Book III: Requiem of Ashes
Chapter IV: Stalemate
Music Theme: Stuck in the Middle With You - Stealers Wheel
- No Flashback This Chapter -
Malfoy Manor August 30, 1980...
Lucious fixed his tie, stabbing the satin fabric with his Slytherin tie pin, then tucking the tail of it down his black vest with its silver pinstripe. He ran his hands alongside his head to flatten the strands of pale blonde hair. He would be one of the few that could show their face at the trial without the Ministry suspecting him. The plan was clear - seize control of it and remove the minister from her role before Mulciber had the chance to betray his comrades. The Lestrange brothers had already sent messages ahead, sneaking notes into the hands of Dark Aurors that would be delivered to Mulciber, Goyle and now Travers, reminding them where their loyalties lie. Voldemort's instructions had been clear to Lucious. He recalled the words...
"Our enforcers will ensure Mulciber and Goyle do not betray us when the time comes for them to name their fellow Death Eaters. But if they do, Lucious... I need you there. You'll be in the gallery ready to silence either one of them permanently before they can even finish thinking of betraying me."
Just the memory of the phrase, enforcers, caused a bit of a shutter to Lucious. It made him feel as though there was an inner circle of Voldemort's ranks and that he'd been specifically excluded. The thought caused him to wrinkle his nose, huff out a breath, and finish straightening his attire when he suddenly heard a stir in the adjoining bedroom. The instant look of annoyance crossed his face and he stomped through the dooryard towards an elaborate, black crib where his newborn son fussed.
"What do you want?" Lucious asked as if the child owed him a clear response. He tilted his head at the little thing, blonde hair just like his, but a face like his mother's. Lucious began to copy obersvations he'd made of his wife, reaching in to drape the blanket back over the baby when it suddenly began to cry. Lucious jumped, more like a bomb was ticking rather than a baby crying, and stepped back from the crib. "Narcissa," he yelled. "Narcissa, it's crying again." When his wife didn't come he just shook his head at the crib then went to find her
She wasn't in the bedroom, nor her sitting room, but he spotted a light at the end of the hall in one of the old guest rooms that would one day be furnished for their son Draco when he outgrew his nursery. A faint hum of muttering without ceasing echoed through the dark halls as Lucious approached. He peered silently into the room through its cracked door and spotted his wife with her back to him as she sat on the edge of the covered bed. She held her hand out in front of her and rest her opposing fingers over it, yet kept her eyes fixed on the hazy sky outside where a film of summer light kept a dull glow on the hills as it stayed buried behind morning clouds.
Narcissa spoke words of Latin and Lucious could make out a few of them - Blood of my Love... Mother to be...
But as Lucious leaned forward to hear the rest, he bumped the door and caused it to creak, startling his wife to her feet.
"Lucious..." she gasped but her face appeared calm but covered in tears. "What are you doing in here?"
"I came to ask you the same," He said stepping in.
"I was thinking of what furnishings we'd need for Draco. You can never plan for these things too early." She said.
"He's fussing just now," Lucious grumbled. "I called for you. Why didn't you hear me?"
"I'll go to him," Narcissa said and quickly brushed her tears away, swiftly trying to pass him.
"Answer me," Lucious said without looking at her, but grabbing her arm to stop her. Neither of them so much as turned to face the other and sat in silence. Lucious added, "That cut on your hand should have healed by now."
"I keep picking at it," she replied quickly. "You know how I fidget."
"It's been there since... since HE was with your sister. Is there any connection?"
"Are you suggesting Marvin McKinnon used his bound arms and hands to cut me while imprisoned? Not to mention I never stepped foot near my sister's home while he was there?" She was a smooth liar and often was able to made the opposite party feel foolish for even suggesting things, no matter how true they were.
"You're deflecting the question, Narcissa," he said and now turned to look down on his wife.
"Would I lie to you, Lucious?"
"You would. You have. Or do you forget how long you hid knowledge of your sister's liaisons with that mud blood Tonks from me?"
"That was school... and she was family. You weren't family yet as you are now. And Marvin McKinnon never will be."
Those last words stung bitterly as she said them, more than she realized they would. She played the memory of Marvin over and over in her head. She thought of him standing against her at Borgin and Burkes and wondered if he hated her now, or if she even really cared. She remembered his admittance of still loving her despite her forcing a blood oath from him. Even as she repeated the oath to the enchanted mark on her hand, she pictured him. She imagined if he could hear her voice as she called out to him, her little soldier, tasked with the protection of her child... using his innermost soul as a pawn for her own motives.
Lucious dropped his hand from her arm then took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the scar. "I'm sorry... I don't mean to doubt you. I'm unsettled today because of the uncertainty of this trial. That's all."
