Black Luminary

by YakAge

The war against the Dark Lord was the last straw. The oppressed, fed up with oligarchy, corruption, and injustice, sharpened their knives, rallying behind those who promised change. They won. Today, Magical Britain is a changed country – for the better. Hail and praise to our saviours! Finally, all is well. But listen! Can't you hear the grindstone turning still ...?

70. ML: Familia Omega Est I

Familia Omega Est I

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Following their stroll through the village, Harry and Daphne eventually reached the outskirts near the Shrieking Shack. The rickety house on top of the lonesome hill was rocking in the gale, its many shutters drumming against the boarded-up windows with every gust of the wind. Ivy had grown over much of the facade, engulfing some windows and their blinds. In the two windows that weren't completely boarded up or overgrown, heavy curtains were billowing.

'Are you really sure it isn't haunted, Harry?' asked Daphne, glancing up with a look of concern.

'It shouldn't be. I told you Dumbledore made those stories up to deter people for Lupin's sake.'

'And theirs.'

'Right,' said Harry grimly. 'And theirs, too. Come on, Amy should already be inside.'

'What if someone sees us entering?'

'What – in this blizzard?! Don't worry. We could crawl through a dank, musty secret entrance, of course.'

'There is one?'

'Two, I think. Sirius told me once how they'd always enter from the castle, but I don't know from where exactly. The other one is hidden underneath the Whomping Willow.'

'Underneath it?!'

'So he said.'

'I've always wondered who came up with the brilliant idea of a bloody biffing tree on school grounds.'

Harry just shrugged. 'It's a tree. I can't bring myself to care about it either way. But I think Leo said that he found our arboreal watchdog kind of adorable.'

'Yeah,' muttered Daphne as she reluctantly allowed Harry to drag her by the hand towards the entrance. 'But Leo's not exactly normal when it comes to foul things wanting to eviscerate you. He's a bit of a Hagrid, really.'

The door to the shack had been torn down by an unknown spell. A heavy set of chains that had been spelled for additional security lay likewise in tatters in the snow slush.

'That looks like Amy's work,' said Daphne happily, careful to step over the iron chains that kept sizzling alarmingly.

The inside smelled dusty and mouldy. Whenever a draught would howl mournfully through the cracks of the decrepit outer wall, the reek of dry rot would fade, only to assault their noses even more persistently as the dying breeze withered in the foul miasma. The furniture had been snapped, smashed, and splintered, and there were deep gashes in the floorboards.

One of the rustic, bulky oaken doors had been ripped from the frame with such brutish force that the iron hinges had been torn in half.

'This is awful,' said Daphne in a low voice, nudging a heavy, bisected armchair with her foot. 'Is this all the result of that man's … thingy?'

'The transformation? I assume so, yes. I'm not an expert, but Leo once said a fully-fledged, raging werewolf can rip a troll's arm out of its socket.'

Daphne grimaced. 'Good thing it's not a full moon, then.'

Silently, they sidled from one demolished room to another until, finally, they found the stairs. A thick sheet of dust covered all the steps.

'Are you sure Amy's been through here?'

Harry smiled faintly. 'Yes.'

They crept up the stairs, wands in their hands. The boards creaked ominously as they climbed the crooked stairs. The landing at the top looked no better than the rest of the Shrieking Shack. The floor had been ripped apart in places and all that remained of the previous furniture was torn, shredded, and – in the case of a once majestic settee – ripped apart by teeth.

Harry led Daphne to yet another miserable-looking room in the back, carefully shutting the door behind him.

'And now?' asked Daphne.

'And now,' said Harry, waving his wand as he began casting an Anti-Apparition Jinx, 'we wait.'

So they waited. Uncomfortable minutes stretched into half an hour. Spectres of possible scenarios chased each other in Harry's mind, each imagined future worse than the next.

'How much longer?' asked Daphne finally as she tried to take a peek through the boarded-up window of their retreat for the twentieth time.

The wet cold of the Shrieking Shack was starting to seep into her robes. The foul stench of mildew didn't help either. Idly, Daphne wondered if she would have to burn her coat tomorrow.

'We've only been here a couple of minutes,' said Harry.

'I hate this place.'

'Then let me reassure you: it's not up there on my list of possible holiday destinations.'

Daphne rolled her eyes, turning around. Harry was standing in the corner of the room, wand in his hand, looking both expectant and tense.

'You want to get this over with, too, right?'

Harry almost smiled, relaxing ever so slightly. 'Of course, I do. Don't get me wrong, it'll be great to see Sirius again, but …' He tugged at his robes, glancing towards the boarded-up window. 'It all feels kind of weird. Why hasn't he tried harder to contact me in person? That's not how I remember Sirius. He was rash to a fault. Floo isn't safe, but if he's got a wand… I'm also not looking forward to explaining how I've ended up joining the family he always told me to stay clear of.'

'Don't worry,' said Daphne, putting on a brave face as she approached. 'I don't reckon it'll be that bad. Little awkward maybe. Sirius as I remember him was always quick to let bygones be bygones. He was the least complicated relative I've ever had!'

Harry looked up reluctantly. 'Not when it came to his family. And you were only a child.'

'So were you. Don't you think his perspective will have changed a bit after all those years? It'll be fine!' said Daphne strongly. 'Just fine. And who knows? Maybe we'll be done with this entire meeting in a few hours. We'd still have plenty of time for better things before returning to Hogwarts …' With a prancing sort of step, she closed the gap between them. Biting her lip, she ran her hand over Harry's chest up to his cheeks. 'You know,' she whispered, 'I think my dormitory will be awfully lonely tonight…'

She hungrily kissed him, drawing him close, her hands running from his face over his waist to his butt. But just as it was getting good, Harry drew back.

'Really, Daphne?' he said with an exasperated smile. 'Here?!'

'I can improvise,' she breathed, nibbling on his earlobe. 'Can't you?'

'I'm not sure I can,' he said with a weak smile, stepping out of reach. 'With Amy watching avidly.'

'I'm not watching,' said a disembodied voice from the other side of the room.

Daphne laughed awkwardly. 'Oh, yeah. Er …' Her ears were burning. As it were, she would have forgotten about Amy. 'Erm, you, er … you didn't see anything, Amy – right?'

'As I said,' said Amy with a snigger. 'I didn't see anything at all.'

'Good!'

'Nothing whatsoever.'

'Thanks …'

'I didn't in any way see what you did with your hand after you'd finished squeezing Harry's bum and …'

'DON'T!' shouted Daphne, holding her ears shut. She felt close to burning up from the inside. 'This is all your fault, Harry!'

'Mine?!' said Harry, taken aback.

'You … you should've stopped me earlier!'

'Now, see here–' But then Harry froze, eyes widening. 'Someone tripped my jinx.'

Daphne took a step back, staring apprehensively at the door. Was it her imagination or had the wind inexplicably lulled? For some time now, she'd got used to the repetitive slamming of the blinds against the walls but now … even this cursed, decrepit ruin seemed to falter with hesitation.

'They're coming.'

Were those steps on the half-rotten, decrepit old stairs or the anxious beats of her heart?

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Outside, thunder roared. Suddenly – inexplicably – an alien feeling of foreboding gripped Daphne.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

A shadow stretched towards the door. With long, gangly, drawn-out tendrils for appendages.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

And then a muscular man in his late thirties entered the room. He had copious amounts of fine, black hair that fell in tight curls to his shoulders. His grey eyes, strikingly similar to Amy's and Leo's, felt nevertheless … outlandish. But his stride. His stride! It was unnaturally smooth, every step brimming with confidence, no movement wasted.

His chiselled chin and unblemished, healthy skin reminded Daphne of her father – only that Regulus had never looked so effortlessly at ease as this man. Her father, perhaps she was projecting through her memories and the photos, always looked … haunted. This man looked altogether too poised, too superior to ever feel haunted. This man looked like a resplendent, twisted effigy of her father's.

Daphne felt her spirit being sapped.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

It was Sirius.

Memory Lane

Tracey, Draco, and Leo sat in queasy silence in the public parlour of the Three Broomsticks, their eyes on Hermione as she climbed the stairs with the steaming earthen mug of hot pumpkin juice that Tracey had ordered for her. The inn was full of students and their boisterous laughter. A heavy scent hung in the air, full of smoked ham, cloves, cinnamon, and smoke.

'No teachers,' said Leo after a while, surveying the taproom. 'Not sure if that's good or bad luck.'

