"ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ɪɴꜱᴀɴᴇ."
― ʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ꜱʜᴀᴡꜱʜᴀɴᴋ ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ʙʏ ꜱᴛᴇᴘʜᴇɴ ᴋɪɴɢ , ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴꜱ
Chapter Fourteen: Puzzle Pieces
Harry tried to shut his eyes again and feign sleep. It was only because he had appeared to have fallen asleep on the sofa and Sirius had vetoed waking him up that he was even able to listen to this conversation.
He heard someone close the door and nearly jumped in surprise. Thankfully, the blanket draped over him helped to obscure it.
"Are you sure it's alright with him here?" asked a woman's voice from near the door.
Harry's eyelids twitched, but he did not dare open them to see who it was.
"Look at him, Andy, he's dead to the world," said Sirius.
Harry certainly hoped it looked that way. He let his head fall back a little bit more and tried to relax his facial expression.
"If you say so," said Andromeda, just audible over the crackling of the fire, but she sounded unconvinced.
Two sets of footsteps — along with Sirius's cane. It took all of his willpower for Harry to resist opening his eyes for a quick look.
"So, Mafalda," said Moody gruffly. "Your report."
A beat of silence followed.
"Well," Mafalda began, far more hesitant than Harry remembered, "Narcissa surprisingly hasn't summoned me. I thought that would be on the very first day."
"Clearly," said Moody, "she's lowering your guard to feed you false information."
"That's a bit fatalistic, isn't it?" asked Tonks.
"I believe your mentor is correct," said a cold voice.
This time, Harry could not suppress his jump of surprise. He froze, trying to breathe deeply. Why's Snape here?
He tried in vain to remember if Snape had been there when the Order came to meet at 12 Grimmauld Place earlier in the summer. No, surely? Snape wouldn't pass up a chance to make some snide comment at his expense, even in Sirius's presence.
Was Snape in the Order? What was he doing here? No one seemed unsettled, so that meant he must be a member.
It was a strange proposition. Snape, even disregarding his personal animosity with Harry, was a suspicious character.
But then Harry was remembering things — Dumbledore discussing Umbridge's visit with Snape, that library card in Writing Solid Spells, with his mother and Snape's names alternating as if they'd been passing the book back and forth between them.
Clearly, he was missing something crucial.
"That sounds like something Narcissa would do," said Andromeda, shifting in her seat.
"Great." That was Mafalda. "So that's it. She knows what I'm here to do. It's over."
There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence in the room, only filled by the crackling of the fire.
"Then you must convince her otherwise with acts of loyalty," said Snape, and to Harry's surprise, his voice was not particularly unkind. Then again, Mafalda had been one of his Slytherins. "That is the secret to being a double agent, as I understand."
"So you think she should — jump in front of a spell or something?" asked Tonks. "Hey, I could pretend to be an assassin!"
Harry could almost hear everyone wincing.
"Nymphadora, that is far too dangerous!" snapped Andromeda. "You'd be killed on sight!"
"Not if I disappeared," said Tonks, her voice warm with excitement. "I got full marks in Concealment and Disguise, remember? As long as the place is crowded enough, I could transform and slip away!"
"Or maybe I should just wait and see if I can fix this mess myself," said Mafalda reproachfully. "Your mum's right, Tonks. That's too dangerous to risk."
"I disagree," said Snape, and Harry nearly jumped again. "I believe the danger is necessary to make this lie believable. The very idiocy of the plan, I am afraid, is a merit."
"Oh, of course Sniv— Snape thinks so," said Sirius in an acerbic tone. "As no one knows what side you're on, not even yourself."
"The irony is not lost on me that this accusation of playing both sides comes from a man committed to Azkaban and freed by the Dark Lord himself."
Harry could hear Snape's sneer. Playing both sides? What did that mean, exactly?
"Shut up, both of you," said Moody gruffly. "We haven't got time for your schoolyard insults."
A beat of silence followed.
"Right. Now, if we can move along to Narcissa's legislative suggestions?"
There was the rustling of sheets of parchment, and then someone cleared their throat. Andromeda began to read.
"First, and expected, we have some Hogwarts-specific recommendations to the Minister. One is the removal of Muggle Studies, and the second is the removal of Muggle-born students from the acceptance list. As you all know, the Muggle-born Registry is active, so they are well within their ability to identify these students independently of Hogwarts providing them that information." Andromeda paused for breath.
Harry's thoughts could not help but go to Hermione — and to the Muggle-born students hiding in the Room of Requirement during third year, on threat of expulsion from Hogwarts, itself surrounded entirely by Dementors. Not again. Never again. That couldn't happen.
"And Umbridge can be essentially considered a rubber stamp," said Sirius, the irritation evident in his tone.
"Well, can't we do something about it?" asked Tonks. She sounded nervous.
"No, not since Dumbledore was stripped of his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," said Moody. "I won't waste your time with comforting lies. The situation is dire."
