Chapter 5
Remus collapsed into his armchair and stared at the correspondence again. It had been a day since he had received it, but still, it was inconceivable that Sirius could be with Harry. Sirius had died escaping Azkaban. Everyone knew that. And yet, here was proof otherwise. There was no way that Harry could have known those things in both the letter and in the Post-Script without speaking to Sirius. Thus, Sirius must be with him. Or, perhaps, he had been writing to Sirius all along?
Remus shook his head. That, too, was impossible. He dredged up some old textbooks he knew Sirius had scribbled in. The handwriting in the postscript was cruder – likely a side effect of disuse - but a fair match for Sirius' old style. What was supposedly Harry's handwriting was wildly different than his old friend's. That meant two people at least, one of which was Sirius.
Bringing his hands together, Remus closed his eyes and attempted to calm his breathing. In his heart, he was convinced he was corresponding with Harry. If he was actually writing to James' son, then there was only one choice to make. Either Sirius was innocent or he was guilty, and it made no difference. He would go to his best friend's son.
With a deep breath Remus rose from the armchair and proceeded to his kitchen. Pulling an inkwell and quill from a cupboard he sat at the table to write a short missive.
Harry,
Your letter left me in a state of disbelief, and I apologize for the tardiness of my reply. However, I reiterate my desire to come to tutor you. I ask only for several hours to procure some truth serum.
Remus Lupin
Deciding that it would be best to ignore Sirius' presence at the moment – it could be unwise to issue ominous threats which may be unnecessary – he attached the note to Harry's owl and sent her on his way. As he watched the owl fly away he wondered if he should be handling this differently. Should he have engaged the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? In every situation he could imagine, it could only be folly for a werewolf to alert the Ministry to something they were probably doing their best to keep hidden. No, he would have to visit himself.
Remus Lupin paused only a few additional moments before rising, grabbing his cloak, and with a crack - apparating to Diagon Alley.
As per Nibgit's instructions, Harry and Sirius hastily responded to the goblins' letter, requesting and promptly receiving the Gringott's supplied portkey. In their reply, they specified that the portkey should activate at 9:00 AM the next morning.
The rest of the day was uneventful as the two decided to forgo any productive activities and simply relaxed in each other's company, sharing stories to distract themselves from the impending day ahead. With a shared penchant for mischief, swapping tales served as a welcome diversion.
The following morning, Sirius rose early, and the two silently shared a light breakfast prepared by Tilly. While Sirius leafed through the Daily Prophet, Harry immersed himself in a book from the library, both eagerly counting down the minutes until the portkey was set to activate. Just minutes before the appointed time, Sirius cleared his throat, prompting Harry to check the time in a moment of panic.
"Harry," Sirius started, "I appreciate you believing in me, no matter the outcome today. I'm—"
Harry interrupted him, saying, "Don't be ridiculous, Sirius. Everything will work out, and we'll look back on this day and laugh at our worries. Plus, they can't catch you again before we reunite you with Remus. It would be a travesty of justice." He grinned, and Sirius returned the gesture gratefully.
"I do understand, though," Harry said, averting his gaze from the escaped prisoner, "and you're welcome."
No more words were exchanged as the portkey sprang to life.
"Welcome, Lord Potter – Lord Black." The greeting came before the portkey vertigo wore off and Harry was relieved to recognize the voice of Nibgit. Sirius, having never met the goblin before, jumped and spun in his direction.
"Easy, Lord Black," Nibgit spoke softly. "You are in no danger inside Gringotts."
Sirius visibly relaxed at the assurance and quickly glanced at Harry, who offered him a relieved smile of his own.
"Thank you – Nibgit, I presume?" Sirius spoke questioningly.
"Correct, Lord Black, and I must say it is very good to see that the rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated." Sirius grinned.
