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Save a dance for me

Chapter 10

Hermione woke with a start, a scream tearing from her throat before she could stop it.

"Harry!" she cried, her voice echoing in the darkness. Her heart was pounding, her body drenched in sweat as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her like cobwebs. She could still see it—Harry, lying lifeless on the ground, his werewolf form dissolving into his human one. The vacant look in his eyes, blood pouring from the wound where a silver dagger remained lodged. Above him stood a black-robed figure, red eyes gleaming with delight. The helplessness, the despair, wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket.

The curtains of her four-poster bed were thrown open as two Stunners hit the wall above her, and suddenly Parvati and Lavender were on either side, faces pale and wide-eyed in the dim light.

"Hermione!" Parvati gasped, clutching her wand tightly. "What happened? Is Harry here? Did he—?"

"No, no!" Hermione said quickly, sitting up and wiping her tear-streaked cheeks. "No, Harry's not here. It was just a dream."

Lavender sagged in relief, though she kept glancing around as if Harry might be lurking in the shadows. "A dream?" she repeated, lowering her wand.

Hermione nodded, taking a shaky breath. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to scare you. It was… it was just a nightmare."

Parvati sank onto the edge of Hermione's bed, still pale. "Blimey, Hermione, you scared us half to death."

"Yeah," Lavender added, settling on the other side, concern softening her gaze. "You were screaming his name. We thought he was attacking you or something."

Hermione managed a weak smile, though the terror from the nightmare still clung to her. "No, I— I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. It was just… awful."

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Hermione steadied her breathing. Parvati and Lavender exchanged glances before Lavender spoke up.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

Hermione hesitated. She wasn't used to discussing her feelings, especially with Parvati and Lavender. They were her dorm mates, yes, but not exactly close friends. But right now, in the quiet darkness, she felt a sudden need to let some of the worry out.

"I… I dreamed that Harry was—" She stopped, her voice catching. "That he was murdered by V-Voldemort, and I couldn't do anything to help him."

Parvati reached over, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's arm. "That sounds horrible."

"It was," Hermione whispered, her fingers instinctively reaching for the locket around her neck. She hadn't taken it off since Harry put it there, and she held it tightly, feeling the cool metal soothe her frayed nerves.

Lavender leaned in, her eyes widening as she noticed the locket. "Is that new?" she asked, curiosity lacing her concern. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear jewelry before, Hermione."

Hermione glanced down at the locket, a faint smile touching her lips. "Harry gave it to me. It's… enchanted. For protection."

Parvati's eyes softened. "He gave you a protection charm?"

Hermione nodded, fingers tracing the delicate lines of the locket. "He wants to keep me safe. He worries about me… almost as much as I worry about him."

Lavender leaned closer, her eyes shining. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "Really stunning. I didn't know Harry had such good taste."

Hermione's cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away. "He does surprise me sometimes," she admitted, a small laugh escaping her. "He's been through so much. And now… now he has to go through this every full moon. I just wish I could do more to help him."

Parvati squeezed her arm gently. "You're doing everything you can, Hermione. He's lucky to have you."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and she quickly brushed them away, feeling oddly vulnerable. "It's just…" She took a deep breath. "I keep thinking about everything he's been through. He never asked for any of this, and yet he just… he takes it all on. He always puts himself in danger to save someone else, and I can't do anything to stop it."

Lavender reached out, taking her other hand. "You don't have to be the one to protect him," she said softly. "Sometimes, just being there is enough."

Hermione looked down at the locket again, her heart aching. She knew Lavender was right, but it didn't make the fear go away. "I just want him to be safe," she whispered, clutching the locket tighter.

Talking about it, even just for a few minutes, seemed to lighten the weight on her heart. She glanced between Lavender and Parvati, grateful for their presence.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't usually… I mean, I don't talk about this stuff."

Parvati smiled warmly. "Sometimes it helps to let it out."

Lavender nodded, her gaze softening. "We're here for you, Hermione. I know we don't talk much, but… well, we're all in this together, aren't we?"

Hermione swallowed back the lump in her throat, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Yeah," she said, a small, genuine smile breaking through. "We are."

As the three of them sat together in the dim light, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Hermione knew the nightmare would return, that the fear for Harry would never fully leave her. But in that moment, she felt a little less alone. She had friends—unexpected, but loyal—who understood, even just a little, what she was going through.

