The Plan
The fabric of the cloak flowed through his fingers like silk as he simply marvelled at the artefact that had seemingly been in his family forever. It had saved his life more than once, had been with him throughout the years he'd spent on the continent, and just as his own father passed it onto him, it was now Charlus's turn to follow suit.
James would be starting his own journey at Hogwarts in the coming days, and Charlus found himself wondering where all the time had gone since he'd first held his son in his arms.
Conceiving had been difficult for him and Dorea, and they had given up hope that it would ever happen when she'd announced she was pregnant.
Arcturus's children were already grown and some had their own children, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered the moment James was born.
They hadn't been blessed with anymore, but that too didn't matter. They had a healthy, happy, and mischievous son whom they had admittedly spoiled.
It seemed as though James had been born something of a troublemaker, and Charlus had initially had his reservations about giving him the cloak so young. Who was he, however, to be the Potter to break such a tradition?
He was pulled from his musings by the sound of a knock at his study.
"Come in, James."
The boy entered, his usual grin firmly in place as he looked around the room inquisitively. He was strictly forbidden from entering the study without permission after a particularly unpleasant incident involving Stink Pellets.
It had taken weeks for Charlus to rid the room of the smell.
"I've not been in here for a while," the boy murmured. "Am I in trouble again?"
"Have you done something that deserves for you to be in trouble?"
James smiled innocently as he shook his head.
"No."
Charlus didn't believe him for a moment. James was usually doing something that would provoke the ire of his mother.
"Take a seat, lad," he urged with an amused sigh. "I have something I would like to give you."
"What is it?" James asked with a frown.
"Something exceedingly special that has been in our family for many generations."
He presented to cloak to a confused James who accepted it with a questioning frown. It took the boy a moment to realise what it was and his eyes widened.
Harry could already see the dozens of plans running through his mind, as could Charlus who placed is hand on his son's shoulder.
"This is not a toy, James," he said gravely. "It is an incredibly powerful and rare magical artefact that has saved my life countless times. I would not see you take this for granted. You must protect it as it will protect you."
Much to Harry's surprise, James sobered immediately as he nodded, paying heed to the tone of his father's voice.
"I will, Dad," he promised, eliciting a smile from the man.
It proved to be another wholesome moment in which Harry was able to witness the cloak being passed on once more, and to his own father who had not been given the opportunity to give it to Harry himself.
Sharing the memories of the Peverells and Potters that had come before him was the best he could hope for, though for Harry, it one was rather bittersweet.
Nonetheless, he smiled at the sight of Charlus being granted that moment, and even the birth of a son the man had given up hope of experiencing.
The two did not quite see eye to eye on many things, but that didn't mean Harry had not come to care for his grandfather and respect him for the difficult life he had lived.
Still, they were quite different, their lives not mimicking one another's closely in any way other than both being at war, and even those experiences were not proving to be alike.
Harry released a deep breath as he checked the clock on the wall.
It was only a fortnight into the summer holidays, and much of his time had been dedicated to sitting the NEWT written exams in four of his subjects. Receiving the letter form Madam Marchbanks to do so had come as quite the surprise, but Harry felt he really didn't have much choice in the matter.
The woman had all but insisted he attend the Ministry at his leisure to take them in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes.
It was an offer Harry had gladly accepted and would undoubtedly pay dividends for his last two years at Hogwarts. With four NEWTs already secured, should he pass them, he'd have considerable free time to focus on what he needed to.
He needed now only to write the paper for Runes, the one subject he had felt he needed a little more time to prepare for. The other three had been rather straightforward for him, given that he'd been receiving additional work in them since second year.
Fortunately, Voldemort had not been as active as he'd anticipated with the Dark Lord evidently remaining cautious in doing so, as Harry had hoped.
Such a peace, however, was not meant to last, and it was only a matter of time before his foe would emerge from the shadows.
Harry suspected that it was the status of the cup that had given him pause, for now; something he himself was seeking to remedy soon enough.
