Remus Lupin's POV
Forcing the poison out of my body was not a pleasant process. After retching for nearly two hours straight, I finally was able to keep a Sleeping Potion down. I fell into a sleep straightaway…
Only to be woken up a few hours later by a shouting match happening in the Hospital Wing. I tiredly pushed myself out of bed and wandered out to see what was going on.
A fair number of people had gathered in the middle of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, Moody, Emmeline, Ron, and Hermione were standing in a half-circle around another trio of people – McGonagall, Severus, and Fudge. Among the latter three, McGonagall and Fudge were clearly engaged in a row.
"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva - !"
"You should never have brought it inside the castle!"
"My dear lady, you are not yourself," Fudge said, exasperated. "Now, where is Dumbledore?"
Mrs. Weasley bustled onto the scene, from behind a pair of closed curtains which Harry must be resting behind. "He's not here," Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "And this is a hospital wing, Minister -"
Madam Pomfrey nodded her head vigorously in agreement.
Annoyed, Fudge replied, "Yes, I'm well aware of that, but - "
"What's happened?" Emmeline piped up.
Just then, the hospital doors opened, and Dumbledore swept in. When he saw McGonagall, he said, surprised, "Minerva, I thought I asked you to guard over Barty - "
"Oh, there is no need to stand guard, Dumbledore!" McGonagall shouted furiously. "The Minister has seen to that!" She jabbed her wand at Fudge, who looked appalled.
At the moment, I saw Harry's head peek out around the curtains. Padfoot's head, too, peeked out at the edge of the curtain.
Snape stepped in. He explained to Dumbledore, "When we informed the Minister that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, the Minister insisted on bringing a dementor with him to the office where Crouch was being held."
"I told him you would not allow such a thing, Dumbledore! But the Minister ignored me, and he brought it into the castle!" McGonagall seethed, glaring at Fudge. But her voice rose from angry into horrified as she tried to describe what happened next. "The moment the dementor entered the room, it – it swooped down on Crouch and – and - !"
The Dementor's Kiss, I realized, horrified. The dementor took away Crouch's soul.
Emmeline gasped, and Padfoot let out a low whine.
He's worse than dead now, I thought, and I shivered.
"Well, it's hardly a loss!" Fudge said. "If you ask me, it was simply justice, given the chaos he caused tonight!"
"But now he cannot give testimony," Dumbledore replied. Though his voice was quiet, there was an undercurrent of deep concern running through his words.
"Evidence for what?"
"Evidence that Lord Voldemort is back. Evidence that Lord Voldemort has returned to full strength again. Evidence that many people's deaths were linked to Lord Voldemort's return."
"What?" Fudge looked around the room, as if he expected someone – anyone – to jump in and tell him that this was all a joke and that Dumbledore was being preposterous. When no one moved, Fudge burst out laughing. "You-Know-Who returned? Come now, Dumbledore! Be serious!"
"It is the truth, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, speaking now in the gravest of tones. "Had you questioned him as we did, had you kept him alive, you would have learned how Barty Crouch was smuggled out of Azkaban, how Bertha Jorkins discovered him and then was kidnapped in Albania, where Voldemort learned of Crouch's continuing loyalty. Voldemort and Crouch managed to reunite, and Voldemort has returned."
"Dumbledore, it's obvious that Crouch was just a lunatic," Fudge pushed back. "I didn't need to hear any evidence directly to know that. Just one look at the man and you knew – he wasn't all there. The story you're telling – it simply can't be true."
"We have corroborating evidence."
"How so?"
"An eyewitness," Dumbledore replied. "When Harry Potter touched the TriWizard Cup tonight, he was transported to Voldemort. Harry witnessed Voldemort's rebirth with his very own eyes."
Still, Fudge smiled. "You are prepared to take the accounts of a raving, murderous lunatic and a fourteen-year-old boy as truth, are you?"
Dumbledore replied firmly, "These accounts explain everything that has happened since Frank Bryce and Bertha Jorkins died last summer."
"Frank Bryce? Who is that?"
"The Muggle caretaker who looked after the Riddle House."
"A Muggle? What's that got to do with us?" Fudge wondered. He kept smiling, as if expecting Dumbledore to call off the 'joke' at any moment.
Dumbledore's answer was as straightforward and succinct: "Voldemort killed him."
