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Chapter 47: Cruelty

A lantern glowing on the room's lone desk cast dim shadows whose flickering punctuated the long pause. "I misjudged you," Arcturus Black said at last.

Harry leant back in his chair. "How so?"

"I didn't think you were the sort of man to balk when faced with hard choices."

"It wasn't a hard choice." Ice crept into Harry's tone. "It should never be a hard choice in that situation."

"Then I don't think you considered all angles," Arcturus said bluntly. "Did you not think about how difficult this would make our job of hunting Riddle?"

"I thought of it." There was menace in the way Harry replied. "I think about that all the time, no matter what I'm doing."

"And yet you threw away the straightest path we can provide you the moment it got dirty?"

"Is that what you call it?" Harry leant forward, staring hard into the Lord Black's face. "Is that what you call slaughtering men to make a point? Is that what you call burning men alive in front of children?"

"I call it war!" It was the first time he had heard Arcturus raise his voice.

The shift did not phase Harry. "I call it cruelty and criminal."

"War is cruelty," Arcturus growled. "There's no refining it. There is winning and there is losing. There is the cost of victory and the price you pay for your defeat. There is a choice between them, and no more."

"My war's not with them," Harry argued. "My war's with Riddle. That's what I care about."

"Clearly not enough," Arcturus retorted. "Listen to me, boy. If you cringe at the sight of blood, you might as well wave the white flag now."

Harry's face went hard as stone. "You want to talk to me about blood, Lord Black? How much have you spilled? How many have you killed chasing better things? Do their faces haunt your dreams?" Quiet reigned over the study. Dorea continued sitting silently off to one side while the men stared hard into each other's eyes. "They haunt mine. I've killed more of them than I have names for and I'd do almost all of it again if it meant Riddle's downfall."

"Why then?" Arcturus looked older than he ever had in Harry's presence. "Why throw away the only road we have at our disposal over a bit of bloodshed? Those men deserved it, by all accounts."

"My problem isn't bloodshed. My problem is needless killing. I have no problem swinging the axe if people have to die to make things better. This wasn't that. This was a man getting ahead of himself and carving out a reputation."

"Forget it, Arcturus," Dorea said when the Lord Black opened his mouth. "He's just like Charlus, in this way. You won't convince him."

"I should have known," Arcturus muttered. "The will of man thwarts all the best laid plans."

"Are there any leads on Riddle?" Harry asked. "I might as well go chasing them if any have popped up."

"None have," Arcturus gritted out. "It's why I'm so frustrated over all this foolishness."

"There is Crouch." Both men turned to face Dorea. "Given the absence of options, I thought he might be worth mentioning."

"We'll get nothing out of him," Harry said after some consideration. "You'd be hard-pressed to find a more loyal follower than Crouch, and I'm pretty sure he's an occlumens."

"How sure?" Dorea asked. "The boy is not yet seventeen."

That meant almost nothing; Crouch had barely been seventeen when carted off to Azkaban and that had not impeded him. "Pretty sure."

"It is an option," Arcturus said. "Occlumency is not infallible. The mind's defences can be breached, or even circumvented."

"Torture," Harry muttered, recalling Alice Longbottom's slack hair and blank eyes.

Dorea pursed her lips. "Legilimency or Veritaserum would be one thing. Either of those could be passed off easily enough. Torture is another matter. It's loud and messy, which are adjectives I would like to avoid using to describe operations involving Azkaban."

Arcturus drank a sip of wine. "I don't like it. Riddle was at his weakest after fleeing from the country. Our delays give him time with which to rebuild his strength."

"Rebuild his strength how?" Dorea asked. "I don't see what he could do, past acquiring more followers."

"That all depends on where he is," Arcturus pointed out. "There are places less firmly under the order's thumb than Europe, places one might hide completely or twist to their advantage."

"Where would you go?" Dorea asked. "If it were you and your goal was conquest?"

Arcturus looked up at the ceiling, staring into space for the span of half a minute. "It would depend on how amenable certain people were to my suggestions," he said at last. "I think Europe can be ruled out, and much of Asia too; Zheng's grip is probably stronger than any other governor and he has the deepest well of resources."

"And you've ruled out America," Harry said. "That leaves South America and Africa, since I don't see him setting up shop somewhere in the States."

"Africa is a gambler's choice," Arcturus said. "The potential gain is almost limitless, but the risks aren't much lower. It's been a melting pot for decades, simmering just below a boil."

"That sounds like Riddle's idea of an opportunity," Harry noted.