'Depends on the teacher if you ask me,' said Tracey, scowling at her Gillywater. Madam Rosmerta had flat-out refused to sell her mulled mead despite being seventeen, invoking the frustration from the most recent Black Ball. 'Dumbledore, Flitwick, or Snape might've been useful, but I wouldn't want to expound on the dilemma at hand with McGonagall or Sprout. They always seek to twig any old situation in the most ponderous manner imaginable.'

'Yeah,' said Draco, slurping on his mead which – to Tracey's outrage – he had been served without a second glance despite not being of age yet. 'Or imagine Prewett, the great prick. Now that would go over spectacularly.'

Leo lowered his voice. 'Did you read the contract that Rowle set up?'

'Couldn't,' said Tracey, turning around on her stool and glancing in the direction of the stairs. 'It's got passages to protect Hermione's teachers' identities.'

'Smart,' said Draco. 'No reason to provoke them.'

'It's not definite they mean harm, is it?' said Leo. 'Taking Hermione's character into account, I think it's logical that she chose to include stipulations like that.'

'Yeah, well,' said Draco with a sneer, 'it would be spectacularly stupid to meet with them in a private room if she knew they did her dirty.'

'But I did see the contract between Hermione and Rowle,' said Tracey, looking unusually tense as she stirred the Gillywater with a straw.

'And?'

'It's … draconian!' Tracey shivered as if the mere memory could lower the temperature. 'Rowle is effectively forced to do anything – anything at all – to keep Hermione out of harm's way.' In a whisper, she added, 'And that includes committing crimes if he thinks he can get away with it.'

'Wait, what?!' said Draco. 'But he's a solicitor!'

'Rowle had to sign two different contracts,' muttered Tracey, watching their surroundings surreptitiously. 'One is a perfectly ordinary letter of engagement. The other one … is hellish and entirely extralegal. It's all nicely phrased and respectable looking. But Rowle could, well, die, if he botches this up.'

'And Rowle isn't worried at all about what's going to happen to his licence?'

'How would I know?! All I know is that he signed.'

Leo's eyebrows threatened to vanish in his hair. 'And what did Hermione say to that?'

'She doesn't know. The agreement totals over three hundred pages. Took me two days to work my way through it. I seriously doubt any student could've drafted that.'

Leo looked thoughtfully at his cherry soda. 'Ugly. But for the better probably. You guys know about the Rowles, don't you?'

Draco nodded hesitantly.

'Yeah, I know them all right,' growled Tracey, her legs kicking irately several inches above the floor. 'Only reason I haven't told Hermione yet. She's never had to deal with the Notts or Wilkes of our world. I don't think she realises just how much protection she's under. Maybe after this business is all over. Hermione will have to realise people like Jugson or Mulciber would probably like nothing better than to show her her "place". They can all go to hell for all I care. Thorfinn Rowle's old man once spat at my dad.'

'Really?!' said Leo.

'Yes. In broad daylight out in the open in the Ministry atrium. Tried to make a case that it couldn't have been a crime since my so-called Mudblood father wasn't a real wizard to begin with. At the verdict, he just cackled and said it was worth every Knut of the fine. Bastard!'

'Well, maybe I've got something to cheer you up then. Rowle might not have had much of a choice signing the contracts,' mumbled Draco. 'I've heard he's supposed to be in prison – not that anyone could tell me anything specific.'

They exchanged glances.

'No wonder he won't meet in person then,' said Leo tentatively. 'Still, I think in this particular situation, having a criminal with nothing to lose as your legal advisor might actually be a good th–'

A high-pitched whistle rose within a second from the noise of an old kettle to a painful screech at the edge of human perception. A sudden flash of white light momentarily incinerated all the shadows outside on the street and even in the public parlour where they sat, instantly blinding anyone who didn't have his back turned towards the stairs. Almost simultaneously, a thunderclap of deafening, stunning, ear-splitting intensity knocked Tracey, Draco, and half the patrons of the Three Broomsticks to the ground, shattering glass all along the street. A barmaid who had passed the stairs to the upper floor with a tray of drinks was hurled into the next table, bleeding from her ears and screaming her lungs out. People were shouting. All manner of animals outside were panicking. An old warlock in the corner fell to his knees, heaving. It was pandemonium.

A wizened old crone who still held fast to the counter with her bone-white knuckles, flicked her wand, lifting the remains of a broken bar stool to the side. 'You all right, sonny?'

'Thank you,' wheezed Draco, dragging himself up. 'What the heck just happened?!'

Leo, holding his right ear painfully, helped Tracey to her feet. 'Was that –?'

'Harry's little gift?' snarled Tracey as she beheld the devastation. People all around them were yelling, crying, and scrambling to their feet. A Hufflepuff sixth-year who had entered with her boyfriend as the detonation occurred was lying on the ground, the right side of her face covered in blood and broken glass. A few villagers were trying to calm her hyperventilating companion as an old witch with spiky hair frantically muttered healing charms. 'Either that or a miniature A-bomb – talk about disproportionate response!'

Leo was frantically dusting off his robes with a look of alarm and disgust. 'You guys okay?'

'My head,' groaned Draco, keeping it steady between both of his hands. 'Fuck me!'

'Look!' yelled Tracey, pointing towards the stairs.

A lone figure in long, hooded robes shuffled out of a door at the landing. A shoddy Obscuration Charm hid the inside of the hood, but every so often it flickered, almost failing, revealing a bloodied face and wet, stained hair. The person staggered on wobbly legs before they crashed head-first against the wall, collapsing joint by joint. With a grunt, they struggled to push themselves up again.

Tracey, Leo, and Draco watched with wide eyes as the figure took another uncertain, rickety step towards the stairs, misjudged the width of the first tread, and smacked their chin against the carpeted wood, hurtling all the way down, whimpering with every step that hit their face or back.

'Fuck me,' mumbled Draco again. 'Is that … Is that one of them?'

Memory Lane

'Harry …'

Harry goggled at the man.

'Harry! It's really you! You look so much like your father, just like James.' Sirius stepped forward, a wide grin plastered on his face.

His godfather looked so much better than Harry had expected – in every sense of the word. True, he was wearing cheap, nondescript brown robes and worn-down boots, but – physically – he looked not only healthy but positively in shape. His hair was full, thick – almost lush, hanging in shiny smooth curls down to his shoulders. His face wasn't sunken in, as one might have expected after a prolonged spell in Azkaban, nor were his eyes haunted in the same way Rabastan's had been.

And there also was this … aura about him. His infectious grin, his easy-going nonchalance, his merrily shining grey eyes. Harry hadn't ever truly seen Sirius as the offspring of the Blacks, not really. As Harry remembered it, Sirius' and Arcturus' familial liaison had been awkwardly tense at the best of times. But never – until this very moment – had Harry considered that it might not have been the result of difference of character – or breeding as Bellatrix put it.

Recalling old pictures of Arcturus eighty years ago, Harry – for the first time – came to the shocking conclusion that Sirius and their family patriarch were similar. It wasn't only his almost insultingly good looks that made Harry feel awkwardly gangly and stiff. Harry was too cynical and wary about other people to ever, for even a mere moment, believe that anyone could appear so perfectly debonair without intending to do so. And using your looks as a tool was a very Black thing to do.

Nevertheless, when Sirius approached him with open arms, Harry felt too swept up in the moment to resist a hug that felt desperate.

'Harry …' said Sirius again, beaming at him, grabbing his arms as he smiled down at him.

'Tall,' thought Harry. Harry had never been particularly tall, though this year seemed to have finally catapulted him out of the pint-sized category and into comfortable mediocracy. But, looking up at Sirius' powerful frame, he couldn't help but feel reminded about his childhood, his rather delicate build, and all the inadequacies it inspired.

'Sirius,' muttered Harry, perplexed. 'You look … great.'

'I know, right?' said Sirius with a laugh, taking a step back but seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from Harry. 'A few months of recovery did this old bummer some wonders!'

From Harry's right came a weak 'meep!'

Sirius reluctantly tore his gaze from Harry, homing in on Daphne, who appeared as transfixed as Harry felt – if not more so. She looked positively petrified.

Sirius' exuberant grin dulled for a second. 'Daphne … right? Daphne!'

'Erm … yes?' said Daphne in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. 'Hello, Uncle Sirius.'

Sirius laughed, leaping towards her. Daphne visibly flinched but didn't resist the one-armed embrace as Sirius ruffled her hair. 'You've grown so much! If I hadn't had the misfortune to be forced to watch my brother's embarrassing attempts at wooing your mother throughout our time at Hogwarts, I might not have recognised you. But you look so much like your mother!'

'I look nothing like her!' said Daphne automatically.

Sirius laughed, ruffling her hair once more as he stepped back. 'It's so good to see you, to see you both! I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this, Harry. It's been … ages.'

