Sirius' arm starting gently burning after the second blasting curse, and he cut the routine muggle baiting mission short. He accompanied Richard back home with the intention of dropping off the two new packs of cigarettes he'd stolen before following the pull of the Mark back to headquarters, only to find Evan Rosier waiting for them in the parlor. He had been there for some time, judging by the large pile of magazines and picture books Winston had stacked up around their feet. Rosier stood up quickly and carefully stepped over the teetering stack. "You're wanted at headquarters."

"Me too?" Richard asked, instantly on guard. "Why?"

"You're Sacred Twenty-Eight. Come on. Your mother's already there, Richard."

"Is mine?" Sirius asked in an undertone. Rosier smirked and winked at him rather than answering.

Oddly, Rosier did not redon his mask and motioned for the others not to either. It became obvious why soon enough: the outer rooms of the headquarters were utterly empty. The building had been closed to any not invited to the meeting. When Rosier led them into the largest conference room, there was not a mask in sight, and Sirius recognized virtually everyone. Of course, he was related to most of them, as every single face belonged to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Besides the Blacks (including Uncle Cygnus; Sirius' parents were, mercifully, absent), Averys, and Rosiers, he saw old Aeneas Carrow, Lucretia Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange, Theodosius Nott, and one or two representatives each of the Bulstrode, Flint, Greengrass, Parkinson, Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, and Yaxley families.

The exception was Voldemort, of course. The Dark Lord's origins were mysterious, and probably lowly judging by his common-sounding secret birth name. He pointed at Sirius the moment he entered the room. "There. As of today, that is the only person amongst you who has leave to commit anti-muggle violence at will. No one else shall act without his or my direct instruction." Sirius froze in surprise. What in Merlin's name was going on? Had he missed something? Was he supposed to respond?

Luckily, the answer to that last questioning thought was a decisive no, as Voldemort waved him and Richard towards the empty seats next to Bella and continued briskly, "Now, as some of you are no doubt aware, Lord Aelius Flint was arrested today. He was an idiot. He allowed himself to be caught cursing teacups. I should not have to tell you he was stupid to be caught. In stark contrast, young Sirius Black who authored our recent strategies using muggles and the Statute of Secrecy against the Ministry, has only once in over two hundred anti-muggle forays run afoul of the aurors' surveillance, and never in a mission he has led. He approaches his assignment with fervent dedication as the work it is, not as a mere hobby. While the current, backwards Ministry holds power, putting muggles in their rightful place is a privilege that must be earned, even for your sacred houses. Do not cross me on this. Sirius, you have my leave to accept or decline assistance in your duties from any here gathered who approach you. Your word is final, your work more important than the desires and egos of any of your cousins and uncles gathered here."

Sirius fought to contain a wince while testy mutters chorused through the room. Thanks, Voldemort, for pitting all of these very, very entitled and influential people against me. Not that most of them were likely to heed Voldemort's warning; if Uncle Cygnus wanted to hunt muggles, he would. Sirius only hoped he didn't get blamed the first time someone broke the new rule. Bella's hand quested under the table to pat his knee sympathetically. The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed red. He knew exactly what he had done and took sadistic pleasure in indirectly punishing Sirius for success.

Voldemort sat back in his chair with posture like a king. "Perhaps this seems trivial, and in a way of course, it is. Just harmless muggle baiting, after all." Voldemort slammed his hand down on the table. "It is not so harmless when the curses involved are illegal, lethal to muggles, and thus in the present context carry the strong potential of an Azkaban sentence! Lord Flint is now a weapon that has been lost to us!" Until he got out of prison, Sirius thought jadedly. Cursing teacups wasn't quite the same as getting caught red-handed in Death Eater robes and fighting the aurors as had happened to Lucius. Lord Flint's bribes would be effective. "You, the purest of the pure, are not invulnerable. Not any more, not with Lord Bartemius Crouch, one of your own, controlling the keys to Azkaban where five of your fellows are now imprisoned! So. Aelius has utterly failed to live up to our dear Abraxas as my chief political advocate -"

Ah. The Dark Lord's wrath became clear, if Aelius was supposed to be keeping his nose clean to build his standing in the Ministry.

"- and I find myself in need of a new one. I hope the next appointment will be more fruitful. I am tired of chiding the foolish and indiscrete. It is soldiers I need, not children. Thus, the true matter for which I have summoned all of your illustrious personages. The matter of politics. Who amongst you is most qualified to be the architect and chief advocate of our cause? Who amongst you will not fail me again?" He glared around at them. No one seemed particularly eager to speak first. His eyes settled on Rodolphus, sitting on Bella's other side. "Well?"