He'd been pondering how best to go about retrieving the cup, and he had formulated a plan he would need assistance with.
Broaching that subject was of paramount importance, and he would be doing so the following evening when he attended Grimmauld Place for the first time since his fallout with Sirius.
Harry had not heard from his godfather, and in truth, he was glad for it. He was still furious with Sirius for what he'd done, though he was in no doubt the man felt guilty enough.
His antics had gotten both Remus and Shacklebolt killed, and almost himself and Harry had the latter not had something else to bargain with.
Nevertheless, the situation could have easily been avoided if Sirius had not acted so rashly, and it was not something Harry could simply forgive him for. Perhaps given time it would be water under the bridge, but that remained to be seen.
Checking the clock a final time he packed away the books he'd been reading for some lastminute revision before he was due at the Ministry of Magic, hopefully for the last time until he took his seat on the Wizengamot in little over a year.
When the exam was done, he would be returning home where he would be having a guest join him.
He'd been reluctant to invite Daphne here to continue with their training, but there was no other place the two of them could go where they would be granted privacy.
Nonetheless, Harry had taken additional precautions to ensure there was no chance that his accommodation of the girl, no matter how briefly, would backfire on him.
It wasn't that he hadn't come to trust Daphne somewhat, but he had learned from the mistake of his parents.
Just because someone appeared to be a friend on the surface, it did not make it so.
He chuckled at his own paranoia, though his own security was not something he took for granted.
Harry would not fall victim to the same trick James and Lily Potter had in their own blindness of the people that were around them, and it was his own paranoia that ensured that did not happen.
(Break)
Sirius glared as the bottle of Firewhiskey was torn from his grip, and he shook his head as he looked longingly at the empty glass in the grip of his hand with the missing finger.
"I wasn't done with that," he grumbled.
"I think you've had enough, don't you?" Tonks asked worriedly.
With no body of which to speak, they'd not been able to give Remus the burial he deserved. Instead, Sirius had commissioned a memorial for the werewolf to be built and placed next to the graves of his parents in the cemetery of his hometown.
It was what Remus would have wanted but Sirius could not help but reflect on what a tragic life the man had lived.
He'd been shunned by society, had witnessed the decimation of the only friends he'd ever had, and the last two years had been spent largely within the four miserable walls of Sirius's childhood home.
Remus Lupin had deserved so much more.
"You're probably right," Sirius sighed, scratching at the thick stubble that adorned his chin.
He'd not shaved in over two weeks, and he knew he probably looked terrible.
The days had gone by in blur of hard liquor and sporadic bouts of anger, misery, and broken sleep.
His plan had been foolish, though he'd only ever tried to help Harry whom he had no doubt despised him. Even now, his jaw occasionally ached from the punch his godson had felled him with and popped uncomfortably whenever he ate.
A stark reminder of his own hubris.
"Come on," Tonks urged pulling him to his feet. "You need to clean yourself up and stop moping. He wouldn't want you to mope."
Sirius swallowed deeply as he nodded, taking in the appearance of his younger cousin.
She'd become rather fond of Remus, and the lack of vibrantly coloured hair and usual quirkiness of the metamorph spoke volumes of how hard she was taking his death.
"I will," he decided. "Is Harry still coming tomorrow?"
"He told Dumbledore as much," Tonks replied as she led him towards one of the several bathrooms within the house.
"Do you think he's going to punch me again?"
"I think you were lucky he only punched you," Tonks murmured. "What we did was stupid."
"It was," Sirius agreed. "I didn't think about it until it was too late. I seem to have that problem in life."
"Maybe that will change now?"
"It will," Sirius declared as he closed the door behind him, wincing as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
He looked gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, hair unkempt, and skin paler than usual. The smell of stale alcohol wafted off him like an unpleasant cologne, and he wished nothing more than to be rid of it.
Removing his clothes, he turned on the shower before stepping under the steady stream of hot water, lamenting on the foolish choices he'd made.
Of course, he carried the weight of James and Lily's deaths; a heavy burden he would never be rid of. And now, he could add those of Remus and Kingsley to that.