And as she held onto the locket, feeling the warmth of Harry's presence wrapped around her, she knew that whatever lay ahead, she would face it with him.

…

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a deep furrow in his brow as he examined the locket resting before him. The gleaming metal seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light of the office, its serpentine "S" etched into the surface casting shadows that writhed like living things. Sirius, Remus, and Harry sat opposite him, all three wearing expressions of barely concealed anxiety.

For several long moments, Dumbledore said nothing, his gaze fixed on the locket as though trying to peer into its very essence. Harry felt the silence stretch taut, his nerves buzzing with tension as the Headmaster's eyes narrowed in contemplation.

Finally, Dumbledore leaned back, his fingers steepled as he regarded them with a look of weary resignation. "I fear that this object may be more dangerous than I first anticipated," he said softly, though his tone was carefully guarded.

"And?" Sirius pressed, his own gaze unwavering. "What is it, exactly? You must have some idea."

Dumbledore hesitated, his gaze shifting between them, but when he spoke, his tone was measured. "I am not entirely certain. There are many dark artifacts that have crossed my path over the years. I will need some time to study it before I can provide any concrete answers."

Harry could feel the frustration emanating from Sirius, who clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "Don't give me that, Dumbledore," he said sharply. "I know you're holding something back."

"Sirius," Remus murmured warningly, but Sirius ignored him, his attention fixed solely on the Headmaster.

"If you won't tell us the truth, then we'll take it elsewhere," Sirius continued, reaching out to snatch the locket from the desk.

Dumbledore's hand shot out, stopping Sirius with surprising speed. "Please, Sirius. Listen to me."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing. "So there is something you're not telling us."

After a long silence, Dumbledore looked up, his face weary but resolute. "There are some things I have suspected," he began, his voice low and grave. "Things that I had hoped never to reveal, but which now can no longer remain hidden. My suspicions began years ago, when Harry handed me the remains of Tom Riddle's diary, destroyed by a Basilisk fang. At the time, I knew it was a dark artifact, but I did not yet grasp its full significance."

He looked at Harry, his blue eyes solemn. "When you brought me that diary, Harry, I sensed that it was no ordinary magical object. It was imbued with a power that was too personal, too intimately connected to Voldemort. It was only after examining it more closely that I began to suspect it contained a fragment of his soul."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine as Dumbledore's words settled over them. "You think the diary was a Horcrux?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, his expression grave. "The idea of creating a Horcrux is abhorrent to any wizard with a conscience. But to create multiple Horcruxes… that requires a level of depravity that even the darkest minds would shun."

Remus frowned, his brow furrowing. "Multiple Horcruxes? You think he made more than one?"

Dumbledore inclined his head, his face drawn and weary. "I do. Voldemort is afraid of death, and seeks immortality. In fact, I believe that he may have created not just two or three, but a total of seven Horcruxes."

"Seven?" Sirius's eyes widened, and he exchanged a stunned look with Remus. "Why seven?"

"In magic, seven is a powerful and symbolic number," Dumbledore explained. "It is considered the most magically potent number, and I believe Voldemort would have sought to divide his soul into exactly seven parts—one piece that resides within him, and six others contained within Horcruxes."

Harry's heart pounded as he took this in, a mixture of horror and disbelief washing over him. The sheer scale of Voldemort's ambition was staggering, and the knowledge that they had only destroyed two of these Horcruxes left him with a sickening sense of dread.

"How many have you identified so far?" Remus asked, his voice steady but filled with urgency.

"The diary was the first," Dumbledore replied. "The locket you've brought me now is the second. Beyond that, I have only ideas. I suspect that Voldemort intended to use objects of great significance, treasures tied to the founders of Hogwarts. His fascination with the school, and his desire to establish himself as a figure of unparalleled power, would naturally lead him to seek such objects."

Sirius leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "So, you believe there are four more out there? Four more pieces of his soul hidden away?"

Dumbledore hesitated but nodded slowly. "Yes. I fear so. And if we are to have any hope of defeating Voldemort once and for all, we must find and destroy each of these Horcruxes."

Harry looked down at the locket, a sense of grim resolve settling over him. The thought of there being not just one, but several pieces of Voldemort's soul scattered across the world was almost too much to bear. Yet he knew, deep down, that this was the path they would have to follow. There was no other way.

"Then we'll do it," Harry said firmly, looking back up at Dumbledore.