'Yes,' muttered Harry. 'It has been.'

'How are you?! How have you been?! What have you been up to? How's school? What happened with the Ministry? What … what happened?! You need to tell me – all of it!' With an alarmingly quick swish of his wand – a wand that seemed completely aligned with Sirius, Harry noted – Sirius conjured three cushy chairs, almost jumping into the nearest one. 'You need to tell me everything!'

With a nod at Daphne, who still appeared frozen to the spot, Harry sighed, sitting down. 'Well …' He hesitated. This wasn't at all how he'd expected their meeting to go. Slightly rattled, Harry decided to stick with the plan and get the most problematic issue out of the way first. If Sirius couldn't cope with Harry being with the Blacks, there might not be a spot for his estranged godfather in Harry's life.

'I'm with the Blacks.'

Sirius waved his hand impatiently. 'I know that! Beats me how you manage to suffer their dusty grandiosity, but that's not important. Tell me about school!'

Harry was dumbfounded. '… what?'

'Obviously, I knew who you were with,' said Sirius. 'It's all over the Daily Prophet. Every other issue there's something about you or the old man. Honestly, I'm not a fan, but if you're all right with it, what's there to nag about? So – how's school?!'

'Fine …? I'm doing okay, I guess.'

'Bet you are,' said Sirius with a laugh. 'Lily and James breezed through it. Well,' Sirius added as an afterthought, 'James did after he wised up a bit. He did make Head Boy though in his final year, with Lily as Head Girl. She'd always been gunning for that, but James only did it to impress her. Bit kinky, I always thought.'

'That's … not how I wanted to think about it,' said Harry weakly.

'Anyway, I guess with Daphne being here and you staying with my old family, there probably isn't any chance in hell you made Gryffindor, right?'

'You wouldn't catch me wearing a maroon scarf if my life depended on it,' said Daphne with a dismissive sniff.

Sirius grimaced, but it all seemed in good spirits. 'Figured as much. Still, one dares to hope …' He suspired dramatically. 'At least you managed to escape Minerva's wrathful eye. She's still teaching, isn't she? Minerva McGonagall?'

'Yes, she is,' said Harry. 'And don't you mean watchful eye?'

Sirius' grin widened boyishly. 'Nope. So – you're both doing fine in school? My younger self would probably recoil in disgust at me saying this, but – as much as I hate to admit it – grades are important.'

'I'm doing fine.'

'Me, too,' said Daphne, squirming uncomfortably in her chair. 'Harry's doing more than fine for that matter.'

'Good on you,' said Sirius. 'But come on! I don't want to drag it all out of you! Tell me already –'

'This is Hogwarts, Sirius. No earth-shattering events going on here,' said Harry, relieved that the lie rolled effortlessly off his lips, though he had to forcibly ignore Daphne's uncomfortable squirming next to him. Like Harry, she was probably remembering last year. Or even the one before. Not that this one had been particularly peaceful, but talking about Rowle or his parents' death wasn't on today's agenda.

'Come on,' whined Sirius disbelievingly. 'There's got to be something! No adventures? Exploring the castle? Hogsmeade?! Did you pick up duelling yet? What about girls? Throw me a bone here! We've got ten years of catching up to do!'

'Well, I suppose we've done a bit of exploring.'

Harry couldn't quite make out what Daphne was grumbling under her breath, but Sirius couldn't have looked more pleased.

'That's more like it!' he barked happily. 'Hogwarts is stuffed to the brim with all sorts of secrets and mysteries. Some can be a bit dangerous, of course,' he added as an afterthought. 'And I would be remiss in my duty as your godfather not to caution you against entering the Forbidden Forest.'

'Right.'

'But … have you?' said Sirius with a wink.

Daphne groaned. 'Yes, he has!'

They prattled on for some fleeting minutes about a few of their more insouciant adventures, with Sirius boisterously adding his own. But he was a good listener. Sirius was particularly impressed when Harry recounted their heavily redacted incursion into the nest of the Acromantulas. Over time, Harry felt himself relax ever so slightly. Daphne, too, didn't look quite as tense any more.

'Sirius,' said Harry eventually. 'Enough about us for now, what happened to you?! Last thing I knew firsthand, you were arrested shortly before Regulus … well. That was almost ten years ago! What happened?!'

Sirius grimaced, and a veil seemed to slip over his eyes, dimming their vivid expression. 'They got me out in the open. I don't remember much, to be honest. Couple of Stunners from the back, I think I might've parried one and then – nothing. It was a pretty clean take-down.'

'Where did they take you?' asked Daphne in a hushed voice.

'Straight to Azkaban. I later heard I'd been tried in absentia. No Ministry official ever spoke to me though. Neither Crouch nor Amelia.' Sirius stared at his fist. 'Bit of a let-down after years in the force, I don't mind telling you.'

'And then …?'

Sirius looked up ruefully. 'Then what? Azkaban, Harry. I was lucky they didn't seem to be aware of my Animagus form. When it all became too much, I could turn into a dog, avoid the worst of it. Dementors have trouble with animals. As far as they were concerned, I was less than human – just like the rest of the poor sods in my cell block. Still, it wasn't … easy.'

He clenched his fist and took a deep breath. 'Days turned into weeks. Weeks came and went. Time … time turns funny if you're confined to the same cell for so long and without a glimpse of daylight. Didn't help I wound up spending most of it as a dog. Every day was a struggle. You take whatever respite you can get, eat what meagre meals they toss you, and save your strength as best you can for the times the Dementors come …'

'That's … horrible,' whispered Daphne. 'I'm so sorry.'

'So am I,' said Sirius. 'That one day, the day of the explosion, I wouldn't have been able to tell you if I'd been there five weeks, five months, or five years. It was all … a blur. One horrible blur stretching hundreds of hours of waking nightmare. But yeah – then there was that blast. I got lucky that it was close enough to damage the walls but didn't leave me buried underneath tons of wreckage. Tried a couple of bricks until I found one whose mortar was crumbling, pushed with all I had, and scrambled out. Took a deep dive and never looked back.'

'Where have you been all this time?' said Harry. 'I have to admit, I expected you to visit earlier …'

Sirius made a face. 'Tried that, Harry. But with the Aurors looking all over the coast and patrolling Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, it wasn't easy – even with my Animagus form.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Sorry. You're right. At least you did manage to escape. They caught most of the other escapees within a fortnight.'

'Auror training was some help, at least.' Sirius sighed, leaning back. 'Well, I got a wand and a nice enough place to stay on Unst.'

'Unst?' said Daphne. 'The Shetland island?'

'Right. Bit lonely – more boats than people, and more birds than stones. But I get on well with the locals. Been working on a trawler, as a matter of fact.'

'Really?!' said Harry with a grin. 'You? Manual labour?!'

'Hey, it beats watching the grass grow! And I need Muggle money to get by. Can't very well march straight into Gringotts right now.'

'So you've been a jock at sea these past couple of months?!' said Harry. 'You're not taking the mickey, right?'

Sirius looked up, grinning. 'Not how I ever imagined my future, yeah. But I'd take it any day over that damned hole they call gaol. But it looks like the dust's finally settling. So I thought I could risk a quick trip to Hogsmeade and meet my favourite godson and my favourite niece.'

Harry didn't look away, grinning back.

'Quite the story,' said a voice from the doorway, making all of them jump. 'But I must admit, I would have expected dragons, a battle with the goblins, or a damsel in distress.'

Wrapped in shabby robes, a thin but velvety cloak in his hand, wearing sturdy if worn-out travelling boots, wand held loosely at his side, the newcomer stared at Sirius as if he'd seen a ghost. Harry, eyes widening, realised he hadn't felt his jinx tip him off. Had he been too busy to notice or had it simply not gone off? The only other possibility was … that the man standing in the door frame had been there even before Amy. And that Harry hadn't noticed him at all.

'Hello, Padfoot,' said Lupin. 'My old friend.'

He wasn't smiling.

Memory Lane

'There were supposed to be two!' yelled Draco. 'Where's the other one?!'

Tracey hesitated, wondering what to do as one of the patrons helped their quarry to their feet. 'Draco, you go upstairs and check the parlour.'

'And what am I supposed to do if the other one's there?!'

'Stun them, freeze them; I don't care! I doubt they could put up much of a fight right now.'

'Tracey!' shouted Leo, pointing towards the figure.

The hooded stranger shambled towards the fireplace, wand held high. The first two Summoning Charms missed, hitting a flower pot that slammed into the stranger's thigh, and a mantel clock which was barely avoided and smashed into a thousand pieces on the far side of the room. The third try, however, successfully summoned the little urn from the mantelshelf.