Rodolphus grimaced. "My Lord, I wish with all my heart that I was in a position to better serve you in this matter, yet you know I have no influence in the Ministry now. Not officially." He pointed around the hall. "The Carrow, Parkinson, and Yaxley families are in a similar position, with their family heads or heirs already in Azkaban or killed in action."

Aeneas Carrow quickly nodded. "Any view I express to the Ministry is second guessed, ever since Amycus and Alecto were arrested. It is the very reason Lord Abraxas worked so hard to reclaim poor Lucius' reputation when the Daily Prophet dragged it through the dirt. He knew his use to you would decline if the public lost faith in his family name."

"It is the same for me since Percival's arrest," Lord Gaheris Parkinson affirmed.

"Then which families remain clean, to the public eye anyway?"

"House Nott, Avery, Black, Greengrass, ironically Malfoy, Rosier, and Selwyn," Lord Nott replied readily, counting them off on his fingers.

And so the bickering commenced, with various noble houses pointing out the failings of their rivals, and none volunteering to do actual work. It would be fascinating to watch the good manners slide away so quickly amongst "family" and "equals," if Sirius hadn't seen and suffered it so many times before.

"Clean? The Rosiers are still digging their way out from Lady Vinda's scandal with Lord Grindelwald!"

"Which Selwyn do you imagine is eligible? The nineteen-year-old heir or his sociopathic father who never learned to fake emotions correctly? Or perhaps the senile grand-dowager?"

"Cross out Lord Nott, too. You need a pleasant personality to succeed in politics."

"We can't trust Megaera and Sullivan Travers to pull this off, not when old Torquil is still the family head. He's former DMLE and will always choose the side of the aurors..."

"If you use that logic, Bulstrodes are out too. Lady Beatrice has refused every offer our Lord has sent, the impudent crone."

"The only thing a Greengrass can plan well is a menu."

"Or a pub crawl. Alcoholics, the lot of them."

"Would anyone take the Rowles seriously? The main line is going the way of the Gaunts and Goyles - halfwitted brutes the lot of them." Interestingly, William Rowle was not the only one scowling at that characterization; Voldemort was too.

"Madam Avery would be splendid at planning a revolution. Of course, everyone in the Ministry already knows her for a grasping harpy..."

"How dare you!" Richard leapt to his feet, pointing a shaking finger at Aeneas. His face was flushed and twisted in anger. Sirius raised one eyebrow. He hadn't ever seen Richard angry before. Not really. "How dare you speak of my mother so shamefully, the leader of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? How dare any of you shame our families so, speaking with such crass incivility?" Lord Voldemort leaned forwards a little, watching with interest. Richard noticed, and his flush deepened. He surreptitiously braced his leg against Sirius' knee; Sirius could feel a tremor in it. But he did not sit back down. He still commanded the room's attention. "We are the Most Noble and Ancient Houses of Magical Great Britain. Our Lord has called us here for a serious purpose, not to squabble like children and air our grievances with our relatives! This is beneath us!"

"Are you volunteering, Heir Avery?" Voldemort asked into the ensuing quiet.

Richard almost fell back into his chair as his leg suddenly gave out. Elaine cleared her throat. "My lord, my son is too young and inexperienced to shoulder this purpose."

"He seems to have a better grasp of the gravity of the subject than many others here."

"He is intelligent, well-trained, and mature, and I am proud of him. But he is unknown at the Ministry, at least for himself. He will serve you well in the future, but he is not ready to replace Lord Abraxas and Lord Aelius. Not today."

"You know," Megaera Travers said musingly, "It seems obvious to me, the best candidate our lord could choose would come from the House of Black. If that most prestigious of houses would deign stoop so low as politics, of course. I see Lord Orion and his Lady wife did not deem it necessary to attend today."

"The Lord of the House of Black cannot drop everything on short notice," Uncle Cygnus replied tartly. "The Dark Lord understands our position." Nor was Lord Orion the only head of house in absence; besides the Travers and Bulstrodes and the lords in prison, Evan Rosier's father had not attended the meeting either.

"A position of accruing power but delegating any mixing with the masses to those beholden to you in the lower classes, yes. Meanwhile, some of us are willing to give everything for the Dark Lord!"