Everything in Harry itched to pull off the heavy blanket and sit up straight, to interject and ask why everyone seemed intent on taking everything lying down. Whether Voldemort was behind her or not — Narcissa was one person.
But this was his only chance to hear what was really going on outside of Hogwarts, and he couldn't afford to waste it.
"Should I continue?" murmured Andromeda. The rest must have nodded their assent, for she did. "Next on Narcissa's list — adult Muggle-borns pose a risk to a peaceful, harmonious society. So, she suggested that they be… removed."
The air in the room was stifling. Harry couldn't see their sudden stillness, their drawn, tight expressions, but he could feel them. His own breathing was somehow more laboured as if there was a great weight sitting on his chest.
Removed.
Had this been the endgame, all along?
Whose endgame? Voldemort's, or Narcissa's?
"Are you sure there's nothing you can do about the Wizengamot?" asked Andromeda, sounding breathless. "What about Elphias? He surely must be able to—"
"Veto all of this?" Moody cut in. "Not if a vote carries by at least two-thirds."
"Since when?" asked Sirius. "Hasn't it got to be carried by a unanimous vote?"
"Not anymore, it hasn't."
"And there's no one on the Wizengamot who can be persuaded?"
"Oh, even your vast coffers in the family vault at Gringotts will not inspire bravery in the Wizengamot's ranks, Black," said Snape, low and disdainful. "Though I suppose it is characteristic of you to attempt to throw money at a problem."
Sirius said something unpleasant under his breath.
"Is there anyone international who might be willing to intervene?" asked Andromeda, still doing her best to maintain her composure.
Moody snorted. "Someone willing to go up against Voldemort? Not very likely, don't you think?"
"This is hopeless," said Mafalda, her voice wavering. "It's — it's all too little, too late. Whatever we do."
"Listen, Prewett," said Moody. "Our original plan is still a good one. You must make Narcissa believe you have turned, that you are on her side. That means—"
"I know," said Mafalda resignedly. "Playing both sides."
"But we must come up with a plan together to win loyalty," Andromeda stressed. "Any mistake, and…"
She did not need to finish her sentence.
"I think that's everything we needed to discuss tonight," said Moody, and Harry heard the sound of people getting up. "We're all counting on you, Prewett."
"I know," said Mafalda softly.
The door creaked open, and Harry heard people shuffling past, murmuring good-byes and good-nights. His head spun as he tried to make sense of the conversation he just heard. Surely people couldn't let that happen! Unless everyone had gone mad — but yes, the Dementors had sent everyone mad.
Sirius shut the door, and then he was coming closer to Harry's sofa, footsteps and the tap of his cane growing louder.
"Open your eyes, charade's over," said Sirius, clapping his hands.
With no choice but to admit it, Harry peeled his eyes open, and sat up, the blankets sliding off of him. "Then why did you say—"
"Trust me, I was young once too," said Sirius. "I know you weren't really asleep, but I think you ought to know what's going on."
There were so many questions Harry wanted to ask — why Snape had come, how Narcissa was getting away with all of this, what all this stuff was about playing both sides. But he had no idea how to broach any of them.
Sirius sat down on the sofa beside Harry, folding his arms. Even in the low light of the dimming fire, he looked oddly subdued.
"You said something big was going to happen," said Harry, turning to him. "Is this it?"
"It will be, if we can't stop it." Sirius still did not look at him, the flickering fire casting strange shadows on his face. "This will change everything. And once it starts here, it'll spread."
"There's got to be something you can do!"
Sirius shook his head, finally looking straight at Harry. "Didn't you hear? We're running out of options." His voice softened. "Look, I know it's hard. But once this is all over, we'll be a proper family. I promise."
Harry held his gaze for a while, processing it. A proper family. Something seeming both impossible and yet so tangible that he didn't even fully dare to imagine. That, and the idea of everything being normal again. Things hadn't been normal since the end of second year — no, when they'd left the Dursleys — or perhaps it all stemmed from that prophecy. The thought of things crumbling further than they already had was near enough unbearable.
"You think — you think there's a way out of this where we win?" asked Harry.
Sirius took a moment before he answered. "Hope is a dangerous thing. But it's also the only thing worth living for in times like this. But I think you know that. You've… been through a lot."
When he put it like that, it didn't sound quite overwhelming. Maybe hope wasn't much, with that list of horrors that Andromeda had read off from. But it was enough. It had to be.
"It's happening! Quick!"
"What's going on?" asked Harry, looking confusedly around the drawing-room. Tonks had just leapt into the fireplace, disappearing in a puff of green flame, Mad-Eye Moody following close on her heels. Everyone was running around and shouting incoherently.
"It's Andy—" said Sirius, snatching his wand from the table and striding towards the fireplace "—Ted just Flooed us — they're being attacked — stay where you are!"
