Welcome, reader, welcome to the grand story of the confrontation between Herry Potter and coldemort!
...
No, really, it's awesome what I sometimes discover as I proofread a chapter.
Asides from that, you might notice in this chapter that I am deeply anti-Dumbledore bashing. It's easy to blame everything on him. I've read some things, in fics as well as in comments and reviews, it's terrible. Like, it's Dumbledore's fault that James and Lily died. Or Dumbledore knew about Sirius being a dummy, and still left him to rot in Azkaban. Or Dumbledore actually believes in the prophecy, when he himself states that the prophecy doesn't matter, what matters is that Voldemort believes it.
I mean, there are some things I can accept, such as Dumbledore heartless puppet master, or Dumbledore going a bit crazy with age. I don't agree, but I can bear with it. But some things are just...
Also, lately I've been under the impression that I come up with a new side-story between each chapter. I really don't know how huge this Alternatives universe will be when it'd be finished. Dear me, If I finish it.
Chapter 23: Ticking clock
The room was dimly lit, with only one candle burning on the small dining table. Not much could be seen, so, and the starless night which filtered through the shutters wasn't helping much. Only the candle could really be seen, as well as a corner of the table, the newspapers which were on it, and the dancing shadows on the face of a man who was reading them.
Reading?
Not really, no. The man was only staring at the newspapers, as he did each time he didn't have anything to do. Sometimes, his eyes would move from a word to a picture, or to a complete sentence. Then, he'd just twist his hands in anxiety.
A door slammed, and someone else entered the room, scowling at the anxious man as they lit up one of the lamps with their wand.
"As I've already told you, Pettigrew, the Dark Lord didn't lend you to me for you to stare at the newspapers. Do something useful, or at least make yourself scarce."
Severus Snape glared at the animagus with such hatred that Peter would have probably wet himself, back in the days when he had never seen anyone more frightening than...
No. Sirius had always been incredibly terrifying, when he wanted to. Peter knew only one person who could really outdo his former friend, and it was the Dark Lord. But at the time, when the traitorous animagus had still been young and innocent, when he had yet had to meet the monster, Sirius' wrath had never been directed at him, so yes, he hadn't been used to what he was used to, now. Snape would have scared the hell out of him, if he had looked at him like that during their Hogwarts years. Actually, it had happened a few times over the last year.
But now, Peter had seen Sirius' ire being directed at him, and, worst, he had met the Dark Lord. Snape's glare was unnerving, and of course he squirmed a bit, but he wasn't completely terrified.
Not anymore. Not by Snape, that was.
The Dark Lord seemed not to care for Poor Peter Pettigrew, and Poor Peter Pettigrew really was thankful for that. The least he saw the monster, the least he'd have to face the danger he truly was.
That still left Sirius.
And while Sirius wasn't as frightening as the Dark Lord, Peter would still run far, far away, if he met him on the street. He'd even take Bellatrix Lestrange over Sirius, if he was given a choice, and if she had been alive. Now, the thing was, Bellatrix and Sirius came in a package, and whatever the reason – and how-the-hell-had-Sirius-pulled-that-one? – it didn't motivate the animagus to be found any more than before her death. Quite the contrary, actually.
The newspapers were ripped from his hands, and Peter started out of his thoughts to stare stupidly at the potion master who was to be blamed for that.
Severus took a look at the page Pettigrew was completely absorbed in, quite certain of what he would see. It wasn't as if the rat had spent the last days staring at the same pages. The potion master snorted. Of course the traitor would be obsessed with that.
"Throw these away. I don't want to see your old buddy's face anywhere in my house, Pettigrew."
The rat choked at the mention of his and Black's old friendship. Quite a change from the time when the mutt used to protect the rat from the mean and evil Slytherins, eh? Now Pettigrew was hiding on the mean and evil Slytherins' side, and his old protector wanted his hide so much that he might just kill him on sight, no matter the laws, no matter the memories, if they happened to meet.
"Oh quit it. Black has better things to do than to look for you. In case you hadn't noticed, the Black lord would very much like for his godson not to have to deal with our Master. You, rat, are only a secondary issue to be dealt with in his mind."
