Yule Holidays Part 1
Warning: swear words. Oops. Sorry.
-o0o-
Cold winter light flooded into the room, causing the occupant to stir and wake. Realisation took a moment, but when it came, creeping up on the boy like the early morning mist, it filled him with warmth. Neville took a moment to savour the feeling, before he opened his eyes.
Today was the day! A day he had hoped and prayed for. A day he thought was a mere dream when he was younger, and his Uncle Algie had dropped him from the pier or pushed him out the window. In the days when his grandma had been stern, demanding and spent all her time comparing him to her husband and son in their glory days, it seemed so far beyond his reach. His relationship with his Gran had improved after everything had come out, but they remained formal to the point of being stilted at times. Still, that was all set to change. The unachievable was set to become reality. Today the dream came true.
He picked at his blanket anxiously, there was still a concern that they would not like him, but as Harry was so fond of reminding him, he was loyal, kind, hardworking and all those intangible things that made one a good friend. Flicking back the blankets he placed his feet on the floor, sliding them into a plush pair of slippers. First, he needed to get dressed. A freshly pressed set of robes was hanging on the back of the door of his ensuite. Hurriedly he prepared himself and dressed for the day, there was no way he was going to be the one to delay them, not today.
"Good morning, Gran," he greeted the elderly woman with a nod as he entered the dining room and took the seat next to her at the table. With a deep breath he asked for reassurance, "You are sure they are ready?"
She smiled, "The healers are quite pleased with their progress. They can do everything just fine, however they tire easily and sometimes they forget words, or names or use the wrong ones. We must not get upset. They said we are to simply supply the correct word and move on."
"Alright," Neville nodded. He could barely eat. His stomach was wound so tight, he did not think he would be able to swallow even a mouthful, but he made himself have half a bowl of porridge, and a cup of tea. Pushing away his plate, he looked at his grandmother, "May we go now?"
"Neville it's a bit early, visiting hours do not start until nine."
"But we're not visiting them, we're bringing them home!"
"Alright then, I see you will not be dissuaded." Augusta, pressed a napkin to her mouth, placed it to the side and stood.
Neville hurried ahead of his Gran to the floo room, took her travel cloak from its hook and held it out ready to assist her. She smiled as she saw him standing there.
"Thank you, Neville. I know I do not say it often, but I am proud of you." She slipped her arms into her cloak as Neville draped it over her shoulders.
It took some negotiation but eventually the witch at the enquiries counter let them pass and they made their way to Alice and Frank's rooms. Neville paused outside the door, letting his Grandmother enter the room ahead of him. With a deep breath he ducked his head and stepped in.
"Hello Neville!" his mother said. They were sitting at a table, the breakfast dishes still spread before them. "You must have been up early this morning."
"I get up early at school," Neville said quietly. "Harry or Percival are usually up first, and they try and be quiet, but I always wake up. I guess I'm used to it."
"Come and sit while your father has a cup of tea with Gran," she looked at him conspiratorially, "Don't bother trying to talk to him in the mornings before he has had a cup of tea. He's as grouchy as a bear before then."
Neville smiled and slid into the seat next to her. At sixteen he was already taller than his mother, and when they were sitting side by side you could tell.
"Every time I see you, I am surprised by how tall you are. I think a part of me still expects to see you as a baby. It's going to take some getting used to. I'm glad we will have the holidays to acclimatise ourselves to the situation before you have to go back to school."
"Do you think it would help to talk to someone?" Neville suggested. "Only Harry said that he had Sirius talk to someone after he got out of Azkaban, and it really helped."
"Sirius was in Azkaban?"
Neville nodded, "They said he betrayed Harry's Mum and Dad, and never gave him a trail."
Frank snorted, "That pair were closer than the Prewitt twins. Sirius would never have betrayed James."
"He escaped when we were in third year, and then last year, Harry managed to get him a trial."
"So, if Sirus was in Azkaban, where was Harry? Was he staying with you and Augusta?"
"No, someone left him with his Muggle Aunt. She wasn't very nice to him, but when Percival came, he sorted it all out. For a while, Percival's Godmother looked after Harry and then after the trial Sirius became Harry's guardian. It was all a bit confusing."
Alice leaned over to give her son a one-armed hug, "I'm glad that both of you are well looked after now."
It had taken Frank and Alice some time to reconcile the mistreatment their son had suffered at the hands of Algernon and inadvertently Augusta. That fact combined with the visible reminders of the time they had lost left them feeling rather protective of their son.
"To answer your question, yes, perhaps it might be wise for us to talk to someone," Alice bought the conversation back to Neville's suggestion. "That can be arranged later. For now though, our things have already been packed so we are just about ready. I see your father has finished his tea," she smiled at Frank, "so once we grab our bags, we are right to go. The Healers have done everything they need to already."
Neville practically leapt up from the table and snatched up the carpet bag that was sitting on the bed closest to the door.
"Someone's eager," Frank laughed. "Let's go home."
-o0o-
With majority of the students having gone home for Yule, the castle was nearly empty. Gratefully Severus sank into the armchair in his living area, raised the wards and allowed himself to relax just a little. Hopefully it would be more than five minutes before it all went to hell.
There was the flash of red from the floo.
Sigh.
There it was, he had known it was too good to last, though he wished he had managed one sip of tea. He allowed the floo call to connect, with Dumbledore taking dinner in the Great Hall, he should have a few moments. There was only one person who used the red floo as a means of communication, leaving a mess all over the hearth. It had to be the mutt!
"Severus!"
"Harry!" The surprise had Severus on his knees before the fire in a second.
"Can … can you come through? Please, something's happened …"
"Where's Siri …Black?"
"In … he's in the kitchen with it, and Mooney and Kreacher," Severus noticed the panic on the boy's face.
"With what?"
"It!"
"Potter!" Snape said sternly, "Breathe! Then tell me what has happened."
The cutting tone, broke through Harry's alarm and after several noisy inhalations he spoke, "A box arrived this morning, in the kitchen. The note just said it was for Sirius. He and Percival tried to see if it was cursed or anything but couldn't detect anything from it at all?"
"Nothing?"
The vigorous headshake sent Harry's hair flying. "He and Mooney kicked us out of the kitchen, and they haven't let us back in since."
"So, you are hungry?" Severus asked slowly, slightly confused. How much harm could a box do?
"What! No! I've gone heaps longer than that without food, why would you … you know what it doesn't matter. None of them will respond, even Kreacher. I called Dobby and Winky but they couldn't get in either. It's been too long. What if something has happened to them? We think … we think that the box might have had something to do with Regulus."
"Regulus Black?"
"Yes," Harry twitching violently. "What if it was from Riddle? What if it's cursed, or Regulus has been made into an inferi and eaten them or something?"
"You learnt catastrophising from your Godfather, didn't you?" Severus said drolly, mildly amused.
"What?"
"Never mind. I don't believe they will have been harmed. Though it is concerning that even the house elves can't get in."
"Percival is trying to break through the wards that are stopping us from …"
There was a loud bang that sent a pressure wave that was felt through the floo, Harry's head was pushed forward and with a loud clang, he head butted the grate.
"I think he's in!" Harry rubbed a spot above his left eye.
"Really? Whatever gave you that idea! Stop!" Severus said sharply before Harry could go haring off. "Wait! I'll come through."
A moment later he had spun through the floo into the parlour of Grimmauld place, and smoothly moved past Harry, down the stairs to the Kitchen.
"Perce wait!"