"It is good to see you again, Nibgit," Harry interjected with a wide smile of his own. "I've not had the opportunity in some time to thank you for all of the assistance you've offered me – and it seems that my debt to you only grows." He bowed slightly to the old goblin, who waved his hand as if to say the matter was nothing.
"I, and Gringotts, have done what we believe to be right, Lord Potter, for you, your godfather, and our nation. That said – Lord Black, we will be requiring a Heritage Ritual of you in order to assist with the claiming of your assets held here at Gringotts. Lord Potter, I should very much like to take some time with you to discuss your own inheritance, as we've had the results for some time."
Each of the two Lords nodded their heads in acceptance. Nibgit ran his fingers over some wards engraved on his desk and the three engaged in small talk as they waited for a goblin, who Harry thought he recognized as Griphook, to enter the room.
"Griphook," Nibgit confirmed Harry's suspicion of the goblin's identity. "Please take Lord Black here to the ritual room for a Heritage Ritual."
Griphook nodded and gestured for Sirius to follow him. "I'll be back soon, Harry," Sirius said.
"I know," Harry replied. "And don't worry – the pain goes away really quickly." Sirius gave a worried look as he left the room and Harry chuckled at his small prank before turning back to Nibgit.
"My apologies about not making time to visit your bank sooner, Nibgit. As you can probably guess, I've been rather busy since my reintroduction to the world of magic – especially so since meeting my Godfather."
Nibgit nodded in acceptance. "It is of no consequence, Lord Potter. You have, after all, survived without this information for sixteen years. That said, I do have quite a bit of good news to share with you. As I suspected, you are indeed an heir of several now extant family lines. Some of these lines were already known based on your Potter heritage, which is well documented, while others seem to have come from your mother's line.
"Those that were already recognized, in addition to the Potter family, are the Gryffindor and Peverell inheritances. You are the primary inheritor of the Peverell line, and an auxiliary inheritor of Gryffindor's. Hogwarts is the main beneficiary of the Gryffindor inheritance. Those assets which belonged to your family have long been a part of the Potter assets, and are housed in the family vault or amongst your family properties. I would expect no benefit from these inheritances your father did not have.
"A couple new inheritances, however, have been revealed by the ritual. The Rothschilds family is the first. What little I've found on them indicates that they were largely a family of researchers. Their vaults contained a mere 250 galleons and change, so there is no sizeable inheritance there. If you'd like, Griphook can accompany you and your godfather to the vaults of these two families after the two of them return from Lord Black's Heritage Ritual."
Harry nodded his acceptance of that.
"The second inheritance surprised me greatly, Lord Potter. The line is very well documented, and it is doubtful that it came to you through one of your parents – certainly not through your father. It is possible that the basin has deemed you an inheritor of the line based on magical similarity of some sort. The bloodline is that of Slytherin. You are only an auxiliary inheritor of the line, and have no liquid assets which will come to you. However, I should suspect this will cause quite the commotion if it is revealed.
"I am not certain, Lord Potter, how much you have familiarized yourself with the history of our world thus far – but the primary heir of Slytherin is well known as he who names himself Lord Voldemort."
Harry nodded slowly. He had read quite extensively on the last war, and had familiarized himself with Voldemort. "I, too, must admit ignorance as to how I could be an inheritor of that line – and I thank you for the warning." The elder goblin returned the young Lord's nod and the two spoke on other matters until Sirius and Griphook returned.
It was difficult to think of anything but the travel when riding the goblin carts to the vaults, a security measure the goblins had put into place. The jerking of the cart and rises and falls of the track consistently demanded attention of the riders and Harry was little able to concentrate on anything else. After some time the cart began to slow and came to a stop.
"Vault 432, Rothschild Family Vault, Lord Potter," Griphook announced.
"My thanks, Griphook." Harry handed over the key, which he had obtained upstairs, and Griphook approached the vault door. Inserting the key and working a goblin spell, the door swung open. There was nothing of immediate note to any of their eyes and both Harry and Sirius entered the vault proper. A bookcase sat off to the left of the small space, a quick perusal showed tomes on a number of subjects, and some with bindings that had no title.