Though the mutt would surely welcome the opportunity to have his revenge, if it was offered to him. Now that was an idea...
Severus fetched some potions, and went back to the front door.
"Make yourself useful, and clean the kitchen."
Peter started once again when the lights went out, leaving him in near obscurity. The light from the candle was ominously letting the large picture of Sirius Black be seen, and only that picture.
Peter shivered, as the cold eyes of his former friend swept through the public, and onto him.
As for the potion master, he was by now making his way towards Hogwarts, having apparated as soon as he'd left his wards and made sure no muggle had been in sight. Dumbledore had asked to see him, outside of any Order business, and it had seemed quite urgent.
Severus shook the thought of Pettigrew out of his mind. The things he had accepted to do, both for Dumbledore and for the Dark Lord! Harboring the traitor who had caused Lily's death... only one of these things, and since it was on the Dark Lord order's, he couldn't say no. The Dark Lord believed he had finally gotten over it, after all.
As if he could ever get over Lily's death.
It being the summer holidays, the castle was completely empty, except for the house-elves, the ghosts... and that annoying poltergeist, Severus remembered as a bucket of water fell on his head, followed by the recognizable cackle of the culprit.
"Peeves!"
"Aha! Snivellus is snivelling so much he's completely soaked! Snivelly Snivellus is snivelling!"
The wizard spun on his heels, wand in hand, and a stunner exploded against a wall, not far from where the voice of the poltergeist had come. But Peeves was already far away.
Severus glared hatefully in the direction of the poltergeist, as he managed to get rid of most of the water with a flick of his wand. Most of it, because what had already been imbibed in his cloath would not come out. After a drying charm, the potion master felt better, as if nothing had happened... though his appearance said the contrary.
One day, he'd get that Poltergeist.
The wizard looked angrier than ever when he passed the door to Dumbledore's office, only to find there a headmaster who looked to be only one breath away from death. Severus' anger at the poltergeist disappeared immediately. He started his work, without asking questions irrelevant to the curse suffered, his eyes only darting from time to time to the origin of the curse, a cracked ring laying next to Gryffindor's sword on the headmaster's desk.
When he was finally confident that he had done all that could be done – and even that was far from satisfying – Severus tried to understand how exactly this curse had come to be. But Dumbledore would not answer, and all he managed to learn was through the deep hurt in the old wizard's eyes.
It was a pain the potion master knew very well. The kind of pain that came against one's will, making them think back, again and again, to the worst moments of their lives. To the wrong decisions which had been taken, to the deaths of loved ones, to the times of despair. The Dark Lord tended to use legilimency like that, when he wanted to make sure of his followers' loyalty, or just to punish them for failure. Dementors, too, had that effect, though when there were more than two or three, it got way worse than even what the Dark Lord's legilimency could do.
For Dumbledore, Severus guessed it had to do with the ring... even if he didn't understand how it related to the curse he could feel on the ring.
Eventually the conversation switched to the fate of young Draco Malfoy, and how the mission given to the teenager by the Dark Lord was more of a revenge over Lucius' failure than anything else. Torturing an adult was one thing, but doing this to a teen, even more so one who was on their side, it really made Severus wonder what he had seen, once upon a time, in Lord Voldemort.
Peeves' mad cackle was heard just as they finished their conversation, not far below Dumbledore's tower, and the potion master frowned, listening.
"Seriously insane he is, Sirius Black! Bad temper, bloody insanity, dark power, he is a monst..."
But the cackle was soon interrupted by a loud sound, followed by Peeves cursing aloud... and by the diminishing sound of his voice, flying away.
Dumbledore glanced sadly at his now blackened arm, but smiled.
"Ah, right. It was this evening that we were meant to meet. Maybe you'll want to leave before he comes, Severus. As I understand, your relationship is as strained as ever."
The younger wizard sneered a bit, but made to leave, hoping against hope that Black was currently running behind Peeves for payback and they wouldn't have to cross path.