"Perhaps." Arcturus knuckled both eyes. "The issue is, I don't know where he would have gone. Particularly given Muhindo's vigilance and his propensity for ruthlessness."

"What now, then?" Harry asked.

Arcturus looked up at the ornate clock hanging above his study's entrance. "Unless you've come to your senses and agreed to put your soft heart aside, now you make the most of a mishandled situation and strengthen yourself the best you can."

Harry tracked his gaze up toward the clock. "My first occlumency lesson's in a few minutes."

"Yes." Arcturus gestured at the stone basin resting on the desk between them. "You may use this room for the instruction. Deposit any memories you refuse to part with into the pensieve. It's simple enough. Press your wand against your forehead and bring up the memory, then focus on extracting it. It's not really a spell."

"Just intent," Harry finished, going over the list of things he had to keep secret.

"Yes. You'll be able to take them back out of the pensieve by doing the reverse." The Lord Black stood and his sister followed. "Until next time, Kalloway."

A sharp wrap against the study's door jarred him fifteen minutes later. It was fortunate whoever was instructing him had turned up late; there had been a long list of memories demanding his attention. "Come in."

The stranger who entered was short of stature but full of form, with luscious curves in all the correct places. Her lips were full and pink, her black hair long and lustrous, her blue-grey eyes glittering. "So, you're the Kalloway boy I've heard so much about?"

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Harry said, studying her closely. She did not strike him as the type Arcturus would place trust in.

"In more than one area, I'd guess." The thin smile she flashed cut the space between them like a knife. "This is a shame, though. I would have hoped my own brother saw fit to introduce me."

Harry frowned. "Arcturus is… your brother?"

The woman clucked her tongue. "Not one for genealogy, are you?"

Harry's frown tightened. "Not really, no."

"I guess I can hardly blame you after how meaningless the empire has done their best to make it." The woman stepped farther into the room and offered him a bejewelled hand. "Cassiopeia Black."

"Ah." It struck him how little he knew about her. "A pleasure."

"If you're half as charming as the stories suggest, then likewise." She all but strutted her way around the long, low desk and plopped into her brother's chair. Harry half-expected her to drop dead due to one ward or another. She merely smiled at him. "So, why is it a pretty young thing like you wants to spend his time slaving over occlumency?"

"Has Arcturus not already told you?"

"Bah." Cassiopeia flicked her hand, making three bright rings sparkle in the lantern's light. "I've heard my brother's explanation. It's all very cut and dry. I want to hear your answer."

"Why?"

Cassiopeia quirked a single brow. "Is a girl not allowed to be curious these days?" When his expression did not waver, she let out a dramatic sigh. "You're about as much fun as Arcturus. Where do you people find light in the world, always tracking motives and logic like they're the only things that matter."

"That didn't answer my question," Harry pointed out.

"Fine, fine." Cassiopeia's face became more serious. "I don't like Britain," she said frankly. "I've felt that way for decades. Me being here at all is rare. If I'm to spend consistent days in this drab place teaching a boy I don't know occlumency, I'd like to be sure I'm not wasting my time."

"Fair enough." Harry drummed his fingers on his knee. "I want to learn occlumency because not knowing it in the past probably played a part in at least some of my failures, which means it got people I loved killed."

"Interesting." Cassiopeia cocked her head. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Hmm. Such a dangerous, teenage life you've lived."

"Are you doubting me?"

"Hmm. That rather depends how you mean," Cassiopeia said. "I don't doubt you've had all sorts of tragedies, and I know the sort of things you've been up to in the last few months. I just think there are important details you're not sharing."

"Granted." There was no use lying.

"Is it true that you're after Tom Riddle?"

Harry's jaw clenched. "Yes."

Cassiopeia's eyes bored into his face. "Why?"

"Because too many people I care about are dead or in danger because of him."

"And what will you do if you catch up to him?" Cassiopeia asked, casual as strolling down an empty road.

Harry met her eyes. "Kill him." The hatred he had felt in Bucharest before tearing up the street bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts. Then came Charlus Potter whimpering, Marlene's swooning, and Lily with a dagger at her throat.

"I see." Cassiopeia broke eye contact. "You're aware what just happened, aren't you?"

"You took advantage of the eye contact to use passive legilimency," Harry responded.

"And you let me." It was not a question.

"Yes," he answered anyway.

Cassiopeia hummed. "All right, then. Let's not waste any time."