Throughout his years in Azkaban, the one thought that had kept him going was knowing that Harry had survived, that his godson was out in the world, alive, but without a parent to care for him.
By the time Sirius had secured his freedom, it seemed that Harry simply did not need him.
They had grown somewhat close since they'd become reacquainted, but Harry was all but a closed book for the most part and getting close had not been easy.
His godson was guarded, jaded by the unpleasant upbringing he'd endured, and perhaps blamed Sirius for what had happened to James and Lily, or at the very least, for not caring for him, choosing to pursue Peter instead.
Of course, he had a right to be angry.
Sirius himself was furious with himself for many of the choices he'd made, none more than neglecting what should have been his priority the night Voldemort had visited the Potters.
Scrubbing away the filth vigorously, and then washing his hair, Sirius began tackling the task of shaving off the scruff that had accumulated.
He didn't know how he would make it right with Harry, but he would.
The boy was all that he had left in the world, the final remnants of the friends that were no longer with him.
He would ask to speak with Harry in private, to apologise in an attempt to begin making amends for the mistakes he'd made.
He only hoped that Harry would hear him out, and not punch him again.
It wasn't the physical blow that had hurt, but the rejection, anger, and disappointment in him that had fuelled it.
(Break)
From the moment she had stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Daphne had known something was different. The smiles and greetings her mother and father had shared with the other parents had been reticent and brief when they would usually be caught up in longer conversations.
The atmosphere on the platform had been tense, and none lingered for more than a few moments once the students had disembarked from the train.
It had been this way during the previous war, or so her father had told her. Although there was no official confirmation of the Dark Lord having resurfaced, it was evident that all knew, they simply could not discuss it.
Perhaps they were fearful that those they mentioned it were possibly in league with the Death Eaters and were unwilling to put the lives of their families at risk for the small price of speaking their thoughts.
Daphne didn't know, but since returning home, there had been no social visits nor guests within the Greengrass home. Her parents were being cautious, and if the last war against the Dark Lord was anything to go by, she couldn't blame them.
"You're dressed rather nicely," her mother commented as she joined them and Astoria for lunch.
"I already told you I'm going out for a few hours today."
Her mother and father shared a look of concern.
"Daphne…"
"Father," she cut in stubbornly.
The man shook his head.
"With everything that is happening…"
"And what is happening?" Daphne asked casually as she buttered some bread for herself. "There's been a lot of whispered conversations but no answers. Are you getting divorced?"
"Of course not," her father sighed. "You're not a stupid girl. You've heard the rumours."
"I have," Daphne confirmed. "I just don't see why we should be hiding from nothing. Until something happens…"
"Azkaban," he mother broke in pointedly.
"Wasn't that an accidental fire?"
"You're not so naïve," her father muttered.
"Then why isn't anything being done about it? Why is everyone pretending everything is fine when it isn't?"
Her father shot her a sad smile.
"It's not so simple. It is a delicate matter."
Daphne shook her head.
"It's quite funny really that the Wizengamot is supposed to be responsible for keeping us all safe but they all seem to be fine with burying their heads in the sand about all of this."
"What would you do?" her father asked interestedly as he leaned back in his chair.
"I don't know," Daphne answered honestly, "but what they're doing now is dangerous. Is anything being done at all?"
"Not officially," her father sighed, "but there are those on the Wizengamot who are not idle, on both sides, unfortunately."
Daphne snorted derisively.
"I suppose the plan will be to wait for Harry to fix it, when they finally acknowledge what's happening."
Her father frowned.
"Of course that's the plan," Astoria chimed in. "They'll think because he got lucky as a baby that it will be up to him to beat him."
"Astoria!" her mother chided.
"Isn't that the truth?"
Her parents shared a look of unease.
"The Ministry is ill-equipped to deal with what they faced before," her father admitted. "Over the years, Malfoy and his lot have done severe damage to the Department of Magical law Enforcement by voting for budget and personnel cuts. It has left the aurors in a sorry state."