Sirius reached over, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder with a fierce, protective grip. "We're in this together. We'll see this through, no matter what it takes. First, I will need my name cleared." He said looking directly at Dumbledore, who nodded.

Dumbledore's eyes softened, a hint of sadness mingling with admiration. "You are all remarkably brave. But remember, this journey will demand much of you—perhaps more than you realize. And it may be some time before we uncover all that we need to know."

Remus, his face set with determination, glanced at Dumbledore. "How do we destroy this one?"

Dumbledore's expression grew solemn once more. "There are methods I know to destroy a Horcrux. Basilisk venom is one, as you know. And the Sword of Gryffindor has been imbued with that venom."

Sirius's gaze flickered to the sword, and without further hesitation he removed it from the case. "Then let's destroy this one, right here, right now."

He raised the sword and brought it down on the locket. But instead of shattering, the blade glanced off with a sharp clang, the locket remaining whole and unyielding.

Dumbledore frowned. "It seems the locket must be opened first, before the soul within can be destroyed."

For nearly an hour, the three men attempted to open the locket by every means they knew—spells, incantations, and charms of every variety. But it resisted them all, the metal growing warmer under their touch, as if mocking their efforts. Tensions began to rise, tempers flaring as frustration set in.

Remus muttered an incantation that caused sparks to fly from his wand, but the locket remained resolutely closed. Sirius, his jaw clenched in anger, attempted to pry it open with the tip of the sword, but still, it would not budge.

Harry, watching all this with a mounting sense of unease, felt a strange pull emanating from the locket. It was a faint whisper at the edge of his mind, a call that felt ancient and unsettling. He shivered as the locket seemed to pulse, its presence worming its way into his thoughts.

A sudden realization struck him. He knew what was missing. Without hesitation, he took a step forward, catching the attention of the others.

"Let me try," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the locket.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"I think… I think I know how to open it," Harry replied, his tone steady. He approached the locket, leaning close as he stared down at the serpentine engraving, letting the strange, ancient language of Parseltongue slip from his lips.

"Open."

The word slid from his tongue like silk, and as it echoed in the room, the locket shuddered violently before clicking open. Inside, a dark, swirling mist seemed to writhe, as though the very air around it was poisoned.

Sirius didn't hesitate. The moment the locket opened, he drove the sword of Gryffindor down with all his strength, piercing the swirling darkness within. A terrible scream filled the air, high-pitched and piercing, as if the very soul trapped within was shrieking in agony.

The mist writhed and twisted, black tendrils flailing as if fighting against the destruction. Then, with a final shudder, the locket split open, and the mist dissipated, leaving only a faint, lingering darkness that quickly faded away.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by their ragged breathing. Sirius withdrew the sword, his face pale but resolute, as he stared down at the broken remnants of the locket.

"That was…" Remus began, his voice hoarse, but he trailed off, at a loss for words.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, the usual twinkle in his eye dimmed by the gravity of what had just transpired. "You have done a great and terrible thing tonight," he said softly. "But you have also taken the first step in a long and arduous journey."

Harry swallowed, the weight of the destroyed Horcrux heavy on his mind. He had known that Voldemort was powerful, but this—this was something else entirely. The darkness he had felt, the sheer malevolence that had been contained within that locket, left him shaken.

As they left the office, Harry couldn't help but glance back at the broken pieces of the locket, feeling a sense of foreboding settle over him. One Horcrux was gone, but how many more remained? And how many more dark secrets would they uncover before this war was over?

…

Dolores Umbridge sat behind her pristine desk, her office a sickly display of lace doilies and framed kitten portraits that belied the darkness in her heart. She leaned forward, her beady eyes glinting as she regarded Lucius Malfoy with a look of calculated interest.

Lucius, ever the picture of cold elegance, sat across from her, his fingers steepled as he met her gaze. He was dressed impeccably, his silver hair falling smoothly over his shoulders, and his expression was one of mild amusement.

"Tell me, Lucius," Umbridge began, her voice dripping with honeyed malice, "how do you feel about the current leadership within the Ministry? Particularly Amelia Bones's position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

Lucius allowed a small, contemptuous smile to play at the corners of his mouth. "Amelia Bones has always been far too lenient. Too invested in these… progressive ideas of hers. Upholding the rights of Muggleborns, treating half-breeds as if they're our equals." He paused, his pale eyes narrowing. "It's disgraceful."