Fudge's mouth fell open. But he only allowed himself to be shocked for a moment before he smiled weakly again.
I frowned. The way Fudge was acting was troubling, to say the least.
Harry must have thought so, too, for he suddenly stepped out from behind the curtains and shouted, "I saw Voldemort come back with my own eyes!"
Mrs. Weasley gasped. "Harry! You should be in bed!" In a flurry of curtains, she tried to force him back into bed, but Harry resisted, still shouting, "There were Death Eaters, too! I saw them – Malfoy, Macnair, Goyle -!"
Harry suddenly fell silent as Mrs. Weasley managed to wrestle him back into bed.
"Those names have all been cleared!" Fudge said loudly. "For Merlin's sake – what is this, Dumbledore? It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"
Suddenly, Alastor, who was leaning on Madam Pomfrey for support, growled, "You're a damned fool, Fudge, if you can't see the truth. What about Crouch Senior, eh? And the Diggory boy? You think they dropped dead of their own accord, d'you?"
"Well, no, I'm not suggesting that," Fudge said. "But it was obviously Crouch's boy, Barty, behind these murders, and he was a lunatic. I thought we'd established that."
"Minister, these deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!" Professor McGonagall cried. "You must rise to the occasion and face these issues head-on – or else all will suffer!"
"Preposterous!" Fudge cried aloud. "You've all lost your minds!"
"Cornelius," Dumbledore said, speaking quite firmly now, "the fact is that Voldemort has returned. Do not be blinded by your love of office; accept the situation. If you take the necessary measures now, you may still be able to save the situation. First, you must send envoys to the giants - "
"Send envoys to giants? Dumbledore, have you lost your Merlin-loving mind?" Fudge blustered.
"I have not," Dumbledore replied steadily (and for a moment, I admit the less mature part of my mind found it mildly amusing that he took the pains to answer Fudge's rather insulting question). "Then, you must remove the dementors from Azkaban."
"Remove the -?" Fudge shook his head. "Dumbledore, I would be laughed out of office for such a suggestion! The dementors are the reason why I can sleep safe at night. They guard the prisons…"
"Yes, Cornelius, I am aware," Dumbledore said, a tad impatiently now. "But others of us sleep poorly, knowing that the dementors are ready to ally themselves with Lord Voldemort at any moment now!"
"Dumbledore's right," Emmeline said knowingly. "I worked at Azkaban, with the dementors. We could never offer them the things they truly desire. I imagine Voldemort can."
"Of course you would say that!" Fudge said bitingly, glaring at Emmeline. "But you were fired, Vance, and so I hardly take your opinion as - "
"Cornelius, you must act now," Dumbledore urged. "Act now, and become one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Or fail to act, and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort to destroy the world we have rebuilt!"
The nervous laughter had finally gone from Fudge's eyes. He stared at Dumbledore for a long moment. "And if I don't agree with you?"
"Well, then, we have reached a parting of ways," Dumbledore said. "You must act as you see fit. And I – I shall act as I see fit."
At this, Fudge visibly bristled. "You mean to take steps against me, do you, Dumbledore?"
"Not at all, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied. "The only one whom I am against is Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain on the same side."
Fudge stared at Dumbledore, wide-eyed. He shook his head back and forth, as if trying to escape a bad dream. Finally, he muttered, "I shall take my leave. I have – work to do – the Ministry – yes, good night." With that, he strode out, still shaking his head.
Everyone was silent. Ron and Hermione stared at each other with worried glances, as did McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.
Dumbledore turned and addressed the room at large. "Poppy, would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens."
Madam Pomfrey shot a bewildered look at McGonagall, but when her oldest friend nodded at her, Pomfrey replied, "Very – Very well," and she hurried out of the hospital wing.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said, "please wake and bring Hagrid to my office. And, if Madame Maxime would consent to come and see me, I would very much welcome her presence."
McGonagall nodded. Her face was still pale, but there was a grim determination written in her sharp, strong eyes as she strode out of the hospital wing briskly.
"Molly, Alastor, Severus, Emmeline, Remus, and…" Dumbledore fell silent, but he looked squarely at the black dog besides Harry's bed.
The black dog barked and nodded.
"Please come up to my office at once."
Finally, Dumbledore looked over at Harry. "Harry, please take the rest of your potion and go to sleep. Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, I leave him in your care."