The middle shelf, however, held a cauldron-like object that seemed to draw Sirius' eyes.
"Harry! That is a pensieve!" Sirius exclaimed with joy.
"So, I imagine it has something to do with thoughts?"
"Astute, Lord Potter," Griphook observed. "A pensieve is a magical device that allows one to review memories, which can be magically pulled from your mind and placed in the basin."
Sirius shrugged in apology. "You pick it all up so fast, I sometimes forget that you were not raised in our world."
Harry shrugged. "It's not a big deal. This thing sounds useful though."
Sirius nodded feverishly. "Oh absolutely. A pensieve can be used to examine a memory in great detail, and will often allow you to revisit a memory and extract detail that your brain captured but you would otherwise not recall. Not only that, but if there are multiple memories of the same event placed into the pensieve, it can recreate the event to be viewed from any angle!"
"Sounds really useful," Harry mused again. "Alright, we should take it. Maybe we should take the books too, I don't seem to recognize most of the titles from our library at home." Harry turned to their goblin guide. "Griphook, does Gringotts deliver?"
The goblin nodded in the affirmative. "We do indeed, Lord Potter. There is normally a small fee, but I would be happy to waive it for you." Griphook received a thankful nod.
"In that case then, perhaps it is time to return home, Harry," Sirius contributed.
"I think you're right, Sirius."
Initially planning to purchase the serum, Remus decided to rely on his brewing skills to craft a potion stronger than anything a parent might use to coax the truth out of a reticent child. Gathering the necessary ingredients from the Diagon Alley apothecary, Remus swiftly returned to his abode and began the meticulous process of brewing. The potion he concocted, the veriverbium potion, while not as potent as veritaserum, was still formidable. Remarkably, it only took a little over two hours to brew, a testament to Remus' expertise in potion making.
Minutes after bottling the potion, Harry's majestic white owl, Hedwig, swooped in through the werewolf's window.
"Hello, Hedwig," Remus greeted the owl, his hands steady as he reached for some owl treats. Despite his nerves, his confidence in his abilities shone through. With deft fingers, he untied the package attached to Hedwig's feet and quickly scanned the missive. It contained a simple message instructing Remus to speak the words 'Potter Manor' and hold the letter when ready to travel.
As his stomach churned with a mix of excitement and apprehension, Remus took a moment to gather himself and draw upon his inner strength. Grasping the vial of veriverbium potion, Remus turned to the owl. "I'll meet you soon at Harry's. Potter Manor," he said with conviction.
With a swift whoosh, Hedwig departed, leaving the cottage quiet in her wake.
Watching someone appear by portkey was disorienting. As far as Harry could determine, a portkey acted much as a wormhole would as theorized by muggle physics. It created a link between two places in the fabric of space-time and allowed nearly instantaneous travel betwixt those two points without the hassle of having to traverse the normal distance between. On the observing end, it looked as if the one appearing manifests into re-existence as though they stepped through an invisible screen.
The man before Harry looked little like the pictures he had found in the manor of his father with the rest of the Marauders. He was older. Much older. It was clear that the years had taken a much harder tool on his body than perhaps even Sirius' years did on his own. His hair, at age 37, was already gray, his skin, wrinkled and leathered. As Harry watched the gentleman, he in turn was watched.
Remus' eyes wandered over the young man in front of him. Any thought that he may have not been in communication with James' child was banished as soon as his vision came back into focus from the portkey vertigo. He was the spitting image of the deceased Potter at that age, and seeing such a clone opened an ache is Remus' heart he thought had been closed.
"Hello. Remus, I presume?" Harry broke the silence between them. As he spoke he advanced and offered his hand.
Remus took it. "Yes. And you're Harry. No mistaking that." A croaky voice matched his aged appearance.