Of course, this particular chain of events had not happened, and they met before the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's stairs.
The two wizards stared at one another for a good ten seconds, features perfectly schooled not to let anything be seen. Severus noticed that Black wasn't sporting any remnants of his encounter with Peeves, while Sirius had to refrain from smirking at the previously-soaked looks of Snape.
Eventually Sirius simply stepped aside, letting his school nemesis pass.
The young lord finally walked into Dumbledore's office, and his eyes – pretty much like Snape's had done – zeroed onto the old wizard's hand.
A disturbing wince appeared on his handsome features, and his eyes moved quickly to the cursed ring on Dumbledore's desk. Sirius walked to the desk, and lifted the ring with his dagger, careful not to touch it. The curse on it was so dark that for someone like him, it was plainly visible.
"I guess that explains his presence, then."
"Indeed it does."
Dumbledore offered a seat to the young lord, who sat down, barely refraining from staring at the shrivelled hand. This was definitely not a good thing, for the old wizard, for the war effort, for the Order of the Phoenix, for Harry, and for the wizarding world in general. If the only wizard who positively scared Voldepants had a ticking clock above his head – or his hand, for the matter – they were in deep shit.
"How long?"
Albus smiled genially, not surprised that Sirius knew so much from a simple glance. The Blacks were dark wizards, if not in acts, at least by birth and in the font of their power. Even Sirius, who didn't meddle with the Dark Arts when he had a choice, was as good an expert as any dark wizard of choice. The fact that he was a genius with a very good memory tended to make him one of the more knowledgeable people in dark magic of his age.
"Severus can't tell for sure, but his restrictions might hold for one year or so."
Sirius snorted at the simple mention of the potion master, but said nothing. He trusted, if not the wizard, at least the wizard's opinion on the matter.
"And I suppose asking for Voldemort to die of a stroke before then is asking for too much?"
A wan smile appeared on the headmaster's face.
"That is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you and Remus, Sirius. He should not be long, now, so I would like for this subject to wait a bit, so that we can speak of what is only your concern."
There was a silence, which was broken by Albus once again.
"I was informed dear Bellatrix came here with you, but I do not see her?"
Sirius smiled contently, remembering the shock on Peeves' face when the poltergeist had noticed he wasn't alone.
"I left her to play with Peeves."
Amusement flickered on the headmaster's face, but soon enough he looked grave again.
"That explains much. And I believe it is for the best, considering what I have to say."
In a few words, the old wizard spoke of the mission given to Draco Malfoy, and how, given his current situation, the headmaster could see no reason not to indulge the boy and let him save his life, since Albus was deemed to die anyway. The news weren't much to Sirius' liking, but unless he intended to kidnap his young cousin and hold him prisoner inside Black Manor, he couldn't see a way to stop the Dark Bastard from threatening the teenager's life. Moreover, the child was simply completely brainwashed, even worse than Narcissa at his age, so he couldn't do anything... yet.
"So that's what Narcissa was hiding. Bella thought it was likely to be something like that, but killing you of all people... Neither I nor her would have guessed."
Albus wasn't surprised to hear that the Blacks had guessed something was going on. Sirius was too clever not to notice, Bellatrix was too used to Tom's ways not to suspect, and Andromeda was too caring for her family not to see. Narcissa Malfoy had clearly been distraught, during Sirius' trial, even if it might not have been obvious to someone who knew her less than her family, or who wasn't as observant as the old wizard.
"If you find a way to get him out of it, Sirius, please do, but do not act rashly. If I am still here by then, please talk to me too. As much as I dislike it, we can't just give up on getting rid of Voldemort for a teenager who is, for now, more than happy with his fate."
Sirius cringed at the statement, but he knew it to be true. And he was quite certain that, if Dumbledore hadn't been one of the figures of authority concerning the fight against Voldemort, the old wizard would have allowed himself to look as unhappy as him. But Albus Dumbledore couldn't afford to be sentimental, and he couldn't afford to let it show when he was, because if he faltered, people would be scared.
And Sirius knew it too well: this was a war.