Dumbledore turned and left the hospital wing. Snape followed him at once, but Mrs. Weasley first propped up Harry's pillows and tucked him in before leaving. Then, Sirius, still in his dog form, jumped up onto the bed and nuzzled his nose against Harry's cheek before bounding off after the others. I tiredly made my way to the hospital wing entrance. Just before I closed the door behind me, I looked over my shoulder at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
They had not closed the curtains yet, as Ron and Hermione huddled around Harry.
"Harry," Hermine wheedled, "you've got to take the rest of your potion."
Harry threw his arm over his face. "I don't care. I don't care anymore."
Ron looked over at Hermione, confused. Hermione silently shook her head.
"I shouldn't even have won."
Ron hesitated, before saying quietly, "Harry, s' not your fault you won. It was that lunatic, Crouch, who was behind it all."
"I don't care about winning," Harry replied thickly. "But it's my fault Cedric died."
Hermione began, "You're being far too hard on yourself -"
But Harry choked out, "I told him to take the Cup."
All three of them fell silent. Harry turned around in his bed and buried his face in his pillow.
With a deep sigh, I gently closed the doors and then I made my way to Dumbledore's office, where I knew everyone else would be waiting for me.
Jasper Riley's POV
It was storming outside. I stared up at my old family house. It was an impressive structure, with huge black marble columns lined along the outer boundary of the house, a curved roof that gave it a feel of reaching for the heavens, and a pair of silver-gilded panthers, inlaid with amethyst and onyx jewels carved into the front doors. My ring, which I bore on my right hand, was also in the shape of a panther's head, with an encrusted amethyst for one eye, and an onyx for the other. I simply lifted my hand as I walked through the doors.
Peaky, our house elf, came running out. "Master Jasper!"
"Hello, Peaky."
Peaky latched himself onto my leg for a moment before he stepped back and bowed.
"Is my father here?"
Peaky nodded. "Yes, sir, right this way, sir." Peaky shot me a look behind his shoulder as he led the way. "I bet he'll be happy to see you, sir."
"Oh," I said quietly, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."
"Ah, the long-lost werewolf son returns home." My father stared at me with his haunting silver eyes. "You're a bastard, though, for all intents and purposes."
"Hello to you, too, father."
"Why have you come here? To spoil another of our family's business deals? You know, when you busted our capture of Sirius Black, it put us in quite a difficult position."
"What the hell were you doing, trying to sell Sirius Black on the market?" I said impatiently. "It's not even our field of expertise. We gather and trade information, not people."
"You think I don't know that? When I taught you everything you know?" my father replied, unimpressed.
"Roslyn could have died. You could have died."
"Oh, don't try to pretend as if you care about Rosie now. If you hadn't interrupted and allowed Black to escape, the transaction would have gone through, and Rosie would have been rich enough that she would never have had to marry in her lifetime. Now, she'll have to marry Rosier."
"What!"
"Yes, it's most unfortunate, this whole gender thing," my father mused. "I was planning on having her be the Director of the Bureau of Information, you know. She's got quite a knack of running the business. But I'll have to make other arrangements now. We can't have her husband, a fucking Rosier, take hold of our family legacy and fortune."
My father sighed. "It's a shame, what women have to go through to put up with men like us. I never meant to, but I've hindered your mother several times in her life. She's far smarter than I am. Even with this whole Sirius Black debacle, we sorted it all out in the end thanks to your mother's quick thinking. She suggested we put the blame on Tarren Krawley and then give others just the right information to have him killed in his cell. It worked like a charm."
"So, it was you that murdered Krawley," I said quietly. "I had my suspicions."
"Yes, but you couldn't prove it, could you?" My father smiled at me. "Rosie came in just before that week, saying how you'd caught one of our men breaking into the Ministry's records and how he'd done a bad job. We're planning to dispose of him, of course, but Rosie was very fussed about that thanks to you. And then, when you fucked up the whole transaction that Rosie had come up with about selling Black on the market…" My father looked at me. He said seriously, "You may have never meant to, but you've effectively ruined Rosie's life now."
"Father, if I'd had let her go through with it, the Ministry would have traced it back to her, to our family."
"They wouldn't have," my father said dismissively. "I would have made sure of that."