Harry flashed a smile, reminding Remus again of James. "Sirius has said much the same thing. He is inside, by the way. We thought it best to not alarm you on arrival with the sight of both of us." Remus nodded his thanks and Harry eyed the vial he carried in his hand. "Is that your truth potion?"
Remus inclined his head in the affirmative.
"Excellent. If you would follow me, we'll have the two of you re-united in but a moment."
"I'm more than thrilled to be re-united with you too, Harry. Beyond thrilled, in fact. I tried to get custody of you after your parents were murdered. I'm sorry I was unable to be there for you."
Harry's eyes softened a little. "I did not know that Remus. Sirius told me about your affliction; I assume that was the reason your custody was denied?" Remus confirmed it. "Well, losing a parent figure one to two nights a month would have been far preferable to never having one in the first place. I, also, regret I did not grow up with someone who would have taken care of me." He sighed. "The rest of the stories can continue later. Sirius is probably wearing a hole in the carpet."
Stunned by what little Harry had revealed about his life thus far, Remus could not suppress a small grin at Harry's obvious disdain for Sirius' habit of pacing. Perhaps everything would work out just fine, he thought. He could not have been more right.
Hermione Granger was covered in muck. It was a practical choice, however much it made her feel disgusting. Scratches, of varying depth, adorned her arms and legs as she crawled through the undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest. Soft noises behind her indicated that her two compatriots were still with her. Neither of them were happier about the situation, but all three were here to win. Defense against the Dark Arts school challenges were always the most anticipated.
Stopping her crawl, Hermione signaled to her two followers that something was ahead, muffled voices had reached her. They seemed to be coming closer. Her wand was out, but thus far unused. Magic, after all, gave a signal when used. The only truly practical way of sneaking up on someone was to do it the old fashioned way. Thus, the reason she and her friends were crawling through the mud and muck. The voices were close enough to hear now, she gave another signal.
"Neville has the fort on lockdown, with our other three down I don't think -"The voice was cut short as three beams of red light jetted from the underbrush. One had been aimed at the speaker, two at his patrol partner.
Hermione waited only a moment before climbing to her feet and running up to the unconscious bodies. "Blaise, strip the wands while I check for their participation signets," Hermione cut out. The boy with jet black skin and an olive complexion followed the orders without hesitation. Both wands disappeared into a mokeskin pouch. Hermione quickly found identical bracelets on both their victims and claimed them before disillusioning the bodies and leaving a token that would draw a faculty member to the area. Both Blaise and Hermione retreated to the relative cover of the brush.
"Well done," Hermione praised. "Thanks for keeping the eye out, Padma, while Blaise and I searched them."
"No problems, did we get what we need?" The Indian girl asked breathlessly. Hermione held up the bracelets. Once your bracelet was taken, even if you were revived by a teammate you could not rejoin the competition. Additionally, every collected bracelet counted as a point towards tiebreakers and challenge standings.
"Only two. Hopefully we'll encounter the rest of their group. Let's continue on though. Based on their conversation, it seemed Neville currently held the compound."
"Gents, a few short magical pulses were detected from the direction of the forest. I imagine we'll see an incoming from there within the next twenty minutes."
Neville grimaced. "You'd think they'd have given up by now. Time is almost up. We need to hold this position for only another half hour."
The red-headed boy that delivered the original report turned and rolled his eyes, leaving the explanation to his sister. "Neville, in this type of competition, I would expect we'd see even more activity closer to the end. Remember, the one that holds this position at four o'clock is the victor. Though we've held it for an hour, it will matter little if we lose it at the end."
This version of the Defense Against the Dark Arts competition was a King of the Hill style student versus student competition. Teams were made of five or less. The prize was extra credit on the next DADA exam and four hundred galleons worth of certificates to Diagon Alley stores. There was a bonus of five galleons for each signet taken from an opposing player. The two years that made up the NEWT level programme consisted of roughly two hundred students, potentially forty groups of five.