"Is that really all that is bothering you? I heard rumors your sister is pregnant. Have you heard from her?"
"Pandora doesn't write me anymore and even if she did, she'd never admit she's pregnant."
"Does she think of us as fallen angels?" Narcissa scoffed.
"She can think what she wants. We're the ones on the right side of history while she sits at home playing with her experiments and crystals and that batty husband with his magazine. Her child will be no less bizarre than the two of them."
"I hate to hear you sound so cross at the thought of family when we're starting our own."
"Don't misunderstand me, Narcissa." He said. "You and our son are my priority. Family of the past isn't important anymore. Nobody from the past is important anymore."
"Then why do you allow the memory of an old classmate like McKinnon to haunt you?"
"Because," Lucious stuck his nose in the air and looked away from her. "Because while he is in my past, I don't think he's fully in yours."
Narcissa gazed at him a long time, but he refused to glance down at her. The echo of their child's cries rang through the Manor halls and she simply walked away from him saying nothing more than, "You should get going."
Meanwhile in London...
Remus and Peter made their way towards James' flat on the quiet London street, Peter still motion sick from operating and Remus checking his watch. If he was going to be claiming the flat, Remus wanted to ensure it was properly equipped with protection charms. He knew the transition from the Safe House to the flat would be sooner than he anticipated. After his outburst at the recent Order meeting, he didn't trust himself with the others. He already hated putting them at risk as a werewolf and now he blurted out secrets when his temper rose. With Dumbledore's news of Greyback's army, he knew he'd be going undercover to other colonies soon to find information. If anyone found him out as a spy, he wanted somewhere he could hide that wouldn't endanger others.
"So," Peter practically burped out as his stomach settled. "You're just setting up charms?"
"Yes, and James asked me to get a few small items and check his post box. I'm also going to disguise the photos inside to remove any evidence that the place belongs to him."
Peter looked around the town when he spotted an empty phone booth at the mouth of the street. "The Phone book," he said quickly. Remus paused and looked at him in confusion. He continued, "It will have James' name and address in it. That could put the flat at risk."
"I don't think James even had a phone number to be listed in the book, but we can check it."
Peter stepped in front of him to stop him. "No, you go on to the flat. I'll do it."
"Wormtail, you suggested coming with me so I wouldn't be alone." Remus hated to admit it, but despite him willing to come on this task alone, he was relieved when his friend volunteered to accompany him.
"I'll be right behind you. Just going to check the book. Go on."
As Peter had shoed him away, Remus started down the quiet street where there seemed to be no sign of life as most of the muggles were likely at work. He checked his watch then quickly said, "Ok. Ok fine. Just hurry."
The two separated and Peter waited patiently outside the phone booth until he was sure Remus was a far ways down the road then scrambled inside. He drew his wand and gently tapped it a number of times in a certain code when the bell rang as if accepting a passkey. Peter lifted the phone to his ear and heard the soft voice of an operator call to him, "Wizard's Information. Muggle world rates may apply."
"I'm keeping the line in the muggle world," he said softly. "I just don't know the number. I need to contact a Victor Crabbe of Belgravia."
"Oh?" She said interested. "Using the wizard operator for a muggle address call? Must be that you don't trust the muggle opporator." Peter could practically hear her lean in as if she was invested now. "Is the call that private?"
"Yes it is," he grumbled. "Now connect me with Mr. Vincent Crabbe. He's a wizard, not a muggle. He just lives in a muggle part of town. He's an attorney."
"Ah, so that's it then," she hummed. "Divorce? Or have you killed someone?"
"It's none of your business!" He snapped. "Wizard lines are secure. If I wanted someone listening in I would have called the muggle operator as you say. Now just transfer me!"
The tone and determination in Peter's voice was new, even to him. He liked that assertiveness. It felt good. And even more, it got him what he wanted quickly as he heard her say nothing more and transfer it over to a secure line where he heard Mr. Crabbe pick up.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Crabbe, it's... me," he said nervously, still afraid to say his name in public.
"Oh," Mr. Crabbe said without the need for further elaboration. "You must have updates then."
"Max told me to break trust between the Order, but I don't think I need to. They seem to be doing a wonderful job of that themselves."
"Splendid," Mr. Crabbe said. "But it's only part of the request Peter. You remember our true request?"
"I can't just reveal their hiding place, Mr. Crabbe," he said after a nervous pause. "Not until I'm sure you won't hurt them."
"It's only the child we want, Peter." He said calmly with a sickly sweet tone. "What word of the Longbottoms?"
