A/N: Hi folks, hope we all enjoy the new chapter. I am back from Brazil. Cranking out +20k words with unreliable internet was an interesting affair but now I'm doing so without any power at all in my house, so here we are.
AU Changes: Canon-character changes. Patching Plot-holes with cement.
Graphic Warning: Torture, Abuse, and Graphic Imagery.
The Tragedy of Harry Potter
By. Momento Virtuoso
Edited By: Nandoska & BoredBarrister
A/N: I do not own Harry Potter unlike J.K.
Chapter 9
The Best Laid Plans of Regulus Black
September 22nd, 1977
72 hours before the Wizengamot Vote
It had been a week and a half of waiting and watching their targets. The two boys, Josephius Avery and Brutus Mulciber, tasked with monitoring Regulus Black, were losing patience with the young boy.
"The royal priss is getting cold feet. We should have carried out our orders days ago — bah, weeks ago!" Avery insisted, venting his frustration. "If not immediately."
The last thing Avery wanted was to spend his free Saturday watching some Hufflepuff who might as well have been some random tart as far as he was concerned.
Mulciber grunted alongside his partner; the two had been switching between their targets to learn their daily schedules. Jennings arrived for breakfast at around 6 a.m., and she would eat for an hour with Bellatrix before reporting to her first classes of the day. She would skip lunch studying in the Library, and could then be found in a few upper floor classrooms or one of the towers in her alone time. What the girl was doing, neither boy had the care to find out. They saw she went up and came back alone each time, so they filed it as a safe option for their plan.
Amelia Bones was a different matter though. The seventh-year Hufflepuff was never alone and the two coiled serpents possessed no proper pathway to strike out at the witch. She was constantly accompanied by friends and housemates, always in groups larger than three or four; odds which the two Death Eaters-to-be couldn't confront blatantly.
The pair observed their future victim from across the Library, hidden behind shelves and stacks of tomes. Avery was pretending to read a text on Charms — the book's script was written out in gibberish that he held no interest in translating in his head — but his attention was committed to the mission. Mulciber sat by Avery's side, posing as a study partner. He was, in fact, vaguely trying but entirely failing to get ahead of his coursework. The advanced theory on his page seemed to be sentient, its lines merging and unmerging as he tried to decipher the text. Mulciber glanced up at Amelia Bones every few minutes or so, his vision surprisingly clear whenever it rested elsewhere than his work.
"I say we just ambush her in the dark. She's the seventh-year prefect after all. We'll get her like the last one, on patrol," Avery suggested.
Mucliber shook his head in disagreement. "No, they'll be waiting for something like that again. The staff is still on high alert after what happened with Wilkes."
Avery's head swiveled over to his friend, frustration painted on his features. "We should have just killed the bitch, took a finger or hand to show the family, and hid the rest of the body! …Fucking child suggesting we make a show of her living instead. …He doesn't have the resolve…"
Despite the bloodlust in his veins, Josephius Avery saw the merit in Brutus' Mulciber's suggestion. Clandestine ambushes in the dark were not viable if the whole population was terrified of that very thing, making the whole task increasingly difficult. A daylight strike though — there was merit there…
"Four fucking hours… she's been there for four fucking hours! She ain't fucking moving, Brute," Avery cursed, his eyes turning off the witch. His constant vigil over her relented as he placed his book down before him, careful not to slam it in the silent room.
Mulciber looked up from his essay, glancing at the girl in question. "What do you suggest we do then, Joseph? Little Black wants a detailed list of her movements from the weekend… we can't leave till we find a flaw in her schedule," Mulciber restated their exact orders. Unlike others in their house, the pair had a partnership of sorts — an agreement to look out for the other. The two Slytherins saw the infighting and tensions that inflamed their ranks. Mulciber had always followed Avery's example in prior years, seeing benefit in his near unparalleled cunning amongst their yearmates — only matched by those Bellatrix Black and Severus Snape — so it was only fitting he do so now.
"Fuck what the kid bloody wants. Let's just go now… we'll make something up, say it can be tomorrow. I'm done with waiting… I won't let some snot-nosed brat ruin our chances with the higher-ups. We know the tart won't be alone. Bully whoever is unlucky enough to get caught with her. The minute we see an opportune moment, we'll strike," Avery hissed out, impatient after the long period of inaction.
Mulciber mulled it all over in his mind, nodding twice in agreement as he weighed Avery's words. "You're right… she won't be alone so we might as well just capitalize the first chance we get." Mulciber , too, was tired of Regulus's insistent methods… when a Lord asked for something to be done, it was done. Perhaps for too long, the Blacks had had their own ways of doing things, of leading. Regulus Black was not a leader of his though, regardless of the order from on high. Mulciber consented, following Avery's lead once again. The two Slytherins got up and left for their Common Room, finally giving their target a moment of peace unbeknownst to them.
For the last four hours, Amelia Bones had been trying to write a History of Magic essay on the various wars involving wizarding aid and how wizards dealt with muggles before the Statute of Secrecy was in effect.
She was surrounded by a few books and all manner of other students either cramming their near-due coursework or beginning their long cramming sessions in dread of their impending end-of-term exams. Many students, like her, were beginning to feel the strain as the assignments amassed in volume and weight. She had yet to even begin her Transfiguration homework, and had only determined which branch to examine.
As if possessed by the ghost of a most ardent monastic, Bones transcribed the history from the book before her, her hand almost a blur as she scribbled away in the fine cursive ingrained in all young purebloods.
'During the reign of the Tudor Dynasty, the English monarchy, backed by several prominent wizarding families such as the Malfoys, Peverells, and Gaunts, began to establish early versions of plantation colonies in the regions of Munster in the south and Ulster in the north. These efforts marked the beginning of a complex interplay between Muggle and magical colonisation in Ireland.
While the Muggle attempts ultimately failed due to various resistance and logistical issues, the wizarding families saw remarkable success. By their magical prowess, they not only financed but also directly aided the English Monarchy, employing spells and enchantments to secure land and suppress opposition. This covert magical intervention was crucial in laying the groundwork for future colonisation efforts.
The Gaunt family, in particular, extended their violent crusade to target wizarding families in Ireland. They aggressively opposed any magical families who interbred with or supported the local Muggle populations, seeing this as a threat to their ideology. This campaign of intimidation and violence served to further entrench the Gaunts' influence and cement their legacy in Ireland.'
A light cough behind her interrupted her train of thought momentarily, before she resumed once more, ignoring the sound over her shoulder.
Only a moment or so later, it was an insistent 'ahem' created from the throat, rather than a mimic of an unwilling body action. With a sigh, Amelia's attention was broken for the third time as another cough hovered over her shoulder, besieging her attention. Amelia looked up from her work, sharpening a proverbial axe to implant in the skull of whoever had disturbed her, only to meet the gray eyes ofSirius Orion Black. Revulsion curdled beneath her skin, morphing her mouth into a grim line which was the only outward sign of discomfort visible to the wizard in question. 'I should transfigure an actual axe to put between his eyes — it'd be an improvement.'
The fantasy sorely tempted her.
"Ahem — excuse me but could I join you for a moment, Amelia?" Sirius asked, his voice heavy with caution at the witch's expression. He had been wary of Amelia ever since their fifth-year; a maligning rumor meant to spark scandal for their respective houses had been spread throughout the castle that he and the witch had slept together in one, or a few, broom closets. When it had reached Sirius's ears, he had insisted to Amelia that he had no hand in it but his words fell on her own deaf ones, unwilling to hear even a word of his explanation. The witch had nearly cursed him to living as eunuch that day over the whole ordeal; he'd taken steps to avoid her ire since and remained at a respectable distance even now.
"Go away, Black. Whatever we have to say — no, we don't," Amelia bit out. "Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it, especially if it means tolerating your presence longer than required… which it does."
The witch gnashed her teeth at Sirius, who thought that if she had possessed fangs in that moment might have been a feasting vampire at his neck. Sirius held up his hands. "Whoa, now! I come in peace, Bones. Arthur's solemn truth, promise."
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him.
"I know I had a white flag tucked on me somewhere," Sirius jested, making a show of patting down and turning out the pockets of his robe for the article. Looking up, Sirius smiled at the witch hoping to melt her with his warm sense of humor. However, the outcast pureblood could only flinch when he saw Amelia unmoved.