Sirius snorted. Megaera turned to glare at him. "I'm sorry, Meg," he drawled. "I was just imagining my parents queuing up to meet our neuveau sangre Minister for Magic. Mother's expression would be quite comical. She has a specific sneer for greeting those with muggle great-grandparents. It's different from the one for muggle grandparents. Yes, Lord Orion and Lady Walburga Black, or even Cygnus or Alphard, breaking decades of precedent and ingrained behavior to personally approach impure Ministry officials with suggestions and requests would be very believable. Nobody would suspect an ulterior motive." Voldemort himself was one of the ones who winced at the mere mention of Walburga Black, Sirius noted with unanticipated pride.

"Ah, but you see, cousin, this is the perfect time for your parents to descend from their lofty thrones and be seen in less exclusive circles for a change. They have every reason with your recent press coverage, poor victim of terrorism that you are. Does the public even know you're alive?"

"If the Dark Lord's cause relies on my parents and me portraying a happy family unit, or even me playing dead and my parents convincingly mourning for me..." Bella's smothered giggle made his point for him.

"The face of our movement does not need to be a Head of House, so long as the resources of said house is behind them," Voldemort mused. He eyed Sirius again. "Could you do it, I wonder? You are the heir..."

Fuck no. Sirius hated politics at the best of times, let alone politicking for a cause he detested. Not to mention running around the Ministry all day would limit his usefulness as a spy and take away any chances to remove more Death Eaters personally. Abraxas had certainly never gone on violent missions in Sirius' experience. He pretended to consider it, even as Uncle Cygnus sent him an odd look, half pride, half warning. "My lord, I have neither the interest in nor the right temperament for politics, and I actively resisted learning in the past because of disagreements with my father."

"His recent celebrity is the stuff of the gossip pages, not the beginnings of a political ascendancy," Nott said dismissively.

Sirius nodded at him, catching the surly potioneer by surprise. "Exactly. Plus, a Hogwarts expulsion on my record won't help me make inroads with straight laced politicians. If you commanded me, my lord, I would of course try, but I fear I would not serve you well in this role."

Voldemort smiled, the expression cold and reptilian. "I see there is an argument against everyone. Very well. Shall we discuss other pureblood families that are not here represented?" There was a collective shudder as the Sacred Families contemplated sharing power with an upstart.

"I can't think of what would be worse, neuveau sangre or neuveau riche..." Voldemort frowned, and Sirius thought the man was fighting not to roll his eyes. Surely not, it was such a human reaction to this mass invocation of elitism.

"Narcissa," Bella said.

Nott burst out in laughter.

"What?" Bella snarled, glaring at him.

"She's a woman," Nott said, as if that explained his rude reaction.

"She's a Black," Sirius and Uncle Cygnus corrected simultaneously, while Bella, Lucretia, and Megaera all shouted "And?"

"She's alive?" Someone muttered from across the room.

"She's a Black, and she's a Malfoy," Bella continued, with a nod to Lucretia. "She has every reason to continue Abraxas' noble work. The Ministry wronged her dreadfully in what they did to Lucius. Plus, she's a pregnant mother who, if you believe the Daily Prophet, may have died in the fire that the Ministry has already laid squarely at our feet. No one will want to accuse her of anything but sainthood."

"Down to the miraculous comeback from the dead," Megaera said sarcastically.

"It's perfectly understandable for a woman in her condition to seek refuge with her family in the frightening and uncertain circumstances that claimed both her husband and father-in-law in so short a time. She has been living with Lord and Lady Black while awaiting confirmation from her beloved mother-in-law Lucretia that the Ministry's investigation is complete, and it is once again safe for the mother of the Malfoy heir to be seen in public," Uncle Cygnus explained condescendingly. Then he smiled. "My youngest daughter is a fearsomely intelligent young woman with the poise and grace to soften even a stone-hearted bureaucrat."

"The Madonna of the Malfoys with the resources of House Black," Voldemort mused. "I do like it. Very well. Cygnus, arrange a meeting for me with your daughter. I trust you, Bella, and young Sirius of course, will help her to remain focused on our cause when the distractions of motherhood press her. Madam Avery, your experience may also be of assistance to Lady Malfoy in her new role."

The meeting adjourned.

In the subsequent weeks, Sirius was very irritated by the many, high-born Death Eaters who as predicted came calling at the Averys', hoping to invite themselves along to torture muggles. He relented to allow one additional person at a time accompany their routine missions, or else he'd make enemies of all of them. He absolutely refused to have anyone but Richard and Audrey working on their next big operation, targeting some kind of parade the muggles were planning in order to avoid working (Sirius wasn't clear on the details, but both Audrey and the Order's squib were, and had opinions). It was ironic, how Voldemort had praised Sirius' planning and dedication to his job, when it was really Audrey and Richard doing most of the work. Sirius was just the bloke with the Mark, on hand to call for help if needed.