With that, he grabbed a handful of lime-green powder from the urn, said "Tonks's house!" and stepped in, the flames billowing up to the top of the fireplace and leaving Harry alone in the room, the haunting tick-tock of the grandfather clock the only sound in the room, which had been deafeningly loud just a few seconds ago. His head thrumming with last night's conversation, Harry made a decision.
He thrust a hand into the urn, drawing out a handful of Floo powder. Holding his wand very tightly, he said, "Tonks's house!" and stepped into the fireplace. Harry just barely had time to tuck his elbows into his chest before he was sucked into a brick labyrinth, spinning around so fast that his vision blurred, the lights of hundreds of other fireplaces flickering by until he shot out, arms flying up to protect his glasses as he tumbled out, landing hard on the rug.
As he stumbled to his feet, Harry heard the sounds of fighting ringing out around him in the dark living room. His feet crunched on broken glass. Figures danced across the lawn, spellfire illuminating the darkness in neon flashes.
Harry moved closer to the shattered window, trying to get a better look at what was going on. Sirius and Andromeda duelled a Death Eater with long, dark hair streaming behind her mask, who did not seem to be at a severe disadvantage despite being outnumbered. Mad-Eye and Tonks were duelling a pair of Death Eaters, one broad, one rail-thin.
"Who's there?" asked a soft, cautious voice. Harry turned to see a large man laden with various healing potions staring at him. "Is that — is that Harry?" His face paled. "You shouldn't be here, son."
The man, shifting an armful of potions, offered Harry a hand up from where he was crouched near the window. "I'm Ted, Dora's dad."
"What's going on?" asked Harry, for the second time that night.
"An ambush, by the looks of it — but don't worry, it's planned," said Ted, but his anxious glance out the window at Tonks, who narrowly dodged a spell from the thin Death Eater, belied his calm voice.
Planned?
"We should've known he'd send Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers," said Ted, shaking his head. "What a mess. I suppose I can't convince you to go back to 12 Grimmauld Place?"
Harry, looking out at the lawn, shook his head, ducking just in time as a stray spell shot through the last intact window in a spray of glass and violet light. Ted glanced at him, looking torn.
"I don't have time to argue," he said. "Just — make sure you're not seen. And promise me, if they get anywhere near the house, you'll get back through the Floo."
Harry nodded half-heartedly as Ted burst through the front door. Two spells met — from Sirius and Bellatrix's wands — in a great explosion, golden sparks arcing like fireworks. Tonks had a long cut splashed down the belly of her forearm, dribbling blood as Ted raced towards her.
So engrossed in watching the fighting, Harry didn't notice the footsteps until the Death Eater lunged into the empty window, launching himself away from the curse just in time, sending Harry careening into the furniture. His wand was knocked from his hand, and Harry's head dropped to the side, making eye contact with the fireplace, a few embers flickering within it. Cold adrenaline shot through his veins, rolling to avoid the next curse, leaping to his feet, and shouting "Accio wand!"
It slammed into his hand just as the Death Eater advanced on him again.
"So the Boy-Who-Lived finally shows his face," said the man, trembling with excitement. "I hear you're quite slippery."
His hand shot out — wand not pointed at Harry, but at the fireplace, which crumbled into a pile of brick.
"Should've scurried away when you could," the man wheezed. "Nowhere to go now! The Dark Lord didn't manage to kill you, Potter, and he so wanted to. Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him."
"And imagine how disappointed he'll be when you have to tell him you couldn't manage it," said Harry, his nerves singing with adrenaline now. "Expulso!"
The Death Eater danced away from the curse, laughing, the chair behind him shooting through the door instead in a spray of splinters. Somehow, Harry felt completely unafraid, standing in the middle of the shattered living room — after all, he had faced a stronger enemy in Riddle in practice dozens of times.
And then emerald light seared his eyes — time slowed to a crawl as his thumb ghosted over the patterned surface of the ouroboros ring — Harry saw not the Tonks's living room but the nursery in Godric's Hollow, Lily standing in front of him, trembling fingers wrapped around the railing of the crib — but in this dream she turned, eyes wide and frantic, the same colour as the Killing Curse itself and screamed, "Duck!"
Harry dove behind the sofa as the curse ricocheted against the far wall, his heart stuttering against his chest, side aching from the fall. Time moved normally again; the Death Eater's steps grew closer and closer to his hiding-place.
"Oh, Potter, come out, come out, wherever you are!"
His lungs strained, working oxygen into his veins in quick, short, shallow breaths. Gritting his teeth, Harry got to his feet, popped over the top of the sofa and fired off a curse. This time, the Death Eater flew back into the window frame with a loud crack, seemingly unconscious.
Harry didn't wait for confirmation and raced past him to the lawn. A stray spell sailed over Harry's head, as he headed towards Sirius, who was still duelling Bellatrix with Andromeda.
"Didn't I tell you to stay inside?" asked Ted, catching him by the arm. He looked around the lawn, cataloguing the combatants. "Where did Crouch go?"