'Tracey, it's Floo Powder!' yelled Leo, drawing his wand.

Tracey glanced around, but nobody was watching them in the mayhem. Surreptitiously, she pointed her wand within her sleeve, lowering her voice. 'Evanesco!'

The porcelain container vanished mid-flight, spilling its contents all over the wet floor. For a second, the stranger didn't move. Then, they threw a glance over their shoulder, saw Leo, Tracey, and Draco staring back among a sea of frantic people, and staggered with their entire body against the back door, out into the alley behind the pub.

'After them!' barked Tracey. 'Draco, you check that room!'

Draco nodded and ran towards the stairs. Leo and Tracey exchanged one last glance and rushed towards the back door. The taproom was a mess, with broken bottles, destroyed furniture, and spilt drinks all over the sticky floor, and the crowd was in an uproar.

'Excuse me,' said Leo impatiently. 'Coming through! Please, let us –'

'No time for that!' yelled Tracey, elbowing an elderly woman straight in the ribs. 'Sorry!'

Shoving their way through the crowd, they finally reached the door. Tracey was about to cautiously glimpse around the corner, but Leo just pushed her through, not even stopping.

'What?!' wheezed Tracey, struggling to keep up. It was rather unfair, in her opinion, that despite surviving Amy's torturous training regime with Daphne for almost an entire year, she still didn't appear to hold a candle to Leo.

'Don't dally!' shouted Leo over his shoulder. 'Never give your quarry time to catch their breath! We've got the upper hand as long as they haven't got the time to slow down and think.'

The alley outside split into another alley. People were approaching from all sides, drawn to the source of the explosion.

'Where are they?!' said Tracey, jumping to look over the heads of the congregating throng.

Leo climbed a stack of boxes outside the ancient house next to the Three Broomsticks. 'THERE!' he yelled, pointing down one side of the alley. 'They're running towards the eastern side of the village!'

'What are we waiting for?!'

They ran – shoving, elbowing, pushing their way through the horde of worried villagers and idle onlookers.

'What if they disapparate?!' called Leo from about a dozen yards ahead of Tracey.

'What?!' wheezed Tracey. 'With … with that – ha! – with that concussion?! They'll arrive in a million pieces!'

'Right! Come on – we're gaining on them! They just tripped again!'

They broke through the crowd near the old post office, just in time to see their prey stumble against the rear side door of the owl order service.

'Oh, no, you don't!' yelled Tracey, levelling her wand.

With a snap, the heavy wooden door slammed shut, right in the face of the target. They spun around just in time to conjure a weak protective charm against Leo's first hex.

'Petrificus Totalus!' yelled Tracey. 'Flippendo!'

'Stupefy!' shouted Leo. 'Stupefy! Stupefy!'

Their target stumbled backwards as their dysfunctional defensive charm came crashing down with the sound of shattering glass. They dived behind a barrel, swearing in a muffled voice.

'GIVE UP!' yelled Tracey as they rained hexes and curses on and around the barrel.

Their quarry didn't respond. Instead, Tracey felt the street move underneath her feet. 'Oh, Salazar…'

The entire alley began leaning in on itself, the houses folding over like paper to form a solid wall where the pavement had been. But the spell didn't seem to be working right. The houses crashed into one another, stopping just short of barring the way. The person behind the barrel swore loudly.

'What sort of animation is that?!' said Leo, ashen-faced. 'They don't teach that at Hogwarts!'

'I guess they don't want to come quietly,' growled Tracey.

With a flash of bright light, the person behind the barrel conjured a shield – a visible, white-hot glowing weave of blinding light.

'Bugger,' muttered Leo, lowering his wand despite himself, gaping at the spell. 'What the hell is it now?! A Shield Charm on illegal potions?!'

'Think so,' muttered Tracey, looking at it appraisingly.

Leo levelled his wand and shot a few Stunners at the shield – but he might as well have sprinkled water against it. The shield sizzled faintly upon impact as if a mosquito had flown into an electric fence, but nothing else happened. 'And now what?!'

The other person was slowly backing away, the shield in front of them stretching the entire width of the alley.

Tracey glanced over her shoulder. Their little skirmish in the side alley was largely ignored by the people of Hogsmeade, who kept rushing towards Three Broomsticks. 'Time to take a leaf out of Daphne's book.'

'What?!'

'Nevermind! Just … hold on to something. This'll get ugly!'

'Wait, what are you planning?! Only a major curse would get through a shield like that! And I don't want to be mean about it, but I've never seen you cast so much as a dark jinx!'

'Don't be stupid, Leo!' muttered Tracey, glaring at their retreating target. 'This is serious.'

Leo looked at Tracey with growing concern. 'Er, what are you planning, Tracey?'

Tracey didn't respond. She simply levelled her wand towards the obscured figure down the alley. 'YOU! GIVE UP ALREADY?!'

The person down the alley scoffed but didn't otherwise reply.

'Well, I warned them. Here go my chances of getting through Hogwarts without a suspension, I guess.'

'Erm, Tracey?'

'Shut up, Leo. Just … let's not die today, okay?' Tracey whipped her wand with a violent motion towards the buildings directly over the figure cowering behind their shield. 'EXPULSO!'

'Oh, sweet Merlin–'

With a violent fulmination that rattled all the windows in the street, the entire roofs of two three-storey buildings exploded like a volcanic eruption, sending tiles, bricks as large as Leo's head, and half a beam whizzing like bullets in every direction.

A shrill shriek from the other end of the street, a series of desperate smaller bangs that sounded like someone trying to shield against projectiles of debris, and then the low, menacing rumbling of tons of wreckage burying the street below.

Tracey dragged a shell-shocked Leo around the corner of the next alley, safely behind two feet of massive foundation.

'You're nuts,' said Leo weakly, staring at Tracey as if he was seeing her for the first time. 'How did you do that?!'

Tracey scratched her cheek with embarrassment as the uproar in the other alley slowly died down. 'Let's not go there, okay? Come on! I think this alley will be out of order for a while. Beeline to the next junction and see if we got them?'

'Squashed them, you mean,' said Leo feebly.

'Get real! Nobody with that kind of skill gets done in by a little explosion like that … probably. Come on!'

They ran around the corner, ignoring the terrified looks of two villagers who were utterly overwhelmed by yet another detonation happening so briefly after the first one and so close by. The wreckage on the other side of the alley was nothing short of utter devastation. Amid the debris, rubble, and all kinds of knick-knacks that had been stored in one of the attics, it was hard to spot anything at all. But even after several moments of cautious search, there was no person to be found.

'No corpse,' muttered Leo.

'They didn't die!' said Tracey vehemently. 'Don't be silly.'

'But what now?!' Leo craned his neck to stare at every door in the small alley.

'Let's just look around. They can't have gone very far!'

They looked around, peeking in alleys and spying through windows, but it was as if the person had vanished from the face of the earth.

Tracey, with a worried expression, lifted her wand. 'Homenum Revelio!'

'And?'

'Nothing.' Tracey sighed, rubbing her temple in frustration. 'We've lost them.'

'We're going to look like idiots,' said Leo, awkwardly kicking at a large pebble on the road. It flew across the street, smashing straight into a window of the Hog's Head.

'For the love of Merlin, Lucky!' cried Tracey. 'You're not helping!'

The door of the pub was yanked open, and Aberforth Dumbledore, his long lank hair flowing after him like a banner, stormed onto the street, waving his wand aggressively. 'Who the ruddy hell did that?! Who was it?! I'll get you for this you little –'

Tracey jumped behind Leo, who bowed stiffly towards the tall, irate barman. 'That, er, that was me, sir. I'm sorry, but it was an accident!'

'Oh, it was, was it?' growled Aberforth darkly. 'So it was just an accident, was it? No harm done – just throwing it into my window, glass all over the floor and everything. Just a ruddy accident!'

'Sir, I didn't throw it in,' said Leo indignantly. 'I'm sorry, but it really was just an accident! I kicked a stone and – I don't know – it must have hit your window.'

'You might want to rein in your frustration, boy, if you're having urges to destroy other people's property! First the explosion, then the theft, and now this!'

'Theft?' asked Tracey, peeking out from behind Leo's back.

'Someone stole my entire pot of Floo Powder – not that that's any of your business, lass. Now, you better help me fix this mess or –'

'Sir, we'll help you!' said Leo urgently, eyes widening. 'I promise, but … did you, by any chance, get a glimpse of the thief?'

'And why would you ask that?' said Aberforth, eyes narrowing.

'Please, it's really important,' said Tracey, walking out from behind Leo and bowing politely as well. 'We'll fix your window and clean up the taproom. But we really need to know.'