During war, people died. Some could not be saved, and it wasn't always possible to offer enough time for one to decide between evil and redemption. Doing so might mean sacrificing other people in the process. And while every life mattered, and no life could be deemed worth a price, sacrificing one for saving one, wasn't it just that, putting a cost on the sacrificed's life?
No war could be won without deaths, and every defeat would mean deaths in this particular war. Even surrendering would have a cost which wasn't honor. So there was nothing to do, except fight.
People would die this time too, and maybe, no, surely, some of them would be amongst Sirius' acquaintances. Maybe even amonsgt his friends. Again.
He didn't have to be happy about it, but he had to accept it.
And he had accepted it long ago.
How difficult might it be, to be Albus Dumbledore? Not to be allowed to falter, not to be allowed to show your distate with your own decisions? Knowing you would be blamed for the deaths you would not be able to avoid, if only by some?
A heartless laugh escaped from Sirius' throat.
Oh, he knew the feeling.
Choosing between the bad, the worse and the worst, with everyone forgetting that there wasn't any good option. He knew the feeling, truly, of being held accountable for everything that had gone wrong. Of being the hero, and then the scapegoat.
So he changed the subject. It wasn't as if there was anything else to be said about Draco Malfoy, anyway.
Unable to maintain eye contact with the headmaster as he thought once again of the person he was going to ask about, his gaze wandered at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, who, for appareances' sake, glared at him haughtily.
"Do you know anything of Juliet, Headmaster?"
The old's wizard's expression softened at the inquiry, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
"I believe I have already asked you to call me Albus, Sirius. I am not your headmaster anymore, am I?"
The young lord grumbled, as he sank in his armchair.
"Habit, Albus, it's hard to break. But what about Juliet?"
Albus' eyes twinkled, and once again Sirius thought he'd rather not have asked. But those last two years, he had delayed the question again and again, and now that he was legally free, he had no excuse. Even if he feared her reaction to his silence, now that it was known he had done none of it.
"Do you want a complete report of her scolarity, and the years after that, or do you only wish to know if she hates you as much as the fact that she has not replied to any of your letters seems to point out?"
"Both, I guess."
The fact that he hadn't escaped from Azkaban before having seen Peter on the Daily Prophet was incriminating enough, both towards Harry and towards Juliet. Sure, it was safer for Harry to live with the Dursleys, if only for the blood protection, considering that Sirius, being on the run, wouldn't have had access to the protection of the Black domains, and Juliet... Juliet had only had him left, and he hadn't even given a second thought about escaping, after having considered the girl was better off without him.
Sirius wouldn't be surprised if she hated him even more now that she knew him to be innocent, and that he still hadn't come for her.
Dumbledore rose from his seat, and grabbed a thin book of leather. Its pages were blank when he opened it, but a simple tap of his wand covered them in various handwritings. The old wizard looked through it absently as he started speaking.
"As I am sure you know, your grandfather Lord Arcturus Black accepted to be the legal guardian of Juliet Nina Black the day after your imprisonment. He wasn't delighted with the idea, but considering the other choices were your mother, who was utterly disgusted by Juliet's muggle heritage, and your other grandfather Pollux, who simply refused to admit the girl even existed, Arcturus was still a better guardian. I heard he eventually grew quite fond of Juliet, even if he deplored that she wasn't a pureblood. Her childhood might not have been the best, but he took care of her, and he loved her, in his own twisted way, I'm sure, or else he wouldn't have cared so much about her nightmares."
Albus put the book down on his desk, turned towards Sirius, but the young wizard had his eyes closed, remembering the scene of Juliet's nightmares.
The blood covering the floor of the little house. Her mother's blond hair turning red as it soaked that blood. The screams. The dead, and the wounded. Her whole family amongst both of these categories. And him, standing here, with his hand descending to her five-years-old self, him, taking her in his arms, despite the blood he was covered with, despite what he had had to do before her very eyes. Her, hanging on him as if it would erase the nightmare...
"She still has those."
Sirius opened his eyes, and sought Dumbledore's.
