel against the Ministry by aiding a criminal. I figured out a long time ago how the motivations of goblins manifest, which is why the very first thing I did when breaking out of prison was to go straight to Gringotts and get a comfortable sum of gold out, which I bought my godson a Firebolt from later. Don't you have access to your family vault?''
''I never tried,'' Barty admitted. ''Thought it was far too high of a risk. I also would need to get a new vault key and such, which meant I would have to go in person instead of withdrawing money through somebody else.'' By now, his Lord made enough money legally to buy any necessary goods, but at the start they'd both gotten by financially through stealing. ''I'll think about contacting Gringotts… after discussing it with my Lord, of course.''
''Do you even piss without your Lord's permission?'' Black scoffed. Barty tensed up, suddenly feeling very much like punching a certain someone in the face.
''Uncalled for,'' he only said, shoving the bottle over the counter. ''I'm trying to be civil with you here.'' Had it been anyone else, Barty would long have pulled their wand on them. Anger was bubbling up in him, simmering right beneath the surface. No, he didn't want to ruin this, he reminded himself strongly. This person was important to Evan, who'd never forgive him if anything bad happened to Black.
A long silence dragged on, during which he tried to create a mantra of all the spells with which he could hex Black without doing any permanent damage. It was very meditative. In the meantime, he observed the still-present Muggles. Most were middle-aged to old men who were smoking or gaping at a screen they called 'television', which basically showed a moving portrait of a bunch of other Muggles running around a field with a ball. He couldn't see what was so interesting about it. Black had said there was usually audio with commentary as well like during Quidditch matches, which had been turned off so as to not be a disturbance. Didn't that completely defeat the point of watching sports, especially such a boring one?
''I'm sorry,'' he finally heard. Barty blinked a few times, his muddled mind trying to remember what he'd said that Black was apologising for now.
''Oh. Right. No worries.'' With a bit of difficulty - this green stuff was absolutely better than the bog of before – he walked around the bar again and sat back down at his original spot next to Black instead of hanging over the counter. ''If you want to get anything off your chest… now's your chance.''
''You're going to regret that.'' Barty only raised a challenging eyebrow at that.
Black appeared to struggle with himself for a while, then leaned back, a precarious move on a barstool with no backrest. ''Okay, you want to know what's wrong? Everything. That's right, everything in my life somehow went wrong. At the age of twenty-two, I really thought I had life all figured out: left my toxic family behind, found amazing friends who accepted me and was fighting the good fight against the evil terrorists who wanted to disturb the peace. I graduated with pretty decent grades, had proven everyone wrong about me and I felt so proud for that. And then…'' he made a spiralling hand movement. ''Whoosh. Two of my friends were murdered, one betrayed us all, the fourth thought I was behind it. The government I'd tried to represent best I could as an Auror sent me to prison based on a confession taken out of context right after Peter had blown up a street full of Muggles. Twelve years of my life, spent in cold misery, every day I thought I'd finally cross the line into madness. Looking back, I know I did somewhere, I'm only not sure when. That bugs me a lot. Harry tried to help with it, bless his soul, but it shouldn't be his duty to care for his messed-up godfather. I'm supposed to care for him. And I didn't. All that drove me was bloody vengeance. I hated you so much when you pointed that out to me, you know? Well, I hated Moody as I thought it was him who'd thrown that into my face.'' Black took a deep gulp of air, continuing his slightly-slurred rant before Barty could get a word in.
''Checking up on Harry wasn't the first thing I did, not even the second. I went to Godric's hollow first to see where my friends had been buried. When I couldn't find their headstones in the dark, I instead searched every hiding place I knew that Wormtail had ever used. Only then… only then did I visit Harry, and only for a minute. Should have stayed longer, made sure he was okay. Kid was wandering around with luggage on the streets and called the Knight bus. But did I go to his house to pummel the reason out of his family? No, I wandered away again like the coward I was, satisfied by seeing he was alive and healthy. As if I could have properly judged that while in my Animagus form. The worst thing about that encounter – and this is something I've never told a soul before, Crouch, so you'd better keep this silent- is that I felt a wave of relief when I saw he held a wand. Good, I thought. Good, he's a wizard.'' Black pressed his lips together and hung his head in shame, taking a minute to gather himself. ''All of that time I'd tried to push away from my family's ideals and here I was happy that he wasn't a Squib,'' he choked, balling his fists until the knuckled turned white.
''It's a natural reaction,'' Barty tried to say, a bit confused
He jumped when Black loudly slammed a fist on the wooden countertop. ''NO! No, it's not! It should not have mattered! See, that is exactly what's wrong with your side. This obsession with magic equalling worth. Blood equalling worth.'' The man was positively frothing now. ''And now Harry has bought into that also because I wasn't there for him enough!''