In actuality, the number of competing groups was slightly less, and the average group was made of slightly less than five. Neville was not too concerned about the competition. In his estimation there were only about ten groups left, and some of them must be down members. His group was young, true, but they were talented and worked well together. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas has been friends of his since the very first hour on the train. Both had been properly awed at his station in the wizarding world and each had a desire to better themselves so they could help the Boy-Who-Lived shine. The two Weasleys were different. Ron had been in his year, but during the first year of schooling the two had little to do with each other. That changed when his sister Ginevra arrived in Neville's second year. She had integrated herself into Neville's group of friends flawlessly, and brought her brother in quickly. The five had been best friends for years and Neville was proud to have their loyalty.
The Weasleys were a well-respected pureblood family. They bred talent in ways that few family did. Each of their seven children had come to Hogwarts, an incredible feat. They were not a wealthy family, as many of the old pure-blood families were, due to the Weasley family trait of seeking out the employment each most desired, regardless of pay. The oldest of their children was a cursebreaker for Gringotts, one of the goblin nation's few human employees. He took the job for the adventure and the challenge, and though he was well-paid, he was mostly the exception. The second brother, Charlie, had aspired to be a dragon-handler. It was a low paying job, a calling, not a profession, but according to his friends, their brother loved every minute of it.
The other Weasley siblings still attended Hogwarts Institute for Higher Magical Education. Percival aspired to the Ministry in some sort of Administrative Assistant role. The twins, Fred and George, had taken an interest in both enchanting and potions, with a possible developing interest in alchemy. Of them all, the twin's talents seemed best suited to making a living down the line.
Neville had no siblings. He did not even have parents. At first, he was jealous of what the Weasleys had, but his grandmother had set him straight. He did have a family of sorts in his friends, and he was more successful than any Weasley could ever dream to be. Well, almost any Weasley. Neville snuck a glance at Ginevra.
"Ginny," he thought wistfully. She should not have been in this competition at all, but had earned the right to compete at the NEWT level by blowing the curve in DADA within the OWL programme. Beyond that, she was beautiful, and she paid to him such attention. He was sure that she did not know of his crush, but hopefully that would change soon. Not even his grandmother could complain about courtship one day into the Weasley family.
"Alright. We've got fifteen minutes until four." The speaker, an immaculately groomed young man with platinum blonde hair, had a seductively smooth voice. It was something he practiced daily during the summer holidays with his father. Draco Malfoy was heir to one of the most active political families of the Wizarding World and the one day future whip of what amounted to the Anti-Muggle political party within the Wizengamot. He had been working on building a base of support within his class from his very first year at Hogwarts. Largely, he was as successful as his father had been.
"Those blood-traitors aren't going to know what hit them, are they boss?" asked another.
Draco allowed himself a grin, he liked being the boss. "No Goyle, I don't suspect they will." Raising his wand, Draco shot a flare into the sky. Second later, two answering flares shot up, triangulating the fort.
The rules said you could only have five per group. They mentioned nothing about group coordination. Draco could make promises enough to encourage other groups of his colleagues to help him achieve victory. Carefully, fifteen students began their advance on the fort.
"As I suspected," Ron announced. "That's got to be Draco. Looks like we're expecting company." Opening a porthole, he launched a stupefy towards the advancing group, it was returned fivefold. "Whelp, fifteen minutes is a long time. I think our only chance is to charge one of the groups and try for a defeating them in detail."
Neville was cursing up a storm. "How can they do this?! We've been here over an hour and they try to come in at the last moment to win?"
Ginevra placed a hand on his shoulder. "Calmly, Neville. We knew this was coming, remember. I think we should follow Ron's advice. No one can beat us in even combat with you leading the way."
Seamus nodded in agreement. "I think we should go at the group approaching directly from Hogwarts. I thought a caught a glimpse of Goldstein there. He's always been the weakest, magically, of Draco's minions."