He might have had more time for other work if his presence were not suddenly required at so many damned meetings. He wasn't sure when he had been promoted to the Inner Circle, which was mostly comprised of his parents' generation of Death Eaters and foreigners. The younger members were sadists like Bella, and Sirius presumably. He imagined Mulciber would get an invitation eventually. Membership didn't seem to come with any perks besides not having to wear a mask during the actual meetings. He only gained a slightly better impression of what all the other Death Eaters were up to. Most of the discussions centered on what Narcissa should be doing and various strategies to bring down Crouch, i.e. the parts of the Dark Lord's ineffable grand design that were not currently going smoothly. Narcissa seemed to have become a weird half-member, present at some of the meetings by virtue of her new appointment but barred from others that did not concern her. Funnily, Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix rarely rated a mention, even less than the aurors: Bellatrix and Dolohov had free reign hunting down Order members and blood traitors, and they had no need to report on their activities except when requesting backup or when an assassination was successful. They murdered a wizard named Benjy Fenwick on 15th January.

"You're management now, Sirius," Audrey told him one day when he was called to yet another meeting of the Inner Circle.

"It is the fate of all managers to complain about their endless meetings to their underpaid and underappreciated employees," Audrey continued gaily.

"I do appreciate you." He had no idea if Voldemort actually paid people like Audrey who weren't independently wealthy.

"Sure you do, boss. Sure you do. Richard, would you like to make some picket signs with me while the boss is out?"

"What's a picket sign?" both Sirius and Richard asked.

The sign of death is risen.

He will ravage the ravenous;

His food is the six-part soul.

The Dark Lord will die with the Grim at his back,

The pure shall bow to the greatest Black.

The sign of death is risen, and hunts.

Alastor Moody stared at the tiny, bespectacled, bug-eyed seer floating in the pensieve for a few more moments, until she collapsed back into a swirl of silver thought. He rubbed his forehead. He hadn't slept yet since Voldemort's bloody raid on the Crouch and Bones residences. No, he had come straight here after seeing the desecration of the Bones' house. Sirius had managed to warn them, but they were forced to prioritize their battles with so many people summoned to assist with obliviation after Sirius' team attacked multiple crowds of muggles who had been marching in the streets protesting something-or-other. Both the Order and the aurors had prioritized the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement and his family. The Boneses had paid for that choice, dearly and horribly.

He couldn't fathom how someone as old as Albus Dumbledore had the energy to conduct job interviews in the morning after such a grueling night. "Really, Albus? You were just interviewing a prospective Divinations professor, and she spouted this at you? What do we do with this?" He blanched. "How do we keep her from spreading her vision around?" He dreaded to think what Voldemort would do if he got wind of the prophesy; probably decide to kill all possible vague interpretations of it.

"Well, for one thing, I hired her on the spot. She'll be moving into the castle this evening. For another, since it appears to have been a true trance, I doubt she remembers what was seen or said."

"I always hated Divinations."

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Like you, I have always found the subject far too nebulous and misleading to be useful, particularly as so many famous examples proved to be self-fulfilling. Croesus. Oedipus Rex. Ja'far ibn Yahya. Oleg of Novgorod. King Macbeth... I sometimes think the nature of Divinations is not in perceiving the future but in influencing it, by speaking the right words and showing the right signs to the right people with the will and ability to bring the prediction about. Certainly, Nostradamus theorized prophetic visions occur when human decisions bring the course of the future to a tipping point, and a seer is in proximity to the right witness for the weight of one particular possible future to break through. It is like the lure of a hinkypunk in the mists of a swamp."

"Albus, I really don't care about the metaphysics of prophetic visions. That said, I like the bit about the Dark Lord dying. I'm completely on board for causing that, but if we need the rest of this prophesy to be actionable in order to accomplish it, what does it all mean?"

"It is impossible to be certain with prophetic interpretation except in retrospect. But... the 'sign of death' seems to be a person, not merely the Dark Mark or an evil situation."

"Is Sirius the 'greatest Black'?"

"Entirely possible."

"But then why would the pure bow to him, who used to be a 'blood traitor'? Does he turn on us? Or somehow become the Dark Lord's second-in-command?"