Umbridge's lips twisted into a smile of agreement. "Indeed. And Kingsley Shacklebolt—" She spat the name as though it left a foul taste in her mouth. "—at Hogwarts. Allowing all manner of filth and degenerates to thrive under his watch. It's unacceptable. Hogwarts is a place for wizarding purity, for tradition. Not for the kind of… contamination he encourages."

Lucius leaned back, feigning a thoughtful look. "And yet, he's managed to charm much of the public with his war hero image. The Ministry has been too lenient with him, too. It's almost as if they've forgotten where true power should lie."

Umbridge let out a huff of irritation, straightening the lace collar around her neck. "That's precisely the issue, Lucius. The Ministry is far too accommodating. The old values, the traditions that once made our society great, are being eroded by these—these radicals." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a fervent whisper. "We need to take drastic measures if we're to preserve the wizarding world as it should be."

"Drastic measures," Lucius repeated, a spark of interest igniting in his eyes. "And what might you be proposing, Dolores?"

Umbridge's gaze hardened, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk. "Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt both stand in the way of a true, traditional wizarding society. Bones must be removed from her position. She's far too influential, and her so-called reforms are poisoning the very foundation of the Ministry. As for Shacklebolt—" She paused, her lips curling into a sneer. "—he must be taken out of Hogwarts. His influence is a danger to the proper education of young witches and wizards."

Lucius nodded, though his gaze remained calculating. "And do you have a plan for removing them? The Ministry will hardly take your word alone on this matter."

Umbridge's smile grew sharper, almost predatory. "There are… ways to ensure their removal. With enough pressure, with the right influence in the right places, we can make their lives extremely uncomfortable. Bones, in particular, is vulnerable. Her niece, young Susan Bones, is still at Hogwarts. A few well-placed threats, a hint of danger to someone she cares about—she would have no choice but to resign."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, his amusement barely concealed. "You're talking about intimidation, Dolores. I wonder if that will be enough. After all, Bones is no fool. She may see through it."

Umbridge bristled, but Lucius continued smoothly, "A more… permanent solution might be worth considering."

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then, Umbridge leaned forward, her expression alight with interest. "Permanent, you say?"

Lucius's gaze was icy, his words slow and deliberate. "Accidents happen every day, Dolores. People have mishaps with their wands, or slip on a patch of ice, or perhaps… find themselves on the wrong end of a miscast spell."

Umbridge's face flushed with excitement, a glimmer of fanaticism in her eyes. "It would need to be subtle," she murmured, as if speaking to herself. "We can't afford for anything to lead back to us. But yes, a well-timed accident… that would certainly remove an obstacle."

Lucius inclined his head, a smile flickering across his lips. "Precisely. We have resources, allies who would be more than willing to assist—provided they understand what's at stake. And once Bones is out of the way, you'll have the freedom to reshape the Ministry as you see fit."

"And Shacklebolt?" Umbridge asked, her voice barely a whisper, as though the name itself could taint her mouth.

"Leave him to me," Lucius replied with a casual wave of his hand. "We'll see that his influence at Hogwarts is diminished. His history with the Order of the Phoenix could easily be… exaggerated. Certain individuals might even be inclined to see him removed altogether, given the right encouragement."

Umbridge's smile widened, and she clasped her hands together as though in prayer. "Lucius, you truly are a visionary."

He inclined his head, but the look in his eyes was cold and calculating. "We must act quickly, Dolores. Time is of the essence, and we cannot afford any mistakes."

"I agree." Umbridge's tone was full of conviction, her mind already racing with the possibilities. "The Ministry needs leadership that understands the importance of blood purity, of tradition. These changes will bring about a new era—a golden age for wizards of the right breeding."

Lucius nodded, a glint of malice in his eyes. "And when that day comes, Dolores, you will have cemented your place as the guiding hand behind it all."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them—a shared desire for power, a shared willingness to do whatever it took to create their twisted ideal of society. Lucius rose smoothly, straightening his robes with a flick of his wrist.

"Do keep me informed, Dolores," he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "We wouldn't want to miss any opportunities to advance our cause."

Umbridge inclined her head, her expression one of triumph. "Oh, I assure you, Lucius, I intend to see this through to the end."

As he turned to leave, Umbridge felt a swell of satisfaction. She had long dreamed of a world where wizards of pure blood stood above all others, where tradition reigned supreme. And now, with allies like Lucius Malfoy by her side, she was closer than ever to making that vision a reality.