"This kind of things never really goes away, Sirius, and you know that better than anyone."
He looked away. It wasn't the same for him. When he said something was wrong with him, he wasn't exaggerating. Sure, he had the nightmares, but while they weren't pleasant, they weren't much more than dreams to him. He wasn't bothered by death, blood, or suffering, unless in the way it affected people. The things in themselves had never bothered him.
Not like they certainly were bothering Juliet.
"But I've been told it is not as terrible anymore."
Sirius said nothing. He could only hope Juliet's nightmares weren't as terrible as before. He could only hope that she didn't need his presence to fall asleep anymore – because he hadn't been there to keep the nightmares away.
So he looked at the leather book.
The first page had the name "Juliet Nina Black" on it, seven pictures of a teenager, from eleven to seventeen, one for each beginning year, as well as the House the child had been Sorted in, with the name of the Head of House.
Juliet had grown into a pretty girl with huge brown eyes, long lashes, raven black curly hair, and a turned-up nose. She really looked innocent on these pictures, and for some reason, the young lord doubted it was truly the case.
"She ended up with Snivellus as a Head of House?"
"Sirius..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Professor Snape. He didn't publicly begrudge her, I hope? Not like Harry?"
"The fact that Juliet does not look like you might have played a role in that, even if she behaved strangely like you. In third year, she broke a sixth year's nose after he spoke badly of you."
Sirius looked up from the book, a startled look on his face.
"She defended me?"
Amused, Albus smiled kindly at the young wizard.
"It truly worried me, at the time, considering I thought you guilty, but she was right on at least one thing: no matter what you had done afterwards, it couldn't change what you had done before. You saved many muggleborns, and you are the only reason she is alive. Juliet didn't want to forget who you were before you... changed, as she told me at the time."
The headmaster stayed silent for a few seconds, before adding a last thought.
"Just like Remus, Andromeda and many others who knew you, Juliet believed that, at least, the Sirius Black she had known wasn't a lie. That, maybe, something had been done to you, that you had lost your mind. She refused to deny the man you had been, even if it meant this man had been killed when another Sirius Black came out, supporting Lord Voldemort."
The old wizard did not turn to look at Sirius as he finished this sentence, and the young wizard was grateful for that. He didn't want Dumbledore to see the tears, rare though they be, rolling down his cheeks.
Sirius spent the next few minutes looking through Juliet's school records, as they were waiting for Remus to arrive.
Juliet had gotten ten O.W.L.s, amongst which two outstandings and four exceeds expectations. She had continued Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, Defence against the Dark Arts and Study of Ancient Runes in sixth year, and had gotten into the Alchemy class. Her N.E.W.T.s were outstandings in Transfiguration, Astronomy, Study of Ancient Runes and Alchemy, and exceeds expectations for the three other classes. Nothing to be ashamed of, really. The fact that her number of detentions was strangely non-existent for the fifth and seventh years seemed to indicate that she really could control her temper, and just didn't bother to the rest of the time.
Even Snape had found difficulty in being a prat in his yearly reports.
Dumbledore informed Sirius that, as for the three last years, owls seemed to be unable to locate Juliet, which explained why she wasn't answering Sirius' letters. She had probably written herself off the owling lists, making her impossible to contact except by official owls from the Ministry, when he had escaped from Azkaban, not willing to receive more death threats or insults.
"But even if she did, I don't reckon she will be able to ignore the news of your acquittal for long. No matter where she is now, she will, if she has not already, hear of it."
The headmaster didn't finish that thought, Sirius noticed, and the young lord couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, Juliet wouldn't want to see him, no matter that he had been acquitted. After all, he hadn't been here for her.
Dumbledore suddenly turned to look at the door of his office.
Sirius closed the book, and not one minute latter, the door opened to reveal a weary Remus Lupin.
The werewolf glanced at his best friend, and saluted them politely. He went to sit next to Sirius, tactfully ignoring the salted streaks on his friend's cheeks, but he couldn't refrain from flinching at the sight of the old wizard's hand.
