Malfoy Manor Burned Down
By Barnabus Cuffe
Ministry officials were notified regarding an ongoing arson and possible Death Eater activity at Malfoy Manor on Friday afternoon. Aurors arrived on the scene and engaged with over twenty persons wearing the robes and masks of the Death Eaters, according to Ministry spokesperson. The large, historic manor house was already thoroughly ablaze at the time of the aurors' arrival...
...Lord Abraxas Malfoy was visiting St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and was called away by his house elf minutes before the aurors received any alert. Although no identifiable bodies have yet been recovered from inside the mansion, it is the Ministry's opinion that Lord Abraxas, tragically, perished defending his home. This reporter was able to confirm that the Malfoy elf is now residing in the hospital room of Lucius Malfoy, which evidences the servant bond has likely transferred. Lucius Malfoy himself remains too ill to consent to interview, according to a hospital spokesperson. The Malfoy heir has been receiving care for four weeks following the shocking revelations at his criminal trial that he had been illegally exposed to Dementors whilst under the influence of the Imperious curse (for What's Next for the Addled Heir?, turn to page 7)...
...Lady Lucretia Malfoy was also visiting St. Mungo's at the time of the arson and has been offered protective custody by the Ministry. The whereabouts of Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, wife of Lucius Malfoy, are currently unknown. It is possible she was in the manor at the time of the attack. The whereabouts of Sirius Black, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, cousin of Narcissa Malfoy, and recent guest of the Malfoy family according to a source who prefers to remain anonymous, are currently unknown. It is possible that he was in the manor at the time of the attack as well...
...The Ministry has confirmed the arrests of Lord Corban Yaxley, Armando Snyde, Jerome Wilkes, Heath and Priscilla Lee, and Argo Pyrites, author of Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science, in connection with the attack. Additionally, an as-yet unidentified witch was killed on the scene, in Death Eater regalia, with old bite scars and other evidence of lycanthropy. (For more information regarding the accused Death Eaters, turn to page 3).
...The Ministry also has confirmed the deaths of Auror Montgomery Savage and Hit Wizard Ray Ulrich Lightfoot II in the line of duty...
Sirius finished skimming the article fairly quickly. He didn't have the energy to read every word of the lengthy propaganda piece. The gist was the Ministry had no reason to throw more dirt on the Malfoys now the family was basically wiped out, so whoever had spoken to the Prophet had passed off the whole thing as a Death Eater offensive against the Malfoys. Knowing the truth of the matter, it was an obvious ploy to discredit Voldemort amongst the pureblood families that had yet to be swayed to his side. Sure, Voldemort could just as easily use the same spin to threaten reluctant families into obedience, but quotes from Bartemius Crouch Sr. defending his department's response highlighted that the Malfoy wards had flouted regulations requiring certain alarm spells to the Ministry. The implication of course being, Malfoy Manor might still be standing if the family had trusted the Ministry more.
He set the paper down, rubbed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. He looked over towards Moody, who had arrived at almost exactly the same time as The Evening Prophet and had been sitting with Fleamont and Euphemia, waiting for Albus to show up. They were all quietly discussing Order business after unceremoniously throwing the other Marauders out of the room. "The best defense you lot have from spies, interrogation, and casual legilimency is to be in the dark if Black knows something sensitive. Clear off."
Sirius cleared his throat to alert the others he was done reading. "So, that's the official troll shit, is it?"
"Language, Sirius!" Euphemia admonished.
He stared at her for a moment before looking back at Moody. "I'm sorry about Savage and Lightfoot."
Moody nodded curtly at him. "They died in the line of duty. Don't feel guilty for them, kid." He got up and crossed the parlor to sit across from Sirius.
Sirius couldn't help but stare at Moody's mangled eye socket. "I'm sorry for that, too," he said.
"Heh. That one's on me for getting distracted. Constant vigilance, constant vigilance. I broke my own rule, but at least I took down the guy who did it. Now, we'll hold off on the debriefing until Albus shows up. In the meantime, let's see the arm Fleamont was telling me about."
"Must we? It's not a pretty sight. You might lose vision in your other eye," Sirius quipped, even as he dutifully maneuvered it out of its sling.