"So, what happens if there is a war? Will the Ministry just roll over?"
"No," her father denied. "With Sirius Black on the Wizengamot, that won't happen, and when Harry Potter takes up his family seat next year, he will have significant influence."
"And what happens if we don't have a year?" Daphne questioned.
Her father's expression fell at the thought and he smiled sadly.
"We'd better hope we do," he murmured.
"Where are you going today?" her mother asked.
"Just out," Daphne huffed. "You might be happy to hide here, but I'm not. Until I know that my life is in danger, I'd rather live it."
With that, she stood and left the table, understanding why her parents were being so cautious but no less frustrated by how inactive the Ministry was seemingly being.
Were it not Fudge currently occupying the Minister's post, perhaps she would have more confidence in the government that something was being done behind closed doors. Cornelius Fudge, however, was a Malfoy man through and through.
"Where are you going?" Astoria whispered as she caught up to her in the parlour the family used to access the floo network.
"Just out."
"Are you going to see Harry?"
Daphne frowned at her younger sister.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you're dressed up, and he's the only boy you've shown any interest in."
"I am not interested in him," Daphne denied.
Astoria quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her.
"I'm not!" Daphne reiterated firmly.
Astoria hummed.
"Just be careful," she urged. "It's all well and good having lessons from him, but you don't want to be associated with him outside of that. Whatever's happening, he's in the middle of it all."
"I know," Daphne murmured. "I'll be fine, Tori."
The girl nodded and squeezed her arm before leaving Daphne to take her leave of the family home.
(Break)
The Ancient Runes exam had been trying, though Harry felt he had performed well enough to get the Outstanding grade Madam Marchbanks seemed to expect from him.
Nonetheless, despite having studied the topic diligently for three school years, he had yet to see anything that resembled the runes he'd encountered during the first memory of the Peverells.
It was something Harry had raised with Ignotus who had simply grinned at him.
'Keep studying and I'm sure you will work it out for yourself.'
That had been the advice the man had given and had refused to discuss the subject any further with him.
It was frustrating to say the least, and Harry had no doubt that the man took no small amount of pleasure in seeing him struggle.
With his NEWT now complete, Harry did finally feel that he could shift his focus on what he needed and retrieving the Horcrux from within Gringotts was his priority.
Today, however, he had promised Daphne he would continue with their tutoring sessions. As such, he was waiting in the entrance hall of his home by the fireplace for the girl to arrive.
Taking a page out of Voldemort's book, he had tweaked his own security so that only one person could travel via the floo network to his home, and no other could do so until the first had left the same way.
He could of course change this accordingly, but it was unlikely he would need to.
Harry had no intention of making a habit of hosting people here.
This was his sanctuary away from the world, where he could escape alone if needed, and he felt that would become a frequent thing during the impending war.
Without most of his NEWTs to focus on, he would at least have the needed time to dedicate to eliminating Voldemort and his followers.
He was pulled from his thoughts as the fireplace flared to life, and he found himself catching the blonde that almost tumbled out.
Daphne flushed a bright red and glared at him as she stood and straightened her dress.
"What did you do?" she asked pointedly.
"It's just security," Harry returned with a grin. "No harm done."
Daphne narrowed her eyes at him but took in her surroundings.
"This is a nice place," she commented. "Is it yours?"
"It might be."
Daphne rolled her eyes at him.
"Potter, if I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
"You sound sure of yourself."
"I'm learning from one of the best," Daphne returned airily.
"One of the best?" Harry asked with a chuckle.
"Don't get too full of yourself," the girl huffed. "So, where are we going to do this?"
"You should choose your words more carefully," Harry suggested, eliciting another blush from the girl who stammered over her words. "I know what you meant. Bloody hell, Greengrass, it was a joke. I have a training area set up in the basement."
She glared at him once more but followed him through to the kitchen and down the set of stairs leading to the basement.
"You've put a lot of effort into this place," she observed.
"Well, I do plan on living through whatever is coming," Harry pointed out. "I like it here. It's quiet, and no one knows who I am."