"I ran into Bellatrix downstairs. Apparently she was discussing the perks and the disadvantages of being a ghost with a group of such spirits. But I could clearly hear Peeves' outraged screams. Mind telling what happened?"
Sirius smiled innocently at his friend. After all, he truly didn't know what exactly Bella had been up to since he had left her to deal with the poltergeist.
"No idea. But I do know that my cousin doesn't have many pleasant memories of her school years involving our dear poltergeist."
Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking that no student ever had pleasant memories of Peeves.
After what he turned to look at Dumbledore.
"You wished to see us, Albus?"
Albus sat back on his seat as he nodded.
"Indeed I did. Things have... changed since I called the Order back together, and some new elements have to be taken into account in our fight for equality. I hesitated quite a bit before finally deciding to share some of my knowledge with the two of you... some of my burden too."
Remus' eyes went back to the shrivelled hand, before noticing the cracked ring on the desk. He frowned, more and more worried as he could sense a remnant of dark magic on it, when he realized that it was most likely to be what had caused the curse.
"Does it have anything to do with the state of your hand?"
Albus smiled faintly at the werewolf. The Black lord and him might have a chance at changing a few things, if not at erasing the problem altogether. Albus himself was already busy enough with the Order and his duty as headmaster, and if he would do what he could, his time would still be scarce, not even taking into account that he had only one year or so left to live.
"It does. But let me begin from the start, and you will ask questions, if you have some, later. Doing another way would be too... complicated, I fear."
The two younger wizards nodded their agreement, and so started the story... Sort of.
"I want you two to remember that I do not know for sure many things. Still, some of my assumptions are plausible enough that I made my mind to work on Voldemort's downfall based on these. If you have any ideas, feel free to mention them."
And so Albus talked of Tom Riddle's origins, last descendant of Slytherin, and first of mixed blood. Son of a muggle who ignored him, and of a witch who let herself die of despair. Child who grew up in an orphanage, and soon decided to use his peculiar talents to scare and control the other children. Teenager who breezed his way into Slytherin, murdered Myrtle Warren, and gave life to the Walpurgis Knights. Man who disappeared, taking strange jobs, collecting dubious artifacts, and learning dark magicks of all sorts. Individual who took the name of Voldemort, applied for the job of teacher of Defence against the Dark Arts, and jinxed the position. Madman who created the Death Eaters, seduced the ancient families, and started a war. Tyrant who instigated betrayals, heard of a phophecy, and was felled by a baby.
Some of these things, Remus and Sirius had both known. Some others they hadn't. They shared a glance when they realized that Voldemort might have become their professor, had Dumbledore not refused him the job. Sirius grumbled something rude about not having helped the school by murdering Myrtle, but his heart wasn't in his joke. Remus frowned as he wondered why exactly Tom Riddle had been collecting the founders' possessions.
Finally Dumbledore turned to Sirius, and asked for his permission to show the memories pertaining to these facts and theories to Harry during the following year. The teenager might need the knowlegde when Voldemort would come after him once again, something that the three of them knew would happen.
Like it or not, the Dark Bastard believed Harry to be the one who could become his nemesis, and even if they tried to stand in the way, he'd find a trick to get to Harry, in the end. The most they could do was to ensure that it wouldn't be easy for Voldepants to get there, and that Harry would have the best chances when it'd happen.
So Sirius agreed. He still hoped that maybe, they might get rid of the Dark Bastard before he could get to his godson, but it couldn't hurt to prepare the teenager. Believing Voldepants would never beat them to it just because they wished it to be so, and saying that children had no place in a war was pretty and all, but it wouldn't change the fact that teenagers too got caught up in it.
"I will let you take a look at the memories I have collected over the years, for you might notice something I missed, but not tonight. It would take too much time, I'm afraid, and I still have some things to talk to you two about."
Albus took a time to look the two young wizards in the eyes before continuing. His electric blue eyes first met Remus' kind and green ones, before moving onto Sirius' cold and silver ones. He could see determination, as well as some fear, much pain, and quite some courage for both, but Remus' were more forgiving, while Sirius' were less humane.