"He's in there, unconscious," said Harry, pointing towards the house with a shoulder. Ted followed his gaze, looking dumbfounded.
"The entertainment is here!" called Bellatrix, whipping her head around to grin at Harry, the lower half of her mask blasted off, before launching into a barrage of attacks.
And then, Harry realised it was not he the 'entertainment' referred to, but a mass of dark cloaked figures, floating just above the ground. His fingers grew numb as a deep cold bit into his flesh.
Dementors.
Ted's grip slackened on his arm, and Harry took a step back. All of the adrenaline drained out of him, replaced by a cold, leaden feeling. There was no use fighting… what was the point…
The world drained of colour.
He looked to the side and saw everyone else slumping over, too. Tonks had lowered her wand, eyes glazed, though Moody was muttering something, wand trained on the Dementors, a silver-white bubble slowly unspooling from it. Andromeda seemed to have dropped her wand, her head hung, and Sirius's eyes were wide and flicking back and forth, as if he were re-living something terrible.
Just then, Bellatrix raised her wand, all of her face that was visible alive with triumph—
No.
Harry saw Sirius turning to him in the fire-lit drawing room, gripping tight to the memory so the Dementors couldn't take it.
"Once this is all over, we'll be a proper family. I promise."
No one would take that away from him and Ruby. They couldn't. The fire of determination burnt within him, searing away the Dementors' cold as he raised his wand.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Brilliant silver-white light burst before his eyes, brighter even than the Killing Curse, coalescing into not a shapeless mist or a billowing shield, but a great, horned animal. It lowered its head, charging at the swarming Dementors, which scattered away from it, stumbling in fright.
"NO!" shouted Bellatrix, and the night burst into full colour again. The Lestrange brothers were already running — the Death Eater who had attacked Harry in the house, Crouch, stumbling down the stairs and out onto the lawn as Tonks and Moody took off after them, wands drawn.
"Bad odds, cousin, don't you think?" asked Sirius. "You can count to four."
Bellatrix tossed her head, trailing a veil of dark hair. "Andy's Mudblood lover and Baby Potter are hardly worth considering."
"Oh, shut up, Bella, you always loved to ramble," snapped Andromeda.
Another sharp grin was beginning to spread across Bellatrix's face. "You haven't got the mettle, much less the ability, little sister. I, who learnt the Dark Arts from the Dark Lord himself—"
"—and you think he loves you," said Andromeda, shaking her head, and Bellatrix's face went whiter than arsenic powder.
What? Harry nearly tripped over his feet, stumbling back. He didn't think he wanted to know, quite frankly. Bellatrix raised her wand, and spells started flying again.
Just then, Tonks and Moody stumbled back into view, both breathing hard.
"They're gone," said Tonks, between gulps of air. "Almost had them — they Apparated."
"Now's not the time!" barked Moody. "Bellatrix is invaluable; we must capture her."
"She'll never talk," Ted started, but Moody had beaten him to it.
"Incarcerous!"
Bellatrix barely missed a beat of her fight to Vanish the chains whipping towards her — but the presence of more combatants must have spooked her, because she took two steps back, and then disappeared with a loud 'pop.'
Everyone visibly relaxed — all except Moody, who looked frustrated at her evasion. Ted was attending to Tonks' cut.
Harry sat down heavily on the lawn, feeling exhausted. He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, gripping it tightly.
"What don't you understand about stay where you are?" asked Sirius. "You could have been killed!"
"I—"
"No, no excuses!" snapped Sirius, his face livid. "Next time I tell you what to do, do it!"
"Sirius," said Andromeda in a warning tone.
"No!" Sirius whirled around to glare at her. Everyone was staring. "He needs to know he can't go around diving into things he doesn't understand! That's how disasters happen!"
"Yeah, I do understand!" said Harry hoarsely, leaping to his feet. "I don't want to lose you!"
The anger slowly drained out of Sirius's face. "I know, kid. I know. I should've explained before we left."
"We didn't have time," said Moody gruffly. He still looked put out.
"We had Mafalda feed information to Umbridge that the Order meets here at our home," said Andromeda, moving closer. "Which is true, even though it's not our headquarters. Hopefully, that will help her gain cover. It was a trap of our own."
Harry let out a nervous laugh. "Well, it felt real."
"It was," said Sirius. "It had to be real, to convince Bellatrix." Something warm crossed his eyes. "And that Patronus, Harry, it was incredible…"
He had almost forgotten the silver guardian bursting out of his wand, driving away the Dementors, just as Dumbledore's phoenix had during the Siege.
"Did you see it?" asked Harry eagerly. "What was it?"
"Kind of hard to miss," said Tonks, tucking electric-blue flyaways out of her eyes. "It was a stag."
Despite everything that had happened that night, Harry felt a warm bubble of happiness in his chest. "A stag… Mum's was a doe, and…"
"—your dad's Animagus form was a stag," Sirius finished, grinning brilliantly.