Percival, shoulders rigidly straight, was standing with his hand pressed to the door, his hair stood on end and his eyes when he turned to blink slowly at them seemed to have a golden ring around them.
"Dobby!" Harry called, "can you try and look in the kitchen and see what's going on, without any risk to yourself? And come back here immediately after!"
"Dobby can!" The House Elf who had appeared instantly at the call disappeared. "Oh, they is stuck." The little elf popped back into existence, wringing his hands in the apron he wore.
"Stuck how?"
"Magic!" Dobby wailed.
"Elf!" Severus growled fists clenching; Dobby shrank back from the towering Professor.
"Severus, Sev stop it!" Harry grabbed his arm. "That isn't going to help. Dobby I need you to be calm. Ok?" Dobby nodded. "Alright, what does it look like, Dobby?"
"It's like spider's webs. Sticky magic, holding thems, glowing," Dobby wiggled his fingers trying to make them understand.
"Even Kreacher."
"Yes, Master Snape, Sir!"
"How did you escape then?"
"Master Harry tells me to come back so I dids!" Dobby said with a shrug. "Did not enter room, only look-see. Master Percival makes it so I cans see in room again."
"Ok, will we get stuck if we go in?" Harry looked at Severus.
"I don't know. It is very possible, but without knowing what the spell is it is impossible to tell," Severus frowned. "Can you show us what it looks like?"
Dobby clicked and strings of violet light, sprung up around the room.
"Poxy, cousin of a moll," Percival swore, causing the others to look at him. "It's the Web of Sorrow," Percival muttered.
"I have never heard of it," Severus commented ignoring Percival's initial utterance.
"It's old, really old, I read about it once when I was … training. Everyone who falls victim to it is trapped within, sharing the same dreams. Dreams of sorrow."
"How do you break it!" Harry asked urgently. "We can't just leave them there! It will drive Sirius mad especially after Azkaban!"
"I can't remember," he shook his head. "I could send a letter to ask Sera but it would take too long. Maybe Healer Addison would know."
"Can it be overpowered?"
"Possibly by an individual at least as strong as the one who cast it."
"Then it doesn't matter if it's Riddle or Dumbledore, none of us are strong enough!" Harry worried.
"I don't know," Severus considered. "I think Dumbledore is not as strong as he once was, several people have commented that his Patronus does not seem to glow as brightly as it once did. He is perhaps weakening in his old age."
"Weakening or is he just not as happy as he used to be?" Percival asked. "Everyone used to say how jovial he was but now it is rare to see him without a scowl. Or perhaps he is becoming darker, maybe the form is changing or maybe he will fall victim to Raczidian's curse. Being devoured by maggots when the spell backfires," he added the last in response to Harry's quizzical expression.
"Gross!"
"Patroni!" Severus murmured, "Would that work? This is a curse of sorrow, then surely a guardian fuelled by positive emotions should be able to overcome it?"
Percival stilled, "I know it is not the counter curse. It wouldn't … I don't think it would hurt. I'm unsure."
"I held off over a hundred dementors in third year," Harry said quietly, "and yours is nearly solid. It just about knocked Dudley over in fifth year. You're pretty strong to aren't you Severus? What if we did it together."
Percival nodded. They stood facing sideways to the door, wand arms forward, Percival, Harry then Severus.
"I will start. Only cast once you have seen that there is no negative effect."
"Dobby, open the door please," Harry said quietly.
The door swung open revealing the room beyond. Loops of violet web, pulsing with light, strung the three occupants together. The strands were draped thickest over the box in the middle of the table, which had now expanded to the full size of the coffin it was. Severus being the tallest of the three could just see that there was indeed a body contained within. The lid had fallen to the floor.
"Ready," Percival raised his wand, "Expecto Patronum!"
Harry waited but a second to see the panther leap into the room unobstructed before he to cast, "Expecto Patronum!"
Severus watched in awe as both creatures surged into the kitchen, they were so lifelike, so real. Hesitant to cast his own he waited, watching as the torn shreds of strands dissipated and drifted towards the ceiling.
"It's working!"
"Argh!" Percival cried out forcing more magic, through his wand. There was no doubt now, his patronus, gained a black sheen inside the silver out line, and its footsteps could be heard, as it stalked around the room, a growling rumble emanating from its chest.
Harry grunted matching his boyfriends' efforts and there was a schnick as a second set of claws struck the flagstone floor.
It was not quite enough. As strands were torn and began to break down, more formed in their place, sliding insidiously from the coffin.
"Expecto Patronum!" a third form joined the fray and Severus nearly dropped his wand, causing the shape to shimmer and dim. With a suddenly drawn breath he set his shoulders and forced his magic to comply.
It was enough.
The glowing strands were blown away, and the kitchen looked as it should. Severus leaned against the wall, gasping, more at the shock than anything else. He was grateful that neither of the children with him paid him any mind, not that they had known the shape his Patroni had taken previously. There was only two who did. It caused his heart to stutter; he could not allow Dumbledore to find out about this!
"Dad!" Harry cried as he rushed forward and caught the man's shoulders as the elder stooped, caving in on himself. Sirius blinked and gasped as if drowning.
"Harry," arms extended and wrapped around Harry's shoulders pulling him in.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher sobbed, throwing himself onto the edge of the coffin, looking as if he wanted to jump right into it.
"Winky, could you take care of Kreacher, please? Make sure he gets some rest and maybe a calming draught. Stay with him. We will call Dobby if anything is required," Percival requested. The two elves disappeared from the room.
"Severus?" Harry said from where he was being swamped by Sirius.
"Hold still," Severus came and disentangled Harry, lowering Sirius into a chair. "What happened?" he asked Remus as Sirius was clearly incapacitated.
"It was like we were trapped in Regulus' memories; I couldn't tell if they were real."
"How?"
"The box," he said simply, "after Sirius sent the boys outside, he opened the box."
"With his hands?"
"Yes."
"The idiot!" Severus cursed.
"It would not have mattered," Remus said quellingly. "That curse, whatever it was, was already set, the lifting of the lid merely released it. We were trapped instantly. Levitating it would have done the same thing."
"What did you see?"
"Death Eater meetings, Walburga cursing her sons. The task Kreacher was given by Riddle, and then Regulus returning for the horcrux and being caught in the Dark Lord's snare. He drank a potion after which it appeared we were caught in his visions. There were letters …" Remus roughly wiped a hand across his eyes, "letters he wrote to Sirius, begging for help. To escape their mother, to escape Riddle, telling him about the horcrux."
"Bloody, buggering, fuck!" Severus swore. "Sirius will believe they are real."
"The letters at least were," Remus stated softly. "They are in there," he nodded at the coffin.
"Right well. Are you in need of assistance Lupin?" Severus asked.
"I think I might make an appointment to talk to Harry's healer, and I believe I will have nightmares for a while but, otherwise I should be fine. Kreacher and Sirius though …" he paused. "A calming draught might help," he sounded dubious.
"Indeed," Severus gave him a stare.
"Um …" Harry interrupted hesitantly, uncomfortably. "What are we going to do about that?" his eyes flicked to the coffin.
"Dobby, can you take Regulus into the formal parlour, see if you can locate the mourning candles. Once everything is in place, please ensure that they stay lit until morning. I will come and ward the room shortly. Normally I would suggest someone keep a vigil …"
"What about Marlene?" Harry suggested, thinking that neither Remus nor Sirius were in any state to keep watch over the corpse.
