The remnants of his sleep potions always left a metallic taste on his mouth, especially in the mornings. It was not that the potions actually eased the nightmares, but often, when Dumbledore entered his sleep, he felt strange symptoms that bespoke the intrusion. His sporadic participation, however, did nothing to diminish the muted screaming, the inescapability of the grey walls, or Walburga's cold presence.

Moreover, Dumbledore, when not busy with giving his godson those lessons or disappearing on missions no one knew about, had little thought on his dreams so far.

He tried not to dwell on his irritation and especially not during the Order meeting where Dumbledore currently was, looking more haggard, exhausted even.

"Not a single trace," Alastor Moody growled. "The place was cleaned out, more than it ought to be, considering it's Rookwood's," he said.

"And of course, you all know, the results of my department's investigation at Malfoy's from the Prophet," said Arthur Weasley in a modest tone, adjusting his glasses.

"Which begs the question," Kingsley Shacklebolt continued. "If no…objects were at Rookwood's or Malfoy's, then where?"

Dumbledore didn't speak immediately but surveyed the anxious faces around him.

"It is my belief that what we are looking for would be more subtly…concealed," he noted in a calm voice.

"You have yet to enlighten us about what exactly it is we are looking for, Albus," said Moody grumpily, opening his flask and dropping a substance in his tea. Molly Weasley eyed him with disapproval.

"Respectfully Albus, I agree with Mad-Eye," said Kingsley. "We do know that they were after the prophecy last year, but you have not told us what other objects we are looking for. Perhaps another try at the Department of Mysteries would–" but Dumbledore raised his hand and cut him off gently.

"What we are looking for, I believe, would be hidden somewhere Voldemort himself finds meaning in, somewhere important for him," he added. "We have now understood that this is not the family homes of his cronies."

"This still does not explain how they knew about us searching Rookwood's–we have to assume they were tipped off then." Kingsley said, his voice tight with frustration. "But who-?"

Snape, Sirius thought, was conspicuously absent from the meeting. He clenched his jaw involuntarily. The conversation was going in circles for the last hour and Sirius was feeling the insomnia in his blood system.

"Does it bloody matter?" he barked. "The point is, we're no closer to figuring out what they're after, are we?"

"It seems our information was simply inaccurate," Dumbledore admitted, his voice ever calm.

Sirius scoffed. "It was bloody useless! We're chasing shadows, Albus! Meanwhile, something's happening right under our noses, and we're too busy sniffing down rat holes to notice!"

"Sirius," Remus warned, his tone measured. He had completely recovered from his wounds.

Sirius slammed his hand on the table, making everyone, even Dumbledore, flinch. "That bloody necklace! The one that nearly killed the girl! It's for sure a dark object to carry a curse like that," he said.

"We don't know if it's connected to You-Know-Who," Moody grumbled, his magical eye twitching.

"The girl was practically in the air!" Sirius said frustrated. "And who found her, eh? Who's been their target from the start?" His voice cracked with barely suppressed fury. "Harry," he breathed roughly.

"I mean, it's a valid point," said Tonks hesitantly. "We know the girl was Imperiused. How many were acting under the curse the last time around, that–or being blackmailed," she added.

"It wasn't meant for her," Sirius stated impatiently, motioning with his hands, as if to make them see something that was invisible to the human eye. "It was meant for Harry, and we are dense if we don't see it," he urged.

Dumbledore met his gaze, his expression carefully neutral. "I do not think the necklace was meant for Harry," he said softly. "In fact, I know it."

Sirius ignored him poignantly and looked at his other comrades. "The girl was carrying a Dark artefact powerful enough to raise questions even amongst the most seasoned healers at St. Mungo's! Shacklebolt, you said it yourself – they'd never encountered anything like it."

Eulalia nodded, her stout body tense for a precious minute. "They said it bore similarities to ancient curses, the kind favoured by…the Death Eaters the first time around," she said gruffly.

Emma, the younger Healer, shifted uncomfortably next to her mentor.

A momentary silence fell in the room.

Remus Lupin interjected. "What if the necklace itself is the artefact, Albus? What if it wasn't simply a weapon, but a delivery mechanism, a way to smuggle something dangerous into… well, into Hogwarts, for example."

Sirius was nodding. " That would explain how we were never expected to find anything at Rookwood's," he said confidently.

A wave of murmurs and gasps swept through the room.