"Anyways," my father continued, "it doesn't seem like you've come to apologize. So, then, what is it you want, my bastard son? Let me guess - Does my silly animal-chasing brother need more money again? You know, I only ever funded his exploits to stop him from bringing shame down on our name publicly- "
I interrupted him, "Do you really intend to support the Dark Lord again?"
My father's eyes widened. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to know about this. But my father was an expert at covering up his emotions. He immediately disappeared behind his 'mask' and replied calmly, "If and when the Dark Lord chooses to come back, yes, of course our family will support him, as we have always done. After all…" My father's eyes hardened as he gazed at me. "It is the right thing to do."
My heart sank. Still, I urged, "Father, you have always had an incredible sense of duty, but I urge you, for once, to put it to use in an honorable way."
"Honorable?"
"Yes. Leave the Dark Lord. Come and join those that fight for the light – for the protection of Muggle and Muggle-borns."
My father sneered at me. "What nonsense are you spouting? Do you know what will happen if we side with the Mudbloods and blood traitors – and, Merlin forbid, Muggles? We'll help them crawl out of the gutter, yes, but they'll slit our throats in return, not thank us! When we help the likes of them, all we do is hasten our own demise. They're like cockroaches – there are so many of them and once we purebloods give up the little power we have, they'll overrun us entirely for their own benefit!"
"That's not true," I fought back. "Besides, it is not about what we receive in return, but what we choose to be!"
"A loser, a failure, a parasite!" My father suddenly stood up, furious with me. "To side with the likes of Dumbledore - you want me to choose to espouse some pathetic, weak-minded ideology?"
The plea was evident in my voice, as I responded, "Was it pathetic, then, when you chose to let me live, even after I was bitten by a werewolf and all of the other pureblood families advised you to get rid of me?"
My father stilled, except for his chest, because he was breathing rather hard. He looked me up and down and then he whispered, "Yes, seeing you now, I rather think it was. I thought you would grow up to be someone different – someone brave, regardless of whether or not you were a werewolf. But look at you now - you stink of Muggle."
It was a strange thing, to see a parent so disgusted by his child. I swallowed hard. However, like my father, I kept my 'mask' on and simply said, in that formal voice I hated so much but I couldn't seem to get rid of, "Very well, father. Then, I shall be on my way."
With that, I left. I tried to remain composed as I left, even saying good-bye to Peaky and giving his old, wizened head an affectionate pat, but I had to do it with my right hand, because my left hand, which bore the Selwyn ring on it, was shaking.
Raylynx Kingsley's POV
After I'd sent the letter to Sehtzer, alerting him that Jasper and I would soon be on our way, I pulled on my robe and left the castle. I carried Quincy in his own little string pouch, which held inside it a strong glass jar that housed its own bluebell flames in it. Quincy was still sleeping.
It was raining when I arrived in Diagon Alley. I knocked on the front door. A light came on in the second-story floor of the building. Then, a few minutes later, the door creaked open.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said hastily. "But there's something I must ask you, and I've only got a couple of hours to do it."
Ollivander glared at me even though his sleepiness. It suddenly occurred to me how adorable he looked – an old man standing in his jammies, a bathrobe, slippers, and a night cap.
"Please?" I said quietly.
"Oh, fine," he grumbled. "Come in."
"Thank you," I replied. "And I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you."
Ollivander snorted. "And when have you ever cared about inconveniencing me, hm?"
But he led the way back to his kitchen, sighing, "Well, since you're inside, I might as well make us both a cup of tea."
I recited Harry's story about Voldemort's resurrection and about how Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand had displayed the effects of Priori Incantatem.
By the time I ended my story, Ollivander had gone completely silent and still. The tea was oversteeped by about an hour.
"Sir?" I said meekly. "I know it's a lot of information to take, but…"
Ollivander ran his tongue over his lip once between he could pry his lips open enough to say, "Well, what is your question? You have given me a lot of information. But you haven't asked me anything yet."
"Yes, it's just that – It sounds like Voldemort was reunited with his first wand. Would you agree with that?"
Ollivander nodded. "Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches long, yew, phoenix feather core. Powerful. Very powerful."
"And the feather came from Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix? Like Harry's did?"
"Yes. I told Mr. Potter that when he first purchased his wand from me. And straight after Mr. Potter left my shop, I wrote to Dumbledore to inform him of this strange coincidence."
"If that is Voldemort's original wand, then how did he come by it?" I wondered.