"I've seen worse," Moody said confidently. Fleamont sat down next to Sirius and carefully unwrapped the arm again. "That is a doozy, though, I'll give you that," Moody observed.
"Looks better than this morning," Euphemia said, sounding pleased. It did, a little. The slice from James' severing charm was closed again, and the extent of the red and blistered skin had shrunk, apparent even through the residual Streeler burn salve. It was still just as swollen and just as painful, though.
"I was expecting better," Fleamont said, frowning down at his handiwork. He took out his wand. "Incendio." A small jet of flame erupted from the tip. He held his left hand over it and clenched his jaw as he let the little finger scald and burn.
"What are you doing?" Euphemia demanded.
"Testing it again. I'll be fine, dear." The fire died. Everyone winced to see the result: the tip of his finger was not just blistered but actually charred. He set down his wand. "Pass me the salve, please." Euphemia snatched up the large, glass jar from the coffee table and unscrewed the lid. Fleamont checked his watch, dipped his burned finger in the brown goo, then held his hand up close to his face to study it. A little while later he checked his watch again and nodded. "Exactly as intended. Pain is gone after thirty-six seconds. Should be fully healed in thirty-six minutes."
"Lucky sod," Sirius grumbled.
"Probably not working because the kid is right, You-Know-Who keeps burning him via the Dark Mark. How many times did he try to summon you today, Sirius?"
"It's not like that. It's not on-again, off-again whenever he reaches out. He started summoning me yesterday, sometime before I woke up after the battle, and it never actually stopped as far as I can tell. Sometimes it flares worse, but the pull and the burn is always there. Probably won't stop until I answer it."
"He does this to all his servants?" Euphemia asked, aghast. "How can they not hate him?"
"It's not usually so intense as this, not that I've been summoned all that much. And to be honest, I'm thinking a fair number are reluctant recruits anyway, even if they don't consciously hate him, even amongst the ones he hasn't personally tortured. Being evil is hard, scary work that most people aren't cut out for, no matter their politics."
"Oh, Sirius! Did he-"
"Not now, Euphemia," Moody interrupted. "You can coddle him later." Sirius shot the auror a grateful look. He had zero desire to wallow in the sordid and traumatic details of life as a Death Eater with his surrogate mother. She already knew he had been hospitalized for prolonged Cruciatus exposure. That should be enough for her to go on.
There was a burst of orange light in the center of the room, Albus Dumbledore flaming in with his phoenix.
Fleamont snapped his fingers. "Headmaster! Let me borrow your bird."
"I do not actually command Fawkes' movements," Dumbledore chuckled. "But if the cause is noble, he will surely assist you. Now, what is... oh, I see." Fleamont quickly summarized Sirius' predicament. The Headmaster nodded gravely and whispered to the beautiful, gold and scarlet phoenix perched on his arm. Fawkes trilled and hopped down to Sirius' lap with a flutter of his wings to stabilize his fall. Sirius had seen the phoenix before, when he was sent up to Dumbledore's office for discipline. He'd even touched it once, a careful, awe-filled pat on the head. He'd never been so close as to study every detail of the feathers and feel the fire bird's incredible warmth. It was like sitting in the most comfortable armchair in the Gryffindor common room next to a roaring fire. At Christmas, because everything was better at Christmas. He reached up with his right hand and ran his fingers along the phoenix's back feathers. They were softer than silk.
Distracted by the magnificent creature on his lap, Sirius didn't even realize what it was doing until Fleamont made a little noise of satisfaction. He glanced around and noticed Fawkes was weeping onto his wound. Right. Phoenix tears had healing properties. He had known that for test-taking purposes at some point. The burn visibly faded even as they watched. Fawkes chirruped in triumph and straightened his neck to nuzzle Sirius' cheek in comfort. Sirius patted his back. "Sorry, buddy, I think you're celebrating too early." The phoenix tears could heal the burn in an instant, true, but they hadn't touched the cursed source. Sirius could still feel the tug, itch, and yes, burn, of the summons. He looked back down and watched the skin gradually redden again. When the first blister popped up, right on the jaw of the tattooed manticore, Fawkes shrieked at it and leapt back up to Dumbledore's shoulder.