"No," Remus cringed at the thought. "No, not after everything she has been through. I'll do it. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight in any case."
"We need to find the book containing the Black burial rites," Severus mused.
"I can …" Harry began to offer.
"I don't think it would be wise for you to read them tonight," Severus tried to dissuade him.
"I meant I could just look them up in the library's index and then they will be out already when needed."
"Alright."
"Won't you need to go back to Hogwarts tonight?" Harry chewed his lip anxiously. "I shouldn't have called you, should I? What if Dumbledore finds out you were here?"
"You did the right thing, Harry. This is not something that you should have handled on your own. Dumbledore will undoubtedly know I am here already, or at the very least that I have gone somewhere. If he sent this … to Sirius, then I will have to find some excuse," Severus thought. "Perhaps I don't even need to lie very much. I will say that I arrived to give you an Occlumency lesson only to find you very upset, and Sirius locked in the web. That with the help of the House Elves I just managed to free him, but that he seems badly affected by the spell."
"You think it was him and not Riddle?"
"Yes. If Riddle had found Regulus' body, he would know that someone was hunting horcruxes. If he knew that, as a known spy, he would assume it was me and my life would be forfeit. As yet there have been no attacks on me therefore we can assume that Riddle does not know."
"Ok," Harry accepted the statement feeling that there was no argument that he could make.
The two boys departed with Remus following, leaving Severus alone with Sirius.
"You were so good with him, thank you," Sirius rasped, causing Severus to jump.
"I thought you were catatonic?"
"I wish, I was," Sirius gasped. "I let Regulus down, Severus. My baby brother, I abandoned him."
"You were sixteen when you left home, what could you have done? Hmmm, even if you had told the Potter's they could not have done anything against his own parents. Did he give you any reason to believe that he was not happy there?"
"He watched me, practiced asking for help …" Sirius gasped again. "Went to talk to me again and again."
"But was it real?"
"The letters," Sirius pointed out.
"They could be forgeries."
"In his handwriting? Covered in his magic?"
"Still even if they are real, did he actually send them? Did you receive them?"
"No!"
"What would you have done if you had?"
"I would … I would have …"
"You would have come around here with that arrogant brat you used to hang around with, wands blazing. I have no doubt. Fleamont and Euphemia would have followed. Or you would have come up with some other scheme to try and abduct him right from Platform nine and three quarters, so he did not have to go home, then the Blacks would have attacked the Potters. Or you would have taken it to Dumbledore who would have done nothing."
"Probably," Sirius agreed. "You honestly think the memories weren't real?"
"Without seeing them I can't say, however there is no spell that I know that could draw out the memories from one who has passed so long ago. There is no soul left for the memories to cling to. We know he is not a ghost."
"You are right," Sirius said, as if he were trying to convince himself. "What did Percival call them? Dreams of Sorrow. More like nightmares."
"Let's go sit somewhere more comfortable," Severus suggested, offering Sirius assistance to stand, as he still seemed unsteady.
"I don't think I will be able to sleep."
"I think a drink may be in order, and we can check how the boys are going looking for the book Black family burial rites."
"Yes, Reg … Regulus would want to go into the family crypt."
"Did you … um … did you see his …?" Severus asked hesitantly.
"Whoever found him, they …" Sirius choked.
"Keep in mind when choosing the rite that he will need to pass through flame, so that his body is cleansed and cannot be used," he said. "If someone were to have his blood, they could re-animate him."
"Turn him into an inferius?"
Severus gave a solemn nod, "the ritual to give someone the Dark Mark, it … it draws on the blood. It is possible that if Riddle were to find out we have your brother's body that he could do it. He has used that ritual before."
"No!"
"That is why I wish to ward the parlour, why the mourning candle should be lit, and a vigil kept. He will need to be interred as soon as is possible."
"Mooney?"
"He will be safe for the night."
"Alright, can you do that now? Prepare him," Sirius clarified.
"The mourning candles?"
"They would have appeared on the mantle as soon as Regulus was taken in there."
"Alright, come to the library first, you should not be alone."
"I'm ok," Sirius said staunchly. "It's not like he just …"
"No, it isn't, but you have been made to relive possible memories, and learned that he was reaching out for help and that someone intervened."
"Someone intervened?" Sirius had not made that connection.
"Yes, if as you fear those letters are real, how else would they have found their way here? Someone would have had to stop them getting through and then kept them. Delivering them now was a deliberate attempt at harming you, upsetting you. Perhaps getting you to shut down and neglect Harry's care."
"It had to have been Dumbledore, didn't it?"
"Yes, I believe so. Now come on."
Severus delivered Sirius to a chair in the library, started a fire in the grate, something he noted the boys had failed to do, poured him two fingers of firewhiskey, pulled a vial of calming draft out of his pocket laying it on the table beside the glass and headed to the formal parlour.
It was clear that Dobby had prepared the room. There were dancing flames in the inglenook, the woodwork of the furniture practically gleamed, and as Sirius had said there were four thick white candles spaced out upon the mantle. The coffin now rested on a purpose made stand which sat within the cardinal points inside a circle marked on the floor. At each point a sconce floated awaiting the candles.
The werewolf entered the room a moment after Severus and began setting up a small space for himself in the single armchair by the fire well clear of the markings on the floor, he was freshly bathed and wore his best robes. With efficient movements Severus, conjured a white sheet with which he covered the body, then he strode to the mantle to light the candles one by one and transferred them to their places. Muttering wards of warding as he moved. As the final candle was slotted into place the ward flashed visibly.
"Be wary, Lupin," he warned, passing over a vial of calming draught.
"I will be vigilant," Remus promised. Remus took the potion but placed it down on a small table. "I won't take that unless needed. I find they make me sleepy."
"Call out if you need anything. I don't think any of us will get sleep tonight." With a nod he left Remus to his watch and returned to the library.
He noted that both the glass and vial were now empty as were Sirius eyes, as he stared into the fire.
"I could have saved him, couldn't I? I was just too blind and selfish, to look beyond myself. I thought I was so much better than them, then him, because I got out! But I was nothing," he gave a choked sob.
Out of the corner of his eye Severus saw Harry and Percival emerge from the bookshelves, Harry carrying a pair of books. He nodded for the boy to place them on the table. "Go up to bed, Harry. I will take care of your Godfather," he added in a soft voice when it looked as if Harry was going to protest.
"Harry," Sirius called out stopping his son before he got to the door. "You did well today. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," Harry turned away, and there was an almost silent whisper of "please be ok," left behind as he followed in Percival's wake.
Silence settled over the room.
"Talk to me," Severus said.
"What can I say? I am so angry and hurt and sad and guilty and so many things. I want to throw things at the wall, but what good would it do? There is nothing that can bring him back. To find out now that I could have saved him … it makes me feel so very … useless."
"You have every right to feel all those things and more beside. Disappointed, betrayed."
"Yes, but the guilt is the strongest."
"Yes, Dumbledore loves to trade in guilt, doesn't he? It's another thing that makes me believe that this was his scheme. If it had been Riddle, I think that Regulus' body would have been turned into an inferi and attacked you instead."
"We have to stop him," Sirius said.
"We will, but it will take time."
"I want revenge," Sirius added.
"Slytherin's learn it is a dish best served cold. When he is least expecting it and is unprepared."
"That would be satisfying."
"Very," Snape nodded.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Harry told me he floo called you. Will you be able to explain it?"
"I see you were not completely with us earlier. Yes, I believe so. I will stay here the night and return to the school in the morning."