Harry stared up at the sky above them, the winking stars and the bright, full moon. Somehow, the night did not feel so lonely.
"Come on," said Sirius, draping an arm around his shoulder. "Let's get you back home."
Ruby's eyes flew open, the dream fading around her. There were only the familiar nighttime surroundings of her room at 12 Grimmauld Place — the vase of dried flowers on the cream vanity, the matching armoire, and Hephaestus asleep in a dark shadow near the foot of her bed.
That must mean it must not be real, the dream — the dream of Bellatrix and Sirius duelling, the red light, and him slumping to the floor, dead. Ruby shivered, drawing her knees up to her chin.
What was it Professor Trelawney said? As you'll soon come to understand, a dream is never only a dream.
Sirius was just down the hall, anyway. He was the Secret-Keeper, after all, and they were safe in 12 Grimmauld Place.
Still, it couldn't hurt just to check. Feeling utterly stupid, Ruby swung her feet down to the floor and reached for her shoes. Hephaestus blinked in the blue-white wandlight, giving her a reproachful stare.
"You can go back to sleep, you know," said Ruby, but he just glared, and then jumped down from the bed and followed her out the door and into the hallway anyway. It was dark and narrow, and all of the paintings were still asleep. Very soon, she was at Sirius's door.
This is silly. Of course he's still here. It's Christmas Eve, for crying out loud. Where would he go?
Nevertheless, Ruby turned the handle and pushed the door open, as quietly as she could, but it creaked on its hinges.
"Sirius?" she whispered, carefully flashing her wandlight around the room. The bed was still made, covers neatly folded back and pillows fluffed, and empty. That same, panicked feeling from the nightmare returned in full force as her heart thudded against her ribcage.
Maybe, maybe he's fallen asleep downstairs, thought Ruby. Yes, that was far more reasonable than the alternative. Surely, Harry would agree.
Ruby shut the door, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. Hephaestus meowed plaintively, padding after her as she headed back up the hallway to Harry's room. This time, she entered without ceremony, flinging the door open and striding in.
"Harry, wake up, Sirius is…"
She trailed off, taking in the surroundings. Harry's bed, too, was empty, pyjamas draped over the footboard. Hedwig was asleep in her cage, white head tucked into her wings.
"…missing," Ruby breathed. Her voice seemed to echo in the silent room.
Now, she really panicked, her mouth dry, mind racing. Ruby braced herself against the doorframe. It was all coming back to her, the dream, Sirius's laugh before the red light hit him square in the chest and he fell, never to rise again. Had Harry been there, too?
Hephaestus's tail brushed against her leg, anchoring her to the present. Yes, she had to stay calm. Perhaps they were just in the drawing room downstairs; perhaps they had been talking and fell asleep.
Yes, they must be down there. Ruby bent down to gather Hephaestus into her arms and headed down the hall, picking up speed as she went, calling their names as she flew down the stairs and into the drawing room.
"Harry?" she called, pushing the door open. "Sirius?"
No one answered, not even as the chandelier sparked to life, casting a cold glow on the empty, moth-eaten sofas. The fire had died down to embers, flickering weakly. Fear clung to her nerves like a phantom tree, and she clutched Hephaestus tighter to her chest.
No! They had to be here.
Ruby whirled around, depositing a disgruntled Hephaestus on the nearest sofa, where he promptly began making a cosy spot for himself.
There had to be something she was missing, a note, or something! Ruby yanked one of the glass-fronted cabinets flanking the fireplace open, and started to rifle through the contents, looking for a message — all useless trinkets. It was then that she felt a pair of eyes on her back.
She spun around wand-first, already preparing the curse — but it was only Kreacher standing before her, glowering up at her with large, reproachful eyes.
Ruby breathed a sigh of tempered relief.
"Where's Sirius and Harry?" she asked.
Kreacher lifted his chin haughtily, and Ruby put down the elephant ornament she had picked up, shutting the cabinet.
"Kreacher, please, I'm begging you," said Ruby, seizing his knobby hands. "Where've they gone?"
Kreacher only cast his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, if Kreacher's Mistress could see now, the ignominy brought on the House of Black. See how this horrible girl grabs at him as if she has any right to—"
"Kreacher!" Ruby growled.
He flinched a little at her tone, but did not falter. "Oh, yes, she stares at Kreacher with her horrid Seer's eyes — but Kreacher thinks to himself, if the girl has the Second Sight, why doesn't she just see for herself?"
"It doesn't work like that," said Ruby, jerking away from Kreacher to sit down on the sofa, her head between her hands. "That's why I'm down here in the first place, anyway. It's something I saw. Or at least I thought I saw. I don't know anymore. It's horrible. All I have are these half-answers, and everyone keeps dying."