With a final, victorious smile, she returned to her desk, her mind racing with plans, schemes, and the dangerous hope of what was to come.

…

The dimly lit chamber was silent as Lucius Malfoy knelt before Voldemort, his head bowed, his silver-blonde hair cascading over his shoulders. Walden Macnair knelt beside him, his expression taut with unease as he awaited the Dark Lord's judgment.

Voldemort regarded them both with his crimson eyes, his face an unreadable mask. His pale fingers drummed rhythmically on the arm of his throne. "Speak, Lucius," he commanded, his voice soft but edged with menace.

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied, his tone smooth, measured. "Our plan to use Dolores Umbridge is progressing well. She has no idea that she is a mere pawn in your grand design. She believes that by removing Amelia Bones from the Ministry and Kingsley Shacklebolt from Hogwarts, she will secure a position of power for herself. But in reality, she is doing our work for us, clearing the way for your return."

Voldemort inclined his head, a hint of satisfaction flickering across his serpentine features. "And she suspects nothing?"

"Nothing, my Lord," Lucius assured him. "Her ambition blinds her."

Voldemort's thin lips curled into a faint smile. "Very good, Lucius. Let the fool woman believe she is in control. We will remain in the shadows for now, biding our time." Voldemort turned his gaze to Macnair, his expression darkening. "And the giants?"

Macnair swallowed, his voice trembling slightly. "Some of the giants have agreed to join us, my Lord. But they are divided. Hagrid and the half-giantess, Maxime, have been rallying others against us. I failed to… eliminate them."

For a moment, silence filled the chamber. Then, with a swift motion, Voldemort raised his wand. "Crucio."

Macnair's body convulsed, a scream tearing from his throat as he collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony. Lucius watched impassively, though he felt the familiar cold dread wash over him. After several excruciating moments, Voldemort lowered his wand, and Macnair lay gasping, his body limp and trembling.

"You disappoint me, Macnair," Voldemort hissed. "Hagrid is a fool and should not have been allowed to interfere. See that he does not impede my plans again."

Macnair managed a feeble nod, though his body was still shaking from the aftereffects of the curse. "Yes… my Lord," he rasped, his voice barely audible before he passed out.

"Go," Voldemort commanded, waving a dismissive hand. "Both of you."

Lucius rose smoothly and with a flick of his wand, he levitated the unconscious man, his own expression betraying nothing as he inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, my Lord," he murmured, before turning and making his way out of the chamber, the unconscious Macnair floating beside him.

Once they had gone, Voldemort turned his attention to Nagini, who lay coiled beside his throne, her golden eyes fixed upon him with a reptilian intelligence. He reached down, running his long fingers over her smooth scales, his expression thoughtful.

"In time, the Ministry will fall," he hissed in Parseltongue, his voice a sinister whisper. "But there are other tasks to be completed first. I must bring the Dementors to our side, and then," Voldemort continued, a glint of malice in his eyes, "there is the matter of my faithful followers in Azkaban. Soon, they will be free once more. They have languished there long enough, waiting for the day when they can return to my service. The Dementors will aid in their release."

He leaned back, his expression one of dark satisfaction as he envisioned the chaos and fear that would soon engulf the wizarding world. But there was one more task, one that required a delicate touch.

"The boy," he hissed, his gaze distant as he considered his options. "Harry Potter. He holds the key to the prophecy, the one that will reveal the secrets of our fates. He will come to me, lured into the depths of the Department of Mysteries. And when he does, he will bring the prophecy to me himself."

Nagini shifted, her massive coils sliding over the stone floor as she moved closer to him, her eyes reflecting the cold, calculating light in his own.

"He will come willingly, believing he can stop me," Voldemort murmured, a twisted smile playing at his lips. "But he will fail. And when he does, he will hand me the prophecy that will seal his fate."

The Dark Lord's laughter filled the chamber, a sound that was cold and hollow, echoing through the darkness as he plotted the downfall of the wizarding world and the boy who dared to defy him.

As he sat back, his fingers stroking Nagini's scales, Voldemort felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, the world would tremble before him. His enemies would be crushed, his followers would be freed, and the prophecy would be his.

All he had to do was wait as his plans unfolded. And when the time was right, he would strike, and no one—not Harry Potter, not Dumbledore, not the Ministry itself—would be able to stand in his way.