Silver eyes drifted back to the fire and were lost again.
Severus moved a chair to sit beside the Black Lord. "Sirius?" There was no response. "Sirius!" the call was louder, firmer.
"Mmhmm," silver eyes blinked, slowly.
"Sirius!" it was practically a shout and accompanied by a not so gently shake of an arm.
"Sev?" Severus found himself the focus of the hollow silver eyes.
"You keep disappearing inside your head, this worries me. Are you just thinking, or no? Should I be concerned, you will become locked in? If Dumbledore's plan was to rest control of Harry back, he may challenge to have you put in St Mungos."
"It is a struggle to think, a bit like Azkaban. So cold, so, so cold. But don't worry, I wrote a living will. If I die or become incapacitated, then Harry's care is to be shared between you and Seraphina Picquery. And I have instructed her to take you both out of country immediately should it happen."
"That is very morbid though given everything probably warranted. Is it all legal?"
"Lodged with Sam McMillan and everything," Sirius nodded, eyes being drawn back to the flames. "I feel like I am being dragged away …under the water, by grasping hands, holding, not letting go. Cold."
"Don't go there Sirius," Severus said sharply. "Stay with me!"
"You stay with me?" Sirius echoed with a slur.
"Yes, I will stay," Severus promised, he pestered Sirius until he turned away from the fire.
"You …" Sirius struggled, slumping down in the chair.
"No Sirius," Severus said urgently, with a flick of his wand he expanded the chair Sirius was sitting on and moved to his side, taking up his hand and squeezing. "Squeeze back Sirius."
"Mmmhmm," Sirius nodded drowsily.
"Look at me!" he demanded. "Eyes open and look at me!"
Silver eyes focussed in on black.
"Oh!"
"Yes there you are. Stay with me."
"They are tugging at me. Pulling me under. Down, down, down."
"There must have been a compulsion on the memories or the letters did you touch them? That's a silly question I guess. You are a ridiculous Gryffindor of course you did. Finite Incantatum. Any better?"
"A little. I can still feel their hands clawing at me."
"Stay with me. I am here," Severus rubbed Sirius' forearms.
"You are here," was echoed back.
"I am. Keep your eyes on me!"
"I am!" Sirius whined.
"You are a grown man Black, do not whine!"
"I didn't!" The Black protested.
"Tch," Severus smiled. "Better?"
"A little. Please don't leave me, I still feel like I could drift away."
"I am not going anywhere."
"Promise?" Sirius asked softly, worriedly.
"I promise Black."
"Don't call me that."
"What? Black. What should I call you then? Mutt?"
"Call me Sirius, it's my name. I … I like it when you do that," Sirius sighed then and bent his head to rest upon the Potion's Masters shoulder.
"You like it when I do that?" Severus said with a sense of wonder. "I wasn't aware that I did that."
"Sometimes," Sirius said.
"I … I will try to remember."
"Good," Sirius nodded his head, his hair tickling the side of Severus' neck. "And then I can call you Sev," he said with a great deal of gravitas as if an earth-shattering decision had been made.
"Really? It is terribly informal. It must be a Gryffindor thing. I have noticed your Godson does that sometimes too."
"He's my son now you know?"
"I know."
"He's a good boy."
"He is and his father is a good man too."
"He was, I know you didn't like him much. We were arses at school. Sorry 'bout that."
"How much have you had to drink Black?" Severus asked in exasperation.
"Just the one you poured, shouldna mikxed it wif calmin draught," Sirius slurred as with compulsion gone the calming draught kicked in.
"Oh you are one of those are you. I will keep that in mind next time."
"Sorry," Sirius said a little uncertainly, not sure what he should be apologising for.
"Not to worry, I think I can handle you. It might be an important lesson for your son though. I bet he responds the same."
"I don drink mush anymore."
"Not many do?" Severus said in amusement.
"Have Harry now, got to be better. Do better. S'like Lils, make you wanna be better."
"Yes, they both have that gift."
"Don' deserve them. You loved her?" Sirius poked Severus' chest.
"Like a sister," Severus agreed.
Sirius fell back into to silence then, head resting on Severus, eyes fixed on the fire.
"Sirius? Are you still with me?"
"'Ess, sleepy but alright. No more grabby hands."
"Good."
Severus glanced down, to where his hand rested. Sometime ago their fingers had become interlaced without his knowledge, and he wondered if he should disentangle them.
The grandfather clock in the kitchen began to strike and Severus realised with a start that the whole night had passed. He cleared his throat.
"Sev?" Sirius said sleepily.
"I must return to Hogwarts. I did not attend the evening meal, so I must be present this morning."
The hand in his clenched. "Now?" the head lifted leaving his shoulder cold.
"Yes, now."
With much grumbling Sirius stood, tugging at their joint grasp so that they were facing each other. Then the fingers released, and arms were slotted around the sides of his body and Sirius' face was pressed against his chest. Without thought his own arms encircled the waist of his hugger. Drawing the man closer to him. It left his nose to nuzzle in the hair of the other just by his ear. He inhaled deeply. The body he was holding moved slightly and sharp features were pressed to the underside of his jaw.
"Sirius?" Severus lifted his head, eyes wide.
"I know now is not the time, but …" Sirius stopped, moving so that he could look deeply into Severus' eyes, and then he leaned forwards, "I have been wanting to do this for the longest time."
He lifted his chin, paused, waiting for rejection, when it did not come, he slowly moved closer and somewhat hesitantly pressed their lips together. Severus' arms tightened, and he moved forward, pressing his body against the hard angles of Sirius.
Breath was required, and they broke free, gasping. Black eyes looked at silver in wonder.
"Really?'
Sirius responded cheekily, "Indeed." Causing Severus to chuckle.
"We … we will need to discuss this."
"I know," Sirius agreed. "And we have no time."
"I will come back later today if I can. It will depend on Dumbledore."
"We will need to complete the rest of the preparations," Sirius nodded. "It should … happen at sunset," his voice echoed with a plea.
"I will endeavour to be here."
"Thank you," Sirius leaned in to press another kiss to Severus' lips. "Thank you."
They walked the few steps to the fireplace and Severus disappeared in a flash of green.
-o0o-
Snow drifted across the landscape. The white flakes obscuring the fortress and near blinding the man trying to make his way to it. Tree branches sagged with the weight of the white clumps. Every now and then they would reach capacity. Cracking and tumbling to the ground.
With a final stomp, Albus Dumbledore shook the loose snow from where it had lodged on his cloak and hat. Lifting his hand, he used magic to open the door. Glad that for once the guards were holed up in the guard house avoiding the weather and not making regular patrols of the grounds. As he did not need to access the tower where his ex-lover was sequestered, he had no needed to call them. With any luck his visit would go undetected.
The small portico was to the left of the main entrance and led directly to his destination without traversing the usual defences. Rather conveniently, the only other person who knew of its existence was locked up in a tower at the top of the fortress.
Stepping into the room housing his treasures Albus Dumbledore smirked. It was time to find out the secret of the Potters. Moving to a shelf lined with books, he removed a seemingly dull and boring volume from the shelf. It was bound in simple brown leather that was lined and foxed. The volume beside it, equally unimpressive plain black leather, fell into the space created by the withdrawing of the book revealing a hitherto unseen symbol in gold embossing on its front. A straight line, bisected a circle that was enclosed within a triangle.
"What is this?"