Daphne offered him a look of sympathy.
"You really detest being famous."
Harry nodded.
"I'd give it all up for nothing," he said sincerely. "I'd prefer to be able to walk down the street without being pointed at or approached. Is that too much to ask?"
"For you it is," Daphne snorted. "You'll only be more famous when this is all over. Even when you take up your seat next year, all eyes will be on you."
"Are you still determined that I'm going to be the thing to fix the woes of wizarding Britain?"
Daphne shook her head.
"I don't need to be determined," she replied simply. "You'll do a good job, Potter. I know you well enough to see that. Shall we get on?"
Oddly, her vote of confidence meant more to Harry than he'd anticipated. From the first conversation they'd shared about his inevitable political future, he liked to think he'd been a little more conscientious regarding it.
He hadn't even taken it upon himself to goad Malfoy after their confrontation on the train, and the blond had chosen to ignore him now other than glaring at him occasionally.
Still, he could not help but feel that he would be quite out of his depth when it came to his duties on the Wizengamot. He'd not been prepared for it in any way where most others are groomed to succeed their father, mother, or whomever the current Lord of their family is.
Maybe he would simply falter, or perhaps he would thrive. Harry didn't know, and in truth, it was not something he wished to think about until he needed to in little over a year from now.
(Break)
Severus eyed him questioningly and Albus waited to hear the man's thoughts on the matter. He had been pondering just how to solve the lack of competent candidates to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and had pitched an idea to the current Potions Master.
"You want me to take the post? After all these years…"
Albus held up a hand.
"It is important that the students have the very best, Severus. I can think of none more qualified than you."
Severus's brow was furrowed as he shook his head.
"And who would you see replace me in my current position?"
"I was hoping that Horace would come out of retirement. Given the circulating rumours, I think I may be able to."
"Defence Against the Dark Arts takes considerably more planning," Severus pointed out. "It does not help that most of the students have suffered from poor teaching in the last years. I grudgingly admit that Lupin was competent, as was Barty Crouch Jr of all people."
"I believe Harry has done an admirable job in closing the gap and I would encourage him to continue his work, with your support, of course."
"Potter?"
The name was spoken with the level of bitterness Albus had come to expect.
"Indeed. He will have the time to ably assist you. Madam Marchbanks has assessed him for his NEWTs in the subject, along with Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes. I have even considered asking him to take on a portion of the teaching himself."
Severus's frown deepened and Albus held up a hand once more to prevent any protest.
"It cannot be denied that the boy is exceptionally gifted in the subject, Severus, and has much more real experience than most others despite his age."
Severus nodded reluctantly.
"So, will you accept the post?"
The man pondered it for several moments, eventually nodding his agreement.
"I will do so only if Slughorn agrees to take the Potions position and that you can convince Potter to continue with what he is doing. It would be helpful if he could take some of the classes for the younger years, given the task I will have to prepare those who are due to take their OWLs and NEWTs. You will not mention to him that I requested this. He is to believe you insisted upon it."
"Very well," Albus allowed. "I will discuss it with him and make it very clear you protested the idea, if that is what you wish. My wish would be for the two of you to work together, Severus. Harry is not his father and the grudge you hold…"
"Is mine to do with as I please," Severus cut in. "I have agreed to your idea, headmaster. I have no desire to discuss it further."
Without another word, Severus took his leave of the office and Albus released a deep sigh.
After all this time, the man could not let go of the rivalry he'd shared with James Potter, though Albus suspected that the guilt he carried was what truly burdened him.
He may not have killed Lily himself, but he would never be able to let go of the part he played in her death.
(Break)
"My people are becoming restless," Greyback growled. "You promised we would feed and we have been kept locked away like common dogs."
"They will," the Dark Lord assured the angry werewolf.
"When?"
"When I decide the optimum time to strike. Do not overstep, Fenrir. You are here by my invitation and are kept safe by me. What do you think would happen to your people should the Ministry discover your presence and you do not have my protection?"