Kreacher gave another haughty sniff, and rolled his eyes theatrically. "Kreacher sees now that the girl will not leave Kreacher alone unless he tells her whether Master Sirius has gone — Dirty Master Sirius and his filthy friends left on a ridiculous mission about an hour ago."
"Mission to where?" asked Ruby, sitting up straight.
Kreacher only gave her yet another haughty look before disappearing with a loud pop. Ruby sunk into despair. They were on some ill-fated mission, and she had no idea where in the world they were. Why had they gone? What could possibly be so important? Couldn't one of them have woken her? Left a note?
Ruby pressed a hand to her face. She would not cry. She would not. She must think of something to do.
Just then, the fireplace roared with green flame. Ruby shot to her feet, her hand on her wand, not knowing whether it was friend or foe.
The fireplace spat out a figure in a spray of ash, nearly tumbling to the floor had he not grabbed hold of her for balance.
"Harry!"
Equal parts rage and relief filled her. His face was smeared with soot and his hair messier than ever, but he was alive. He glanced up at the grandfather clock, back at her, and said, sheepishly,
"Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas? You idiot!" snapped Ruby, fresh anger rolling off of her. "Where've you been? Where's Sirius?"
When he didn't answer, she grabbed him by the other shoulder, too, and shook him.
"All right, all right — he's right behind me!"
The fireplace flared green again, and the next figure made a far more elegant exit, striding out and brushing ash off of his robes. Unlike the Sirius of her dream — very much alive, too, though pale and weary.
It had been a dream, then, a horrible, stupid dream.
"Oh, don't look like that, Ruby," said Sirius, checking his watch before flopping down on the sofa. Hephaestus glared at the disturbance. "No one died."
Ruby, like her cat, glared, crossing her arms. "What's going on?"
Sirius sighed. "We'd set a trap for the Death Eaters at Andy's house, needed to make Narcissa and Bellatrix believe Mafalda was feeding them good information. This one—" He indicated Harry "—decided he'd disobey a direct order and invite himself. He did cast his first corporeal Patronus, though, so—"
"You went running off to fight Death Eaters?" asked Ruby, whirling on Harry, the panic of the nightmare still searing her veins. "Do you know how hard I've had to work to keep you alive, just so you can go running off on some stupid mission that doesn't even involve you in the first place? I don't know what you think you've got to prove!"
Harry opened his mouth, and like one of those fish, closed it and then opened it again.
"And I'm the one who acts erratic?" Ruby continued. "Don't you remember what Bill said?"
Just then, Sirius started to laugh — not mockingly, like he had in the dream, but unexpectedly warm, draping a hand over his face.
"Oh, leave him alone, I already told him off earlier — though I daresay you're doing a much better job."
Ruby glared at him again as she sat down. "Was Bellatrix there?"
"Yes," said Sirius. He paled a little. "How did you know?"
It felt stupid to bring it up as a serious consideration. But that boy in the puddle in first year had seemed stupid, too, and now here they were.
"I was dreaming that you duelled and… and she killed you," said Ruby softly. She could not meet Sirius's gaze.
Sirius looked contemplative, regarding Harry. "It could be just a dream. Besides, the future's not set in stone. Whatever it was, it's passed." He exhaled slowly. "Remus will be sorry he missed the fun—"
"Yeah, seems like we're both always being left out of the loop," said Ruby acidly.
"—Harry's Patronus was incredible," Sirius finished, unperturbed.
Part of Ruby wanted to smack the grin off Harry's face, but she couldn't deny it; a Patronus, and a corporeal one to, boot, any at age, was an achievement — at fifteen, ridiculously advanced.
"Congratulations," said Ruby, but there was still some bite to her voice.
Harry half-winced, half-smiled. "Thanks."
"Alright," said Sirius, getting to his feet. "We've all had a very exciting night, now how about a nice, normal Christmas?"
Ruby took a deep breath, her hand splayed across Hephaestus, curled up next to her on the sofa. Surprisingly, it seemed to take the edge off her anxiety.
"And what does that entail?" asked Ruby, getting up, too and following Sirius towards the kitchen.
Amusement pulled at the side of Harry's mouth. "Sirius's terrible cooking, probably."
"You two, I heard that," said Sirius, laughing.
"What, it's true! You're the only person I've met who can burn water!"
"You want to hear about a real disaster?" called Sirius from halfway down the stairs leading to the kitchen. "You should hear about the time your father and I attempted to make trifle."
"Come on, that's foolproof," said Harry, shaking his head, taking the steps two at a time to catch up to Sirius.
"You see, that's what I thought," said Sirius. He flicked his wand, and the fireplace sputtered to life. "However, the recipe didn't say how long to soak the sponge so James and I decided overnight was reasonable. Needless to say, it collapsed under the weight of the custard… which we also managed to curdle."
Ruby snorted, but she still felt off-kilter, the sight of Sirius lying motionless fixed behind her eyes. It almost felt surreal to see him emerge from the pantry and start puttering around the kitchen, checking his watch and asking if anyone was in the mood for a past-midnight breakfast. Maybe he was right, maybe the danger had passed.