They hadn't really changed, from their school years. Evolved, surely, but not changed. Remus seemed less ashamed of himself, and more able to take in the pain of others. His own pain had diminished a bit, or maybe it was that the werewolf had known so much of it it no longer affected him as much. Sirius wasn't trying to please anymore, even if it hadn't been his topmost goal back then, and he had learned there was no need trying to be someone else; those who didn't like him had no business judging him, and that was all. Strangely enough, the young Lord of the House of Black had grown colder, and yet more willing to accept others.
Albus almost laughed at himself, for not having been able to change in all these years.
A genius, maybe, but still as blinded as ever.
Well, the world would have to do with him as he was. He couldn't propose better.
So, turning to Sirius, because it was really the man's survival and his newfound freedom that had changed the game so much, Albus Dumbledore talked.
"I did not deem it safe to speak of it with you beforehand, because you have to admit, being confined in a place you hated, unable to act, perhaps was for your own good, but it also made you more foolhardy than brave."
Sirius snorted at the understatement.
"One of my biggest flaws: staying in the same place and not having a shread of control over my destiny makes an idiot out of me. It killed me, this time."
Apparently relieved that he agreed with him, the headmaster then turned to Remus.
"As for you, I did not want to speak of it for two reasons: firstly, you would have tattled to Sirius, which is perfectly understandable, but would have been too dangerous for him; secondly, you were the only person we could use as a spy amongst the werewolves, and it is never a good idea for a spy to know too much. But considering that Sirius is now free, and you are openly his best friend, your role as a spy is more than impossible now."
Remus, who had blushed a bit at the very true assumption of his probable tattling, went pale as he realized he truly couldn't be of use as a werewolf now. Albus saw this, and raised a hand to pacify him.
"Everything is not lost, however, and if you agree, I would like for you to contact the werewolves you know to be neutral, or even on our side if only by heart. It might be safer for them to join Greyback now that he started working for Voldemort again, but you could still offer them to spy for us... and if they agree, we might even manage to make enough wolfsbane potion for all those who work with us so that they don't have to hurt innocents during the full moons. Considering the other werewolves would be too mad during the change to notice the oddity, it wouldn't even be dangerous as long as they pretend afterwards"
"That's... actually a good idea. If they are cautious enough, and also a bit brave, they could even oppose the worst actions, and pretend it's only their wolf-self refusing Greyback's authority, if they don't do it too often..."
The two decided to think back on that idea later on, and the headmaster finaly got to the gist of this meeting.
Albus pushed the Gaunt ring towards them with his wand, advising not to touch it, though a bit unnecessarily. The way Sirius was eyeing the jewellery told enough for Remus to keep away, and if it hadn't been enough, he could just sense the evil in it.
The two young wizards looked at it for a moment, before looking back at Dumbledore.
The old wizard's face had turned grim.
"Do you know about horcruxes?"
Remus frowned, sure to have at least read the name somewhere, but unable to say more than that.
Sirius, on the other hand, twisted his joined hands in a way that made most of his joints crack. Remus cringed at the sound, and looked at his friend, to find the corner of his mouth twitching like mad. It wasn't everyday that something disturbed him that much.
Albus, still keeping his face as calm as possible, looked at the Black lord, encouraging him to speak.
Sirius laughed dryly, his eyes darting between the ring and the sword of Gryffindor.
"I might not have known, if I hadn't been born a heir to the House of Black, but I do. To create a horcrux is an act of such dark magic that it rivals the Reciprocation curse itself. Few are the authors who dare to speak of it, because no one wishes to imagine that someone would want to make one. Of course, my family, being how it is, has these few books in the Manor's library. They aren't even in the other houses' libraries."
Sirius took a deep breath, remembering the similarities between his new body and Voldemort's, before the madman had lost it and had to create one from nothing. The pallor. The shadows under the eyes. And the way he felt there was something slightly wrong when he looked at himself in a mirror...
Even before the monster's first fall, even when Voldemort's body had still been the one he'd been born with, the madman had looked way worse than Sirius did now, though. It reassured him. A bit.