…

The fire crackled in Dumbledore's office, casting warm, flickering light over the faces of the four figures seated within. Sirius Black sat forward, his expression fierce and determined, while Remus Lupin watched with a careful, assessing gaze. Across from them, Nymphadora Tonks leaned back with her arms crossed, listening intently as Dumbledore, hands folded serenely on his desk, met Sirius's gaze with a look of patient caution.

"Dumbledore," Sirius began, his voice low and steady, but with an edge of steel. "I've been a fugitive long enough. We're fighting a war, and I can't be hiding in the shadows if I'm going to be any real use to Harry—or to you."

"Sirius, I understand your frustration," Dumbledore replied, his tone calm but firm. "But clearing your name will be no easy task. The Ministry still believes you were responsible for the deaths of James and Lily. Any attempt to approach them openly would be perilous, both for you and for anyone assisting you."

"But Dumbledore," Remus interjected, leaning forward, "a wanted man isn't much use to anyone. And Sirius is right—he can't fight effectively while he's in hiding. He needs to be able to move freely, without the constant threat of capture."

"Exactly," Tonks chimed in, nodding. "Sirius has resources that could turn the tide in our favor. The Black family may have a dark reputation, but they were powerful, and they had influence. Sirius could use that influence to rally support, or even to bring some of the neutral families over to our side."

Dumbledore looked between them, his blue eyes thoughtful but wary. "I understand the advantages, but the risks are considerable. The Ministry is not yet willing to acknowledge the return of Voldemort. If you were to reveal yourself, Sirius, they would likely treat it as an opportunity to capture a fugitive rather than to hear your case."

"And that's why we don't go to them directly," Sirius argued. "Madam Bones might listen. She's fair, and she's as concerned about justice as anyone. She wouldn't ignore evidence if it were presented to her in the right way."

"Madam Bones is certainly reasonable," Dumbledore conceded, though he still looked hesitant. "But the danger remains. Even if she agrees to hear you out, the Ministry as a whole may not."

"Then we'll have to be careful," Tonks said with a shrug. "But if anyone can get through to her, it's Sirius. And I can help—set up a safe meeting, act as an envoy. She knows me, she'll listen if I tell her it's important."

Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Tonks, his expression softening. "And you believe she would agree to this meeting?"

Tonks nodded confidently. "Absolutely. She's not exactly on board with Fudge's stance on things, and I think she'd be more than willing to listen. Besides," she added, glancing at Sirius with a smile, "she knows I wouldn't bring her anything that wasn't worth her time."

"And once my name is clear," Sirius said, his voice gaining strength, "I can officially reclaim the Black estate and its resources. I've let that place go to ruin, but there's valuable information in there. And political clout. We could actually do some good."

Dumbledore remained silent, his gaze drifting to the fire as he weighed the arguments. Remus watched him closely, recognizing the conflict in his eyes. They all knew that Dumbledore was a master strategist, but there were times when pragmatism had to override caution.

"We can't win this war by staying in the shadows, Dumbledore," Remus said quietly. "Sirius has a point. We need every advantage we can get."

Tonks nodded in agreement, her expression resolute. "Besides, it's not just about resources. Clearing Sirius's name would be a blow to Voldemort's supporters. They want us divided, distrustful of one another. This could change the public's perception—and rally people to our side."

Dumbledore sighed, the faintest trace of a smile breaking through his somber expression. "It seems I am outmaneuvered," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Very well. If this is to be our course of action, then we must proceed with caution. I will do what I can to assist in arranging the meeting, and to ensure that Madam Bones is receptive."

"Thank you, Dumbledore," Sirius said, a look of gratitude and resolve on his face. "I'm ready to do whatever it takes."

"And so am I," Tonks added, glancing over at Remus, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. "We'll get you that meeting, and we'll make sure it's secure."

Dumbledore nodded, a spark of determination in his gaze. "Very well. We will plan carefully, and when the time is right, we will make our move. For now, though, let us keep this between ourselves. There are those who would stop us before we even begin."

As they rose from their seats, Sirius felt a renewed sense of purpose, a fire in his heart that he hadn't felt in years. He was one step closer to freedom, and to fighting for the world he believed in. He exchanged a glance with Remus, who nodded in silent support, and then with Tonks, who gave him a reassuring smile.

They were in this together, and for the first time in a long while, Sirius felt the weight of the past begin to lift. He would clear his name, and when he did, he would stand alongside Harry, ready to face whatever darkness lay ahead.