Ollivander shrugged. "I expect one of his servants went back and scavenged it for him."
"That's what I thought, too," I said. "But wouldn't that have been the Potters' house?"
"Ah, yes, I would agree with you there," Ollivander said sagely.
My heart suddenly plummeted. "Mr. Ollivander, sir…" My voice suddenly went hoarse. "When I heard about what happened, all those years ago, I went to the Potters' house myself. In fact, I managed to pick out Lily and James' wands from the destroyed house."
Ollivander's eyes flashed. He knew where I was going with this.
"Then, if Voldemort's wand was there, too, why couldn't I sense it? Why didn't I pick it up?" I meant to stop talking after I'd asked my questions, but I couldn't help except to whisper, "If only I'd taken Voldemort's wand back then, I could have delayed his return to power. But no, Peter was able to go and pick it right up, all these years later, because I missed it. Why? Why did I miss it?"
"You know why, my dear girl." Ollivander sighed heavily. "I told you countless times during your training – If you do not accept that darkness exists in some wands, corresponding to the darkness in the witch or wizard using that wand, then you will never be able to appreciate the breath of wandlore. You missed Voldemort's wand that night because you inherently reject the type of magic he uses, so you failed to recognize it."
My face crumpled and before I knew it, I started to cry. "You were right," I confessed to Ollivander. "I was too proud. You were right…"
The pouch in my lap suddenly jolted. A soft knocking sound came from inside the pouch. Sniffling a little and a bit embarrassed about my sudden outburst, I reached down and opened the pouch. Quincy had finally woken up. What was more, he was all wide-eyed and knocking his front paws furiously against the glass. He had heard me crying, and it had woken him up.
I unscrewed the jar, and he clambered out. Then, quicker than in the blink of an eye, he darted up onto my shoulder. Rearing up, he placed his two front feet on my jaw and then gave me a big slurp on my cheek.
"Thanks, Quince," I said softly.
Quincy purred like a cat, and I paused, a bit confused.
Ollivander, meanwhile, was starting at Quincy so intently that once Quincy was convinced that I was all right, Quincy turned his head and, catching Ollivander's gaze, Quincy ran behind my neck and hid in my hair.
"What is that thing?" Ollivander asked me.
"It's a fire salamander, sir."
"And what does it subsist on?"
"Well, fire, for one, and he likes to eat everything from spiders to leaves. Although, he especially likes to eat wood chips. They feed his fire, you see. It's very nutritious for him."
Ollivander shook his head lightly. "Well, now, you keep a tight grasp on that lizard-thing. Don't let him eat any of my wands."
"No, sir," I agreed.
Ollivander's eyes softened and he gazed at me. "You know, when I agreed to take you on as my apprentice, I miscalculated one thing."
"How so?"
"I assumed that you would grow up, that your capacity to accept the different uses of magic would mature over time. But it hasn't, has it?" Ollivander's voice was very quiet as he spoke. "You are just as curious as ever, which I think, is your strength. And you have great respect for the things in this world that most people do not ordinarily care for – the unseen spirits of this world. But your heart – you have not grown up one bit."
To be honest, I didn't quite understand what Ollivander was saying. So, I merely replied, "I'm sorry, sir, to have disappointed you."
"No." Ollivander's sharp, silver eyes blinked in the dim lamp light. "You shouldn't be concerned about disappointing me. Rather, you should be concerned about how you are setting yourself up to suffer."
My brow furrowed as I thought about his words, but I couldn't quite follow him. Meanwhile, Quincy had taken to affectionately nibbling on my ear.
Trying to lighten the somber atmosphere a little, I joked, "Well, it's not the only thing you miscalculated."
"Oh?" Ollivander lifted his eyebrow at me.
"The tea, sir," I told him. "It's gone all cold."
Cold! Quincy suddenly leapt into action. That's a job for me! He ran down my arm and pounced on the tea cup, wrapping himself all around it and then he focused on intensifying his flames.
"Oh, my," Ollivander said, watching Quincy. "For such a little thing, he sure produces bright flames."
Quincy's tongue slithered out in happiness. He looked up at Ollivander and beamed. Then, Quincy looked over at me, and I could see him thinking, We like him.
I smiled. Yeah, Quincy, we do. We like Ollivander a lot.