"Alright then. You're right of course. There is no one that can stand up to us in this competition. We'll concede the fort and then fight back in. Dean, you take point. I'll follow with Ron. Seamus and Ginevra, give us some cover." Smiles came back all around. It was good to be the leader, especially with such a great team.
"Let's do it."
Hermione, Blaise, and Padma were watching the fort. They, too, had expected something like this from Draco. He always did like to flaunt the rules. Luckily for them, expecting it had led them into the perfect position to counter. Draco's forest side group had little notice for the ambush. Their leader, Theodore Nott, was down before any of the rest even knew what was happening. Daniel Poore followed less than a second later. The three on three battle that followed was less fair than most. Hermione and her compatriots were high performers in DADA, and Blaise was specializing in dueling. Alone, he was more than a match for any two of his opponents, and each was quickly finished off.
Though it had seemed in some ways a long battle, a mere minute had passed. Applying disillusionment charms, the three advanced on the fort. Approaching the entrance, Hermione knelt down in as much cover as she could find. The others moved to cover her.
Pointing her wand at herself, Hermione murmured a short incantation and her body fell slack. The spell was an advanced sensory transference charm. Hermione had modified an existing spell for the purpose of casting her senses not to another, but outside of her body alone. In a spirit-like form, she could propel her senses very short distances and still coherently interpret them. Her body, bereft of its senses, was much like a corpse, only those autonomous functions necessary for life were maintained.
This instance found Hermione propelling her senses skyward. From roughly twenty feet in the air she could both see and hear the sounds of battle on the other end of the fort. She saw Draco, and his ever present bodyguard, Goyle, at the center of the compound, clearly waiting for 4:00 while his compatriots engaged Neville and the Weasleys on the Hogwarts side. Seeing enough, she willed her senses back to her body.
Returning was an odd sensation, and it always took a minute to be used to the confinement of her senses once more, but quickly she related what she saw to her companions. "Draco and Goyle are at the center alone. The rest of Draco's group is engaging Neville's. I think we have a chance."
Blaise and Padma looked at her, bemused. "One day you'll have to teach me how you do that," Padma spoke softly. Blaise nodded his agreement.
"Just as soon as you," she pointed at Padma, "teach me how to make an aura visible. Or you," pointing at Blaise, "teach me how to design a curse with a curved trajectory." Both addressed just smiled at the old argument.
"Alright, well, ignoring the fact that there is not one of us that is going to give up their secrets," Blaise began, "let's do this."
"Jolly good evening, Croaker." Fudge tipped his bowler hat at the thinner man in greeting. It was November 15th. Slightly longer than three months had passed since the Ministry of Magic had declared Sirius Black dead in an escape attempt. Fudge's good humor stemmed primarily from the fact that the Black estate was still tied up with litigation in the Wizengamot. He had prepared the paperwork for the seizure of the Black assets that evening and had sent his most trusted toady to push the paperwork through the Goblin Liaison Office. Come tomorrow, the Ministry's budget for the year would be well in the green.
Croaker inclined his head back to the Minister. "I trust everything is proceeding as planned, Minister?"
"Yes it is. I sent Dolores with the paperwork not fifteen minutes ago. She'll deliver notification to the Wizengamot offices after close tonight. None will know until it is all finished."
Croaker hid a sniff of disdain at the name of Fudge's confidant. He was of the opinion the woman was the worst type of flunky. She was zealous, and far too eager to please. A pondering about troublesome priests came to Croaker's mind. Yes, he was sure Delores would act the same as those knights. Still, there was hardly a way she could foul up a delivery.
"Excellent. I look forward to the Ministry's good fortune. Until tomorrow then?"
"Until tomorrow, Croaker."
The two bid their adieus and exited through fireplaces in the Ministry atrium. Each arrived home satisfied that tomorrow would bring good fortune. They could not have been more wrong.
His good mood lasted until breakfast, which, given Cornelius Fudge's habit of eating in bed, was not very long at all. The morning headline proclaimed loudly that which he least wanted to see.