Dumbledore raised a hand.

"The package was intended for me." Dumbledore interrupted. "A crude attempt on my life," he said almost cheerfully.

"Still, it was Harry and his friends who ran into the girl. What do we make of that?" Sirius insisted.

Molly Weasley on a rare occasion agreed with Sirius. "It was truly Harry, Ron, and Hermione alongside the other girl who found Katie. What if–what if," she started stuttering and Bill placed an arm around his mother.

"As I said, that was an attempt on my life, Molly, and Harry and his friends just happened to be on the scene," Dumledore said kindly.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat. This was a lost game. He suddenly caught Emma's eye across the table, the young healer watching him with a look that felt suspiciously like pity. She quickly looked away, her gaze dropping to her hands clasped tightly in her lap, but Sirius felt a surge of anger. They were treating him like he was mad, like his concerns were some sort of paranoia.

"Please, Molly, Arthur–Sirius. Your children and your godson are safe at Hogwarts. For now, at least," said Dumbledore grimly. "Consider the matter settled."

Molly Weasley sighed and squeezed her hands together, eying Sirius worriedly.

"We'll expand our search, then" Kingsley interjected. "Target another Death Eater hideout and continue looking," he added with a low exhale of a breath.

"And tighten security at Hogwarts," Moody added, his magical eye twitching. "Can't be too bloody careful. This idiot, Filch–he needs to step it up," he grumbled.

"In the meantime," said Dumbledore, ignoring the comment about Argus Filch. "Eulalia and Healer Franchi will keep an eye on Katie Bell at St. Mungo's for the Order and report to me directly."

The two women nodded grimly.

Sirius sank back in his chair frustrated but not defeated.

...

Outside the meeting room, Emma was looking worriedly around her, noticing the shift in the Order members' demeanour. As they headed into November, there was more uncertainty, more irritation, especially because of Dumbledore's cryptic statements about…certain dark objects.

"Sirius was like a caged animal, wasn't he?" Tonks whispered, leaning closer to Emma. Tonks would occasionally look less despondent when in company of Emma, Bill or Charlie, and even, the twins.

Emma, who was carefully stirring her tea, offered a curt smile. "He's just worried about his godson, it makes sense," she said shyly, realising again that she had that tone when discussing Black.

Tonks snorted. "Worried? He's one step away from pitching a tent outside Hogwarts!"

Before Emma could respond, a shadow fell over their table. "Evening, ladies."

Tonks's head shot up. "Remus!" she said hopefully.

Remus Lupin nodded, his gaze lingering on Tonks for a beat too long before settling on Emma. "I wanted to catch you before I head out, Emma. I'm off on a mission until Christmas."

"Christmas?" Emma said briskly, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Long one," Remus confirmed with a tired smile. "Just wanted to thank you for all your help, the potions, the, er, patching up."

"It's my job," Emma said softly. She felt bad that Remus was so surprised that he could receive adequate healing attention.

"At any rate, thanks again," he said politely. Tonks shot her a sharp, jealous look that Emma chose to ignore.

"There you are, Moony," Sirius's voice cut through the air. He had suddenly stopped beside their table, his gaze flickering between Tonks, Remus and Emma. "Need to borrow you for a moment. Important," he said in a gruff tone.

Sirius Black looked even more haggard these days, stress etched on his features, his usually light eyes were bloodshot and he had bags under his eyes, his already unkempt hair falling below his shoulder blades now. Emma looked away quickly, as Pia's venomous suggestion to keep him company appeared out of nowhere and she suddenly felt like her scalding hot tea was running down her neck.

"I was just thanking Emma for her help with the, er—"

"Fixing you up?" Sirius finished impatiently. He looked back at Emma. "Well, good thing werewolves are your specialty now, eh?" he said and Emma could tell that he had still not forgotten her reaction to Remus' lycanthropy and her three day absence.

She stiffened and without much thought, she addressed him in a clipped voice. "Someone has to make sure your friend here doesn't bleed out after a full moon or during unexpected silver gifts," she replied.

Remus suppressed a laugh and Tonks gave Emma another look.

Sirius was momentarily disarmed but did not seem up for an argument with her. He frowned and placed his hands in his pockets. "He's lucky to have you, then." He then glanced at Remus.

Remus nodded at her apologetically before following Sirius outside the room.

Emma practically threw herself into the chair beside Tonks, her cheeks still burning with anger.