Albus reached out and took the volume off the shelf with great excitement. When he had finally located the Potter Grimoire, the black volume had been stuck to the back of it, and as he had been unable to separate the two through any means magical or mundane it had made its way into his collection purely by accident.
It was a sign!
A sign that now was the time. That he would reveal the secrets of the Peverell's, and take up the mantle of the Master of Death leading the Wizards in a glorious new life. He stuffed both books into his bag with a maniacal grin.
Moving to the free-standing shelves, he replaced the old vial containing Hermione's donation with her freshly given blood. Then did the same with half the volume of Harry Potter's that Hermione had collected on the night that Voldemort had been temporarily defeated. He had plans for the other half of that sample and had left it waiting in his office. Staring at the vials, he wondered if it would be enough. Would the sample of Harry's be enough to open the Grimoire? Should he take the other samples? There was so little left. He frowned. Surely it would be worth it to get the wretched book open. He felt sure that Harry's blood alone would not be enough to open the Peverell book, which is what he was sure the other volume was. The boy was too far removed from the line. A swift hand removed all the vials of blood from the Potter line, leaving the lone half vial belonging to the living heir, they were unceremoniously dropped into one of his deep pockets, while the books were slid into another.
There was only one other item he needed, a pair of magic suppressing cuffs. Where had he put them? Glancing around at his trinkets, he tried to remember. The last time he had used them had been to transfer his ex-lover to his current abode at the top of the fortress. In the many years since, he had not thought that he would ever need them again, however it would be good to have them more easily accessible. They were of course highly illegal. He had ensured it himself, after all why give up the advantage of having the only pair, after the destruction of the set owned by the Selwyns following the debacle with Delores. That had been a disappointment; for a while Albus had thought that he would be able to snag a second pair. He had of course kept his family pair a secret, not even Aberforth knew of them. They had been made by his father in an attempt to allow Ariana some semblance of normality after the incident. The man had worked through the night to find a way to control or contain her errant magic. However, there was a side effect. Pain. Whenever the person wearing the cuffs tried to use magic the pain, they experienced was unbearable. Even accidental or unconscious magic elicited the response. The man had tried to overcome it but could not, his despair and anger at not being able to help his daughter had contributed to the harshness of his retaliation when the children had tried to hurt Ariana a second time.
Ah, there they were. Behind the Weasley's goblin made seed-pearl necklace imbued with blessings for good health and fertility and the cause of the feud between them and the Malfoys. It had been promised as part of a dowry, in the hope that it would break the run of singleton births and fertility issues in the blondes. The wedding had been called off when the necklace had gone missing. To the side was the McKinnon lace wedding gloves worn by every McKinnon daughter for the last twenty generations, he had taken them from the house as a souvenir the day that they had all lost their lives. Hmmm, so many of his mementos all gathered together, it was a joy to visit, but he could not linger. Reaching out he snatched up the cuffs and pushed them into yet another empty pocket. With a last look around at his treasures, he made his way out of the building. Hurrying to a point far from the castle and outside the boundary of the grounds. When he was clear of the wards, he disapparated back to Hogwarts.
-o0o-
"Kreacher?" there was no response. "Winky?"
"Yes, Master Sirius?"
"How is Kreacher?"
The female House Elf, looked up at him, eyes welling a little, "Kreacher bes not well. He bes old. This bes shock."
"Could you see if he wants to come and see Regulus laid to rest, please? I would be honoured if he would take part in the ceremony."
She popped in and out of the room in a second. "Kreacher be meeting you, when you there. Be having to let him in."
"I will," Sirius promised.
They were prepared. After Severus had left, Sirius had made his way to the formal parlour, where Remus had passed the night. There had been no disturbance. The werewolf had found it a peaceful evening and it had helped him to clear away some of the thoughts he had been plagued with, since seeing the memories. The body had been cleansed and prepared, and Sirius had selected the funeral rite he wished to perform.
Now they were standing in the lower-basement of Grimmauld place. Where there had been two doors before, the house had opened up a third. Sirius knew it led directly to the Black Crypt on the family estate. Andromeda would be joining them shortly and then the three of them, Sirius, Andromeda and Harry would travel through the door taking Regulus with them. He had notified Narcissa of the events, but the owl had only departed moments ago, so that by the time she received the missive, the rite would be complete and no one could interfere if the message was intercepted.
"Sirius?" Andromeda queried as she moved to take her cousin in an embrace.
"Meda," he replied softly.
There was a scuff on the stair signalling that Severus had also arrived. The space was small and cramped so that the two were separated by the other occupants.
"You came back!" Sirius hated that his voice sounded so high and thin.
"Of course. Dumbledore is still out of the Castle and not expected to return until tomorrow."
"I should not have asked. I should have thought …" Sirius stumbled over his words. "You cannot come through; you have to have Black blood …"
"It is no matter; I will keep the wolf company until you return."
Percival and Harry squeezed into the space. With a wiggle, Harry moved through the press until he slid himself under his father's arm.
"Alright now that you are here. Andromeda, would you open the way. Harry we will stand on either side and carry Regulus. The rite is simple and it won't take long," he promised. "Do you remember what to do?"
With a nod, Harry moved around the fresh black coffin, the white one having been burnt, and bent to carefully lift it. They carried it at waist height through the door that Andromeda had opened.
The room beyond was dark, but candles sprang to light around the walls as they moved over the threshold. Shadows flowed around the room, taking the shapes of people as if their ancestors were lining the walls to watch. In the centre of the room, was another ritual circle that contained the four cardinal points.
"Kreacher," Sirius called. This time the old elf appeared before them; he looked as if had aged greatly in the intervening time. His skin was weathered and thin, and his ears drooped all the way to his shoulders.
"Kreacher comes," the elf sniffled. "Kreacher bes knowing what to do." He added gruffly seeing his Master about to ask.
"Regulus would be glad that you are here," Harry said.
"I agree, now we each need to place a mourning candle onto one of the points. Do not enter the circle." The still lit candles appeared before them. "I have the North light, for the Sunrise and the birth of new life. I remember Regulus as the babe, he was happy and hale in the dawn of his life."
He placed the candle in the marked space.
"I place the Southern light for the morning and the growing of life. I remember Regulus as the child, he was full of energy and laughter in the morning of his life."
Kreacher stepped forward, "I has the East light for daytime and the becoming an adult. I remember Master Regulus as a man grown, he has many struggles, but honours family always in the afternoon of his life." The old elf bent and placed his candle.
Harry took a breath, "I have the Western light for the evening and the passing to the next world. I remember Regulus' sacrifice and his passing in defence of magic. He helped so much before he passed into the night."
Once the final candle was in place, Andromeda and Sirius began to chant. The air became hot and heavy. With a final burst of magic and light the coffin was consumed in flame. On one of the shelves attached to the wall a new urn appeared, engraved: Regulus Arcturus Black 1961-1979.
Kreacher looked up at the shelf in despair. With one heart rending sob, his eyes fell shut and his body crumpled to the floor, falling inside the circle where it disappeared in a flash of light.
"Kreacher!" Harry cried in alarm, taking a step towards the circle. Sirius grabbed him by the elbow holding him back.
"I had wondered if he would," Sirius muttered.
"But Kreacher!" Harry protested.
"He has joined his most beloved master," Andromeda stated, nodding to the shelf. Where a fine wood box sat next to the vase made of fine crystal. It bore a silver plate which read: Kreacher- a loyal Elf.
"The shock of the memories was too much for him Harry, even though they were not real. He was already very old."