Aberforth spat at the floor. 'I didn't see no face. I was in another room and only heard the voice. But I did hear them shout the address. Off to the Ministry they were. Typical. Stealing our money with their bloody taxes, but have they got the decency to even ask to use the Floo? "Oh, no! Not us! We're important!" Bunch of tossers.'

Tracey and Leo turned to look at each other.

'That's bad,' said Leo dryly.

'Bad?' said Tracey, rubbing her temple. 'We're screwed!'

Memory Lane

Draco slipped through the thinning crowd, his muscles tense, wand at the ready. Carefully, he sidled up the stairs, towards the room whence the explosion that had rattled the entire street had originated. At the top of the stairs, his eyes lingered on a long crack in the wooden beam over his head. Even now, minutes after the massive blast, plaster and dust were swirling through the air, stinging his eyes.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching him or – even worse – had followed. But for now, the throng of people downstairs was busy getting the wounded outside, healing and mending where necessary, comforting when needed, standing in small groups and muttering in low voices. Sooner or later though, someone would make enquiries. Sooner or later, someone from the DMLE would arrive. He didn't have much time.

With a bored flick of his wand that was quite at odds with the Average he'd received in his latest examination, Draco cast a Bubble-Head Charm to protect his nose and eyes. There were about a dozen doors at the landing, but no forensic expertise was needed to identify the right one. In the middle of the corridor, one door was blown off one of its hinges, dangling pathetically in the air. A cone of dust and rubbish had been forcibly expelled by the explosion and was now piled up opposite the damaged door like a landslide. A wooden leg of some piece of furniture had pierced the wall and was still stuck by a couple of inches.

Eyes narrowed and a curse on his lips ready to be unleashed, he nudged the broken door with his foot.

The room was a mess. A circle of smoking coal that had once been floorboards easily marked the area where Harry's little gadget had worked its magic. With a flick of his wand that revealed no other nearby human, Draco stepped inside, relaxing slightly.

'Overdoing it a bit, aren't we, Harry?' muttered Draco, staring at the shattered windows.

A bit of fine dust covered the floor where Draco knew the seating arrangement had stood. He knelt, scooped up a bit, and let it run through his fingers. It reminded him of new furniture. Sawdust. The air smelled of sulphur and ash.

Well, well …

As much of a fool's errand as this had been, it was quite interesting that Harry was tinkering with Portkeys to an extent that would see him in front of the Committee on Experimental Charms and the Department of Magical Transportation.

It was a pity he had no way of knowing where Granger had been sent. She was probably out of this little game by now. Now all he had to do was slowly creep back down, stay inconspicuously out of everyone's way, and watch the entire drama unfold.

Draco smirked, pocketing his wand. This would be fun.

Memory Lane

Hermione crashed hard, her face slamming painfully into unyielding wood. For a second, she couldn't muster the will to do anything. She was only vaguely aware of the head-splitting pain – as if a soft layer of cotton wool was dulling her senses.

Her eyes flashed with anger as she tried to remember: the room, the talk … the pumpkin juice. She threw up. It was all so horrible. Wiping her mouth, she crawled backwards, away from the filth, her head spinning, all her muscles cramping. Yet she didn't feel any pain as, shivering, she crawled further and further back until her back hit a wall. Her pulse beating in her ears was deafening.

'Oh, lucky! And here I thought I'd have to convince you to chug antidotes until one of them did the trick.'

Shaking, her arms around her knees, Hermione failed to register someone had spoken until the voice washed over her again.

'I assume it was a potion, my dear? I'm so sorry. That Portkey didn't sound very nice either. Almost split this place in half. And my ears, to tell you the truth. Dangerous little trinket. But you look no worse for wear. How are you holding up?'

Hermione jumped to her feet, tumbling, swaying dangerously. But through sheer will alone – her hands clawing painfully into the panelled wall – she stayed afoot. Her wand, she realised with a pang of regret, must have slipped out of her pocket. It lay near the not-so-appetising remains of her breakfast. Breakfast. Hogwarts. She'd never missed the school more dearly or felt more distant from it. Any resemblance of normalcy had evaporated.

With a start, she forced her wandering mind back under control, her eyes sweeping the room. And what an odd room it was. The walls were completely white – and so was the floor. Her fumbling hands behind her back could feel the wooden panels, but all her eyes could see was white. Empty, dull white. And one … person opposite her? The shape was vaguely human, neither scrawny nor athletic, neither slim nor plump. The hair was a short darkish-blond with long, smooth curls that stood up in short stubbles.

A sharp pain stung her as she tried to concentrate on the impossibly vague features. 'Ouch! What did you do to me?!'

'Nothing,' said the voice. It sounded remarkably like an old gentleman with just a hint of a seven-year-old girl at the height of the puberty vocal change – smooth and high, with just a hint of sparkling baritone, gravel and –

'Ouch!' said Hermione again, rubbing her forehead.

'Yes, I'm sorry,' said the unknowable voice sympathetically. 'But let me reassure you, I did nothing to you. This,' they motioned over their blooming, fat figure that twisted and contorted into impossible shapes even as Hermione watched with wide eyes, 'is all on me.' After a moment of hesitation, the figure added good-naturedly, 'Literally.'

'And the room?!' demanded Hermione, trying not to look directly at the mysterious figure to keep the rising headache down while keeping an eye on their movement. 'This is … wrong!' Her eyes followed the dull white wall upwards … and upwards … for hundreds of metres. Hermione's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch as her perspective shifted and she felt like cowering at the bottom of a well and looking up. Far … far up.

'Yes, I'm so sorry.'

No other explanation seemed to be forthcoming.

'Am I your prisoner?' asked Hermione, setting her jaw squarely.

'Oh, no. Merlin, no. I'm so sorry, dear. If there's anything I can do for you, you just tell me.'

'Can I leave?'

'Well … no. Not yet anyway.'

'So I am your prisoner, then? Did Harry do this?'

'Sweet girl, you're not a prisoner. You can do whatever you wish.'

'Except leaving, you mean,' said Hermione snidely.

'Very much, yes. For now, anyway. You're safe here.'

'Oh, I am, am I?' Hermione scowled. 'So I can do anything, right?'

'Yes, as I said, anything except leaving. You have my word, deary.'

'So I can ask you to release me?!'

'Of course,' said the other voice brightly.

Hermione narrowed her voice. 'But you're not going to, are you?'

'I'm frightfully sorry, Hermione, but I'm afraid not. I know this must be aggravating but –'

Hermione snapped. With a lunge forward, she made a wild swipe for her wand, rolling hard and not altogether gracefully over the floor as she landed. But even as her head caught another blow, she stuck her wand towards the shimmering, distorted figure. 'Stupefy!'

Her captor raised a wand and swatted the hex away. Hermione glared, incensed.

'Yes, I thought you might want to try that, too. Really, I don't blame you, honey. In your shoes, I'd feel very much like whacking someone.'

Hermione glowered, lowering her wand. The way her gaoler looked so completely unfazed was insulting – aggravating even. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she clenched her wand. 'Fine,' she said through gritted teeth. 'Fine.' She pointedly took another deep breath, turned her back – silently performed the wand movements in front of her – and twisted around like a snake. 'Confringo!'

The fiery curse raced through the room in a split second … only to dissolve impotently against a watery cascade ripping in the air.

'That was commendably quick, Hermione. Well done! I can call you Hermione, right?'

'I guess. Can I call you Hermione, too?' snarled Hermione sarcastically.

For the first time, the other person laughed. Even as her voice shifted and morphed, Hermione thought she could hear genuine delight. 'My, aren't you a marvel?! No wonder everyone likes you.'

'Everyone? Who is everyone?! Is Harry behind this?'

'Well, that's as good a guess as any at this point, right? I mean, you did take his Portkey, my dear.'

'I knew it,' snarled Hermione. 'I just knew it!' This had Harry written all over it. The politely threatening situation was just his style. But … why all this nonsense? If this was somewhere connected to Harry, then … 'But why all of this?! I mean, if you're Harry's friend or Harry's relative or something, then why the farce? Why all the annoying mystery, why this pretence and charade?!'

Even as her captor's facial features twisted from witheringly ancient to baby-like, Hermione thought she could detect a faint grimace or frown. 'Would you like some tea, my dear? Pumpkin juice?' Hermione blanched, and her captor seemed to pick up on the implication. 'Oh, I'm so sorry. That was so very tactless of me. Some biscuits perhaps – or something to read? This sort of talk isn't my strong suit, sorry.'