"What was that about?" Tonks asked. "You looked ready to hex Sirius!"

"He thinks I'm prejudiced," Emma spat.

Tonks frowned. "Prejudiced? Against...?"

"Werewolves!" Emma exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "The other day he actually said it was a good thing I specialise in werewolves now, like it's some kind of bloody market!"

Tonks stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh, Emma, you poor thing. He didn't mean anything by it. Sirius is just...Sirius."

"Easy for you to say," Emma muttered. "He practically had a fit when he found out I was the one treating Remus, after the botched mission–because, erm, I had a moment of–well, I didn't know about Remus' condition," she added.

Tonks was rolling her eyes. "Speaking of Sirius," she continued. "There is a surprise party next week! He's turning thirty-seven. You should come!"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

"To apologise to our darling Sirius, of course," Tonks said dramatically, "and maybe have a drink...or three." She winked. "It's courtesy of the Weasley twins. They're organising everything, driving Molly mental in the process," Tonks said, still laughing.

Black's birthday was in November, Emma thought.

Tonks then leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. "I'm sure Sirius can forgive your little outburst. He's quite fond of pretty Healers, you know."

Emma swatted her arm playfully. "Oh, shut up, Tonks."

But even as she said it, a small part of her couldn't help if that were true. She let herself wonder and drift off, before Pia's words made her stomach churn again.

...

"It was horrible," Leanne choked out, clutching Hermione's hand so tightly Harry could see her knuckles turning white. "She just... she just collapsed. One minute she was laughing, and the next..."

"We know, Leanne," Hermione soothed, her arm wrapped around the trembling girl. "It wasn't your fault."

They were at the great hall, right after lunch.

If he were completely honest with himself, Harry had heard the story a million times and he was getting a bit tired of Leanne's tears and Hermione's admonishments.

It was as if everyone around him did not understand that this was bigger than Katie, that whoever gave her the parcel clearly did not want Katie Bell dead.

At the same time, McGonaggal had dismissed his accusations. Malfoy was in detention and not at Hogsmeade, but what if Malfoy was not operating alone? His family was so deep into Death Eater circles after all.

Without wanting to admit that either, he also felt immense remorse for how he had spoken to his godfather.

Sirius's words echoed in his mind, a relentless, accusing chorus: Don't be so quick to trust him... Don't go chasing after things you don't understand... things that could get you killed...

He should have listened. He should have been more careful, more aware.

The reminder, he carried with him. Sirius' letter, with the Order's owl, moments after Katie was taken to St. Mungo's.

Harry stared at the words, Sirius's familiar elegant cursive.

Don't do anything stupid, and stop telling everyone who you suspect.

Harry winced. Even Sirius was telling him to stop about Malfoy, in a way.

We are having an Order meeting about what happened to the girl..it's suspicious. Wait for my word–

Sirius rarely used that tone.

Stick with Ron and Hermione.

The last sentence, though brief, held a hint of warmth, a reminder that despite their earlier argument, Sirius still cared, still worried. Harry clutched the parchment.

Harry wanted to respect Sirius' advice and actually tell him about the latest lesson with Dumbledore. About young Voldemort and how he assassinated his whole family. About the Gaunt ring and the pendant of Slytherin–but he did not want to write Sirius, letters were getting riskier and he could not find any time to use the mirror either–well because of so many distractions around him.

The progressive fall-out between his two friends, being a major one.

Ron was still oblivious and Hermione refused to talk to him over Lavender Brown, Ron's new girlfriend. At the same time, Ginny and Dean were going strong.

Harry sighed and turned toward Gryffindor tower to get some sleep before his next class.

...

Remus followed Sirius into the study, closing the door behind him.

"Honestly, Padfoot, you live like a troll," Remus commented at the disarray in the study. Orion Black's old study.

Sirius ignored him, pouring himself a generous measure of brandy. "Brandy?"

"No, thanks," Remus declined, his expression turning serious.

"I thought I am typically the bearer of bad news, but your face is thunderous, Moony," said Sirius flippantly.

"You were unnecessarily rude to Emma back there," Remus replied coolly.

Sirius scoffed, taking a long swig from his glass. "She's the one who practically fainted when she saw Moony's little silver souvenirs."

"She didn't faint," Remus said. "And she was incredibly helpful. You know how difficult it is to find someone willing to—"

"To patch up the big bad werewolf?" Sirius interjected. "She is here to do a job, not burst into tears when things go awry," Sirius said and had a perplexed expression, as if to say why are we talking about this right now?