Greyback growled baring his yellowed teeth.
The man was mostly a savage beast now with little capability in diplomacy. He even resembled a wolf for the most part with his excessive hair, long nails, and even the smell of blood that permeated around him.
"The full moon after the next," Voldemort offered. "It is only six weeks away. You will feed then."
Greyback nodded contentedly.
"Fine," he grumbled. "I will hold them off until then but no later."
He stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him, hard enough that the Dark Lord was surprised the frame was not pulled from the wall.
He would not profess to like Greyback, but he was a useful ally. If wizarding lives could be spared, he would accept the beast as a strange bedfellow in order to achieve what he desired.
Six weeks was enough time.
The giants were ready, the werewolves were restless, and enough followers had been gathered for the Dark Lord to announce his return.
Wizarding Britain may have forgotten him in recent years, forgotten the fear they lived in a decade and a half ago, but they would be reminded soon enough.
Lord Voldemort's second rise would be meteoric, unrivalled, and it would not be impeded by the likes of Harry Potter.
The boy would die soon enough. One way or another, the Dark Lord would find a way to be rid of him.
Frowning thoughtfully, he began concocting ideas of how to see to the end of the boy once and for all.
(Break)
"Filthy half-blood! How dare you soil the House of Black with your presence?"
"Up yours you decrepit old cow," Harry returned as he past the portrait of Walburga Black and entered the kitchen.
"I see Mrs Black was pleased to see you," Dumbledore commented amusedly.
"Isn't there any way to get rid of her?" Harry grumbled.
"It appears as though Kreacher is responsible for any resistance she has in our efforts to remove her."
Harry shook his head irritably as he took a seat next to Arthur Weasley.
"Since we are all here, we shall begin," Dumbledore continued. "Now, I'm sure most of you will recognise Rufus Scrimgeour. He has replaced Amelia Bones as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Having spoken at length, he has decided he would like to be present for these meetings."
"At least until the Ministry officially recognises what is happening," Scrimgeour broke in gruffly. "I believe what I have seen and heard, but Fudge will not until it is too late."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed gravely. "Now, does anyone have anything to share?"
"It's quiet," Tonks piped up. "Everywhere is quiet. I don't like it."
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully.
"Quiet never led to anything good where the Dark Lord is concerned. Severus?"
The Potions Master shook his head.
"Whatever he is planning, he is keeping it to himself and only a select few. I have not been made privy to anything."
Dumbledore nodded his understanding.
"Then we must remain prepared and vigilant. Harry?"
"The giants haven't moved as yet, but I they're getting restless. There's a lot of fighting amongst them. Most just seem to want to go home."
"Could they be convinced?"
"Not unless the Gurg and his six henchmen are killed. The others are terrified of them. I'm thinking of a way to get to them without provoking the entire group."
"As ever, I would urge caution when dealing with the giants. They are most unpleasant if provoked."
"And will be even more so if unleashed on the people here. I'll figure it out."
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"Well, if there is nothing else, I thank you all for coming. Harry, if I might have a word."
Harry remained seated as most of the others filed out of the kitchen and Dumbledore approached with a smile that made Harry suspect he was going to be asked a favour.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" he sighed.
"On the contrary, Harry. I think you just might."
Harry waited for the headmaster to finish smiling and speak, and the man did so somewhat imploringly.
"I was hoping you would consent to step into a position of official teaching."
"Excuse me?" Harry scoffed.
"It would only be for the first and second years, for Defence Against the Dark Arts of course. Severus will be teaching the rest."
"Would that not interfere with Potions?"
"I am hoping to bring in a former Professor to take Potions post," Dumbledore explained. "Not merely for teaching purposes, Harry. You see, Horace Slughorn was a certain Dark Lord's Head of House during his time at Hogwarts. The two shared a close bond over the years."
Harry frowned at the revelation.
"You think he may know something."
"I am almost certain he does, even if he doesn't know the importance of it."
Harry released a deep breath as he dragged a hand through his hair.
"I'm not qualified to teach."