'As far as transparent attempts at changing the subjects go, I've seen better, yes,' scoffed Hermione, thinking back to the Three-Broomsticks. Slowly, her mind seemed to be unravelling the knots of her thoughts. Her panic, suppressed by this newest turn of strange events, re-emerged with a bubbling sense of urgency.

She needed to tell someone.

'Can I talk with Harry?'

'No.'

'Can I make a Floo call?'

'Not right now, sorry, dear.'

With a cry of desperation, Hermione waved her wand – only for her Disarming Jinx to be swatted away again without any apparent effort.

'Like I said, dear, I totally get that you're angry. Really, I do. But – and I don't mean this in a condescending way at all – this won't get you anywhere.'

'Are you sure?' growled Hermione through gritted teeth. She remembered her lessons, all of them. Hadn't Rose taught them that even the strongest opponents could lose if they overestimated themselves? Maybe she could–

'I'd strongly advise against that, dear. Really. I quite like you, to be honest. Don't make me fight back.'

'STOP THAT!' yelled Hermione, breaking eye contact. 'I know what you're doing. Stop it!'

'I'm not doing anything.' Her captor sighed. 'You don't need to be a Legilimens to recognise the signs of a girl about to make a terrible choice.'

'You think you can stop me?!' hissed Hermione, seething.

'I think you don't want me to try.'

'I NEED TO LEAVE!'

'Sorry, dear. That'll have to wait.'

Hermione glared daggers at the person hidden behind their magical distortion. She needed to tell someone. Rowle or anyone on the right side – whatever that was. Only – it was patently clear that it couldn't be the side her teachers were on. Her guts contorted with a burning feeling. Oh, no. They clearly were on the wrong side of things. And Hermione would see to it that they got their comeuppance for their treachery, come whatever may! But first, she needed to tell someone trustworthy. Only – except maybe Tracey – no name sprang to her mind. As her luck would have it, there was a severe dearth of Davis close at hand whenever you needed one.

'So you're on Harry's side then?!' Hermione demanded, anxiously prowling about the corner of the room.

'I can see how you'd think that.'

'So you aren't, then.'

'Honey, I'd generally advise you not to think of anyone as being on anyone's side. Thinking in categories like that won't help you in the future.'

'That sounds very Slytherin.'

'It would help the other houses to apply a bit of Slytherin wisdom every now and then.'

'It would help Slytherin to apply a bit of non-Slytherin wisdom every now and then,' Hermione shot back snidely.

'So it would,' agreed her captor to Hermione's slight surprise. 'Thinking outside the box is all the more important for a Muggle-born girl with dangerous friends.'

'So you think Harry is dangerous?'

'Did I say so? I don't believe I did. Anyway, Dumbledore is dangerous.'

'He's not!'

'He defeated Grindelwald. Don't you think that warrants the title of "dangerous"?'

'Power isn't always dangerous!' said Hermione angrily. 'Not everyone's the same.'

'I agree.' Again, the other person appeared to be smiling. They had a way of catching Hermione off-guard.

'Let me make this perfectly clear and as un-Slytherin as possible,' said Hermione with desperate patience. Guile and cunning be damned. 'I need to speak to Tracey, or Daphne … or even Harry in a pinch. Can't you at least relay a message?!'

Her captor shifted in their seat. 'That's … problematic. And also a bit weird, don't you think? Should you be relying on me at all?'

'You're doing this because Harry asked you to, aren't you?!'

'Well … as I said, I can see why you'd come to that conclusion.'

'Why aren't you even willing to confirm or deny this?!' Hermione tore at her hair, stamping her feet. 'This is IMPORTANT!'

The other person kept quiet for a while, allowing Hermione a moment to collect herself. 'Why don't we talk for a little while.' She pointed to a cute little set of beige chairs and a coffee table set for two that Hermione was sure hadn't been there a second ago.

'Can't I swear some magical vow or something? It's urgent – please!' said Hermione desperately. 'Please – I'm not looking to run or anything!'

'No, dear, sorry. And you shouldn't go around offering something like that. Frankly – if you didn't look as battered and distraught as you do and if I didn't already know that you're in some kind of trouble, I'd be inclined to consider the very offer the beginning of a clever ruse.'

'You're pure-blood,' said Hermione with a little sob of distress. 'You're a pure-blood, of course you are. Oh, no. Oh no, no, no, no, no! Why does your stupid paranoia always have to make things more complicated?!'

The other figure looked at her – and then sniggered. With a flick of her wand, her appearance stopped twisting and turning, settling into that of a boringly average-looking man in his early thirties with a pointy beard and sharp brown eyes. 'Let's talk, Hermione.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'So you're a woman, then.'

The man blinked, watching her with polite confusion. 'Excuse me?'

'This is basic framing. You present me with a frame, trying to keep me confined within its design. Besides, I've never heard a man that age unironically call someone "deary".'

The 'man' opposite her grinned toothily. 'I think,' they said, examining her with amusement, 'that some of our paranoia might well have rubbed off, don't you agree, Hermione, dear? Come, let's talk for a bit. What did you think about that latest Slytherin match? I don't believe there's been a Malfoy that smug since Lucius got his Order of Merlin.'

Hermione stared, struggling not to scream bloody murder. But – as much as she hated this – she recognised this apparent non sequitur for what it was: an invitation to play. Well, that's what Draco would call it. Exploratory talks would be Hermione's preferred terminology since it so nicely embodied the hollow phrasings and empty little gestures that were so overly abundant in politics. This person didn't know her, had no reason to trust her except another's word – Harry's presumably. And – not to beat around the bush – Hermione had also, understandable as that might have been, attacked her. Several times. Maybe not the best idea looking back. But despite that, this person had offered her something. A tiny little morsel. The Quidditch game. So maybe they'd been there. Or were a parent possibly. Still – this was something. Infuriatingly little – but something! As far as conservative pure-bloods went, this person was as sensible as they came; why – they hadn't even insulted Hermione's parentage yet. If one didn't count the fact that they wouldn't let her go, they'd been perfectly decent. Thankfully, Hermione had been learning to deal with people of this type for almost three years now.

Clenching her jaw, she bowed. 'My name is Hermione Granger. You can call me Hermione. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.'

Her vis-à-vis smiled. 'Pleased to finally make yours, Hermione. You can call me John Smith.'

'John,' said Hermione, careful not to sneer. This one didn't make it easy. It just had to be John Smith. It just had to be! With immense mental effort, she forced herself to smile politely. 'I'm honoured to meet you.'

Memory Lane

'Moony,' muttered Sirius, and his radiant glamour seemed to falter for the first time, offset by genuine surprise. 'What are you doing here?'

Remus Lupin took a few careful steps into the room. With his left hand, he stowed the overlong cloak that rustled as soft as a whisper. Sirius stared at the garment, his expression unreadable.

'I was invited here, same as you, as I now presume,' said Lupin, his eyes never leaving Sirius'. 'The only difference being, I learned sooner rather than later that the invitation to this little gathering of ours hadn't been my honour alone.'

'Is that true, Harry?' said Sirius, glancing at Harry.

'Yes,' said Harry. He stood up. Whatever cosy atmosphere had slowly settled over them since Sirius' arrival, Lupin's appearance had washed it all away. Daphne followed suit, huddling close to him. 'There were a few things I wanted to talk about. With both of you. I assume this isn't an inconvenience?'

'Not for me,' said Lupin in a low voice. 'You, Sirius?'

'What? No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous!' said Sirius. 'Bit disappointing to cut our reunion short, is all.'

'I see.' Lupin slowly advanced through the room, his eyes whizzing about and yet never quite leaving his erstwhile school friend out of sight. 'Sirius, you look … well. Remarkably well.'

The impish grin crept back on Sirius' face. 'I know, right? Honest work and fresh air!'

'Honest work,' said Lupin delicately, leaving the words dangling in the air. 'I see. Well, we're all here now.'

'Yes,' said Harry. His mood had soured. Just looking at Lupin made his intestines burn. 'You wanted to talk – so talk. I didn't invite you here for social graces.'

'Nor did I expect you would,' said Lupin heavily. 'I'll try to make it short.'

'With Harry being here, it almost feels like a school reunion,' said Sirius with a twisted little smile.

'Except for Peter Pettigrew,' said Daphne, speaking for the first time since Lupin's arrival. 'He was in your little gang, too, right?'

'Peter …' Lupin sighed. 'Yes, he was.'

'Not the brightest spark in the classroom, but … yes. Wormtail. I assume you told Daphne about the Marauders, Harry?'

Harry nodded wordlessly.

'Sirius,' said Lupin sombrely. 'Peter … Peter is dead.'

Sirius looked nonplussed. 'I know, but … how do you know?!'