Outside, the rain continued, and Ollivander and I drank our burning-hot, over-steeped tea together, as Ollivander pondered the future after hearing that Lord Voldemort was back, and I tried my best not to sink into the terrible guilt that was starting to take hold of my heart as I had failed, time and time again, to keep Harry safe from harm.
Remus Lupin's POV
Molly, Alastor, Sirius (still in his dog form), Severus, Emmeline, and I had all gathered around Dumbledore's desk.
Dumbledore addressed us all. "While Cornelius' reaction was highly disappointing, it was not entirely unexpected. Starting from now, time is of the utmost importance. Old alliances will have be reawakened and new ones forged, if we are to mount a defense against Lord Voldemort."
"Now… " Dumbledore opened his hands and stood up, "it is time for everyone here to recognize one for who they truly are. If you would please resume your usual form…"
The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore. Then, in a second, he turned back into a man.
Molly screamed and grabbed me around the neck. My eyes bulged as she nearly strangled me. "Sirius Black!" she shrieked.
"Him!" Severus snarled furiously. "What is he doing here?"
Sirius gave Severus a bristling, murderous look.
Dumbledore glanced between them. "He is here at my invitation. As are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."
Neither man moved.
Meanwhile, I had gently, but firmly, pried Molly off of my neck. She settled for clutching my arm hard enough to squeeze all the blood out of it. I wondered if she realized how strong she was, or if it was, perhaps, a mere byproduct of having to wrangle Fred and George into shape so often or the unintended consequence of having to cook for eight family members, not including herself, every day of summer vacation.
Dumbledore spoke again, now with a touch of impatience, "I will settle, in the short term, for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. As I said, time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."
Very slowly, and as though it were physically painful, both Sirius and Severus stepped towards each other and then, almost comically, shook hands exactly once before hurriedly letting go and stepping away from each other again.
"That will do to be going on with," Dumbledore said shortly. "Now! I have work for each of you. Molly, am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"
"Of course you can," Molly said. Her hands fell away from my arm and she stood up straight-backed and spoke with a firm voice. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all of these years."
"Good, then please take a message to Arthur," Dumbledore replied. "Tell him what has happened, and alert all those who can be persuaded of the truth immediately."
"Yes, I will."
"Alastor." Dumbledore turned to Moody, who know had his wooden leg fitted back on, though for his eye socket, he was just wearing a patch. "Are there any within the Auror Department whom we could rally to our cause?"
"Yeah, I reckon so," Alastor grunted. "You know Shacklebolt already, and Blackhawk might be persuaded."
"Very well. But please be discreet. I say that to both of you, Alastor and Molly," Dumbledore warned. "If Fudge believes that I am interfering at the Ministry - "
"Of course," Molly said, understanding at once. "And, Headmaster, if you need a place for headquarters - "
"That's very kind of you, Molly," Dumbledore replied. "But the Burrow would not be large enough for our organization, I hope. Besides, I already have another place in mind. Thank you."
Molly nodded. With that, she and Alastor left the office.
Emmeline stepped up. "I can speak with Hestia Jones and Sturgis Podmore," she volunteered. "You remember Sturgis? He was also an Azkaban guard, with me. Hestia's a bit younger, she wasn't in the Order the first time. But she works on the Statute of Secrecy Task Force, and I know she feels strongly about these issues."
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Vance. And if you would, please speak with Mr. Riley as well. He has heard what has happened, but he seemed wary of joining our organization. I imagine that if anyone could persuade him, it would be you."
Emmeline's cheeks pinkened, but she only nodded and then hurriedly left the office.
"Mr. Black." Dumbledore looked over at Sirius. "I've a rather special mission for you – two, in fact."
"Yes?"
"First, I would like you to find a man named Mundungus Fletcher?"
"Find?" Sirius repeated. "You don't know where he is?"
"No, I'm afraid not. You see," Dumbledore explained delicately, "Mundungus Fletcher was hired by the Selwyn family to steal information on behalf of a certain client. However, the job was done poorly, and an Auror was able to track the Selwyn family down. Not only that, but the Selwyn family had promised a certain exchange based off of retrieving that information, but that plan was ultimately disrupted and foiled. As it is, Mr. Fletcher here is left in a very sticky situation, indeed. On the one hand, his employers are currently out to dispose of him. Meanwhile, the employers' clients are also angry at being robbed, so…"
"You want me to help out a man who tried to sell me on the black market?" Sirius asked skeptically.