Fleamont sighed and conjured a bowl. "It was worth a try. Albus, if you can have Fawkes cry some more for me, I'll try to come up with something to prolong the effect." The bowl and the phoenix were left on the coffee table while Fleamont re-dressed Sirius' arm with the burn salve.
"I am sorry, my boy," Dumbledore said.
Sirius shrugged. "Price of doing business, isn't it?"
Moody coughed. "About that... I'm sorry too." Sirius raised an eyebrow. "During the battle after you left, You-Know-Who ignored the Order at first. He went straight for the house, straight for the drawing room in fact, countering the Fiendfyre."
Sirius grimaced. "You think he was looking for the horcrux."
"Yeah. Which means..."
"He couldn't tell when it was destroyed after all, or he wouldn't have bothered. Which means I probably could have just passed it to you lot and played dumb and been fine and still have my cover... Fuck."
"Yeah."
"We will not mourn our mistake," Dumbledore said firmly. "We made the best decision we could with the information at hand."
"Easy for you to say," Sirius grumbled. Fleamont squeezed his shoulder. Moody looked away guiltily, which made Sirius feel worse. Moody probably felt even worse than he did about this, since he actually knew the people who had died. "Sorry. I'm calm. You're right. We didn't know. No use crying over spilled potion and all that. Debrief time, yes?"
"Quite," Dumbledore responded. He shook back his wide sleeve to reveal a mokeskin pouch, its thongs braided along his arm. He extracted a thick sheaf of parchment from it. "These notes regarding the intelligence you have sent us never leave my person."
"Even in the bath?" Sirius butted in.
..."Even then. Mokeskin repels water, even from the opening of the pouch, unless I as the owner were to place water inside, I suppose... Moving on, once we have gone over the events of yesterday to everyone's satisfaction, I should like to fill in every detail you may have been unable to convey before."
Moody delivered his report first. It was concise, professional, and to the point. He recapped why he had made the decision to cast the Fiendfyre early, without pointing out that it had been Sirius' suggestion first, and then explained why it had proved a tactical mistake. He analyzed the subsequent battle in the same manner, which Sirius found fascinating, and wrapped up with what he had and hadn't reported to his superiors at the Ministry (both the horcrux and Sirius' existence remained secret; both Prewett aurors were trained Occlumensi). Euphemia spoke next, going over Abraxas' arrival with Dobby and the subsequent duel, where she and the others had been at a disadvantage despite their numbers, because Abraxas had appeared halfway up the stairs in a position that left them no physical cover from his curses, while he was free to duck behind his house elf's impregnable shield with ease. It sounded like Abraxas was a fearsomely aggressive duelist to boot, dealing mostly in killing and blasting curses. She avoided looking at Sirius as she spoke of him appearing at the top of the stairs and casting the killing curse on Abraxas almost the same moment.
"Is that true?" Fleamont broke in, laying a hand on Sirius' shoulder again. Sirius nodded. "Why?"
Fleamont's sorrowful and vaguely disappointed expression matched Euphemia's. Moody and Dumbledore just looked sad. Sirius looked at them all with annoyance. "Should I have stunned him and left him for the fire?"
"We could have taken him captive..."
"But to cast the killing curse..."
"Yielded the needed result," Sirius said coldly. "He was between me and the way out. At that point, anything short of offing him would have got me killed, either then or later when the Dark Lord declared me Enemy Number One. D'you really think this was the first time I've cast the killing curse?"
Both Potters looked instinctively towards Dumbledore, whose sad demeanor hadn't changed. They both wilted. "Who...?" Fleamont began, but words failed him.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's kind of an entry requirement. You don't get a Mark if you won't get your hands dirty." He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out Ivan's paperweight. He held it out to Moody. "Here. Ivan Butler. The muggle I told you about back in April? I promised him I'd get this back to his family."
Moody took it with a raised eyebrow. After a moment, he grimaced and nodded. "'Our squib' tracked them down. Will you transfigure it back?"
"Transfigure..." Euphemia whispered, going pale.
Sirius nodded at Moody.
"Then we can cremate him properly and give them the ashes," Moody said. He handed it back.
"And they'll have his ring. It's inside." Sirius cradled Ivan in his palm a moment.