'Wait! Just a second! How do any of you know?!' Harry stared at them, eyes wide.

'I told you I'd been snatching the Prophet whenever I had the chance to –'

But Harry cut him off. 'No news of Pettigrew's death has ever been printed in the Prophet. Not a single line, not a single word.'

'And you read the paper back to front?' said Sirius with a lazy little smile that reminded Harry irresistibly of Amy's smirk whenever she poked fun at Draco.

'I do,' said Harry in a low voice.

Sirius' eyebrow shot up, and his smile receded a bit. 'And how do you know about it, Harry?'

'I thought that was obvious,' said Harry. 'Grandfather told me.'

Sirius grimaced. 'You call Arcturus "grandfather"? Bet he loves that.'

'Yes, he does,' said Harry coldly. 'So? How do you know about the rat? And you, Lupin?!'

Neither Lupin nor Sirius answered.

By intent or happenstance, Lupin's careful stride had taken him to the far end of the room, right between Sirius and Harry. As the uneasy silence settled between them, they stared at each other – Harry and Daphne in one corner of the room, Sirius in another, and Lupin at the opposite wall. With each passing second, Harry's fury grew.

'Why won't you say anything?!' he growled. 'How – do – you – know?!'

Lupin threw a quick look at Harry and cringed. 'I … I'm sorry, it came up during an appointment I recently had with the headmaster.'

'With Dumbledore?!' said Harry, taken aback.

'Yes. Albus has been … kind enough to tell me a little about you now and then. Nothing too personal,' Lupin added hastily. 'But you can't blame me for asking him about you! He knew, of course, that Peter had been our school friend …'

'So you didn't know, then, that Peter died in Azkaban without a trial?' demanded Harry, staring right at Lupin, watching his every move, daring him to lie.

'I … I knew,' admitted Lupin softly.

'I see,' growled Harry. 'Bit more than perfunctory talks then, wouldn't you agree?'

Lupin broke eye contact. 'I–' But no other explanation was forthcoming. Harry glowered at the man.

'So … erm … how did you know, Uncle Sirius?' asked Daphne next to Harry.

Reluctantly, Harry turned towards Sirius, who – to Harry's astonishment and growing rage – seemed to be at a loss for words just like Lupin. Then, he relented, 'Lazarus told me.'

'The Auror you kept telling me about?' demanded Harry.

'Yes. We've been … in touch.'

'I see,' said Harry after a few seconds, his tone icy. 'But that's not exactly the same as virtually no contact with the outside world except the occasional maritime foray, is it now?! I have to admit, this hasn't turned out to be the reunion in the spirit of openness I'd hoped for.'

Sirius and Lupin didn't reply. The space in the middle of the decrepit, rotten room seemed to widen as the distance between them grew. And Harry grew more furious by the moment.

'Who is Lazarus?' demanded Harry.

'An Auror,' said Sirius with an attempt at his usual grin that Harry immediately shot down with a glare. 'Know him from way back when.'

'And what's his real name?'

'What?'

'What is his real name?' said Harry slowly and deliberately – as if speaking to a child. 'I know there exists no Auror in Britain born with the name Lazarus.'

Sirius' grin turned sour – if not downright nasty. 'Ah … the far-famed connections of political corruption, I assume?'

'If that's what you want to call it,' said Harry dismissively. 'So? I know he was with Moody so "Lazarus" has to be a sobriquet.'

This bit of news seemed even more unwelcome to Sirius. 'You know quite a lot, don't you?'

'Not enough, obviously,' said Harry coldly.

'You know I can't talk about some stuff regarding the DMLE. Criminal or not, I did take the official vows, and they're for life! Not that I see how this could possibly matter…'

'It matters,' said Harry sardonically, 'because a few months ago, I received three letters on a single day. A letter from you, Sirius, one from you, Lupin – which I incinerated right there in the Great Hall – and another one from Peter Pettigrew, with whom I hadn't ever shared a word in my entire life. And they all warned me explicitly not to trust the other two. And all of you advised me to confide in people I know to be on the wrong end of the divide. All of you, who knew my parents, both of my so-called godfathers: one of whom told me to run to Dumbledore who's been snooping around my life ever since I set foot in Hogwarts, and the other to meet some Auror I'd never heard of, who – surprise – has worked for Moody for who knows how long. Do I need to remind anyone that Bones has been on my case for years?! If it weren't for Grandfather – GET OVER IT SIRIUS! – I would've been in front of the Wizengamot twice over … or worse. You know what? That ratty friend of yours was – improbably – maybe the best of you lot! The greedy little pig only ever wanted money to waste away on booze and women. But you … you! I expected better of you, Sirius. At least from you!'

'You burned my letter?'

'On the spot,' said Harry with a scowl.

Lupin smiled thinly. 'Don't know what I was expecting. Did you at least read it?'

'No!' spat Harry angrily.

'Yes, he did,' said Daphne, putting one hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry glowered at Lupin but didn't say anything.

'I wouldn't have … intruded, Harry. I only wrote because your name came up several times in conversations with people who … make it their business to deal with people.'

'Deal with people?' asked Daphne. 'What's that mean?'

Lupin sighed. 'In certain less-reputable parts of London, people will do anything for a few Galleons. They'll follow their targets to get dirt on them, look through their rubbish. All sorts of important people sometimes hire these people through intermediaries – for reasons of plausible deniability. It happens all the time. But when I heard that someone had been throwing Galleons around to get information on you, Harry, I got curious.'

'On me?!'

'Yes,' said Lupin, nodding gravely. 'But the issue eventually … stopped being of concern.'

'How?' said Daphne.

But Harry had a vague idea where this was going.

'Someone else,' continued Lupin, 'obviously didn't approve of you being followed either. There were … incidents. After a week or so, nobody would take a job concerning the Blacks any more.'

Harry scoffed but didn't comment. He wouldn't be surprised if Arcturus or someone employed by his family had put their foot down. They had many useful contacts like that. Harry, too, had made use of one only recently after all.

But Sirius looked visibly disgusted. 'Sounds familiar,' he grumbled. 'Look, I get that you're angry, Harry. Yes, you're also right that there are some things I can't tell you right now. I'm sorry if that stings. Look, we can talk about that. We will, I promise! But is this the time and place? I've only now been to Hogsmeade for the first time in ages! This isn't how it was supposed to turn out …'

Lupin glanced towards Sirius, and for a fraction of a second, it seemed like he wanted to interject but thought better of it. But Harry didn't miss any of this.

'What?!' he snapped towards Lupin.

'I …' Lupin frowned, staring at Sirius again. 'You keep saying this is your first time in Hogsmeade in a long time.'

'Right,' said Sirius crossly. 'What of it?'

'It's just … you were here earlier, weren't you?'

For a second, Sirius looked just as confused as Harry.

'What?'

'What?!' barked Harry.

'No … that's nonsense, Moony. Don't you backstab me now!'

'I'm not backstabbing anyone, Sirius,' said Lupin in an eerily calm voice.

'How would you even know?!'

Without breaking eye contact, Lupin reached into his shabby robes and produced an equally battered bit of old parchment. For a second, Harry stared at it without understanding.

Sirius froze, his entire body seemed to clamp up. 'The map …'

'Yes, Sirius. The Marauder's Map.'

'It's … kind of touching that you still have it. You always meant to expand it to Hogsmeade…'

'And I did.'

'Please, Moony – don't! Let's just … talk about this.'

'What map?!' said Daphne, confused.

'Wait,' said Harry, comprehension dawning. 'Is that … the map that shows the castle and the school grounds? With all the people?'

'Precisely, Harry,' said Lupin. 'I see all those old stories left an impression.'

'Remus, don't! Please, I can explain. You don't have to do this!'

'And on this map,' continued Lupin with a steely glint in his eyes, 'I saw a small dot labelled Sirius Black III. In Hogsmeade. One hour ago –'

'REMUS!' yelled Sirius.

'In the Three Broomsticks. In a private room upstairs with a classmate of yours and Alice Longbottom.'

A single, dreadful heartbeat – and then the room exploded with frantic action.

A vicious streak of sizzling purple shot towards Sirius, who twisted in mid-air causing the curse to only clip his shoulder. He landed on one foot, coiling his entire upper body with the ensuing momentum like a spring, and kicked out at Lupin, who was already muttering a spell. The spinning kick caused Lupin to crash backwards with an audible crack of his ribs. Even as Sirius landed on one hand and knee, he flicked his wand towards the entire leftmost part of the room. The shack shook with a sudden, invisible blast of pressure. There was a soft 'Oomph' and someone – Amy – collapsed. Already Daphne, with a cry of outrage, was jerking her wand towards Sirius, but the Auror simply flicked his wrist and Daphne's entire arm – wand included – instantly transformed into an unshapely wooden block. The sudden transfiguration made Daphne cry out in shock, but she raised her wooden stump like a club over her head and, screaming madly, lunged forwards. Sirius' spell caught her in flight, binding her with silvery ropes. She crashed hard onto the floor, swearing violently.