Anonymous Lord Black Claims Estate
How was such possible? Sirius Black had had no contact with anyone before his death and the Minister of Magic was certain the convict had died. Surely, Black had not left a will. He had been barely twenty-two when he was incarcerated, and he had been disavowed by his family to boot! Perhaps an older will had gone into effect with Sirius' passing?
While that certainly could explain how there was a new Lord Black, it did nothing to assuage the gnawing fear in his stomach over the reaction in the Wizengamot to the memo Delores would have posted to each of the members last night. If Croaker's ploy had been successful, the fallout, while serious, would have no doubt been mitigated by the intake of funds. Now, there was nothing to show for a chance taken. The attempt would no doubt be a black mark on his record in the eyes of the Lords, and they were likely to make him resent the attempt at usurping a Lord's estate.
Politics made for strange bedfellows, Amelia Bones thought as she watched Lucius Malfoy confer with Catherine Brown. The two were diametrically opposed in ideology, but it seemed that the Minister's memo had brought them together in common cause. Amelia could not blame them. Not since just before the inception of the Ministry of Magic had there been such an attempt by the Ministry against a family of Lords. Despite being well-entrenched in the Ministry herself, Bones was also enraged by the attempt. It would be more difficult than usual to hold her tongue around her boss.
"Tell me you knew nothing of this, Amelia."
A voice interrupted her musings and Amelia Bones turned to Augusta Longbottom, Dowager Lady of House Longbottom.
"Though I may conceal it, I am just as angry as any other here." Amelia spoke softly. "Fudge had no business attempting what he did. Although, I doubt it was his idea."
"No? My understanding is he always had a good understanding of family law at Hogwarts. You think he would not have known this was possible?"
"Perhaps. However, he has been quite close to Croaker, recently. And this attempt is more in line with his modus operandi."
Augusta paused as she considered the new information. "I never liked those spooks in the DoM. Always felt they played things too close to the chest and took more leeway than we grant them."
Amelia nodded in agreement.
"Very well," spoke the elderly woman. "We'll have to let both know of course that this attempt was inexcusable. I would expect that the Department of Mysteries will find itself in a budget crunch in the next few years. As to Minister Fudge, he may have a hard time finding donors in this next election cycle."
Amelia nodded her agreement. "What about this news of a new Black Lord?" she queried of Augusta. "Have you any clue who may have inherited?"
"Nothing concrete. I am frankly surprised that anyone did, given Marius' reticence to speak to any other than a direct-line family member. I suppose it could be the Bellocks or Greengrasses, their families were married in quite closely to Blacks, but I somehow doubt either would have been able to hold it quiet all this time." Augusta looked bothered by her lack of knowledge. It was probably the case, the woman had been a political powerhouse for fifteen years. Amelia could not imagine there was much she did not know about the political arena.
Begging pardon, Amelia turned from her Wizengamot office and strode to the Ministry lifts. On the ride through the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, she reflected with unease on the knowledge only she, Fudge and Croaker had. Sirius Black had not died as advertised, and perhaps had not died at all. This latest development caused a roiling of her stomach which did not abate as she began her day at the office.
The reunion of Remus and Sirius made for an emotional week, and Harry attempted to let the two come to terms with their ended separation on their own as much as possible. This did not mean he was not involved as well, however. Remus was shocked to hear the circumstances of Sirius' arrival at Potter Manor and thanked good luck he had not approached the ministry about his friend's son's missive. Neither was the week spent merely telling stories of the past and reconnecting, Remus was the best source of information either had encountered on what happened post-1981 in the circles both needed to know about.
Both Harry and Sirius were furious that Remus had been denied caregiver status of the younger man as a child and Remus was shocked to hear the circumstances Harry was raised in. The lycanthrope apologized profusely as the details of Harry's childhood were related to him, but Harry waved his hand and dismissed the thought that the older man could have done anything more than he had. Of greater surprise was the information Remus had related to the convict and orphan regarding the final meetings of the Order of the Phoenix, post-Voldemort.