Harry stared at the shelves, before moving to join the others by the door with a sigh.
Severus, Mooney and Percival were all still waiting in the basement, when the trio returned.
"Winky!" Sirius called. When she arrived, he said, "Kreacher has gone to his rest. Is there anything that you need to do?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment, "He is resting with his Master Regulus?"
"Yes."
"No. All is being done. Bes a great honour."
"Even more than having your head on the wall?" Sirius asked, the face Winky pulled said it all. "Right, then we will head back to the kitchen now, if you could see to a cup of tea."
Winky popped away and by the time they had entered the kitchen there was a tray set with a full tea service, including finger sandwiches sitting on the table.
"Sirius?" Harry asked. "How … how did … um …Regulus … get here?"
"I am guessing he was bought by Fawkes. I can think of no other way. For all the protections placed on this house I do not think there is any ward to keep out Phoenix, even if it prevents them from bringing a living person in."
"Do you think Dumbledore would do it again?"
"He can't Harry …"
"Yes, he can. He could use Lily and Pot … James," Severus said quietly. "Dumbledore had Petunia arrange for funerals. They are not in the Potter crypt as there was no one who could have put them there because Harry is the only living Potter and he was one. Not only that but everyone knows where they are."
"Godrics Hollow," Andromeda nodded.
"How do we stop him from using them to doing it again?"
"First, we are moving. It was meant to be a secret, but I made plans for us to spend Yule at a different location. One Winky-"
Sirius was interrupted by a squeaky voice saying loudly, "and Dobby!"
"- has been preparing for you. Even if Dumbledore had been there previously the ritual you did at Gringotts would have stripped him of access and I had heard rumours that it was the only place to ever have wards that would completely keep out a Phoenix. We will move there first thing in the morning. You will need to claim the wards, as soon as we arrive."
"It's the manor, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Striknott said something about Dragon Pox."
"I have had the place thoroughly cleaned, and completely renovated. Back to your concerns, I will arrange to have Lily and James coffins exhumed, we will need to find the Grimoire or a book of Potter funeral rites but the best place to do that is in the library at the manor."
"Severus can you set up the same indexing system for the library there?"
"That will be fine," the dour man nodded, he ignored the fact that he had sent the spell to Sirius and the man had cast it himself. Odds were that the mutt had lost the parchment it was written on in any case. "Though as a Slytherin I feel like I need to ask what I will get out of the endeavour."
"Access to any potions books I n the library there," Harry said promptly, then he gave a weak grin, "I heard my grandfather invented Sleakeasy's hair potion, his journal must be worth a read. I can just see you getting into beauty potions Sev!"
"Brat!" It was an awkward kind of levity, but it helped to ease the odd sorrow that had been blanketing the room.
Seeing that they had settled in for the evening Andromeda excused herself to return to her family and it was not long until Percival, Harry and Remus all retired for the evening.
"What will you tell Dumbledore?" Sirius asked Severus taking a sip of his tea,
"That it took me two days to break you free of the curse, and that you have returned to a similar state as when you first escaped Azkaban. Then Harry insisted that you recommence your visits with the Healer. That way he will think he has a chance to complete his plan."
"Ah, lucky I never stopped seeing the healer then, you won't even have to lie," Sirius grinned. "Addison dropped in today briefly. To speak to all of us. It was … necessary, and helpful. I think you were correct. The letters may have been real, but the memories not so much. We were able to find a couple that were definitely false. Some I would have been present for if they had actually happened. There were events at school, where I can now recall that Regulus was nowhere near the place he was in the dreams etcetera. It has allowed me to deal with them better. Put them in perspective a bit. I can now see they are like nightmares rather than memories."
"Good. I should return to the castle." Severus set his cup down and pushed back his chair.
"You could stay?" Sirius suggested.
"Not with Dumbledore expected back."
"If Harry were not returning to that damn place, I would ask you to leave it, but you are his best defence."
"I will do everything I can to keep him safe."
"Thank you and thank you for coming back."
"I promised I would," Severus said. They were standing very close, almost chest to chest. Heads bent in a last tender kiss before the potion's master disappeared through the flames.
"Shhh," the sound came from the stairwell. Sirius looked away from the fire, noticing the door ajar he moved to it and pulled it fully open.
Harry tumbled in landing at his feet, Percival was standing sheepishly in the hall.
"I thought you two were going to bed," Sirius said, hands on his hips looking down at his son.
"I came down for a glass of water."
"Really? Have you heard of the Aguamenti charm? I know that both you and Percival can conjure a glass. Or, and this is just a suggestion, you could have asked Winky or Dobby to get one for you. Hmmm." In truth he was more amused than cross.
"Sometimes I forget," Harry shrugged.
"Come on," Sirius held out a hand, and pulled the boy up.
"So you like Severus then?" he was asked.
"Would it be ok, if I did?"
"Yeah," Harry said after some consideration. "Yeah it would."
-o0o-
Sitting on his desk looking completely and utterly harmless was the book. Albus Dumbledore knew better, in fact he had learned better. So far, he had been zapped, stung and cut. Using Harry's blood had proved fruitless in getting the blasted thing to open as had, using James' and Fleamont's. It was utterly perplexing, and the longer it went on the more desperate Albus became. He would get the wretched thing open if it was the last thing that he did.
Currently he was looking at a jar of grey coloured gloop. It had come down to this. He hated to debase himself so, but it was a necessary sacrifice. There was no magic that he knew of that could tell the difference between a polyjuiced person and the real person. Therefore, there was no means for the ridiculous book to be able to. It was an inanimate object damn-it. He dropped a single black hair that corkscrew spiralled at one end and zigzagged at the other, into the liquid. It bubbled and fizzed quickly turning golden. With a sneer Albus, held his nose and swallowed the lot. Insides writhing, he bent double, shrinking, hair retracting before it darkened, until there in the headmaster's office wearing overly large bright purple robes with glittering moons and stars on them was the perfect replica of Harry Potter.
Albus inspected his features in the mirror, grinning at the reflection. Now. He reached out.
There was a flash of light, a sense of weightlessness, freefall and finally pain. With a crash the Headmaster collided with the wall.
"You leech riddled plebs!" he cursed. Groaning he pushed himself to his feet and through the book to the side in his rage, it lay on the floor looking innocent. At least if he could not get the book open, wearing the boy's face, then the boy would not be able to open it either. "Pah!" he spat, as he realised, he was now stuck in his present form for the next hour.
He fell into his chair dramatically and crossed his arms and legs in anger.
Glancing at the desk he saw the other book. He already had the wand, did he not? And the Cloak, and he was wearing the Potter's face. It stood to reason that being older there would be less defences on it. But what was the best way?
Carefully he slid the book to the centre of his desk. He felt eyes on him. Glancing around he was alone save for the portraits that he had spelled still. Huffing he returned to the examination of the tome, ignoring the sensation of being watched.
Setting the vials in order of birth of the Potters, Dumbledore snorted, a macabre blood line. He settled in his chair once more. Withdrawing the Elder wand, he tapped it against the cover eliciting sparks. Perhaps he needed to wear the Cloak. It was as he turned to retrieve it from its hiding place that he remembered. The Potter cloak was not The Cloak, after all. One! He only had one hallow and was it even a true one? Was Percival's wand the true elder wand? After all this time had the hallows complete eluded him? Flames of anger burned him.