The next two hours were as gruelling as any he had spent in Snape's dark office years ago. Thankfully, this batch was productive. While unable to repel her so much as once, he had off-balanced Cassiopeia enough to force a struggle several times.

"Adequate," she declared after he had conceded yet another round. "I don't think you'll ever be a master, but you'll get good enough if we keep at it."

Harry rubbed his temples. "Thanks," he said, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

His instructor smirked. "It gets easier," she assured him. "Less painful, at least."

"I await that happy, happy day," he drawled.

"As do I." Cassiopeia stood and inclined her head. "Do make sure you see to Riddle at your earliest convenience. I would like my granddaughter back and have never been patient when it comes to waiting."

"You can come out now," Harry said a minute or so after Cassiopeia had vacated the room. "I know you've been watching."

A slab of stone set into the wall behind the sturdy desk swung out, as if on a hinge, and admitted Dorea into the study. "Such a clever boy, you are."

"Focused is what I was. I tend not to miss things like that unless I'm distracted." A frown crested onto his lips. "I'm actually surprised Cassiopeia didn't notice you. Some legilimens have that talent."

"Oh, she almost certainly did," Dorea said offhandedly. "She's just not really one for caring."

"Until it comes to her granddaughter, apparently."

Dorea's expression softened. "It's rare to see that side of Cassie. It was… refreshing."

"I don't know much about her," Harry admitted. "Just that she's your sibling and that she doesn't spend much time in Britain."

"There's not a great deal for you to know." Dorea took the seat she had previously been occupying, leaving the Lord Black's empty. "Cassie travels all around the world and indulges outrageously in her… amusements."

"Ah." Harry's mouth felt a little dry at the implications. "I see."

"Don't let that fool you, Cassie's plenty talented. More than any of us, if you believe my brother."

Harry's brow furrowed. "You disagree?"

"I lack his perspective. They're both a fair bit older than I am. Cassie was mostly out of the picture by the time I was an adult. We're friendly enough, though not close. I haven't had the same exposure as Arcturus."

"She's a very good legilimens," Harry said. "I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure most practitioners don't have that kind of control."

"And doesn't that just have some lovely implications." Dorea sighed. "I'm sorry. My cynic is coming out today, for whatever reason."

"I think that's only fair, given the news I dropped on you." Harry fidgeted. "I'm sorry about that, by the way — not that I walked out, but for the hassle it might cause you. I know you went through a lot of effort to arrange things, and I know being First Lady must not help things be less complicated."

Dorea fanned her face. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I did sort of screw things up. I standby doing it, but I'm not dim enough to pretend it was good strategically."

"Cassiopeia was right about one thing — sometimes, my brother and I do live too deeply in the world of ambitions and manoeuvres." A sour smile tugged at the corner of Dorea's lips. "How did you put it? I'm not dim enough to pretend that's not true."

"Me too," Harry muttered. "Sometimes it feels like I only ever live in that world."

"Yet your recent actions show otherwise." The edges of Dorea's smile softened. "I won't insult your intelligence and tell you it was the right decision, or that it won't make things difficult. What I will say is it's the one I hope my own son would make if caught in that position."

"You don't have to hope." Tingling started in his face, then crept into his arms and legs. "James wouldn't have stood for that, not even for a second."

"And yet he wants to be a venator."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. These next words had to be selected for their delicacy. "Narcissa told me about the reputation some regions have when it comes to producing venators."

Dorea's face twitched. "Narcissa was kind if she worded it that way."

Harry frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that the more time goes on, the less localized certain viewpoints become. Oh, don't look like that. It's understandable if you consider it. The longer the empire rules, the more proof we see for the feasibility of methods they favoured during the Conquest."

"You… almost sound bitter." There was no other way of phrasing it.

"I'm bitter over many things," Dorea confessed. "Not in the way you're thinking, mind you. My feelings there are… complex."

What had Marlene told him about the Blacks? Something about an uprising in the fifties being put down and them being harshly punished? "Complex sounds about right." If the Blacks were half so vengeful as their reputation, most of them must loathe the empire. Yet Dorea had married a Lord Governor.

"Indeed." Dorea's expression smoothed. "I wanted to let you know that my husband will be returning to many of his duties soon."

Harry's heart soared. "That's wonderful! The recovery's gone well, then?"

"As well as can be expected." Dorea's voice revealed nothing. "My own feelings aside, the shift is relevant to both of us, as I will no longer have the final say in certain areas and my husband…" She pursed her lips. "Let us say he has a sense of propriety that I have never shared."

"Ah." Harry licked his lips. "What do you think might change?"