"Swear on my mate's life all right?" Sirius said becoming serious in a moment, invoking an oath that many in school would believe he would never break. "I just need to talk with you. That's all, promise — cross my heart."
The man made a motion with his wand over his heart in a serious but slightly mocking manner.
Everything was always a joke to Sirius Black, no matter how important it was.
Hearing the vow on James's life assured her slightly, but Amelia was still wary of Sirius after everything. "What do you want then, Black? Let's get this out of the way."
Her eyes darted around to see if she could spot any of his lackluster friends lurking about. She may not have liked Black, nor his friends for their association with him, but she did not want to focus so much on him as to find herself open to being on the receiving end of one of the group's infamous pranks, either.
Sirius had come alone. For days, he had poured over the question in his mind. After hours of observation, his own thoughts had become clouded and polluted like silt in water.
"Well… you've been sitting with Harry in Transfiguration. Merlin, you even look like you're friends now, with the chats you've been having in class. So I wanted to ask, what do you know about him — Evans?"
Amelia blinked, not expecting such a question — about the boy she spent time with in Transfiguration class, of all places — but then her eyes sharpened significantly, piercing into Sirius's.
"What kind of question is that, Black? I only know what he tells me — you're in his house. Hell, you probably share a dormitory with the bloke. What would I possibly know that you don't already or could overturn easier than I?"
"That's the thing! Evans is barely ever there… he doesn't talk to a lot of us often. He really just sits and listens to us. Most we ever pried out of him was during the Opening Feast but even then… seeing the few things I have…" Sirius paused for a moment, carefully considering his next words. "I like Harry… I really do, as much as the next Lion, at least. But his story… it doesn't add up, Amelia. Not all of it. Not for me. Too much stinks."
"I'm still confused, Black. What do you exactly want from me? I can't very well go poking into his personal life myself. It'd close Harry off quicker than a fire-crab," Amelia argued.
An epiphany lit up in Sirius's mind from the former of Amelia's words. "Well, no. You're right, you can't — but you could! I need to know about him but I can't go anywhere else for it, but you can! Your father, Lord Bones… I know he's got connections that'd let him look into someone closer than a mother could her newborn baby. He can find out for us!" Sirius said, smiling at his clever idea.
"Find out for you," Amelia said tensely, not agreeing to Sirius's scheme. She mulled the request over in her mind. He had the connections, that much was true, but why would she even want to petition him?
"Do you think he's a bad person then?" Amelia asked, turning her full attention to Sirius's plea now. The Hufflepuff hadn't perceived any ill intentions or mannerisms on Harry's part during her short time spent with him. He seemed to be just a quiet and introverted person who didn't share much, as Sirius had stated.
Sirius shook his head. "No, I don't. However, I don't think he's an entirely good one, either — my cousin Bellatrix has taken an interest in him and that never spells anything good. She doesn't care about anything unless it's dark or hazardous in some form."
Sirius had been truly unnerved at the attention his ill-tempered cousin had been giving to his housemate on the train ride over, and still was. He had even spotted her glancing at him occasionally in class and halls, as if she were a lioness eyeing a zebra. Yet, Sirius was more unnerved by Harry's skill and what that could speak to.
"Evans is competent, though. I'm assuming you heard how he put down Lestrange in a duel, without breaking much of a sweat? He's got a cool head on his shoulders — one you only get experiencing conflict. So what's to stop me from assuming he could play mind games as well?" Sirius said, thinking in that moment of his grandfather, Arcturus Black, and his demeanor. He saw a lot of similar, almost Black-like traits in Harry Evans.
Sirius had spent years, as a child, badgering the old buzzard until his grandfather bitterly shared his war stories with him. Some of Harry's tales and claimed experiences reminded him of the man his grandfather spoke of being once upon a time — a man that he very much still embodied in myriad ways, despite being a shadow of his former self.
"Well, what do you think is so off with him, then?" Amelia asked, not understanding the issue Sirius had with Harry yet. She was unable to make the same matches he had done, without his life experience. If the boy wasn't dangerous then he wasn't her concern, she thought to herself privately.
"He said he was raised by his muggle aunt and uncle for a few years. Before that, he was inside some muggle orphanage," Sirius explained.
Curious to hear more about the quiet boy, Amelia nodded her head for Sirius to continue.
"He had practically no way to gain experience in the wizarding world, but somehow two years ago he got caught with a group hiding from Dark Wizards and was the only one to make it out alive, supposedly — his words," Sirius said, filling in the rest of the story and stressing his final words.
Amelia shook her head, still not connecting the dots. "Black, I don't quite see how that's a cause for concern —" she stopped, caught off guard when Sirius held up a hand to halt her speech.
"Amelia, think for a moment. Really, think about it all. You and I both know, someone surviving that kind of ordeal when we both know exactly what kind of dark wizards are out there… it's not possible, not for someone with supposedly only two years in the magical world," Sirius said with a pregnant pause.
In the ensuing talk, the two scanned the library around them, noting how quiet it seemed with only a few curious eyes roaming their way for a scant second, eyebrows raised in puzzlement, before they returned to their more pressing concern on the table. The two returned to the conversation at hand.
"He shouldn't have the magical knowledge he does… you know in truth he shouldn't. Either he is extremely gifted in magic… or he's an extremely gifted liar. I need to know which. I need to know my friends are safe around him. I need to know that nothing he does will ever come back on Lily, regardless of whether he's actually related to her like we're suspecting. I mean, blimey, come on! He shares her bloody surname! If he's a bad apple, then she'll fall into association too, right there with him," Sirius said with finality. His gaze and tone brokered no further argument.
Amelia sat silently still for a moment while she thought over Sirius's concerns, along with everything else she knew. She had heard about the boy's duel in Defense class, and even the confrontations he had had in Knockturn Alley and on the Hogwarts Express with the Lestrange Brothers. The rumor mills of the castle had been churning nothing but these things in the days following their last confrontation. Then there was what she saw in class, sitting next to the wizard — how Harry had performed most transfigurations in class almost flawlessly, like he knew a secret behind the casting that even had McGonagall looking oddly at him sometimes, with his roundabout methods. Furthermore, like many others, she had seen the scar he had on his forehead. You didn't get a scar like that falling out of a tree as a child. It was a sign of residual dark magic. Nearly every pureblood witch and wizard had been taught about the dangers of dark magic and how it left addiction and eventual physical corruptions in its wake.
"Fine, you've convinced me. I'll ask my father, especially if it will get you out of my face quicker," Bones bit out, conceding to the Gryffindor's request. However she couldn't — begrudgingly — fail to acknowledge Black's worries. "You raise some good points though, Black. If what you say is true, then Harry Evans really doesn't add up. I see what you mean by the stink."
Amelia waved her hand in front of her nose, making a point of glaring at Sirius in a subtle insult to the dog animagus.
Sirius smiled, jubilation flooding through him. He began to nod at the girl but his excitement sputtered out midway, his smile forming a frown as Amelia Bones stuck her finger in his face in warning.
"I'll send a letter to Father today, but you'll meet me alone when I get word back. Alone, Sirius. Memorize the word in that pea-brain of yours," Amelia stressed. She knew the wizard in front of her was one of the smartest in their year, but she refused to tell him that. "I don't want to be seen in public with you, nor caught in private — in any kind of way," Amelia growled at the raven-haired boy, who sported a promiscuous reputation.
Sirius adopted a half-cocked smile and his eyes shone with mirth at the joke forming on his lips, knowing full well the pain it would earn him. "Oh I don't blame you for that Madam Bones. Lucky for the both of us, I happen to know of some very secluded broom closets!"
Incensed, and unwilling to stand his company longer, Amelia shot up from her seat and drew her wand to hex the boy, but the Marauder was already departing the Library with all the haste of a flying banshee.
"Sirius 'Fucking' Black," Amelia ground out in a hiss of indignation, her teeth grinding along each other. The prankster would be on the receiving end of her wrath eventually, she swore to Morrigan and Merlin.
'Stupid fucking cat. How did Hermione ever feel pity for this damn thing when it got petrified?,' Harry thought, wishing once more that the kitten version of Mrs. Norris would come face to face with the reflection of the large serpent in the Chamber. It just wouldn't leave him be, rather complicating his plans to continue pilfering through Filch's belongings in search of the Marauders Map.