So why couldn't she shake this foreboding that had settled on her, like a heavy blanket of snow?
Tee's words echoed in her mind, clear as if he were standing right behind her. "But everything you've scryed has come true, hasn't it?"
A noise snapped her back into the present.
Harry was helping Sirius fish bits of eggshell out of a bowl, muttering, "How do you end up doing this every single time?"
Ruby watched them, trying to ground herself in the moment. This was real, not that dream, not murky, muddled visions of the future. This was all that mattered.
She stood up, smiling to herself, and drifted over to help, the dread retreating. Harry and Sirius had moved over to the stove, now, one of the heavy, ancient copper pots set on top of a heating element.
"—so when it just starts to set, you scrape the pan around the edges," Harry was instructing, before handing a wooden spatula off to Sirius.
"You know," said Sirius, attacking the eggs with vigour, "they say cooking is like Potions."
Everything was normal, at least for now, Ruby reminded herself. There was no danger here. Trelawney had been wrong about lots of things before. Sometimes, a dream was just a dream.
"I thought you'd be better at it then, Remus said you got a N.E.W.T. in Potions," said Ruby, swiping a piece of asparagus from the frying pan, but not before Harry slapped her hand.
"That's not done yet!"
"Finders, keepers," Ruby singsonged, twirling out of reach then biting down on her prize.
It was hot.
Really hot.
Harry snorted as she spat it out, blowing on her scorched tongue. Sirius glanced over his shoulder, and started laughing, too.
"That's not funny," Ruby mumbled, and then she caught sight of the stove.
The spatula had been enchanted to stir the eggs on its own, and the salt and pepper shakers hovering above the pan were taking turns dispersing a generous amount of their contents.
For a second, both Harry and Ruby stood rooted to the floor, looking at the whole thing in shock.
"What?" asked Sirius, realising that they were both looking at him in utter silence. "What's wrong?"
"I, er, think the eggs might be ready," Harry managed to croak out.
The charmed spatula stopped mid-stir; the salt and pepper shakers floated down to the countertop as Sirius shook the scrambled eggs onto a plate — at least, to Ruby, they looked more like a mass of curdled yellow rags.
Exchanging a look of apprehension with Harry, Ruby reached for a fork. It was just as rubbery and salty and peppery as she expected, and was slightly burnt, too. And the moment she started chewing it sent her into a fit of eye-watering coughs.
"Sirius," said Ruby, still coughing. "I think this is more inedible than Hagrid's rock cakes."
"Well, at least Harry's asparagus is alright," said Sirius earnestly. "And I could make some toast."
Harry gave him a withering look, but Sirius didn't notice it as he had turned to the breadbox.
"Here we go—" Sirius flicked his wand again, and a few slices of bread rose into the air. A brilliant flame passed through them, leaving them a darker brown than Ruby would have liked — but only gently charred on the edges and filling the kitchen with the pungent aroma of slightly-burnt bread.
Well, it beat the aroma of slightly-burnt egg.
As they wandered to the table, Ruby turned to Sirius. "Will you avoid Bellatrix? Just in case?"
"Oh, you know how it is with family," said Sirius airily, "even the ones who want to kill you."
"Sirius."
"I won't lie to you," said Sirius, his tone more serious now. "Being in the Order is dangerous. I could die. Any of us could. But it's what I've chosen, twice, and I know the risks."
All too well. Sirius rarely — never, in fact, since the time they'd met — discussed his ordeal in Azkaban. No one wants to recall their worst memories, after all, especially twelve years' worth, thought Ruby. He didn't look waxy or gaunt anymore. But there was a look that lingered about his eyes. It was the same look as Tom Riddle Senior's, in that painting hung up in the dusty, long-abandoned Riddle House. Like he had the fright of his life and he's still remembering it.
Same way she couldn't get Bellatrix's look of triumph or Sirius's unmoving form out of her head.
"I just…" Ruby looked down at her hands. "I don't want to lose you. Lose this."
Sirius held her gaze for a second. "I know," he said, sighing deeply. "I can't promise anything."
Ruby followed Sirius's gaze to Harry, who seemed unperturbed for once, despite everything, with asparagus heads sticking out of the folded-up piece of toast he was holding, staring off into space.
"Do you remember how a Patronus is conjured?" asked Sirius.
Ruby found herself smiling a little, remembering that particular Duelling Club lesson. "By focusing on a single happy memory."
"They're all that stand between us and despair," said Sirius. "So let's not dwell on dark visions of the future, at least for one day."
Despite the lingering memory of that nightmare, the last of her anxiety finally faded. Hephaestus ambled up to the table, settling between her feet and purring like an old heater.
The future's not set in stone.
Everyone was safe. Perhaps Sirius was right, the danger had passed. All was well, for now, on a cold winter's night, despite whatever awaited them.