Gellert was sure. Albus breathed deeply and pushing the anger down into a knot to fuel his magic. Gellert had studied the Hallows and he was sure that the wand Albus now held was the Death Stick. The Potters had intermarried with the Peverells, that was known. Therefore, wearing Harry's face and holding the Elder wand, he had as much right to the Peverell Grimoire as any other. It should open for him. Why else had the Grimoire revealed itself?
"Open!" he roared at the book with all the force he could muster. "Open!" he roared again, jabbing his wand into the cover, drawing on the anger to fuel the spell. There was no fancy incantation, or intricate wand work, it was pure force of will. With the speed of a striking snake something left the cover, struck his hand leaving two red marks behind, before it disappeared back into the leather in the blink of an eye.
There was an audible fluttering, of pages. Albus stopped, breathed, waited.
The cover flopped open to the first page.
-o0o-
"Right gather round, you pair," Sirius reached out to drag Harry closer. "Now I know that portkeys aren't your favourite thing pup, but it's the best way for us to get to the manor."
"Don't they have to be made at the ministry? Won't they know where we are going?"
"Another little-known Pureblood gem, yes I realise it's unfair, but because most manors are unplottable or otherwise protected, the Family Heads, and only the Heads of the families, can create Portkeys to them. Technically I am not the Head of House Potter so this one is illegal; however, Magic appears to have given me some leeway. Though I suspect I will have to be teaching you the spell once we get there and you take control of the wards. Another little-known fact is that if you create an illegal portkey, and after using it immediately either apparate or use another portkey the idiots from the transportation office can't follow you. Your father and I learnt that one off Fleamont."
He held out a quill.
"If you've both got everything, grab hold of your trunks boys. We're going home!"
They spun and twisted and eventually came to stop in a large paddock facing a wrought iron gate. Percival reached out to stop Harry from falling as they ceased to spin.
"Now I believe we should all be able to enter, but Harry, I want you to approach the gate first."
Harry stepped forward, examining the gate where the blacksmith had bent and shaped the iron into the form of a Raven.
"Why a Raven?" Harry asked, glancing up at Sirius.
"Because before this was Potter Manor it was Peverell Manor."
"Well, that explains it then," Harry said thoughtfully.
"Explains what?"
"My animagus form."
"You're a Raven?" he waited for his son to nod. "You have truly been blessed by the family magic. James was always disappointed that he didn't have a form that could fly, even if it would have been no use corralling Mooney." Then he snorted. "He was too arrogant anyway, the stag suited him."
"I'm just glad I can fly," Harry shrugged, "and that my scar doesn't show."
Harry lifted a hand to push the gate, but it opened before he could. Stepping onto the gravel path that suddenly appeared before them they walked towards the, now visible, house. It wasn't huge just the two floors, though it was wider from the front then Grimmauld place. The biggest difference was not its size, it was the look of the place. Where Grimmauld, even from the outside, was imposing and ostentatious, the manor, as Harry had already taken to calling it in his head, was humble. An essence of comfort and love leeched from the very rocks beneath his feet, and he felt the urge to lay down and kiss the stones in gratitude. He had never experienced such an overwhelming feeling of homecoming.
"It's something else, isn't it?" Sirius murmured, reaching out to clasp Harry's shoulder.
"I've never …" Harry choked.
An arm slid around his waist, and another, from the other side his shoulders.
"It is home."
"Yes, it is," Sirius agreed.
"It is amazingly welcoming," Percival said with some surprise.
"Come on, you'll never get to the good stuff, if we don't get inside!" Sirius said, tugging Harry by the shoulders.
Harry again lifted his hand and the front door swung open, revealing a small entryway.
"The ward stone first, surprises later. This way," Sirius led them to the right. They ducked into a hallway that was pretending to be a wall, through a door and further down another corridor. The flagstones beneath their feet, changed suddenly and Sirius stopped.
"This is as far as I've been," he admitted quietly, almost reverently. "I don't know what is on the other side. James and I hid in here from your Grandmother, one time after we stole the last of the rhubarb crumble she had been saving for some guests," he grinned at the memory. "I could not pass this point. Fleamont found us and he told us only a Potter by blood could go on, but that is all I know."
"What if I don't know how to … do it?" Harry chewed his lip nervously.
"You'll be fine, I am sure that the house will help you if you get really stuck."
"Right," Harry took a step, crossing the line in the floor. A visible marker of the transition. Another step and the ceiling seemed a little lower here. Another, and the walls, were a slightly different colour, lighter. Step. The sconces changed from delicate candelabras to sturdy and plain wrought-iron. Step. The caw of a raven could be heard echoing up the corridor. Step. He stopped facing a stout oak door.
Harry raised a hand and it opened before him.
The room was circular, completely closed in. At the very centre raised on a plinth was a large clear crystal. It pulsed. With a sudden surge Harry knew this was the true heart of the manor and the cadence of its beat matched his own. He was drawn inexorably closer. Hands pressed one on either side of the crystal, he was pulled into its depths. Hours could have passed while he was in communion with the stone, he did not know. He was shown the merging of the Potter and Peverell lines, a joyous wedding. The slow growth of the manor. The love and magic poured into the house by the family, until a tipping point was reached, and it developed the ability to return the love and affection that had been bestowed upon it. Plants grew quicker, greener healthier. Lights turned on to light the way at dawn and dusk. The ground softened when children fell from trees. He heard the laughter of generations of children, raised to play under the branches of the trees in the orchard and run through the field which in the last two generations had been converted into a quidditch pitch. He felt the rumble of potions experiments gone awry. He felt generation, after generation, saying goodbye. Letting their magic seep into the stone as they died, giving back to the home that had given them so much. He wept. Wept to know his parents had not been allowed to leave their magic here. Wept that he had not been raised to play in the orchard, to know the care of this house. Wept that it had been left alone and abandoned for so long. Wept to know that the library had been raided, and antiques removed. It did not matter that they had been returned. The house was upset that it had not been able to stop it. It felt violated. Wept with shared joy that the family was returning, and the house would be loved once more. That it would be cleansed.
Cold, cramped hands fell from the crystal. Leaving Harry with the knowledge to continue. He turned around to face a wall, the door having disappeared when it closed behind him. Ever so gently, he traced his fingers along the brickwork, runes sprung to life under his fingertips. He followed them, looking for any imperfection, any trace of magic left behind by those who should have never crossed the threshold. Pressing magic into his fingertips he repaired the places where the runes had faded. He found pockets of deep, heavy magic that like an illness had been tucked into the foundations, the library, the kitchen, by the gate and evicted them without thought. The roughhewn stone, bit at his fingers as he traced the runes, eventually it tasted his blood and was renewed. He made his way around the room, cleansing, healing, repairing, excising as needed, until he reached the end and was healed. Then he understood, each Potter, each generation, added. They never took. Thinking long and hard, he set his intent to protect all within the house, the gardens, orchard, quidditch pitch and paddocks, everything and everyone within the boundary of the stone fence. This time though, protection would not be enough. A feeling of agreement surged through him. Within himself he found the runic plan he had drawn up for Madame Pomfrey, and with a twist added them to the sequence, plus a little something more. Now for the first time, the house was allowed to not only protect, but defend.
Exhausted, Harry slumped against the wall. It gave. As the door opened, he fell back out into the corridor and stumbled to land near where Sirius and Percival were waiting.
"Are you alright?" Sirius held his arms wide in order to catch Harry as he lurched forward. He ducked under Harry's arms. "Lean on me. What do you need?"
"Bed!" Harry mumbled. "Tired! Fixed the wards, no-one getting in now."