Thinking the Caretaker was approaching his office given the cat's entrance, he boarded himself up in a large cupboard to conceal his presence. Now, he was trapped within, not knowing if the caretaking squib was miles or only steps away from his office door. Mrs. Norris, ever the dutiful deputy, sat in front of Harry's space, pawing and hissing at the door. Mrs. Norris, it seemed, had been an apt tracker of misbehaving students even as a kitten.
However, it seemed like Filch was nowhere near, nor had he gained his uncanny ability of seemingly teleporting to wherever his cat was harassing students out of bounds yet.
Growing tired of being cramped in, Harry pulled his wand out to stun the beast. He took a sick pleasure in stunning the young feline for every annoyance she would give him in the future. Looking down at the sight of the small kitten though, stiff on her side against the stones of the floor, Harry's gut twisted as the realization of what he did to an innocent kitten sunk in.
"Still a stupid fucking cat…" Harry groaned, un-stunning the animal and putting it in a body-bind jinx instead. It seemed a less cruel act to him, but he still needed the cat out of his way.
Looking once more at the entrance to the office to make sure no more visitors would happen upon him, Harry quietly walked over to the filing cabinets in the corner of the room. He began to open each one, sifting through and looking at the contents within them. One held the chains that Filch always listed as being 'ready to hoist troublemakers up by their ankles'. Another cabinet held detention files relating solely to the Marauders over all their rowdy years at Hogwarts. Harry knew if Fred and George had seen the size of this record breaking detention collection they'd have taken it as a personal challenge to top the four legendary troublemakers.
Finally, Harry came across several blank pieces of parchment — unwritten-upon paper, as if just left there one day. He whinged internally, realizing the Map was quite possibly in its inert form in the Caretaker's office. 'Why can it never be easy? Nice and simple — something like: Horcrux to the left… Marauders Map to the right, please…' he thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he drew his wand and began reciting the password for the Map over and over on every blank piece of parchment he came across.
Harry worked as swiftly as he could, now dreadfully aware of having a lot of ground to cover in the office, since it could quite literally be any of the hundreds of pieces of parchment in the office.
Once more, Harry put his gorgon wand against a blank piece of parchment, whispering the words under his breath, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Immediately, the parchment's surface burst to life with the inked greetings of his father and friends. The castle lines began to draw themselves out across the page and the names of all its inhabitants popped up in a neat calligraphic script that Harry knew now to belong to Remus.
A rock dropped in Harry's gut, weighing his stomach down to the bottom of the sea. Despair clutched at him. There was his name, 'Harry Potter', unmoving and unfiltered in his exact location. Harry remembered Remus's nonplussed words in his third year, the man's steadfast belief in the artifact that he crafted. "The Map never lies."
Harry just couldn't catch a break, it seemed. He cursed his luck and his term-long inability to remember that the Map would so quickly sell him out. It was in equal measure a curse and a boon. 'I'll have to hide this… I'll need to burn it when I'm through with it too.' It was an unsettling, grim feeling for him to ponder — destroying such a unique and fascinating piece of magic that held great sentimental value to him — but it would have to be done. He couldn't let this fall into the wrong hands, nor reveal it to anyone. The last thing he needed was his father seeing his own surname on the Marauder's Map and asking questions. Oh, the trouble it would bring him, and his family besides him. He shuddered at another thought - were Dumbledore to discover this tidbit, he was sure to be done for, for just as surely as he resented the headmaster, he was the most brilliant man in Wizarding Britain. If anyone could figure him out, it would have been him.
Harry had no idea how he would explain what or who he was to James or Lily. In truth, he never wanted to, preferring rather to take the secret to his grave — though, of course, he hoped that would be some way off.
He had begun to see the pair easily as friends, rather than the parents they could have been for him. His lack of memories or many accurate tales of their character were finally a benefit to him for the first time in his life. They weren't drunk alcoholics who died in a car crash, nor devoted freedom fighters protecting him against a dark lord; they were human. Flesh and blood, for the very first time to him. The day he had discovered himself disassociating the two with the parents who had given their lives for him, Harry had cried himself to sleep, wracked with guilt and weeping for his broken dreams, which he tenderly held since childhood. Merlin, he had felt like a child in that moment; small, curled in a near-fetal position, swaddled in a tear-soaked blanket that held him tighter than any living being ever had, tighter than his parents — no, James and Lily — ever would.
Their ghostly figures from the Resurrection Stone were still at the forefront of his mind, remembering, as he lay dying in the Forbidden Forest after he went off to face Voldemort for the last time, the comfort they gave him.
Harry's eyes caught movement on the parchment before him, his attention focusing on a name as it approached his location, on a near direct path to the Caretakers office. The script under the moving ink feet read out, Verona Jennings. He was unsure precisely who the girl was; all he knew was that she sat next to Bellatrix during meals and the few classes they shared.
With a tap of his wand, Harry immediately returned the map to its naturally inert state of being, completely missing a second name making its way towards them both.
Harry folded the parchment, concealing it within his robe as if he wasn't a thief. With little time until he would be discovered, Harry drifted his wand around the office, fixing and replacing everything he had shifted in his search, so that no one would be any the wiser. He looked down at the stiff body of Mrs. Norris for a moment, shaking his head in frustration as he undid his spell on the cat. Quickly departing the room, Harry violently closed the door behind him to trap the kitten inside the office, so that she wouldn't run off to her master.
As he exited the office, Harry almost crashed nose-to-nose with the girl whose name he had spied on the map.
His green eyes widened at his near collision into the cherubic girl with brown, mousy hair hanging down to her ears. Verona's head tilted, eyebrows raised at the object of her friend Bellatrix's recent attentions appearing mysteriously out of Mr. Filch's office.
"Hello there," Verona greeted, her voice registering barely louder than a whisper. Her eyes took in Harry's surprised features. It wasn't everyday that someone came out of Filch's office, especially when she knew the Caretaker was elsewhere in the castle, having come across him muttering about ungrateful students.
Harry froze as a myriad of options played out across his face. A chill emanated from the folded map in his robe pocket. Unrealistic thoughts not attached to any reality bounced in his skull. Would she tell? Did she know? Should he stun and wipe her memory of seeing him now, to prevent its discovery? He knew rationally that it was hidden and there was no way for the girl before him to even know of its existence, but his worries and senses were not rational.
"Um, hi, hello, uh — you're Verona? Right? Verona Jennings?" Harry asked, nervously scratching the back of his head, fighting the voice in his head calling for action — but there was also an embarrassment creeping up his neck. He wasn't brave when it came to talking with girls by himself. The only exceptions had been Hermione, Ginny, and Luna — surprisingly enough, the younger version of Bellatrix, too. Their few conversations were more like arguments, however much improved they were from his dialogue with her future self; holding a wand to the witch was the cure-all for nerves.
The Slytherin girl nodded, smiling at Harry in confirmation. "One point for Gryffindor, Mr. Evans," she smiled, turning on the charm for the boy. "Or should I call you Harry? You seem to already be on a first name basis with me."
Harry broke out in a blush, his mouth suddenly dry. He swallowed his fear alongside his tongue and opened his mouth to deny whatever he could, but no noise beyond a stuttering "uh" came out. Finally coming to his senses, the bespectacled wizard just opted to silently nod his head. "Sure, you can just call me Harry then," he relented.
Verona laughed at Harry's dilemma, her voice tinkling like the bells of a windchime fluttering in the first breezes of spring. She struck Harry as fair like spring, too.
Verona seemed nice enough to him, despite the pair never having interacted thus far. He knew nothing of her from the future. Harry had never heard her say a rude thing so far to any of the muggle-born she shared a class with. Unlike many of the other Slytherins, who went out of their way to shoot down their classmates in cruel verbal jabs, she was a portrait of politeness. His only knowledge of the witch was current; she was friends with Bellatrix, no more and no less to him. 'What happened to her?' he thought, considering the potential fate of the girl before him.
"What were you doing in Filch's office, Harry? You didn't happen to land yourself a weekend detention this early into term, did you?" Verona asked, the Slytherin in her immediately searching for information. She was curious as to what infraction he'd committed, if such a thing had even occurred. Bellatrix was convinced the boy was a dark wizard of some sort, but Verona opted to find out for herself before relying solely on the opinion of her friend.
"I was actually told to deliver something to the caretaker by Professor Dumbledore," Harry lied, regressing to his default excuse from his own sixth-year. His right hand clenched tightly at the thought of being Dumbledore's errand boy again.