He thought that there was something odd with that girl. She was a bit of a mystery. But he was totally unimpressed by her reaction when she saw Remus that night, and Sirius Black liked to hold his grudges.

Remus sighed, exasperated. "Sirius, she's a good healer, and a very nice girl."

"Next thing you know, you'll be telling me you've got a crush on her," said Sirius. "Just be careful, Tonks might get jealous." He grinned wickedly.

Remus shot him a look.

Sirius grunted, but the tension seemed to ease slightly from his shoulders. He turned away from the window, and waved his wand. A flask and a wobbly package appeared on the desk. "Almost forgot," he muttered.

He tossed it to Remus, who caught it with a frown. "What's this?"

"Open it and see," Sirius said, his tone gruff but with a hint of shyness that was unlike him.

Remus carefully unwrapped the package, his eyes widening as he revealed a heavy, high-quality travelling cloak. It was made of thick, dark wool lined with what felt like dragon hide.

"I removed the silver clasp from it, and it should be fine," Sirius said.

"Sirius," Remus said. "What is this?"

"My father's," Sirius finished. He cleared his throat, looking away. "Thought you might be needing it, what with this mission of yours. Keep warm, yeah?"

Remus stared at the cloak, his heart heavy with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude.

"Sirius, I...I don't," Remus stammered, finally meeting his friend's gaze. "This is incredibly generous of you, but I can't accept that," he said.

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "It's just a cloak, Moony. Besides," he added, his lips twitching into a wry smile, "it clashes horribly with my complexion."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. He knew Sirius would never admit it, but he could be like this–generous, only with the ones close to him, however.

"Thank you," Remus said, his voice sincere. "Truly." He paused, then added, "Although, I really think you're the one who needs a gift. Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?"

Sirius glanced at Remus. "How old am I again?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me? You're the one with the rapidly approaching birthday."

"Humor an old man," Sirius said with a dramatic sigh.

"Thirty-seven, you ancient relic," Remus said, grinning.

Sirius let out a low whistle. "Thirty-seven," he repeated, shaking his head. "One more bites the dust," he said, shrugging.

They had settled by the fire and Remus had accepted a brandy, as well as a flask with alcohol for his journey. Remus knew that Sirius still wanted to speak to him about something and it was not the gifts.

"We need to talk about Dumbledore, Moony."

Remus knew this was coming, knew that Sirius's distrust of Dumbledore was a festering wound that refused to heal. "What about him?" he asked carefully.

Sirius sat closer to the fire, leaning into it. "Where is he going, Moony? He is keeping things, important things. I know for a fact–he gives Harry those lessons but he won't inform me, treating me like...like a volatile–"

"Sirius," Remus sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face, "we've been over this. Dumbledore is on our side. He's just trying to—"

"Protect us? Control us, more like," Sirius spat, whirling around to face him. "He dangles scraps of information, expects us to be grateful, to blindly follow his every whim. But what about what we want, Moony? What about Harry?"

"Dumbledore cares about Harry," Remus insisted, his voice firm. "He's just trying to keep him safe."

"By keeping us in the dark?" Sirius scoffed. "By filling his head with half-truths? That's no way to prepare him for what's coming, Remus."

Remus rose to his feet, his patience wearing thin. He understood Sirius's frustration, his need for answers, but this constant suspicion was doing no one any good, least of all Harry.

"Sirius," he said, his voice low, "you're exhausted. And you're letting your paranoia get the best of you. Dumbledore is not our enemy. He's the only one we can trust."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but Remus held up a hand. "Enough, Padfoot. You need to calm down, get some sleep. And for Merlin's sake, try to alleviate Harry's anxiety, not add to it."

Sirius stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a long sigh, the fight seeming to drain out of him. "Fine," he conceded, running a hand through his already messy hair. "You're right, as always."

Remus placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Just try to remember what's important, yeah?"

Sirius nodded grimly.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. He could recognize the tinge of bitterness in his old friend's voice. "Just get some rest, Sirius. We'll talk more when I get back."

He pulled Sirius into a brief hug, then turned towards the door. As he reached for the handle, he heard Sirius's voice, softer now.

"Stay safe out there, Moony."

Remus smiled, a wave of affection washing over him. "Always do, Padfoot. Always do."