Dorea turned her head in a dismissive gesture. "Right now, not much can, seeing as you're no longer aligned with the Order of Merlin the way you were two days ago. These things develop though, and we may find ourselves entrenched in politics again."

Harry kept his face schooled as he replied. "Fair enough."

"Charlus will likely want to meet you soon." Dorea said it as if confirming a suspicion he had obviously been nurturing. "I would advise we meet again before that happens so we can get some details straight and make sure they stay consistent."

"All right." Harry was missing something. The knowledge of that poked and prodded him, yet he could not piece together what it was.

"I should be going," Dorea said. "Soon is not now, so I'm still shouldering the bulk of my husband's duties. Let me tell you, I have gained a new admiration for that wonderful man these past months."

"I should head out, too," Harry said, rising from his chair.

Dorea laid a hand on his arm just before they reached the door. "Give my brother time," she told him. "Arcturus is not so calm and cold as he likes us all to think." Harry offered up a shaky smile, unsure what else to do. "Good." Dorea removed her hand. "I'll be seeing you again shortly, I'm sure."

It was mere minutes later when Harry apparated onto his mountain ridge overlooking Hogsmeade. The city streets were full to bursting. Lines of citizens perused the sidewalks and traffic was deadlocked on the roads themselves. The crowds were thickest near the city's heart, among its many storefronts and popular attractions.

Harry dragged his eyes away and moved toward his cave. There was an envelope resting at its mouth, unadorned but for his name written in a messy hand. Picking up the envelope, he broke the seal, wondering who would be writing him.

Dear Harry,

Sorry I've been out of contact for a while. It's been a tough time since the end of school and I've been struggling. Mum's paranoia hasn't helped, and neither have the riots. There was one not far from us a couple weeks ago that gave me a right scare.

Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up for lunch on Saturday? I know your last letter mentioned you would be travelling, so no worries if not.

Hope to see you at the Leaky Cauldron Saturday, and to hear all about what's been going on with you.

Cheers,

Marlene

A second letter left farther into the cave had Moody's name written on the front. This one Harry tore to shreds that were snatched up by the gusting wind.

Turning on his heel, he stepped through constricting darkness and onto the winding, cobbled road running through Diagon Alley. It was jam packed. Had his destination been deeper into the crowd, he would have turned away. As it was, he backtracked into the dingy pub with its long counter and cramped booths.

Tom the barman looked no different here except for his extra teeth. "What can I be helping you with, sir?"

"I'm meeting a girl here, or I'm supposed to be. She's a couple inches shorter than me and has black hair going about halfway down her back. Almond-ish eyes, strong jaw, straight nose…"

"Ah." Tom crooked a sly smile. "I know the one—she's been here most days this last little bit. She's over there, right in that corner booth."

Harry dipped his head. "Thank you."

"Harry!" Marlene all but leapt out of her seat. "I had almost given up."

"I'm glad you didn't," Harry said, sliding in across the table from her. "Sorry I didn't reply. I only just got your letter now."

"Oh." Marlene looked him up and down. "Have you come straight from… wherever you were?"

"No, I finished up a couple days ago. I just haven't been home since then. Spent a couple nights in France. I needed a bit of a getaway to stop me from going mad."

"I know what that feels like," Marlene murmured.

Harry's features sobered. "Yeah, I'll bet you do. How have things been going?"

"They're… getting better," Marlene said. "It's just been really hard. I adored him, you know? To find out the sort of stuff he did…"

"Yeah." Add the cruel treachery to those who believed in him to Riddle's list of crimes. "I won't pretend I've gone through it, but I get it."

"You know what the worst part is?" Marlene asked, watching him with wide eyes. "I don't hate him." Harry's heart sank. "I know I should and it's not like he bewitched me. I just… can't. Like, I know he did those things and I don't doubt them. Just… it feels wrong, like it can't match the person who I knew."

"The person you knew is dead," Harry said as gently as he could. "Really, he was never alive. It was just a mask."

"I know," Marlene said. "It's just… not easy to convince myself of that."

Harry chewed his words, searching for the proper reassurances.

Before he could find them, the taproom filled with silver light. Patrons startled all throughout the pub. One girl even screamed.

Harry had eyes only for the pearly leopard gliding through the cramped aisles between crowded booths.

The apparition paused mere feet away from him. "James is awake." Its voice belonged to Dorea and was scarcely louder than a whisper. "He's awake and he wants you. Come fast."

"War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it… "

— William Tecumseh Sherman

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