"Benjy Fenwick won't budge. Not so much as a clue as to where his flat is located and I think they're using a charm. Even if I found out where he lives, I don't think I would see the place unless he reveals it. And Alice won't come to meetings anymore."
"And you're still determined to keep your meeting place a secret?" Crabbe sighed.
"I trust you, Mr. Crabbe. Not Max... not yet," Peter said.
"I see. Then why are you calling if you have no updates for me," he grumbled.
"It's Dumbledore," Peter whispered. "I think he's onto me."
"Not possible... is it?"
"I don't know! I just catch him looking at me sometimes and he looks at me as if he knows."
"Does he have anything to prove you're the Guardian?"
"Nothing he couldn't also apply to anyone else in that group, especially now that Remus has run his mouth at the meeting. He made himself look like a real snitch."
The line was silent at Mr. Crabbe considered his words. Then he said, "Maybe that's the answer. We've been going about this wrong, putting you in a position that could reveal you're our spy." The word 'spy' stung Peter slightly, so he was grateful when Mr. Crabbe went on. "We need to work with information Dumbledore has shared with the entire group of his followers. What are your next group assignments? Things the entire group would know?"
"Well, he told us about Greyback's army?"
"His army? I'll have to ask Max about that. What else?"
"The Ministry. He says he thinks it's being infiltrated." When Crabbe didn't answer he said, "It is... isn't it?"
"Infultrated is a ghastly word, Peter," he sighed. "We're simply improving the system. Some people don't like change, so we have to do what it takes to make our dreams a reality. Does that make sense?"
"I... I think so, yes," he said. "We have some members attending Goyle and Mulciber's trials."
"Ah," he said. "I'll be there. Legal council to both of them. Do you know if any of your friends plan to testify against them?"
"Yes!" Peter said in a happy shout as if thrilled to have some substantial knowledge to share. "Longbottom on behalf of his wife and they're trying to get the Prewett boy to come. He saw everything with Mulciber."
"We've already have someone working on stealing the memory the coroner took from the MacDonald girl," he thought aloud and it caused Peter's hair to stand up on his neck. "But if Longbottom or Prewett have eye-witness testimony it could pose a problem. We will have to find another way to discredit the order as a whole."
"But... Mr. Crabbe?" Peter called shyly. "If Mulciber really did murder Mary... shouldn't he be held accountable for that?"
Crabbe suddenly snapped, "Did Orion Black ever see a day of accountability for murdering your father, Peter? For having your mother crumble into the lunatic she is now? No. Sometimes justice must be compromised for the sake of the larger cause. Just leave it to me. Now who else can we expect there?"
The phrase 'we expect' gave Peter pause. "Nobody," Peter said.
"Peter," Crabbe sighed, "You can trust me. Your father always did."
"Oh! I do, I do... I'm being honest. Dumbledore won't allow anyone to come from The Order. Just Madeye and his Aurors and ministry officials. And Frank... of course. Anyone who doesn't work for the ministry has been asked to stay in hiding until the trial passes."
"And you're sure of this?" He said desperately.
"Well... James wants to come, but I don't think Dumbledore will let him."
"He must," Crabbe said. "They all must! Oh, this changes things if Longbottom is the only one to come. I'll have to think of something. And quickly. We haven't much time. There's no chance of you convincing Dumbledore if he's already suspicious of you. I'll confer with Max. But you keep doing what you're doing Peter. I promise you, this Order of Dumbledore's is standing in the way of everyone's safety. You're doing the right thing for everyone by helping me. Truly."
Peter gleamed with pride and hung up the phone. He'd done something right for a change, and he wanted to chase that feeling.
Knockturn Alley - Later that day...
Max Forrestor climbed the steps of his Knockturn Alley flat, a hot brunch from Crabbe's home still on his stomach. He shoved through the door into the dark apartment, but even the darkness couldn't hide the smirk on his face as he thought through all Crabbe had shared with him at their meeting. Taking a chance on the Pettigrew boy had been wise, and it was proving useful to him as he orchestrated his rise to the Dark Lord's good graces.
He shut the door to his apartment behind him and drew his want to illuminate the lamps and open the shutters, but a lamp clicked on by itself in the corner. He turned and aimed angrily at the intruder who sat, arms and legs folded casually, in his best armchair. "Fenrir!" He sighed in relief and lowered his wand. "What are you doing here?"
Greyback scowled at him. "So I'm a stranger in the place now, am I?"
"I didn't mean it like that," Max grunted and walked over to the cabinet to fetch a couple whiskey glasses. "I just was expecting someone else."
Greyback raised his eyebrow at that and glanced to the door. "Someone's coming to dinner are they?"
"A fellow alumni of my alma matter. It was he who opened Dennis' eyes to all of this in the first place which drew me in eventually. He's an expert in finding people."