Verona picked up on the small fib though, noticing how tense the boy's hands were — enough so that she could see the white scarring upon it.
'He doesn't need to know that I know, better to play along,' she thought.
To lie effectively and to spot another lying was second nature for her, and Harry was an open book. It was a conscious act she had learned to pick up early amongst her housemates — lies were currency in Slytherin's Snake-pit, and the more people who knew your truth, the poorer of a snake you were. One didn't last as long by being honest.
"Oh! You're on an errand for Dumbledore? Does he employ Gryffindors often for his errands?" Verona asked in an airy tone that reminded Harry of Luna.
"Not as much as you think, but doesn't your head of house employ Slytherins for his… group?" Harry asked, peppering his lie with a truth.
"I suppose that's fair, Slughorn does favor Slytherins most over the other houses, despite the diversity of his 'Slug Club'," Verona said, moving her fingers, gesturing air quotes to Harry for emphasis.
"But nah, it's just a one-time gig," Harry said with a ghost of a smile, returning to the original question.
Thinking of her promise to Bellatrix to not be out by herself, Verona turned to Harry. "Would you mind walking with me back to the main hall, Harry? It's better to be in pairs when in the corridors, after what happened to Wilkes."
She hoped to play off whatever Gryffindor nobility was in the boy, playing for time to learn more for her friend's fascination with the wizard. Besides, an extra wand never hurt and if what she had heard was true — and, based on the little she had seen, too — he seemed competent enough.
Harry nodded, offering to lead the way for them, oblivious to the girl's ulterior motives. The pair walked away from Filch's office, leaving behind the awakened kitten scratching and hissing inside as they traveled down the corridors.
The school was bare of life, with very few students out and about on their side of the castle as the weekend began. He, himself, was wary of being attacked in the halls of Hogwarts. He could barely walk down its halls alone anymore. Quiet moments of solitude were often ruined by the roaring memories of the past.
His wand hand itched, edging towards the inside of his cloak, ready for a fight long finished but yet still to come. The ghosts of enemies long gone were transformed anew, younger yet no less deadly. The sights and sounds of the Battle of Hogwarts still echoed fresh in his mind. How could one forget an experience like that?
At one turn, Harry even drew his blackened birch wand from his sleeve when a group of third-years nearly stumbled into him.
It seemed that being alone with the Slytherin wasn't the best thing for Harry's blood pressure, regardless of how nice he thought she was compared to her housemates.
"Did you know her?" Harry asked the Slytherin, breaking the silence — anything to calm his nerves.
"Know who?" Verona saw the gleam of sweat on his skin and the reflexive twitching towards his wand, which he kept nearly bound to his hand.
"Wilkes. The girl who was attacked. I wasn't in the Great Hall the morning after — so I missed a thing or two," Harry said.
Harry, personally, had never known any of the Wilkes family during his time. All he knew was that they sat in the Wizengamot like a lot of older families; he was naturally curious now about the family, after reading the Prophet last night.
Verona shook her head. "No, I wasn't acquainted with her. Wilkes is a few years our junior, and in an entirely different house… unless you're asking because I'm a Slytherin and pureblood."
Harry shook his head in embarrassment, a blush rising once again to his cheeks. "N-no, I wasn't thinking that. Not every pureblood knows each other explicitly, after all. I just wasn't sure… y'know, being a transfer student and all."
He had to get used to thinking of himself as such.
"Hmm. If only we did… it'd make the Yule balls a lot more fun, no one standing off in the wings skittish like a Diricawl. Oh! I do know one thing… Bella told me, so obviously, you don't know," Verona whispered conspiratorially, sweeping her eyes around them as if waiting for a ghost to come eavesdropping.
Harry leaned in towards her, his ears perking up.
"There's one Slytherin that knows her… Regulus Black. They were the same year prefects. Supposedly they shared — well I guess the kids would call them 'patrols' nowadays," Verona added with a kiss of gossip and a feral-looking Cheshire grin.
"He was really cut up about the news when it was delivered the other morning. The gossip mill in the Snakepit probably didn't help the poor kid either…"
It was a lot to take in, especially about Regulus. Harry knew about the young man's future, but little more. He didn't even know when the boy had joined Lord Voldemort's cause. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. 'Not the time, nor the place.'
"So you're a pureblood, then?" Harry asked. He knew that the majority in her House were of that same blood status, but there were always outliers like Snape who were half-bloods.
Verona smiled, shaking her head at Harry. It was an open confession she had grown more comfortable with expressing over time. "No, actually. I was a muggle-born. Whoever my parents were, they abandoned me at birth — I was placed in muggle orphanages before I was found and placed in a magical foster system of sorts. I was adopted into the Jenningses, and through that — legally and magically — I became a pureblood in name only, as their heiress."
"You're adopted?" Harry said. He had been hearing the term the last few weeks in the castle, but it seemed to have not been commonplace whatsoever in his time. Though he was glad that Verona had a family who took her in, a small part of him wished that it had been him in her stead. How often had he begged to not be sent back to Dursleys? How often had he wished to be adopted fully by Sirius, Lupin, or even the Weasleys? How many nights had he prayed to be saved from his own childhood?
Verona nodded once more. "The Jenningses are a Noble and Most Ancient House like that of Black, Longbottom, and Ollivander. Greater even than that, we're a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," she tilted her head lightly as she continued. "We made our fortune in the production of quidditch brooms — and a little in the Eastern European carpet trade, too, but we don't talk about that much anymore. We're on the more progressive side of the Wizengamot, but we have our few black sheep. I could be considered one, I suppose. Along with being adopted, I'm also the first in the family to be sorted into Slytherin; most Jenningses are put into Ravenclaw."
Verona was surprised at herself for offering so much information, but Harry seemed to just have one of those trustworthy faces that had people spilling their guts after a while. It was a handy trait to have, for sure — perhaps she was just too open. Or maybe he was a great listener. Either way, Bellatrix would be disappointed in her. She tightened her self-control after that thought. Verona supposed it hadn't been a terrible thing, as it had at least gained the Gryffindor's ear.
"How have you been adjusting to Hogwarts? It mustn't have been easy, with the transition. Where did you study before this?" Verona asked her escort, quickly changing the subject and returning to fishing for information.
The hair on the back of Harry's neck rose at that. He'd been questioned by enough Ministry officials, journalists, and naysayers in the past to know when he was being interrogated. This was one of those moments.
"Can't exactly say much to compare it to this," Harry deflected. Frankly, it was true. The only experience the boy had with education outside of Hogwarts had been his primary school, years back, before he ever knew about magic.
That had been a lifetime ago, and ironically enough, it had been a more simplistic time for him. He would have taken being locked in that cupboard by his last living blood relatives over facing Voldemort any day of the week.
"But it's nice, having met some of the people that I have so far. The Gryffindors have been more welcoming than some of the other houses I've interacted with. The Hufflepuffs don't seem so bad. The Slytherins don't like me much, but that's mostly just the Lestranges and their lot."
Verona nodded, admiring the boy's nondescript answer. 'He's crafter than he looks, he's aware of my intentions at least on a base level it seems. Still dumber than a suit of armor, though.' How Bellatrix saw anything in the boy was beyond her at the moment, but then again she had seen something in her too — maybe she shouldn't judge the Lion so quickly? Verona decided to test the waters somewhat, hoping it wouldn't bring an irate Bellatrix down on her head.
"My friend, Bella — Bellatrix, seems to have some interest in you, ya know? She was impressed with how you managed to fight back against her in Knockturn Alley, and even how you handled yourself on the Hogwarts Express," Verona informed Harry, watching his face intently for his reaction to the attention from the princess of Slytherin.
Harry's face scrunched up at the mention of Bellatrix, his eyes flooding with a darkness that engulfed all emotion on his face except for the grim line on his lips left in its wake. His fist, bearing faint white scars, once again tightened and collapsed upon itself like a celestial body imploding.
"Oh. I didn't know she was watching me that closely," Harry said, trying to hide the bite in his tone, his good cheer gone with the knowledge that the girl was still insistent about uncovering his secrets.
'Did she send you to gather information on me as well?' Harry wouldn't have put it past Bellatrix to use someone like Jennings – a friend — for her own goals.