Barty blinked, carefully waiting to see if Black would still add anything. ''You think… that you are the reason he joined our side?''
''My failures surely didn't help him stay away from it.''
''Oh man…'' he sighed. ''Black, listen. This is maybe hard to understand for someone wallowing in self-pity, but Evan is his own person. He made his own decisions based on circumstances that have nothing to do with you.'' Black gave him a blank, non-comprehending look. Or at least that was what Barty interpreted it as, it was a bit hard to see as everything was getting a hazy. Maybe he should have said it a tad more diplomatic…''Your life wasn't easy for sure. I admire you for staying true to yourself. However, you cannot keep blaming yourself for the choices of other people. Surely, Evan has tried to tell you this many times himself.''
''Yeah sure, but Harry always tries to make others feel better. I know he has other reasons too for staying, but had I been there for him more, he might have never headed to Voldemort by himself in the first place. Had I not taken off abroad after being freed again and instead gone to that dump of my parent's place before…''
''Maybe he wouldn't. Or maybe he would have,'' Barty shrugged. ''Thing is, I don't think it matters. Whatever your plans or actions, the reasons Evan has for staying now are the same that would have led him to our side eventually.''
''What do you-''
''Picking the most blatant reason: Dumbledore would still have tried to kill him regardless. How could he have remained with the Order of the Phoenix and all its happy happy members, knowing they are willing to sacrifice him like a sack of pumpkins at Samhain? And even if Dumbledore would have managed to keep that secret till the very end, there's still the bond he shares with the Dark Lord. Evan is tied to him. They always keep circling back to each other. Bound by fate, by magic, in mind. I can't imagine that something as petty as sides in a war could have kept them apart.''
Black gave him a funny look, then pointed at him suddenly. ''You KNEW,'' he shouted in accusation. ''Oh, of course you knew!'' before Barty could react, a hand was grasping his collar and pulled him from his seat so he was staring straight into the furious face of Sirius Black. ''Did you have a hand in it too, huh? Did you try to lead my innocent godson in the arms of that… that…''
Barty did take a swing at Black now, unable to hold his rage in anymore. His fist connected with a satisfying crunch, right before a couple of knuckles were rammed into his own left eye. The bar stools clattered to the ground with them as they each tried to get more punches in than the other. ''How. Dare. You,'' Barty growled as he finally gained the upper hand, whipping out his wand to press it to the hollow of Black throat. Going by the wild look he was met with, that wouldn't hold Black for long. Barty spit out some blood and massaged his own jaw. ''I tried my very hardest to keep them apart, you idiot. Evan is diving headfirst into trouble by falling for a man like the Dark Lord. I don't want to see either of them hurt, which I fear will happen.''
This seemed to calm the other down. When Black didn't make a move anymore, only blinking owlishly at him, the Death Eater removed his wand and stuck out a hand to help the other to his feet again. Seeing double already, Barty decided it wasn't worth trying to pick up a stool, instead simply leaning back on the counter. ''Evan was barely fourteen when I first noticed he became a blushing mess when in the Dark Lord's presence. My Lord only found it amusing at first, to my great relief. Over time, I noticed that the stance of the both of them changed a great deal. Maybe nothing would have come of it yet if Evan hadn't decided to go along with some lie of having a boyfriend last year. Everything kind of spiralled out of control with that. Even I couldn't talk sense in my Lord's head anymore after he thought he'd come close to losing Evan to someone else. I think you probably don't want to hear it, but in my opinion, they are meant to be together in the end. Just…'' he grimaced, ''not so quickly.''
''Harry admitted that Voldemort kissed him,'' Black spoke, looking about ready to throw up.
The glass slipped from his hand and shattered at the floor. ''He what?'' Barty rasped. ''When?'' The Dark Lord had admitted to having changed his mind about staying away and instead starting to court Evan, but there had been no talk whatsoever of physical contact. ''When?'' he hissed, certain that his face looked like a thundercloud. Black appeared taken aback.
''At New Year's Eve. He confessed something about kissing his scar. Which, considering how he got that scar in the first place, is a real fucked up thing to do.''
Barty buried his hands into his hair. The worst thing about it was that he'd been expressly forbidden from criticism on this point. But maybe… maybe together with Black, there was still hope in slowing this whole ordeal down. For the sakes of both Evan and his Lord, because Merlin did they need help not running into regret.
I hope that all of you liked this early chapter. I know that a lot of you have wanted to see Sirius and Barty, whether as romance or bromance haha.
The main question is how much trouble they will make for our beloved pairing ;)
next up, the court proceedings!
Please Read and Review,
xx GeMerope