Dumbledore replied quietly, "Yes. If you allow yourself to be seen with Mundungus, it would clear his name, you see. The Selwyns would see that he was useful after all and not dispose of him. Then, he could continue to be active in the black market."
"So, this way, you have access to the information on the black market."
"Sustained access, yes," Dumbledore corrected Sirius lightly. He meant that he had multiple connections with folks in the black market already, of course, and that he knew all about Sirius' exploits in the black market this past year - what with being kidnapped and nearly sold off and all.
Sirius sighed, but he replied, "Fine."
"I have already set-up a Portkey for you," Dumbledore told him, holding up an empty Firewhiskey bottle. "It is unauthorized, unfortunately, so I beg that you do not wave it about or use it except for its intended purpose – to show up once at the Bureau of Information and then to get yourselves out again."
"I understand." Sirius took the empty bottle and shoved it into his pocket.
Sirius was about to head off, when Dumbledore called to him, "Ah, and there is a second request that I would like to make of you. As I mentioned to Molly Weasley, I already have a place in mind for headquarters. But, of course, it is entirely up to you."
Sirius frowned. "Uh, the Shrieking Shack is already yours, Headmaster."
"No." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled merrily, "I was referring to your inheritance – Grimmauld Place."
Out of nowhere, a sly voice whispered, "Oh Merlin, please use it. Stop being a coward. For once, live up to your name!"
"Who the hell -?" Sirius began angrily, whirling around in the room to catch the snide bastard who'd said that.
Dumbledore quickly carried on, "It would be an easy enough process for you, as you already own it. We would only need to establish you as a Secret-Keeper."
"It's true that Grimmauld Place would be ideal," Sirius admitted reluctantly. "My father hated Muggles, so it's hidden from any passerbys and it's Unplottable."
"Excellent."
"But it hasn't been lived in for a while," Sirius mused. "It will have to be cleaned out, I think. And my mother's portrait is probably still up there. That old hag couldn't get enough of herself."
"She would not be pleased to hear that. While she is aware of her vanity, she does not appreciate when it is commented on."
Sirius burst out, "Who the hell is speaking?"
"Anyways, would you open up Grimmauld Place for us?" Dumbledore asked Sirius smoothly.
I shot Sirius a furtive look.
Catching my gaze, Sirius sombered and he replied morosely, "Fine. I'll see it to, Headmaster."
Severus' lip curled. He sneered at Sirius, "You find such petty tasks hard, do you?"
Sirius' hands slowly clenched into fists, and Sirius retorted sharply, "You keep your mouth shut when you're around me, Snape."
"Ahem," Dumbledore coughed.
Sirius turned back to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, what about Raylynx?"
"I believe she will join the Order, but on her own terms," Dumbledore said knowingly. "She requires time. Leave her be for now."
"And Harry?"
"He will spend a few days healing in the Hospital Wing. After that, he will have to head home, to the Dursleys."
Sirius frowned. "Can't we arrange for him to come to Grimmauld Place?"
"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied. His voice was still light, but it was so curt and cutting that Sirius realized he would not move on this point, or even explain himself.
Sirius' heart felt rather dark, as he murmured, "Well, I suppose I'll be on my way."
"Yes, I think it's best that you do so," Dumbledore agreed. "Good luck."
"Mr. Lupin." Dumbledore turned to me next. "While the Tonks family are not official members of the Order of the Phoenix, they are important allies, as Andromeda Tonks is one of the few allies we have who hears news of the other side."
Sirius' eyes flickered over accusingly to Severus, and Severus' mouth turned into a dangerously thin line.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"Unfortunately, the Tonks live quite far away from us, as they chose a house far away from their families to settle down in. I ask you to go with haste," Dumbledore told me.
"I'll go right away."
"Thank you."
Having received our instructions, Sirius and I left the office together. Down at the castle entrance, instead of exchanging words, I merely gave Sirius a short nod. I hoped he would read the sympathy in my expression - sympathy for his position and regarding things I could not bring myself to say. He must have understood me, for Sirius' brooding gaze softened and he nodded back at me understandingly before he transformed back into Padfoot and bounded off.
I watched him go for a moment. Then, pulling my cloak around myself and clutching the Tonks' house address in my hand, I set off on my first Order of the Phoenix mission in fourteen years.