"Who wouldn't? I mean, look at you… I watched your duel with Rabastan in class myself, thank you for that by the way. It was quite the show. But you're clearly talented… from what some people say, smart to boot," the witch smiled to sweeten her words. "Seeing bastards like the Lestrange twins getting taken down a peg is always a sight. It was about time someone drained the hot air from their heads… hasn't happened for a while now. Yet, here you are doing it almost consistently…"
Harry nodded, agreeing that every Lestrange needed a firm asskicking. He relaxed a little at the mental imagery of his handling of the twins. In truth, he'd rather keep discussing his own exploits, quite uncharacteristically, than any subject involving Bellatrix. Harry would have taken questions on how he put his name in the Goblet or was the heir of Slytherin all over again rather than discussing the eldest Black sister.
"Happy to be of service, hah," he chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not a fan of Rodolphus, or especially his brother. But I only did what Professor Renault instructed. I wonder what kind of teacher he is going to turn out to be. From what I've heard, most of the Defense Professors at this school have been rather abysmal," Harry replied. In truth, he saw the man as a good teacher, based on what he had read in his dueling guide so far — but it was a shocking difference from the insecure man he met in the classroom.
Verona agreed with Harry's assessment of the long line of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors who had come and gone during her years at the school.
"Hmm. It's hard to say yet — most think he's an imposter — there's a betting pool in Slytherin about him being a broken boggart. He definitely can't teach well… hell, he's probably lying about his past," Verona added, personally unable to reconcile the man she saw with his legendary reputation.
The young wizard could relate to Professor Renault, however, in a way. How many of his schoolmates questioned his ability to lead the D.A, despite his long ledger of death-defying feats by the time he was only fifteen? It was scary to think that Harry had defied a Dark Lord multiple times, killed a basilisk, fought a werewolf, learned the Patronus Charm, and was the youngest Triwizard Champion in all of history. In truth, despite all of that — even he'd have trouble teaching a large class of hormonal teenagers with bratty attitudes.
Verona, meanwhile, had a brilliant idea to learn about the wizard accompanying her; all it would require was some feminine charm and a pinch of guilt. No man could resist a damsel in distress and Harry was just a man, after all. "Speaking of Defense, Harry… would you mind tutoring me sometime tomorrow then? Anyone who can beat the Lestranges is surely a talented man. And DADA isn't my best subject, and I need to pass the N.E.W.T. this year or else Daddy would disown me."
It was a partial truth. Her father would be displeased with any failing grade and he was someone she hated to disappoint. Plus, there was still Bellatrix to contend with in that arena.
It was the perfect opportunity for the witch to see just what the boy knew so she could report back to her friend. Bellatrix would undoubtedly be salivating at the wealth of knowledge delivered to her.
"Sure thing, Verona. How about tomorrow afternoon? I have my own things I have to do in the morning but I can meet you at around noon or so," Harry consented, offering his assistance.
"Perfect! Sounds like we've got a date then. I know just the place! There's an empty classroom on the fifth floor we can use. No one is ever up there," Verona flirted with a smile. Harry nodded at the invitation, before pausing as he registered the entirety of what she had just said.
"Oh. Oh! Woah — wait no, I—I didn't mean like tha —," Harry stuttered and gasped out.
Verona laughed at the wizard floundering to save face. They had finally come up in front of the Great Hall, where the entrance to the dungeons was just around the corner.
"You're too easy, Harry. It's just a tutoring lesson — don't let it go to your head," Verona said with a wink. "Thank you, for the escort. I appreciate it. I'll see you tomorrow."
The witch waved goodbye before turning her back on him.
Harry watched as Verona descended into the dungeons of the school. Shaking his head, Harry turned about, making his way up to Gryffindor Tower and wondering just exactly what his big mouth had got him into this time.
He was just thankful that the Marauder's Map was now in his possession, at least. He'd manage to kill two birds with one stone, as he now had a means of tracking the Death Eaters, and preventing the Marauders from retrieving their creation and asking questions that he wasn't comfortable answering.
Upon entering the tower which the pride of lions called home, stepping through the portrait hole, Harry was greeted by the sight of Sirius sitting in front of the fire by himself, staring into the flames and watching the coals glow in their pit as he held his wand. He hadn't spent much time with this younger version of the man he once knew, and he wanted to change that. He had found Sirius to be standoffish outside of the usual attendance of other Marauders or Lily. Harry walked over and sat down next to his future godfather and current dorm mate.
The Black held a look which Harry hadn't seen since his older-self's internment within Grimmauld Place. As if a gigantic puzzle was laid out before him and he knew not what the picture was, nor which piece to start with — there was a brooding resentment swimming about the man. Sirius's eyes twitched slightly, acknowledging Harry next to him, but the raven-haired Black offered no greeting.
Harry nodded to Sirius, but didn't speak a greeting either. He didn't know how he could reconcile whatever he had done to the young Black inadvertently. He had made efforts to be careful not to upset the delicate ecosystem he had found upon his arrival on the Hogwarts Express.
Harry knew just how fragile the Marauders truly were in their friendships from his experience with the few who lived into the future. It seemed like James was the central chord which held it all together. A chill went down Harry's spine, 'James will be dead in only four years time. He won't live to see twenty-two.' It wasn't a prediction so much as a reality. It had happened already… but then again, supposedly so had the Diadem, too.
Regardless of whether it was the man's fate, it wasn't something Harry couldn't sit back and watch. Not if he had a say. James Potter may not have been his father in this timeline, but the man who had given his life for him was James Potter. Harry felt a sense of debt to that man which couldn't be repaid — if ever — easily. A life for a life. Saving his younger self would perhaps go a long way in that payment.
"How was your Saturday, Sirius?" Harry asked, breaking the silence between the two, which was otherwise only disturbed by the crackle of the fire and the few students lounging elsewhere around the room.
"Fine," Sirius grunted and fiddled with his ebony wand. "I got a date with Bones tomorrow."
He didn't offer any elaboration other than that, his own mind clouded by the theories and possibilities of who the wizard sitting next to him really was. There were few things in life that Sirius hated; resting at the very top of that list was being lied to. He couldn't stand lies, especially after growing up in a household filled with them. It was one of the reasons he had begged the Sorting Hat to keep him out of Slytherin. Sirius Black had neither time nor patience for liars.
Harry whistled lowly, a smile on his face. He knew of the man's reputation with witches while in school. "Good on you, Sirius. I hope you have a fun time, Amelia is quite the witch," Harry said, misreading the other wizard's words entirely.
Sirius nodded, not truly listening to Harry's words. The two sat in silence once more before the comfortingly crackling fire, one languishing in the pursuit of the truth and the other revitalized by his veil of deception.
While the Gryffindor went back to his tower, Verona slithered back to the dungeons with the other snakes. With more questions in her head than answers after walking with Harry Evans, she could see why Bellatrix's attention had been focused on the young man, as of late. He was an interesting specimen, if not a bit simple.
Verona had been most surprised when she saw that he had held no animosity for her like he had Bellatrix; there was none of the anger in him which her friend had described resting behind his eyes, like a darkness waiting to overtake the young man and control his body like a puppet to enact its cruelty upon the world.
The Gryffindor was definitely an enigma, that much was made clear by the few signs he couldn't cover up. Like his watchful eyes looking out at the corners as they passed by, as if he was expecting to be attacked then and there. That, she could dismiss as paranoia with the recent attack, but the pile of evidence that mounted made him seem all the more suspicious — the glint in his eye the few times she mentioned Bellatrix. Then, finally, the wand which had her friend captivated. Verona saw what interested the witch so much; its wood practically screamed out in a voiceless, tortured existence shared only by those inmates whose vocal cords Azkaban had long since withered and wasted away. Now, it was just an existing symbol of whatever horror it committed, lost to time.
Harry Evans seemed like a young man who had simply seen too much, if his vigilant demeanor was anything to go by. Yet, he was a quiet introvert who was also courteous and kind. Who exactly was he?
Yes, she would meet Harry tomorrow, Verona decided. At least hopefully she'd be able to glean some more information for herself and Bella straight from the boy, rather than the rumor mill which had been quietly working its way around him.
Regulus pulled off his invisibility cloak, its camouflage thread pooling around his shoulders, visible from its underside. His eyes and ears were exhausted, having committed his entire Saturday to following Jennings around Hogwarts in a bid to finalize the schedule he was establishing to her movements about the castle. So many times, the young Black wanted to reach out to her from underneath the cloak, beg her to change her father's mind — to spare him the violence against her and the pain of doing so.