He was dragged through the house, up a flight of stairs and unceremoniously poured into a large bed. They only left him to nap for an hour, which he did not feel was anywhere near long enough.
"You couldn't have left me be?"
"No! If you sleep too much now, you won't sleep tonight. And we still have a lot to get through today."
"Oh we didn't get the Yule tree yesterday."
"We'll get it tonight. The Potters have a grove of the things out the back. And there is plenty of mistletoe in the orchard. But first, I want to take you into the family parlour. They entered what at first appeared to be a cosy lounge, but a glance at the walls showed that there were more portraits on the walls than there ought to have been.
"Ah Sirius?"
"Don't think about it, it will make you dizzy," Sirius advised. "The walls will always have room for a new portrait. If you follow them around, rumour has it that eventually you will find Ignotus Peverell."
"Ignotus Peverell?"
"A famous ancestor of yours," Sirius waved him off. "James and I went looking for him one day, but we got bored before we got there. The one I want you to see is right here."
He indicated a stationary portrait, the man had salt and pepper hair, that stood on end, every bit as unruly as Harry's, his hazel eyes were filled with mirth. Even though the man was older he could tell that it was the same person in the portrait Percival had given him the year before.
"As I am sure you can tell this is your Grandpa Fleamont. It was in the drawing room, next to the conservatory. When I was last here that area was set up as a studio for Euphemia. I think your Grandmother painted it while they were isolated here. She had the talent."
"It's not moving," Harry reached out a finger to softly touch the canvas.
"No, but if she has cast the right charms and used the right paint, then the ritual you are going to cast for the other painting will wake this one too."
"Will his personality still be the same? It's been a while since he passed."
"Yes. If everything has been done as it should, then when we do the ritual, the painting will act exactly like he did at the end and have all the memories he had up until it was complete. The two of them will be able to travel between their portraits."
Harry did not know what to say or do. So many things had happened that he had never thought possible. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He stood frozen, thoughts scattered, until through his feet he felt a wave of reassurance.
"Right," it was Sirius who had spoken. "It's time to go searching for the Yule tree. Now as this is your first Yule at the manor it has to be the absolutely perfect. Traditionally the Potters set up the tree in the snug off the kitchen."
Percival grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him through the conservatory into the cold back yard. Hands swinging between them, they followed Sirius in search of the perfect tree.
-o0o-
Cut
Doing a double take Sirius stopped at the top of the stairs. This was not the first time Sirius had walked by the hallway and caught sight of Percival staring at Walburga's portrait. He walked down the stairs towards the boy.
"Care to share what you are thinking, Percival?"
The teen startled, wand dropping to his hand, when he noticed who had approached him, his wand disappeared back into his holster. Lifting a hand, he ran finger over the dusty frame, causing the occupant to shriek and swear. Well, they assumed that was what she was doing, by the expression on her bright red face. Fortunately the silencing charm was still in effect.
"I know a spell, that might work to take it down from the wall, now that Kreacher isn't here re-enforcing the sticking charm every day."
"He what?"
"Every time he walked by the portrait he would touch the frame. I can guarantee he was supplementing the charms holding it to the wall."
For a moment it looked like Sirius would yell, but then he shook his head and chuckled.
"What's going on?" Harry asked joining them.
"Your boyfriend was about to do what no-one else has been able to do. Remove my mother's portrait from the wall."
"I was going to suggest paint stripper," Harry said.
"Paint stripper?" Sirius frowned.
"Muggle thing, it's a chemical for taking paint of things, horrible stuff." Harry remembered how his eyes had stung and he had not been able to breath the summer Vernon had made him renovate the spare bedroom.
"We'll try that if Percival's idea doesn't work, and if neither of those work, I'm knocking down the wall," Sirius grinned maliciously. "Front and centre, Percival."
Harry and Sirius moved to the side, leaving Percival standing in front of the painting. Right foot just in front of the left, he turned slightly side on and raised his wand to the portrait "Scissura muri!"
Sirius grunted as he stepped in and caught the falling portrait.
"Yay!" Harry shouted. "Well done, Perce."
Percival dusted off his hands with a self-satisfied grin.
"What's that?" Harry pointed at an intricately folded piece of parchment that had fluttered to the floor when the painting had come free of the wall. Looking down at the letter as he unfolded it, he began to read.
"Dearest Wally,"
"Huh!" Sirius grunted, "that's the second one of those. I found the first one in one of the desk drawers, but the signature had been torn off."
There was a squeak from the portrait he was holding, the silencing spell seemed to have ended when it fell.
"Something to say Mother?" Sirius peered around the corner to look at the painting, but the occupant had turned around, being unable to escape the frame now that it had been parted from the wall. The back of her neck, which was the only part of her skin visible was a flaming red. When she refused to respond, Sirius looked at his son, "Well what else does it say?"
"Ahm" Harry stuttered, face also flaming, "I didn't know … um well. I can't read it out!" he said in a strangled whisper.
"Well who wrote it then?"
"Primrose Parkinson."
"Primrose Parkinson …" Sirius mused, frowning as he tried to remember. "Aunt Primrose! Mother!" Sirius sounded scandalised. "Was that why she had so many sleepovers!"
Walburga Black remained silent in her frame.
"Right well, Dobby!" Sirius called. "Could you hang this portrait in the formal parlour. I had thought she would be happier hanging there where she could talk to Father, but perhaps not."
Cut 2
"We met in school."
Sirius looked up at the voice, he had never heard it speak in such a soft tone before. "Mother?"
"We met at school," she repeated. "On the train actually, we had not even known each other a day and we had promised that we would always be friends." Her voice was so calm and quiet, Sirius had to strain to hear her. "She was sorted into Hufflepuff of all places, but we did not let it bother us and always studied together. She did not return for second year. Her parents had been so disappointed in her sorting that they moved her to Beauxbatons. I thought I would never see her again. I was wrong. We met again when we were fourteen. The family held a Yule ball, and she was there. Her dress … oh her dress was so beautiful, she looked like an angel. We stole away, hiding in the attic and talking all night. Every school holidays after that we were inseparable. The day I turned fifteen, she kissed me and I knew. I knew that I would do anything to be with her, she was my world."
"Then why on earth did you marry father?" Sirius asked.
"My father did not think she was a suitable match. Marrying Primrose would not have bought anything to the Blacks, there was no benefit for the family. So he married me to my own cousin instead. We of course needed to have an heir. At first I resented you, I resented you before you were even born. Then as you grew you questioned all of our ideals. Once you went to Hogwarts, that resentment grew into hate. I hated you, because you did what I could not, you escaped. You chose Gryffindor, rejecting the family so thoroughly. Instead of obeying your father, when he made a betrothal contract you ran."
"Why didn't you?"
"I was afraid," she whispered. "I did not have the support of prestigious family like the Potters. Her family also frowned on the union. We were forbidden from seeing each other. After you and Regulus were born, it was deemed that there could be no harm from us meeting again and the ban was lifted."
"Why didn't you resent Reg as much as me?"
"Oh, I resented him, but he was much more compliant than you. He did as he was told, was sorted into Slytherin, he did not protest when Orion signed his betrothal contract, even though I knew he was in love with another. He was very much like me."
"You are not even sorry, for how you treated me are you?" Sirius said with a snort.
"No," she admitted. "But I thought you should know; it was never about you."
"Well, that is a relief," Sirius said sarcastically. "I think I might to have a chat to Harry about the paint stripper," he added as an afterthought.