Harry, meanwhile, was fumbling with increasing alarm in the depths of his robes, feeling like the biggest idiot in the entire universe. In a state of panic, he realised that the one thing he desperately needed right now wasn't there – his wand. But how?!

Without any apparent emotion and hardly a glance, Sirius said, 'Stupefy!'

Lupin, who – miraculously – was about to rise again, slumped down.

'What have you done?!' growled Harry.

Sirius shot him a swift look, before – with a hiss – he traced his shoulder with his wand. Even from afar, Harry could see that Amy's curse had singed the flesh off Sirius' shoulder blade, leaving it black and oozing.

'You've got to be kidding me!' hissed Sirius, ignoring Harry. 'Did that little shit just try to off me?!'

Harry snarled but didn't respond. He had no wand. He had still had it when he'd cast the Anti-Apparition Jinx, and only Daphne had been close enough to pinch it – except during Sirius' hug. Even with a wand, he thought, as he beheld the devastation Sirius had unleashed against three opponents in the blink of an eye, Harry would be hard-pressed to affect more than his premature death. He crossed his arms, watching his godfather provisionally nurse his cursed wound with a sense of growing revulsion.

'Little piece of …' Sirius gritted his teeth as he ripped off his sleeve to charm it into a makeshift bandage. When he'd finished dressing his wound, he flicked his wand a third time, lifting Amy's disillusionment. He sneered. 'Bellatrix must be so proud.'

'As am I,' said Harry coldly.

'Look – I didn't want it to come to this! Yes, I snatched your wand – sorry!' With a wince, he rummaged in his pocket and carelessly waved with Harry's most precious belonging. 'Look, here!' He put it down at his feet. 'I don't want it, but you guys left me no choice! What did you expect?! Did you think I wouldn't notice Bellatrix's brat lurking behind me with her wand out?! You escalated this!'

'–ck you!' grumbled Daphne from the floor, trying to bite through the rope that had slung over her mouth.

'Why…?' said Harry finally. It was hard to speak, it would've been so much easier to yell and scream and lunge. 'Why this?! I would've expected a lot from you, Sirius, but not that you could ever betray me like this.'

'Me? Betray you?! I'm doing this for you! It is I who was betrayed!'

'–unt!' spat Daphne from the floor at Sirius' feet.

'What nonsense are you going on about?!'

'THE BLACKS!' shrieked Sirius.

'What?!'

'The Blacks! When I asked my illustrious head of house to help rescue you, I did it to get you out of that house, away from those arseholes who kept you under lock and key, those blundering idiots who thought they could just make you love the Ministry on command!'

'And you did. Merlin knows why, seeing as it turns out YOU'VE BEEN WITH THE FUCKING MINISTRY THE ENTIRE TIME!' yelled Harry apoplectically. 'YOU NEVER WERE IN AZKABAN TO BEGIN WITH, WERE YOU?!'

Sirius made an ugly face. 'Don't be such a child, Harry. Do you honestly believe everyone at the Ministry works towards the same end? That we all want the same things? Grow up, will you? I wanted you to lead a normal life. To grow up, have friends, go to school – just do whatever at your own pace.'

'And I got all that!'

'NO, YOU DIDN'T!' Sirius yelled at the top of his voice, and he barely seemed able to control himself. 'As soon as Arcturus had sunk his claws into you, it was Potter Manor all over again! My scheduled visits were delayed, postponed – you were ill, you were away, you were at your friends'! Didn't you think it was odd how my visits trickled down even though I'd finally got you out of that bedevilled manor in the woods?! That you suddenly spent more time with Regulus and his family than me?!'

'That's nonsense!'

'Is it?! Is it really?! Are you telling me you aren't somehow involved in Arcturus' plots and aspirations? That he hasn't made you another pawn, another thrall in that despicable game of his?!'

'That's ridiculous! There's nothing I'm being forced to do! The Blacks are my family!'

'THEY BRAINWASHED YOU!' screamed Sirius. 'It's even worse than at Potter Manor because my abominable brood was smart enough to give you exactly what you craved the most – family, something to cling to, a sense of belonging. You were a child, Harry, and you were vulnerable! You were traumatised! Don't you see?! They made you dependent!'

Harry stared at the man. 'You're a lunatic.'

'Think of me what you will,' said Sirius, waving the accusation aside. 'The only thing I want is for you to live your life like you want!'

'What?!' said Harry with a mocking laugh. 'So sayeth the stooge of the Ministry? Get off your high horse, Sirius! You did this because you lost control, because you didn't get your own will, because you felt entitled to a future that never came to be. You're no better than Moony. Is this your temper tantrum because things didn't turn out the way you wanted them to? You're pathetic! You know what? I'm glad this bit of plebeian drama didn't happen two years ago. I've long since made my choice, Sirius. And if this,' he motioned towards the still struggling Daphne and unconscious Amy, 'is what you do out of the goodness of your heart, then you're clearly no friend of mine!'

Sirius watched him impassively. 'I didn't want it to come to this. But –'

A sudden bang tore through Hogsmeade. Even with the blizzard storming outside and the considerable distance, the dull crack reverberated through the entire Shrieking Shack. For a second, the ghosts of cries and shouts trailed in the wind. Then – silence and the howling of the storm resumed.

In his pocket, Harry felt a glass marble glow white hot. Sirius, standing opposite Harry, was equally holding a little whirling metal device in the palm of his hand. With a frown, he vanished the mysterious apparatus with a swish of his wand.

'We'll talk later, Harry. I'm not giving up so easily. This isn't over, you can bet on it!' He took a few steps towards the door. Then, he faltered, glancing towards Daphne – who was still engaged in a spirited attempt to spit at Sirius' boots. 'I'm … sorry it turned out like this. And I'm sorry about your friends …'

And with a mighty jump that carried the Auror through the door and halfway down the staircase, he flew the building without another look back.

Harry picked up his wand from where it had been discarded, wordlessly dispelled the binds on Daphne, and shot a reviving spell towards Amy. 'Rennervate!'

'What … happened?!' mumbled Daphne, wiping her mouth as she scrambled to her feet. 'Why did that bastard just leave like that?! And could you please undo this?!' She held out her wooden stump.

'Finite! Hermione's Portkey went off.'

'What?! How do you know? The explosion?!'

'Yes. And also this.' Harry tossed her the cooling glass marble as he walked over to Amy. 'You okay?'

'Urgh!' Amy groggily glanced up at him. 'I feel like I got under a herd of Thestrals.'

'Come on, up you go!' With one pull, he dragged her to her feet.

'Your godfather might be a double-faced arsemonger, but his duelling skills are straight-up unfair.'

'Yeah…'

'What is this, Harry?' asked Daphne, prodding the marble. 'Is it supposed to do anything?'

'Not any more. I cast a Protean Charm on that marble and the Portkey I gave Hermione. She must have used it just now.'

'Oh, blast it all,' said Amy, dragging herself completely upright. 'This day just keeps on giving. So they actually tried to pull something?'

'Yes,' said Harry curtly. 'Can you run?'

'I think so … why? And what about that?' said Amy, pointing towards Lupin.

'He's fine,' said Daphne with unaccustomed nastiness. 'It's almost impossible to wound a werewolf with physical punishment alone. Even in their human form.'

'Who cares?! We need to run – now!'

'Why the hurry? We won't catch your duplicitous dunderhead of a dogfather anyway. And even if we did, he'd just wipe the floor with us again …' spat Amy bitterly. 'Did you see that spinning kick? That could've snapped my neck!'

'Doesn't matter,' said Harry strongly, levelling his wand and performing the neat little Charm he'd observed Severus Snape utilise during his first year to smear the traces of individual spells. He had a feeling that whatever else would unfold today, the DMLE would be involved sooner or later. 'We're past the time for cautiousness. Only thing that matters now is damage control.' He gripped his wand, furious with his earlier blunder. 'Time for crude measures. Wands out – negotiations are off!'

'Morgana's saggy tits – why the sudden change of plan?!'

'Because,' said Harry with a sinking feeling in his stomach, 'Hermione's second mystery teacher is the head of the Last Department.'

It took a second for this to sink in. But when it did, Amy paled. 'Oh, for fuck's sake. That Mudblood's luck is rotten!'