Anything to prevent what he had been stalling on performing for the last week. Regulus knew that his partners were getting ever more bloodthirsty over time. The pair of older Slytherin boys were impatient and dangerous — worthy members of the Dark Lord's army, yet all they invoked from him was fear and disgust.
He had nearly done it. He had been on the precipice, but then the Gryffindor boy — the new transfer student from the Opening Feast — had slunk out of the caretaker's office, to the surprise of both him and Jennings. All that he could do was to keep following them... to keep following his given task. He debated the merits of lashing out the moment his name was brought up casually as an acquaintance to Jeanne Wilkes. He held his violently christened hand back.
It had been a blessing when Harry Evans departed them and Verona Jennings went to their shared Common Room. He was safe for one more night. One more cruel night of waiting before the inevitable.
'Why couldn't I have been entrusted to Snape?' Regulus bemoaned to himself mutely, his mind groaning in the plight of his assigned partners. Snape was at least a calm, collected, and methodical mind. He wouldn't be breathing down his neck and urging him just to get on with it. He wouldn't go too far in the act itself.
Regulus's body was a protest, a struggle of mass he was forced to carry up and down the steps of the dungeons, the Common Room, and to his dorm before he could crash upon his bed. His spirit was beyond exhausted, yet still he was forced to keep moving. His confliction weighed heavier with each passing thought.
Betray the Dark Lord or betray his family? It was a conundrum for the Black scion. In doing either, he was betraying his family — one way or another. Only, one would see them all dead at the hands of the Dark Lord, and the other would see his own blood despise him. Either way, he would taste only the bitterness of damnation.
'My blood already despises me, though. What's the problem with more?' Regulus thought in sorrowful memory of his older brother. He had idolized Sirius growing up. Sirius was the heir, groomed by Arcturus most of all to be everything a Lord Black should be. Regulus thought there was nothing Sirius wasn't equipped to handle — but even he still had run from it all, unable to handle the expectations of the family nor their mother.
In his flight from his obligations, Sirius had offered to whisk him and Narcissa away from their beds in the dead of night, unbeknownst to anyone else in their home. He spoke in a hushed voice of how they were too young to be corrupted; that their future was still their own despite the efforts of the older generation. Regulus had told his older brother that it was him who was trying to corrupt him that night – against their family and the very promise within their blood.
Sirius had shaken his head in frustrated disbelief, telling Regulus he was the one making the mistake before leaving, never to return. The next morning, upon discovery of Sirius's actions, their mother had howled and screamed, all hellish fury and scorn. A day later, it had tempered into cruel cursing of his name. The day after, she had blasted him off the tree. It took both himself and father to move her away from the door, waiting for her prodigal son who would never come back to repent his foolish youth.
Regulus, though, couldn't abandon his family as easily as his brother had. Deceit was not in his veins. His family was his world. Ever since Sirius's departure, Regulus had done his best to make his mother proud of him; in doing so, he had earned the pride of his father, too.
What Sirius hadn't realized was that, by leaving him behind, he had doomed his younger brother to the very corruption he feared. In only a few months, he had been told he was taking Sirius's place in a movement destined for greatness. What Regulus did not know at the time, despite his following of the movement in the paper clippings he collected, was that he was going to be inducted as a Death Eater before even his fifthteenth birthday.
'Am I still too young to be corrupted yet, brother?' Regulus thought of Sirius's last kind words, bile rising in his throat at the anger he now held for him — anger which he refined and honed in that moment for the time he would need to call upon it, when he would have to raise his wand against Bellatrix's friend.
The blackness of sleep overtook Regulus as he laid in his bed, like the night before, and every night before that. He would find no comfort or haven in his dreams, only the nightmares that awaited their tenant behind closed eyelids.
September 24th, 1977
23 hours before the Wizengamot Vote
Amelia stood near the entrance to the Owlery Tower, thumbing the letter sent by her father in her hand. The Bones Patriarch had not been pleased when he had been told he'd be looking into a boy at her school, forcing Amelia to settle his worries by explaining it was for another heiress in his political bloc who feared their own father's reprisal.
She didn't expect her father would write back so quickly, though — the very next day! Surely it took more time to discover a whole young adult's life worth of secrets? Yet, the Old Lion had only survived as long as he had in power by being quicker than his namesake.
Amelia shook her head at the thought of it all, the request from Sirius Black and the enigma of Harry Evans. He should have been none of their business but curiosity had won. She swore to herself, upon sealing away her delicate penmanship in the envelope, that if Sirius had a problem with their fellow classmate then he would be the one who dealt with whatever fallout followed in its wake.
She gave the delivery owl a treat for its job well done, turning on her heels as she left the tall tower, moving along down the sloped ramp snaking along its outside. She had to deliver this to Sirius now. Amelia knew that the troublemaker would be plotting away somewhere with his friends, devising their next big prank. The fact one had yet to occur in the school was beginning to set many in its walls on edge. The reputation of the four Gryffindor boys spoke of pranksters who simply didn't sit on their laurels; they'd try to outdo themselves eventually.
Amelia unintentionally quickened her pace through the halls. There was an unsettling edge in the air. It had persisted for weeks, but now it was a predator nearly halfway out of the brush. She wasn't unused to people taking notice of her, savory and unsavory; it was a politically turbulent time. She had always been a staunch voice in the halls of Hogwarts against those who practiced or delved into the Dark Arts, like many in her family before her.
If Evans was indeed bad in any way like Sirius Black suspected, then she wanted to know. Amelia was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the two seventh-year Slytherins stealthily following her, blending in the crowds and small groups of students who were about the castle on the weekend.
Upon exiting the tower and entering one of the many courtyards inhabiting the school's ancient grounds, she found Sirius Black with his usual crowd of suspects, Potter, Lupin, Meadowes, McKinnon and the redheaded Evans. Sirius was sitting next to Remus Lupin, his arm hanging gently off to the side near the young werewolf's knee. The group of Gryffindors were laying on the ground and sitting between the stone pillars lining the cloistered windows.
They were all sharing laughs and large smiles as James Potter narrated an over-the-top tale to his crowd of friends.
"… So then me and Remus are trying to unlock the office to plant the dung bombs, while Peter is watching the corridor down the hall as an early warning for us. But the damn Gargoyle wouldn't budge! We tried every password we could think of, even tried bribing it by asking how it was being compensated for its everlasting vigil over the Headmasters office; we could have offered it mason care. The damn bronze griffin starts to caw like the real damn creature. It's so loud, we thought that even Hagrid heard it from his hut. So we cut our losses and scarpered out of there but when we turned around there's Ole Dumbly holding Peter locked-still in a conversation about some mysterious room of chamber pots he stumbled across," James spun off the tale with a smile on his lips.
"Never did find out what the Headmaster was talking about," Peter said glumly. At the time, he had been the only one fascinated with a mysterious room in the castle. The other Marauders merely shook it off as Dumbledore being eccentric and finding one of the lesser known bathrooms.
Remus shook his head.
"The statue wasn't cawing, that was the sound of you trying to bribe it with whatever you could think of," Remus said laughing boisterously, slapping his hand down on his knee. Sirius's hand was brushed off by the action.
James pouted as his friend.
"Oi, it's my story Moony. Stop butting in with your tail about my tale," James smirked, Lily shook her head in disgust at her boyfriend's terrible pun, not knowing in the slightest why they kept up the bit of animal related humor.
Soon the group noticed Amelia Bones as she came towards them. Lily and her friend smiled at her, while the Marauders each shared a look of concern. They all knew that the only reason Bones would seek them out was to skin their raven-haired member alive with a dull potions knife.
Sirius Black, himself, immediately stood up and held his hands out.
"Now look here Amelia, about the jokes yesterday — that's all they were jokes and I haven't told a soul —," Sirius started but he was cut off by Amelia casting a silence charm on him.
The rest of Black's excuses were soundless in the wind. Sirius, caught off guard, tried to speak but his lips moved with no sound, like a fish gulping for air. The crowd in attendance, including his friends, began to chuckle at his plight.
"Oh Amelia, you've got the old dog by the tongue. You'll share that spell with the rest of us for when he won't shut up, right?" Marlene McKinnon asked the Hufflepuff, the two sharing a smile and wink. Amelia Bones would do anything if it meant a little more displeasure for the Black she held the most animosity for.