"Have you not been doing it for the better part of a year?" Dumbledore returned. "And doing so with much more advanced lessons."
"That's not the same," Harry protested.
"I do not see the difference. You will be in a classroom in an official capacity. You can, of course, continue with your own club."
"It's Hermione's club," Harry pointed out. "I just teach it."
"And you have done an admirable job, Harry. So much so that I have every faith in you, as does Severus."
"Snape said that?" Harry asked sceptically.
"He would deny it, and I would ask that you kept it between ourselves, but he only agreed to take the Defence Against the Dark Arts post if you agreed to assist with the younger years."
Harry shook his head.
"Do I have a choice?"
"There is always a choice, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled. "I only ask that you make the right one for yourself, and for Hogwarts."
"That's emotional blackmail!"
"I like to think of it as a loaded incentive. Can I count on you, Harry?"
"Fudge won't like it."
"Cornelius has no say in the matter, though I do expect he will be quite displeased. With Sirius as a governor, your appointment is all but assured."
Harry shook his head once more.
"You're a crafty old sod," he grumbled. "Who else was in on this. I bet you spoke to Nicholas."
"I may have mentioned it, and he agreed that you would be most suitable. Your experience cannot be denied, and you have already proven you a capable of doing it."
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered. "Fine."
"Excellent!" Dumbledore declared jovially as he stood. "The position does come with many benefits that I am sure you will take full advantage of, Professor Potter."
"I'm going to regret this," Harry murmured as Dumbledore took his leave. "I know I'm going to regret this."
He followed in the headmaster's footsteps but did not leave the house through the front door or via the floo network. Instead, he entered the living room where he found Sirius and Tonks talking.
Sirius stood when he noticed Harry, his expression one of nervousness.
"Are you going to hit me again?" he asked.
"No," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I was angry and I shouldn't have punched you."
Sirius snorted as he shook his head.
"I probably deserved it."
"No, you didn't," Harry denied. "Sirius, do you even know why I hit you?"
"Because I did something reckless that could have fucked everything up."
"That's not why I hit you," Harry denied. "I was angry, but I was more hurt that you would put yourself in that position. How do you think I would have felt if you were killed? I'm grateful that you want to help me, but I don't want you to die for me doing something stupid like that, and my parents wouldn't either. He already took them from me, and Katie. You're one of the few people left in my life that I know I can trust implicitly. I don't want to lose you too."
Sirius nodded his understanding.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't think of it that way and I should have."
"You should have," Harry agreed. "Just be careful. I'd rather not bury you next if it can be avoided. I still shouldn't have punched you. I'm sorry for that."
"It bloody hurt," Sirius whined. "You know, James hit me once, but I think yours was worse."
"Why did he hit you?"
"Oh, I almost got Snape eaten by Moony once. That was another mistake, and James let me know what he thought about it. He hated the git, but he didn't want me or Remus to get into trouble."
"It would have done us a favour if it had worked," Harry chuckled. "At least I wouldn't have to put up with him."
"Maybe next time," Sirius said with a grin.
Harry chuckled as he nodded.
"Are you two friends now?"
"Friends," Harry snorted. "He's my godfather, Tonks. He's a bloody prat, but he'll never be just another friend. I do have something you can both help me with. If you're still feeling reckless."
"What is it?" the auror asked suspiciously.
"I need to break into a vault in Gringotts, and I think the two of you are going to be needed."
The auror looked at him as if he'd grown a second head, but Sirius grinned mischievously.
"You don't have to, but I'd rather get in and out without potentially raising an alarm. My best chance if having you two come along with me."
"Break into a vault in Gringotts?" Tonks asked in disbelief. "You do realise how insane that plan is?"
"You've not even heard the plan," Harry pointed out.
Tonks shared a look with Sirius, her hair cycling through a variety of colours.
"Fuck it," she sighed. "Let's hear what your godson has to say. We can always drop him off to the Janice Thickey Ward."
"That's the spirit," Harry returned with a smirk before he explained what the three of them would need to do.