Far, far quieter was the Astronomy Tower on New Year's Eve. It was a cold night, but clear, the innumerable stars little pinpricks of light set against velvet black. Astronomy had never been one of Tee's favourite subjects — too observational, with no room for experimentation, but he appreciated the objectivity and predictability.
If little else, after all, the planets and stars can be counted upon to mark out their steps.
All-in-all, he supposed he'd had worse years. And it had been a long while ago that he'd spent New Year's Eve in a quiet place in Hogwarts, with only an adder for company.
"I thought I might find you here, Tom."
He turned. Albus Dumbledore was, at this point, an unsurprising enemy of tranquillity, but not, Tee found, for some strange reason, entirely unwelcome.
"Well," said Tee, bracing his hands against the icy railing. "You've found me."
Dumbledore half-hummed, half-sighed.
"Don't you have better places to be, Professor Dumbledore?"
"No, I think not," he said pleasantly. "I believe this is the place I am needed most."
Tee nearly scoffed out loud, staring down at the dark grounds. He could just make out the jagged shapes of the Forbidden Forest, and the rooftops of Hogsmeade in the opposite direction. Even now, he was pitied. Was that all Dumbledore — all everyone still saw?
"It is only human to feel lonely, Tom."
"I don't," Tee bit out, gripping the railing. How could he be lonely now, when the students would soon be returning, no less, than in the diary?
Still, there was a coldness lingering that was not from the air.
Why do you cling to the trinkets stolen from his house if not for the fact you cannot cleave yourself from the wanting?
Yet, the Mirror of Erised's words haunted him.
You may have done so to your soul, but you cannot separate desire from the bone.
It was true. That horrible weakness in him had survived the diary.
Tom Riddle is dead, but the yearning survives.
"You do not have to deny it. It is not a weakness."
Perhaps Dumbledore was looking into his mind. It was his own fault for thinking it so loudly. Now, Dumbledore watched him in a familiar manner, sharp blue eyes peering over top of his half-moon spectacles.
"You have seen your own destruction, Tom, yours and possibly that of our world."
Who is Lord Voldemort if not that great wizard of your personal legend?
Yes, he remembered well the night of the Siege, of his own self's casual dismissal, of how the refusal of the acknowledgement he'd craved most had stung. Dumbledore knew this.
Dumbledore did not know many things, however. He did not know that Tee had stood, last year, in the Chamber of Secrets and told Salazar that he wanted to live more than he feared to die, and meant it. He did not know that Tee had killed Tom Riddle fifty years ago and never mourned him. He did not know how the abyss had hollowed him out, leaving only the most essential remnants. He did not know why he now carried a pine, rather than a yew wand. He did not know that far more than three and a half years of maturity separated Tee from the Slytherin prefect.
Who was this new person? Tee did not, in fact, know himself.
Dumbledore was still regarding him, but his gaze seemed softer, tempered by the moonlight.
"I used to know a boy who made all the wrong choices," he said but let it linger in the night as if waiting for Tee to finish the sentence. When Tee kept his cold lips pressed tightly together, Dumbledore continued. "I had resigned myself to the idea that it was fate, that nothing could change that terrible destiny. But now that we find ourselves in this unprecedented situation—" Their eyes met, and Tee found himself unable to tear himself away "—I believe the planets may be changing their orbits."
"The orbits don't change, Professor Dumbledore," said Tee, automatically. "Kepler's equation says—"
"Tom," Dumbledore interrupted, smiling. "It is a metaphor."
Tee turned away, staring off into the southern sky. A particularly bright blue star winked back at him. Change into what, though? He was treading a path that wrapped around a corner, with no idea where it would lead him.
What was it Ollivander had said? That he would be soon undergoing a transformation?
Again?
Tee had thought his ordeal in the diary — not to mention being thrust fifty years into the future — transformative already. What next? What now?
"You have already changed a good deal, Tom, from last time, and for the better."
It was as if Dumbledore had read his thoughts exactly. Tee said nothing, and he continued on. "I cannot profess to understand everything, but I promise I will try if you are willing to tell me."
Finding his manners, Tee said, "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore smiled back, and despite himself, Tee felt the corners of his mouth lift, too.
"Happy birthday, Tom."
A/N:
Okay, yes, I know this is late, apologies, but I do have an explanation. This was my original plan in the chapter outline, but I got cold feet because of the whole 100th chapter thing and tried to make it more slice of life (there is about a chapter's worth of that lying on the cutting room floor) but in the end it wasn't working, so I decided to just go back to the OG outline, because, you know, past you always looks out for future you. Anyway, I hope this still felt special and, to everyone still reading, you are all amazing, thank you for sticking with me for so long .
The bright blue star that twinkles from the south is Sirius, of course. It's highest in the sky on New Year's Eve. Though I would mention that. Just 'cause.
Happy Halloween!