"Black, would you mind joining me for a moment? If you behave, I'll even give your voice back before you catch a fly with your mouth open like that," Amelia requested of the voice-locked wizard.
Sirius nodded his head, and gestured with Amelia to lead the way with his hand. His face adopting a goofy smirk as he bowed and waved to his friends, a signal that he had enjoyed their company and would gladly wait for them on the Other Side after Amelia Bones was through with him.
The unlikely pair left the courtyard and continued until they found themselves in an old abandoned corridor on the third floor. There were no noticeable souls in the vicinity as Amelia looked around her surroundings once, the feeling of being on edge still present in the back of her mind like a needle pushing in.
With a wave of her wand, she returned Sirius's voice back.
"Merlin, darling, you could have just started with the request instead of walking up like you had a vendetta," Sirius informed Amelia, not appreciating the robbery of one of his finer traits.
Amelia rolled her eyes at the Gryffindors antics."Smarten up Black, this is serious for once," she argued.
"Well thank goodness for that because I happen to be Sirius —," Black joked before his voice was robbed away again with the wave of Bones's wand. She grimaced at walking face first into that famous one-liner, favored above all others by the idiot.
"Another joke from you and I'll keep this with another part you really like in a jar for my own amusement," Amelia growled.
Sirius nodded, his eyes adopting a firm and humourless light. Bones found it odd to see the young man before her to look so different, determined and serious.
With another wave of her wand, Amelia returned his voice and handed him the letter from her father.
"Well blimey, that was quick then," Sirius summarized, inspecting the unbroken seal of the Bones Family crest in wax upon the envelope. He knew Lord Bones was one of the most powerful men in magical Britain, but digging up dirt on someone this fast was unheard of unless Harry was publicizing everything in the Prophet under the world's noses.
Sirius read the fine script of Lord Bones which detailed his findings on Harry Evans.
Dear Daughter,
To my knowledge and quick research, I've found that the boy you requested we look into simply didn't exist until about a month ago, on paper. We have accounts of him entering Gringotts Bank in early August, purchasing a wand from Ollivander and then a registered Portkey he took to Bulgaria the next day. His O.W.L. scores were exceptional, with nothing being scored below an Acceptable.
There was no record found of his birth in St. Mungo's or with any of their midwives we talked to who specialized in home births for purebloods. When we approached Muggle orphanages undercover, the matrons and fathers who ran the homes told us they had never heard of the boy in question passing through their doors.
Whoever he is Amelia, he has left quite the large question mark in his wake. Please inform me if you discover anything about him while attending Hogwarts. My associates and I would greatly like to know.
Your Father,
William Arthur Bones
Sirius cursed under his breath at the lack of luck. "Damn it, I was sure he'd have found something," the Gryffindor mumbled.
Amelia raised an eyebrow at the boy before her.
"I'd say he found a lot more than he should have done, to be honest. Reading between the lines, it seems that Evans is more private than we could have guessed. Nobody has that little history about them unless they have something to hide," she surmised. In truth, she had begun to think that Sirius Black was on to something with his classmate.
Sirius nodded in agreement. The Lord Bones's lack of finding was nearly as damning as finding the transfer student's actual closet skeleton.
However, Sirius's thoughts were ended by a calming haze shrouding his senses. The world seemed idyllic and his mind was fuzzy — his own thoughts sounded like they were being shouted from shore while he was out in the sea.
'Curse Amelia Bones… break her,' a voice whispered in between the Gryffindors ears. Sirius's brain was alerted to the wrongness of the act though. He didn't want to do it, but the voice was honey.
'Why? She's a friend… I don't curse friends, do I?' he thought, trying to recall if he had ever cursed a friend. He could start today though…
'You do curse friends… and she isn't a friend. Not one of yours. She hates you, and all your friends,' the voice insisted, whispering sweetly, but with an air of frustration at its end. Sirius thought the voice sounded displeased with his lack of action so far.
Sirius wanted to act upon the voice's suggestions though, despite everything telling him not to draw upon his companion.
'Hates?… my friends? She hates my friends,' Sirius thought, his deductive reasoning slowing down further as if it was trapped in quicksand and sinking. He would draw his wand if someone hated his friends; his friends were the best of him.
While Sirius was questioning the orders from the spell he was placed under, his wand arm had begun to shake, his hand slowly reaching for the pocket where he kept the piece of wood.
Amelia watched the boy before her lose himself inside his mind, his eyes glazing over in a blank stare. His mouth moved slowly in a mumbled, whispered reply too low for her to hear, like he was talking to someone not there. Her eyes glanced down to the shaking limb attached to the boy's body, and the feeling of being on edge that had sat with her all day was at an all time high. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms were standing high, and goosebumps dotted across her flesh.
Amelia's eyes widened at the spell barreling towards her. She dove to the ground just as a spell soared over her head, striking the air where her torso had been moments before.
Bones drew her wand, a simple design made from dark oak with several strands of a unicorn's tail residing within, empowering the magical core.
From the ground, Amelia cast a shield charm over herself and Sirius, "Protego!"
Spells shot off and bounced off the shield charm covering the two, striking out at the walls around them and scorching the stone. Amelia Bones wasn't prepared for the spell which left Sirius's wand though, the girl barely rolling out of the way in time as the Black cast his own cutting curse at her head, the blade of magic slicing just behind her ear as if thrown off trajectory. His next spell to her torso struck true, his hand unwavering.
Pain erupted in her side and Amelia's hand flew to where she'd been cut, pulling back the limb for only a moment to see it covered in scarlet. Deciding the threat of a crazed Sirius was more important than her unseen assailants, Amelia turned her wand on the Gryffindor once more.
Sirius's wand shook in his grip as another spell puckered on his Imperiused lips. Amelia quickly raised her own wand at the mind-controlled wizard, binding Sirius's hands with a chain conjured forth, locking his wrists together with a silent 'Incarcerous'.
Amelia watched the glassiness fade from his eyes. His wand out of commission, Bones hit Sirius Black at point blank range with a quick body-bind curse. Sirius's frame went rigid with his spine correcting itself to be straight as a board.
A grunt was all that escaped his lips as his body collapsed to the ground, shoving the air from his lungs.
A figure stepped out from behind a pillar further down the hallway. Josephius Avery glared daggers toward Amelia Bones with his wand forward and barreling its tip at her figure.
"Fucking useless fool couldn't even be Imperiused properly," Avery spat, his eyes flashing towards Sirius Black's fallen body next to her. "Oh well, we wanted to pin it on him when we saw you both together, but I suppose we can just adjust his memory instead…"
Avery swept his wand from his side, the tip pulsing a poisonous magenta, and shot a spell towards Amelia.
Panic was driven aside by pain, and that was what saved her life as she tucked into her side and her legs gave way far from the deadly spell. She had traded certain excruciating agony for a duller but no less dangerous ache. With one hand to her side and the other in a death grip around her wand, she acted, taking aim at Avery's face. "Conjunctivitis!"
The spell struck true and immediately Avery's left eye slammed shut in its socket, blood spouting from beneath the lid. The left half of his face fell to convulsions and sporadic twitching as the spell shocked him over and over. His left eye was effectively destroyed by the girl's retaliatory spell; he had barely been skimmed by its beam, but that was enough for it to work its magic upon his seeing-orb's nerve endings.
From behind her, Amelia heard the chant of another spell from her second assailant, but this one struck her in the lower back.
The Hufflepuff fell to the floor in a gasp of pain. Her vision weakened from the loss of blood from Sirius's cutting curse, and now the fire blossoming upon the small of her back as quick as it came through, she began to lose feeling too.
"Argh! Y-you fucking b-bastard," Amelia ground out from behind clenched teeth. The witch's grip on her wand was still firm and she struggled through the trauma to aim her next spell at her second unknown attacker.
Avery, however, didn't give her the chance to cast a spell at his comrade. His wand flew down at the collapsed figure of the witch, lips stretched into a vindictive smile as he snarled, "Crucio!"
Amelia Bones's mouth stretched open into a soundless scream, her entire body convulsing on the floor as Sirius watched in powerless horror.
Sirius could hear the figure approaching from behind him and Amelia but, with his face pressed against the floor, he couldn't see any discernible features. He strained his ears to see who had aided Josephius Avery in his attack on them.