"To create a horcrux, one has to murder someone, which parts the soul into two pieces. Usually, the soul heals after some time, even if a mark remains. But the creation of a horcrux uses the partition of the soul to take out one of the pieces and put it into an object. That is a horcrux: a recipient for a piece of soul, nearly indestructible, and which allows one to remain alive even if they are killed."
Dumbledore's office suddenly felt oppressing to Remus, and he couldn't ignore the way the portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were whispering amongst themselves and the slight tremor that shook Sirius' hands as his best friend spoke of such abomination.
The werewolf's own voice seemed to creak when he himself spoke.
"This is what Voldemort did, isn't it?"
Albus nodded, but looked back to Sirius, who had not finished.
The young lord had to force himself to look at the ring on the desk before him.
"The Black Reciprocation curse is an act of terribly dark magic, and I used it only because I knew myself to be immune to its mental effect, and because the life it takes to save the caster is the one of their murderer. Still, it's worse than even the killing curse, which is an Unforgivable, because it doesn't only kill, but it also uses the death it created. There is no respect left into the act of killing, not that there was much to begin with. Still, it uses the death of a murderer. But the creation of a horcrux... It uses just any death."
Sirius knew that what he had done was terrible, and that he didn't care. He also knew what it said about him. But him, at least, would not stoop so low as to kill uncritically.
"But Albus, you spoke of 'horcruxes'. Has he... Has he made more than one?"
It would explain why the Dark Bastard had been in such a state, even before his man-made body.
"He has. This was one..."
The headmaster gestured to the cracked ring.
"...and I destroyed it with the basilisk venom which was taken in by the sword of Gryffindor when Harry killed the Serpent of Slytherin. There was also a diary that Tom created rather... inadvertantly when he killed Myrtle Warren. Harry destroyed that one with a basilisk fang. Two horcruxes confirmed, and destroyed so far, but I fear Lord Voldemort made more than these two. I still do not know how many exactly, however, but I am working on acquiring more memories in hope of discovering how many he made. I suspect he might have turned Hufflepuff's cup into one, as well as Slytherin's locket. Tom is also suspisciously close to his snake Nagini, but I would need to examine it, or at least some traces of it, to make sure. Maybe there are others, I don't know. And of course, we ignore where they are hidden, except for the snake."
There Albus stopped, knowing that what he was about to say now wasn't to be taken lightly.
"There is yet another horcrux that I know of..."
But acting as if it wasn't true wouldn't make it false.
The headmaster looked Sirius in the eyes, as if to dare the younger wizard to accuse him of lying. As if he knew that Sirius would need a proof of his sincerity.
"Harry is a horcrux."
Both Sirius and Remus paled terribly at this.
If Harry was a horcrux, then it meant that Harry needed to die. Because if they decided not to let him die, Voldemort would not die either, and he would eventually kill Harry.
Remus sank in his armchair, shaking slightly.
"Voldemort's soul was so shattered, so broken when the killing curse bounced back with Lily's sacrifice, that a part of it attached itself to Harry, right? That's why he has a mental connection to Voldemort, that's why he is a parselmouth."
The silence which followed was deep and ominous, and it was Sirius who eventually broke it.
"I accept to work with you towards this end, as long as Harry does not have to know about this until it's time for him to die. I suppose you called us not only to share this knowledge and this quest in search of Voldemort's horcruxes, but to search for a way to allow him to survive?"
Sirius felt like he wasn't the one saying those cold and detached words as he spoke, but it didn't matter. The truth never cared about the feelings of the people concerned, after all.
Albus sighed before giving an answer.
"I think there might be a way, but it isn't possible to know if it will work until it happens. With you two, maybe we will be able to find something more... certain. But we will speak of it another day."
Remus and Sirius left Hogwarts in silence, Bella following her cousin with worry.
When the Black lord entered his domain, he immediately called for Sterhn to open the danger room. The house-elf snapped his fingers, and a black arch appeared.
Sirius walked through it, shadows dancing around him, and the grass dying away under his feet.