"Is that-"
"Don't ask if you don't want to know," he told Fleamont harshly. "And don't look at me like that! What did you expect? That I could just hang about with Death Eaters for months on end and come back all pure and clean? You're not an idiot. Don't treat me like I am. I know I've done horrible things that neither of you ever would. I'm sorry if that hurts you and changes your opinion of me, but you know what? I don't regret it. I've seen the other side. As bad as I am, they're worse. I'm sorry that I have participated in the deaths of Ivan and other innocent muggles, whether it was because I was in impossible circumstances or because I made a mistake, or because I made decisions that caused more harm than good. I am not sorry for killing Abraxas Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange."
"You killed Lestrange?" Moody asked in surprise. Sirius belatedly remembered he hadn't told Moody that at the time.
"Er, yeah. Golden opportunity, couldn't pass it up. It's alright. Everyone just assumed he got careless when I said one of ours was dead at the end of the raid. Didn't even realize it was Rabastan until we got back to Headquarters. It was pretty surreal being the pall-bearer at his funeral, though. And no, that's not why Bella Crucio'd me."
Euphemia dropped her head into her hands. Fleamont rubbed her back with one hand. "I think, my dear, that Alastor was right to cut us out from these discussions. We are not helping Sirius with our emotions."
"You want him to bring death without feeling?" Euphemia asked, voice a little muffled in her hands. Sirius winced at her words but held his tongue. He hadn't realized how bad it would be to be frank with the two of them. He had mistakenly believed they would already understand, even if they hadn't known everything. If Fleamont could convince her to step out, that would probably be best.
"Of course not, but now is not the time for him to confront all that he has seen, or he may not be able to finish with Alastor and Albus."
She took in a shuddering breath, then reached one hand blindly to squeeze Sirius' knee. "You're right. Sirius, I'm sorry I cannot hear this right now. I still love you. Don't you ever think that will change, because it won't. We will talk about this later."
"We will?" He didn't particularly want a morality lecture.
"We will. But only when and as much as you feel able to."
His heart melted at the compassion in her voice. "I... okay."
She squeezed his knee again and straightened up, without looking at him. Presumably, her face still reflected the disappointment she didn't want him to see. She continued her own disrupted report. "Sirius killed Abraxas. I confess I was afraid in the moment of what he might do next and disarmed him. I wasn't thinking and forgot his recent injury and that he might have trouble getting down the stairs under his own power. Fortunately, James kept his head and summoned Sirius out of the way of the encroaching fire behind him. Unfortunately, Sirius lost consciousness with the fall, and neither James nor I knew the countercurse for Fiendfyre. We stayed in position under our strongest combined shields until you came for us, Headmaster. The rest, you know. I have nothing to add to Alastor's account of the battle. Excuse me." She got up and paced out of the room, dabbing at her eyes. "What are you three doing? Out!" they heard her cry as soon as she got to the hall.
"Don't worry," Fleamont chuckled. "I knew James at least would try to listen in and warded against them before we started." He leaned over and kissed Sirius' hair. "I have nothing of my own to add, Albus. Sirius, do you want me here, or should I leave as well?"
"You're not mad?" he asked before he could stop himself.
"I'm not," Fleamont assured him. "I am sad that you have been exposed to such evil and become desensitized to it. I am sad you have found yourself able to cast a curse so dark as the Avada Kedavra. But I know you, Sirius. I trust your heart is in the right place, even if it has been battered."
Sirius nodded. "If you want, you can stay. But... if you want to leave, you should. I wouldn't blame you." It didn't really matter. The worst had already been said. It probably would be easier to just talk with Moody and Dumbledore, though.
Fleamont seemed to understand. "I'll go and start working on a new salve for you with the phoenix tears. Who knows how many patents I'm going to get out of treating you?"
"Thank you."
Once the door closed behind him, Moody said, "Don't know if my portrait told you back in the spring, but almost every auror ends up killing someone if they do the job long enough, even pre-wartimes. We try to limit cruelty and death as much as possible, of course, but sometimes, it's inevitable. And although it's important to keep in mind the sanctity of life, you can't let the job crush you, either."
Dumbledore nodded. Thankfully, he chose not to preach at the moment. "Sirius, tell us about yesterday. Why did Narcissa choose to stay at home?"