"Blimey Avery, pull back for a moment. We still got to collect the evidence," the voice said. Mulciber inspected Amelia's twitching body and withdrew his wand, replacing the item for the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. The Slytherin reached out and grabbed the girl's arm before opening her hand and prying her family ring off her finger with the cloth, careful not to touch the object with his bare skin.
It was a ring — one that held the Bones Crest — covered in the family blood from Amelia's wound.
"She'll fucking die from that cut, most likely. I say we just leave 'em here. They'll think Black finally snapped, or something," Avery snarled, wanting to retreat as soon as possible, his head splitting into a migraine as his destroyed eye revolted in its socket.
The unseen attacker put his boot against the back of Sirius's head and pushed, breaking the boy's nose and jaw against the cold stone of the castle floor. "Ha! Not so holy are you now, Black? Fucking blood traitor," the voice sneered.
Spit landed on the back of Sirius's head, his bloody nose pounded into the floor as his assailant attempted to drown him in his own blood.
"C'mon Brute, let's get out of here," Avery's voice, fading as he got further away.
Mulciber smiled down at his handiwork, the tenderized form of Sirius Black. A piece of parchment tucked in Sirius's coat pocket caught his eye. Kneeling down, he plucked the paper forward, lifting it to his eye-level.
'Some kind of report? On Harry Evans — well I'll be…' Mucliber thought. He could name a few people who would desire information like this, or more importantly the lack-thereof.
"Stop fucking around, Brute! Let's go!"
Mulciber grunted in acknowledgement, rising to his feet to follow his partner. Forgetting to adjust Sirius' memory of the event before leaving the corridor..
As the blackness of the void began to overtake Sirius's waking consciousness, the last part of him, the one holding onto righteous fury and sheer madness from his powerlessness, held onto the name.
'Brute? Brutus… Brutus Mulciber.' That had been the second attacker. 'Blood traitors… fucking blood traitors, curse you … House of Black and …'
Sirius blacked out.
It was time, and Regulus could no longer stall the event. The plan was simple — or, as simple as Regulus could have made it. Avery and Mulciber would go after Amelia Bones while he took out Verona Jennings by himself. They all agreed on having two for Bones, since it was possible they'd have to handle anyone around her at the time. It was prudent to ambush their targets during the hours of daylight, despite the risk it warranted; at least no professors would stumble across the scenes.
Regulus insisted on handling Verona, not willing to let either of his cohorts touch his cousin's friend. It was the only mercy he could offer her and Bellatrix. He still regretted whatever small amount of harm he'd have to cause them both in the attack. 'A Death Eater who regrets hurting someone… I'll be the only one,' Regulus lamented deep in his chest. He was not marked yet, but completing this task would all but ensure that there were no doubts on his resolve.
Regulus readied his invisibility cloak stuffed in his pocket, leaving his dorm and Common Room to begin the hunt for Verona Jennings.
Throwing the cloak over himself when he was alone in the corridor, Regulus maneuvered his way through the castle, avoiding contact with anyone who would be walking about as well. He would start his search in the Library and then go from there, listing off Verona Jennings's normal places of study or hiding.
'The Library, The Black Lake, The 5th Floor Abandoned Classroom, The Divination Tower, The Transfiguration Garden, The Clocktower,' Regulus repeated the list like a mantra.
Once he found Jennings, he'd have to tail her without her becoming aware of his presence until Avery and Mulciber were ready to strike themselves. Their attacks had to be coordinated.
The three conspirators all possessed the same white gemstone in their off-hand, a stone which would blacken when injected with their magic, repeating the action upon the others. It was to be their signal in the task to come, a gift from the Dark Lord himself for that very purpose.
Regulus held the gem in his right hand; a chill seemed to radiate from its unblemished surface.
Regulus searched diligently for hours, moving from spot to spot across the grounds. Finally, after turning a corner of the fifth-floor, before him was the object of Abraxas Malfoy's ire. Verona Jennings stood in front of a boy with black hair and glasses. 'Harry Evans… the transfer student. He was with her yesterday.' The pair stood outside of an unused classroom and were just talking. Jennings was laughing at something Evans had said, who was simply nodding with a smile.
Regulus waited for several minutes for the pair to split off, but they never did. His impatience was beginning to bubble out of his skin as they stood there, still discussing whatever it was they had been doing before, too engaged with the other to sense the danger they were both in. It was now; there was no more of a perfect time. Seizing the moment, he sent the message that he was in place with his gemstone. He didn't look down to confirm the white surface morphing into a deep pitch of black.
Regulus stayed beneath the invisibility cloak for his own safety, and due to being unwilling to look into his victims eyes like last time. His shoulders shook for a moment from the memory of the betrayed look in Wilkes's eyes as she saw him raise his wand against her — not for one second knowing it was against his own will.
With a calming breath, Regulus counted down from ten in his mind. He readied the spell in his head. 'For my family, for my blood,' he assured himself one last time. Regulus didn't shake anymore; his nerves steeled over. He had full control of his actions this time… no one but him would commit this act.
'Ten … Nine … Eight … Seven …Six … Five … Four … Three … Two … 'Imperio'
Regulus's Unforgivable spell enveloped the boy with dark hair and glasses, encompassing Harry Evans like a slow draping blanket. Each of them felt the spell take control of Harry's mind, Regulus's own now overlapping the Gryffindor's.
'Attack her with your wand,' Regulus ordered. But Harry didn't move; a frown was the only physical change in his glassy, far-off expression. Jennings took notice of Harry's void expression and waved her hand in front of his face.
"Hey there, Evans?… Evans, are you still with me there?" Verona asked, blinking widely at Harry's expressionless face.
'Curse her now!' Regulus commanded, yet the boy did nothing and Verona grew more suspicious, shaking his shoulder.
'Stun her! Harm her and take something for evidence!' Regulus instructed frantically this time through the spell's connection, but still his Imperiused victim made no movement to signal that the order had sunk in.
Dread filled his heart. He had meant the curse, hadn't he? He desired it to be someone other than him. He needed to attack Verona, or else a worst fate would fall upon the girl. It was better if it was him who ordered it — so why wasn't it working? Why did it have to really be him?
'Please… you have to attack her! They'll only make it worse. Do it! Raise your wand and curse her!' Regulus commanded mentally, sinking deeper in his anguish.
Seeing that the spell held no sway over the boy, except for making him seemingly docile, Regulus lifted his wand once more with a trembling hand. He swallowed down his own fears and worries, keeping his condemnations of himself silent to the pair.
'You're corrupted… just like Sirius said. You're too far gone now, and he isn't coming back for you,' he thought, embittered through the abandonment.
The emotion swelled in his gut like a furnace. Just as an unseen adder within the weeds of a garden, Regulus Black struck out with his fangs.
The Sayre Journal
Chapter 29 - Sensing Ambient Magic
Magick is wilde. It is free, yet tangible to the touch for those with the proper mind. If it be wilde and yet ſubject to our manipulation, then it is a ſtream within the foreſt. One may draw water from its current, but to stop it entirely is to divert the stream elsewhere, leaving destruction in its wake. Despite being all around us, we cannot feel every piece of magicke; it is as touching the air. Where doth one breeze end and a new one beginne?
To sense magicke is to poſseſs a sharpened ſense for the world about oneſelf. This is a common trait amongst the magical races of Veela and Fae, and those accursed like werewolves and vampires. This ability may be harnessed and honed in any wizard with patience.
At an early age, I could pull upon the strands of magick which did surround me, capable of comprehending the web of energie about an area. At my height, I could ſense living from dead, visible from invisible, man from creature. I was capable of stepping through wards and other ſecurities with ease, ſimply by shifting the magicke around me with a touch, rather than tearing down whole ward ſchemes.
More importantly, I was capable of ſensing magick when directed at myself from other wizards. To perform this art, inject thy surroundings with thine own witchecrafte, flooding the field with a part of thyself. If magick be eſsence, then eſsence be thee. Beware, however — the more magick that is cast around thee, the more difficulte it becometh to hone and sense ambient magicke or specific marks of other witches and wizards.
To master this ſkill is to become nearly connected to all of the magick around thee.
A/N: And that's part 1! I tried writing a dialogue heavy chapter since I struggle with this most while writing. I'd like to think it worked out. As always, if you see mistakes please let me know and we'll get to editing them out.