Augusta Longbottom had been livid with Albus Dumbledore after her son and daughter-in-law had been murdered, leaving their child to be raised by her as an orphan. Her rage spilled out and she semi-publically revealed that which had been the impetus for her family's destruction.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies …"
The prophecy was a revelation neither Harry nor Sirius had expected. Both had assumed Harry's family to be a target based purely on their opposition to Voldemort. It had never occurred to either that another motivation had mayhap driven the attacks on Allantide. Remus added that based on his reading on the art of divination - it was most likely the text he knew was incomplete.
The last bomb Remus delivered was the largest. At that last bird club meeting, Dumbledore had opined Voldemort was not truly destroyed.
The addition of Remus to the group was a godsend for Harry. Remus had spent the years since 1981 largely in study between odd jobs and had acquainted himself with all the theory Harry had trouble finding. Remus was able to explain why wand movements were what they were, and was able to clear up the confusion Harry had regarding the incantations – they were guides. Both the wand movements and the incantations corresponded to vague runic structures that helped to provide a focus for the spell. With practice, a witch or wizard could approximate their magic itself into the runic shapes required for spells, and do away with the wand waving and incanting.
In this, Harry felt he had a distinct advantage having not gone through the formal set of lessons in learning magic. Understanding the full theory of spellcasting before truly advancing through all his studies left Harry capable of not having to retrain his mind to think of spellcasting correctly at a later date. He understood that a structured curriculum would be best for children at age eleven entering fully into the magical world, but his mental prowess would allow him to learn it right the first time.
The introduction of Occlumency to his training had also left a marked impact on Harry's abilities. The benefits of the study were well documented; as were the dangers. Surrounding the brain with that much active magic could warp its development in strange, permanent, ways. Remus kept a close eye on his pupil, testing his progress during a daily session.
It was during this time of experimentation with magic that Harry began to grow closer to his Godfather and Remus. The study of Occlumency, which Sirius joined in on, helped both of the two move past the negative experiences of their past faster than any muggle could have imagined. All three would spend their days discussing and practicing magic, in addition to the mental arts. Sirius was quickly coming back into form and Harry continued to advance in his studies at a rate which was unrivalled by any either of his older companions knew. All three, however, knew that they needed to break once in a while, and so they made a weekly tradition of forays into the muggle world.
One such foray found the three at a local pub on a Wednesday night. Remus had developed a taste for muggle brews during his many years living amongst them, and was keen on introducing Sirius to the variety of beers available. Harry, while not much of a drinker himself, was always happy to join the two. It was an easy thing for wizards to forge muggle identification and each soon had a Guinness in hand.
Harry found the stout a bit dark and heavy for his taste, but Sirius loved it. Its consistency was something like pumpkin juice, and Sirius found that its heaviness was not bothersome as it was for some of those that tried it. As the night went on, Remus and Sirius found enjoyment in watching Harry practice his long-standing craft. Having come into what amounted to a fortune, he no longer needed to steal for personal gain, but he was more than willing to entertain and keep up his skills.
Harry was currently running an exposition in sleight of hand and had a small crowd of ten or so admirers. If Remus had not known better, he'd have sworn that Harry was actually using magic, and all the muggles he was entertaining clapped wildly as Harry returned yet another watch he had relieved to its owner. Beyond his petty theft, the card and coin tricks Harry knew were beyond either Remus or Sirius' understanding. Even having been shown the tricks in slow motion, neither could follow the young man's dexterous hands.
As Harry finished up his set, the three men were approached by a trio of younger women, all aglow over Harry's performance. The six chatted until closing and Harry collected phone numbers as all parted. Gifting each a small peck good-bye, Harry and his two companions sought an abandoned alleyway and apparated home with wide smiles.