Sirius took a breath and started recounting his version of events. He left out the part where he specifically told Dobby to come back with Abraxas. He didn't need these two judging him for his premeditated murder too. He did admit to summoning the Dark Lord, but that was pretty much the only thing he added to the story they didn't already know or guess. Surprisingly, although Moody was a bit pissed about that, Dumbledore wasn't. He agreed the Fiendfyre had gotten quite out of hand by that point, and "While I would have been able to put it out myself, eventually, I would have expended much more of my energy and would have been less prepared when Voldemort did eventually, inevitably, arrive. Better for Voldemort to show up faster and do his fair share of fire-fighting. Young Bella was also quite helpful in that respect. She is a talented witch and clearly still cares for you. I admit I was surprised when she barged in on Voldemort and myself, having finished putting out the fires and still searching the mansion for your body... but I digress. You have done well, Sirius. Frankly, you have surpassed my every expectation from when we first spoke of your desire to become a spy. Your bravery and perseverance humble me."
"Er, thanks, Professor."
"Thank you. Now, let us move on to what is, hopefully, a less grim business." He moved to sit next to Sirius and spread his notes across the coffee table before them, divided into several stacks. "We should first confirm our list of known Death Eaters." This part was fairly tedious. He had no new names to give the Order, nor had he any significant interactions with most of the people on the list. He was able to confirm a few of the names on the suspect list, more specifically their faces when Moody brought out surveillance photographs. He recognized a few from the dreadful meeting after Lucius' trial, when so many had been de-masked. He also added a few to the suspect list who had been in attendance at Rabastan's funeral. If they weren't bona fide Death Eaters, they were certainly sympathizers. Moody and Dumbledore fell to discussing ways they could use this latest information, who they should prioritize for surveillance, who they should attempt to ambush for arrest.
It sounded like a rather tired argument to Sirius. After Moody grumpily reminded Dumbledore of Antonin Dolohov's fifth escape from the same kind of ambush they were discussing, during which the Death Eater had managed to kill two aurors and a car full of muggles, he finally interrupted. "Look, I won't pretend to know more about the Order's resources and logistics than you, but seriously, why are you aiming to capture people like Dolohov and my cousin at this point? If they're that slippery and that dangerous, assassinate them! It's not like you even need a killing curse to do it if you're wary of Dark magic! A well-aimed, well-timed, nonverbal Diffindo will work to decapitate them!"
"It's not so simple, Sirius," Moody said impatiently. "I'm the Head of the Auror Department. If I start authorizing extra-judicial killings, then the enemy has halfway won. I can't be the one to break the law, not so blatantly. There's a long history, both wizarding and muggle, of people turning against a government that becomes too authoritative, too cruel, too unaccountable. If the Ministry goes too far, especially if we start operating outside our own laws with impunity, it'll be that much easier for people to think of You-Know-Who as a viable alternative."
"The Ministry already legalized Unforgivables," Sirius pointed out in disbelief.
"A move neither I nor Alastor supported. That was Barty's initiative," Dumbledore quickly contended.
Moody didn't look in full agreement, but he didn't contradict the headmaster either. Instead, he clarified, "You'll note if you read the actual law, rather than the Daily Prophet's or Abraxas Malfoy's interpretations of it, Unforgivables are legalized only in life-threatening combat situations. Additionally, aurors are guided to use the Imperious rather than killing curse if possible, as a way to neutralize our foes. It would not be legal for me to sneak up on Bellatrix Lestrange while she's shopping and cast a killing curse on her without warning. None of our warrants go so far as a 'kill on sight' order. I admit that is partly down to blood purists and other Death Eater sympathizers inside the Ministry; the only sub-department I am reasonably certain remains free of You-Know-Who's followers is my own. Still, the more important reason for our measured approach is because there's no way to be sure we wouldn't hit a relative or someone glamoured or Polyjuiced by mistake. Also, the moment we do issue orders to kill, you can bet your inheritance the Death Eaters will start dressing up captured muggles and muggleborns in enemy robes and faces and set them wandering the streets either Confunded or Imperioused, just to get us to kill them."
They would, too. Bella would think it was hilarious. "Fine, whatever. That is so half-arsed, but I'm not a politician. So why can't the Order do it? You're constantly tailing them. You're already an illegal paramilitary operation..."