"That line and interpretation could as easily apply to his cousins, his brother, or his parents. Or one could take it that this 'Black' will supplant Voldemort entirely in the affections of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or that he will be named Minister for Magic, or perhaps merely that young Regulus will encounter a herd of unicorns that takes a liking to him in his N.E.W.T.s this year. Meanwhile, one could also liken the 'ravenous' to the Death 'Eaters,' in which case the 'sign of death' is on our side for a change. The line I find most interesting about this character, though, is that 'his food is the six-part soul.'"

"Yes? ...Oh, shite."

"Quite. We know Voldemort split his soul once. If there is a soul wandering around split six ways, it is probably his. The odds of more than one witch or wizard making a horcrux in this day and age are slim to none. Even more telling, it was the day I returned from the destruction of Malfoy Manor that I discovered my new Divinations professor's application waiting for me on my desk."

Alastor stared into the swirling pensieve again, watching the seer's face slowly rotating around as she silently repeated her dire message ad nauseum. He drew in a shaky breath. "If... if your guess of this is right, if You-Know-Who has a six-part soul, and we've destroyed one horcrux... does that mean that he has five more horcruxes hidden somewhere?"

"No more than four, I should think. He would need one part to remain in the body. I would have to read up more about the subject to know if he could have two distinct shreds of soul lodged in one container, body or horcrux, but I think it is safest to assume there are four more horcruxes to destroy before Voldemort himself can, well, fall to his Grim. Of course, we could be counting incorrectly if the destroyed horcrux is no longer one of the six parts..."

"Ugh. What could they be? And where? How on earth are we supposed to look for them when it's so bloody hard to positively identify them in the first place? You remember what spells Sirius had to use to identify the journal!"

"I do not know, I do not know, and I do not know. Yet."

"And- and can he just keep making these things?! If there's four now, could there be twelve in a month? Is there a limit?"

"There must be a limit of some kind; I just don't know what it might be. But one imagines the soul would become too unstable to function at some point. Again, I shall have to read more on the subject, though it is also possible Voldemort is treading new territory with this particular atrocity."

Alastor reached towards the middle shelf behind Albus' desk. A decanter floated right through the bookish glamour to his hand. Albus helpfully conjured two tumblers for him to fill with brandy. Each of them drank in silence, contemplating the hope and turmoil of the strange prophesy. Eventually, Alastor sighed again. "You know, Albus, I'm amazed you actually decided to trust me with this, rather than keeping it close to your chest like you usually would."

Albus chuckled drily. "In this case, Alastor, I did not think I could keep it from you, not entire."

"How's that?"

"Because if we must hunt down more horcruxes, I know of only one man in a position to help us search all the most likely places, and the only means of contacting him is a portrait of you. I think you'll agree, your portrait is more loyal to you than to me and certainly would have repeated whatever I asked it to relay to Sirius to you as well."

Alastor's face cracked into a hard grin. "Good point. Best decision I ever made, commissioning those. Keeps me from ever being cut out of the loop, even by the likes of you."

Author's note: aaand prophesy because sometimes Deus Ex Machina is a more believable way for something to happen than just "Sirius continues to conveniently trip over useful information and interpret it correctly, in a timely manner." Particularly given canon Dumbledore only had reason to suspect horcruxes after considering the events of Book 2 and studying Harry and Voldie's odd relationship for years. At this point canonically, Voldemort would only have at most five horcruxes, since Harry's murder was supposed to have yielded the seventh, and he later settled on Bertha Jorkins/Nagini instead.

I really do like the idea of the True Prophesies all being self-fulfilling, but they probably aren't, since nothing really happened canonically as an effect of Trelawney's prediction about Peter Pettigrew escaping. It was only there for the reader's sake. For it to have actual weight on the events of the book, either Harry would have had to act on it and thus accidentally bring it about, or Peter would have had to hear it and take it as motivation to actually look for Voldemort. Who knows, maybe Peter had been hiding from Sirius up in the Divinations tower, living off Trelawney's cookies and herbal tea supply before making a break for it after hearing the prophesy lol. I've also moved up the timeline of Trelawney's interview, because her decision to apply is driven by the impending prophesy, not by such mundane things as needing money or official job postings or whatnot.

Similar to how it happened in books 6 and 7, Voldemort would prefer to accomplish his coup from inside the Ministry, both to preserve the façade of legitimacy and to avoid killing off all the bureaucrats he will need to run the country. He needs his politicians to have clean-enough reputations to do that, and money is becoming a less effective detergent as Crouch has gained more power and influence. Plus, squabbling, entitled aristocracy are entertaining, in small doses.

I'm going out of town, so look for the next update will be delayed, probably next Sunday or Monday, not Saturday. Thanks for the reviews!