"And one which stands in defense of the Light," Dumbledore said, firmly but gently. "Our members join because they believe in the nobility of our cause. They choose to fight without killing not because it is easy but because it is right. Perhaps Alastor and his team could have killed ten Death Eaters yesterday, perhaps even your cousin, if he were willing to fight as they do, without discipline and without conscience. It is not only strength and ability that defines us and our conflict, however. It is our choices."
"Troll. Shit," Sirius snarled. "You held back on the Dark Lord yesterday, didn't you, with your stupid 'capture, not kill' philosophy? You think it's easy to do as I've done? Fuck you! Moody, if you or anyone else had the chance to kill Bellatrix yesterday, you should have taken it without a second thought, as common sense and a moral imperative. You both know what she is! I've told you! Letting her go free is not some virtuous high ground; it is a death sentence upon her next innocent victim that you failed to protect. Rabastan was literally helping the wholesale slaughter of an entire family when I got him! Sure, Abraxas was in my way when I killed him, but I wouldn't have wanted to kill him if he wasn't also an evil git who decided it was politically expedient to destroy his own child's mind and had a personal library of 'how to eliminate a civilization' hidden in his house." Sirius had looked up the words genocide, pogrom, chemical warfare, and biological warfare in the Malfoy's unabridged Oxford English Dictionary on Wednesday (the one muggle publication all the poshest pureblood families in England owned; it was a fad dating back to the publication of the second edition in 1933, championed by the late dowager lady and polyglot Agrippina Crouch). He had then gone down the world's most horrifying rabbit trail reading the cross-references. He hadn't been able to rest that night with the knowledge of what the man sleeping a few doors away was probably planning to do with the power he was so diligently seeking. He slept much better on Thursday night, once he decided to murder the problem.
Dumbledore bowed his head. "You are right, of course, Sirius. You have been far closer to the horror than anyone else of late, and you desire nothing more than to stop it however you can. Believe you me, that desire is not what concerns me. I sympathize with it entirely. I even once fought as you did, believing a good end justified all means. The first steps down that path are so deceptively uncomplicated, it is only too late that one realizes..."
"I know. You're talking to the bloke who broke down in tears in an alley in London after I read the newspaper coverage of the stampede. I know there's consequences, that taking moral risks can come back to bite you in the arse."
"It can do more than that," Dumbledore warned. "You should know that better than I do, too. You have read and understood Secrets of the Darkest Art! Sirius, killing without regret tears your soul, and there is no other way to cast Avada Kedavra."
"Oh, yeah? Have you cast it?" For the first time, Dumbledore's calm expression of cool omniscience faltered. Moody raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore quickly shook his head. "No. I have not. I will not."
Didn't say 'I cannot,' Sirius barely refrained from pointing out. "Well, I have. Don't tell me my business. The first time I cast it was on a mouse." He patted the stone paperweight still resting in his lap. "The second time was on Ivan. I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me I don't regret that Ivan had to die. But I tell you, when I cast the Avada on him, it was easy because I was full of pity, after everything else I'd already had to do to him. I've also cast the Avada at nothing at all, yesterday while pretending to duel Moody. And I'm told I'm a fair hand at the Cruciatus, again courtesy of Ivan, when I'm concentrating solely on the goal of fooling Bella and sticking it to the Dark Lord. Yes, it takes negative emotion to cast the Unforgivables, but it doesn't have to be soul-rending sadistic intent. It can be spite, or fear, or grief, or empathetic pain and be just as effective if you know what you're about. That's what Bella used to send me to the hospital, you know. She was grieving for Rabastan, and she was projecting that grief into a fear of losing me. She's nuts, and I hate her, but she's brilliant."
"Beware, Sirius. The Dark arts can warp the mind even as they tarnish the soul..."
"There's too much mystique wrapped up in Dark and Light magic alike. Both you and the Dark Lord spread lies about it. Insanity correlates with the use of Dark magic, because either you or your circumstances have to mad to consider using it. But the only magic that actually causes insanity are the ones deliberately inflicting it on a victim, like the Cruciatus or the Essence of Insanity. There's other Dark rituals and things that will guaranteed cause horrendous physical effects, but destruction of the mind and soul is not inevitable, I think. I say the killing curse is a tool, and a valuable one. We should use it, for the greater good."
Dumbledore actually recoiled from him. "The Order of the Phoenix will not stoop to assassination," he said firmly.
"Shame," Moody muttered. Dumbledore glared at him. "What? The lad's not wrong. We'd all be in a happier place right now if you'd strolled up to You-Know-Who back when he would still occasionally appear making speeches in public and just blown him up. It would have caused a hubbub, and you might not have escaped with a clean soul and clean reputation, but the rest of the world would have."
"Except you didn't know about his horcrux then," Sirius pointed out with a grin. "But thanks for the vote of confidence, Moody. And yeah, Professor, even if you're right and I've torn my soul and whatnot... that's not a bad trade from where I'm sitting. My soul is worth a lot of lives."
Dumbledore and Moody were both silent for a moment. Then Dumbledore said, "Your willingness to sacrifice yourself is also humbling, Sirius. I will not argue with you further, not now, though I would still caution you against killing too easily."
Sirius shifted. "You know what the one really good thing about the Avada Kedavra is?" Dumbledore shook his head wordlessly. "There's no collateral damage. There's almost no chance of killing someone by accident with it, like I have with blasting curses, stunners, and a simple Sonorus. The only way to do that is to have bad aim. Tell you what, though, if you ever think I'm going too far, pull me back, oh conscience."
"I think, if ever you go too far, it will be because you are no longer reachable," Dumbledore said slowly.
Sirius shrugged. "I know how to curse paired jewels now, for you to take me down remotely. I can make us some friendship bracelets before I leave." Dumbledore grimaced. Sirius grinned mischievously.
Moody cleared his throat. "About that, leaving. You'll understand I hope we never have to send you back out there in general. More importantly, we need to discuss if it's even an option now."
"Why wouldn't it be?" Sirius asked quickly, glad of the change of subject.
"Two reasons. One, the Dark Lord has been calling you for over twenty-four hours, and you have yet to answer. How likely is it he decides to kill you first for ignoring him and ask questions later if you come back too late to his summons?"
"Eh. He'll start with the Cruciatus. He only finishes people off when he's no longer mad at them. And it's hardly my fault you lot knocked me unconscious and kidnapped me and force fed me a ton of experimental potions in the misguided belief you were helping to rehabilitate a victim of the Imperious curse. I'll make sure to take a pain potion or something right before leaving so I'm suitably perturbed. He'll probably think it's funny once he gets over his initial fury. I'll be fine."
"Are you certain that what you are feeling is merely a summons? And not an effort to eliminate a traitor, given its resistance to Fawkes?" Dumbledore asked bluntly.
Nope. "Of course I'm sure."
..."Right. The other problem is the house elf. You know, the one who was right there both when you found the horcrux and when you murdered his master."
"Oh, Dobby? You're seriously not complaining I let the little guy live after the discussion we just had, are you?"
Moody scowled at him. "No."
"Just checking. I think we should be safe there. He was pretty shocked. He wasn't looking at me, he had his eyes on Euphemia and James, guarding Abraxas' back. And he couldn't have heard me over the Fiendfyre. He will probably assume the Fiendfyre got Abraxas once he stops to think about it. Plus, he likes me. I even yelled at him to clear out and save himself, which he might not have thought to do without an authority figure to tell him. If anything, he'll probably be ecstatic to see me. He's probably been twisting his ears over not thinking to bring me with him. Elves are funny like that. And if not, if he did blab to Narcissa and the Dark Lord and whoever about me, well, it was worth a shot."
Dumbledore finally smiled slightly again, while Moody's frown only deepened. "I see your reckless, self-destructive tendencies are alive and well, dear boy," Dumbledore said.
Sirius shrugged. "Gryffindor."
"Touché."
"Bloody Gryffindors," Moody huffed.
"On that note, I think we should let young Sirius rest, Alastor. You especially are going to have a lot of work to do in the coming days."
"The Dark Lord's vengeance," Sirius said grimly.
"Indeed."
Author's note: I had fun writing Sirius' Rant. Thanks for the reviews. Next update will probably be next Saturday, but maybe sooner depending on how busy I am.