"Crabbe isn't proving useful in that area is he?"
"It's a work in progress," Max simply said.
Greyback waited for elaboration but when nothing came he said, "And Potter's little friend? The fat one. What role does he play?"
"Who says he does?"
"You gave him Delaney's wand."
"I told you to trust me on that," he sighed and began pouring the whiskey.
"Trust you," Greyback stood so quietly that Max couldn't hear him approaching. "I did trust you, Max. I know you better than most. Let me guess what you're doing with the lad. Using him to your own advantage? 'A means to an end' I think you called it... or did that only apply to me?"
Max froze mid-pour as he realized Greyback had heard his traitorous remarks to Peter regarding the werewolf. And Greyback wasn't one who appreciated being belittled. "Fen... I-" But as Max turned, Greyback was upon him, ripping the whiskey bottle from his hand and throwing it across the room only to then grab Max by the collar and lift him from the floor. "Fenrir! You misunderstood!"
"I'm just your 'muscle' now, am I? I help strong arm your way to the top so you can dispose of me like yesterdays' Prophet?"
"No!"
"You have your new little friend now, do you? Crabbe and the fat kid are going to satisfy you more than anything?" He pulled him in to hiss in his face, "more than I have?"
"Fenrir, you're overreacting," Max attempted to sound calm but he was failing. "I just said what I had to to get the kid to trust me. Just let go of me."
"You should know, Maxy... I don't give second chances. I often find someone always returns to stab you in the back and they do it faster the second time around."
"There's no second chance needed because I haven't betrayed you, Fenrir!" He said angrily now. "I said what I had to in order to gain the boy's trust. Do you really think I'd throw off what we've worked so hard to build, this partnership, for some child who is afraid of his own shadow?" Max struggled in Greyback's grasp as the man turned almost animal, his sneer revealing the fangs he'd made on his human teeth by sawing them down. Now it looked like he wanted to use them on Max's neck.
Just then there was a pouding at the door and thick accent barked, "Maximus? Are you in there?"
Max and Greyback locked eyes, neither knowing the other's next move. After a moment, Greyback heaved a sharp breath through his nose and lowered the other man onto the floor, but kept his grip. He leaned in and whispered, "As of this moment, Max, you are on trial. I'll be the judge and jury if I should trust you again. You think I care that the moment you're dead, Lupin's bitch can return? You think that's saving you? Or this flat is some shelter for a poor little werewolf Greyback? Think again. I owe nothing to you. I don't need you for bloody anything other than some good liquor and if you were gone there would be more for me. One syllable of betrayal towards me again, and I will rip that smirk off your pathetic face... misunderstanding or not.
Max was shoved back out of the grasp and quickly composed himself. He said nothing else as Greyback walked to the broken whiskey bottle, lifted it from the floor and sipped what was left from the broken bottom like a cup. Max opened the door to the flat and in stepped a rough looking man with long black hair, a moustache and long beard. He was dressed in elaborate clothing, clearly from wealth, and spork in a thick accent, "All is well, my friend?" He eyed Greyback as he said it.
"Yes, Igor, come in." Max motioned into the flat and the Durmstrang alum stepped in and scrunched his nose at the humble apartment.
"I heard about Dennis. A shame of course, but we do what we must for the cause," he said without emotion.
Max didn't seem to feel mutual about that, but he pressed on and said, "Fenrir Greyback... my... colleague."
"Depending on who you ask," Greyback added gruffly and looked the fancy man up and down.
"I've asked Igor here as he's the most skilled tracker of the Bulgarian Magical Law Enforcement Offices," Max said to Greyback as if having to explain himself like a child in trouble. "Thought he'd be able to use his skills for the cause."
"And I've been eager to," he said. "I shan't draw any suspicion to myself at the trial. Once I get an eye on the Longbottom bloke you described, I should be able to track his whereabouts."
"No," Max said. "Things have changed. Our goal now is to turn the trial into something that works for us. We need Dumbledore's little helpers to think the odds are stacked against them. Rig the jury, the judge, the prosecuting attorney all with those they know are loyal to our cause. They'll want to be there in person to guard their friends as much as their truths."
"As would any sensible person. It's nothing more than a chess game... a strategy to draw out their queen."
"Exactly," Max sneered. "But we move one piece at a time. So I need you to remove the current prosecuting attorney. Name's Marshall Fawley."
"I can find him."
"By this afternoon?" Greyback grunted with a laugh. Viktor turned to the door and Greyback eyed him when he received no response. The werewolf added, "Don't you need more than a name?"
"Why?" He glanced back and sized Greyback up with a single movement. "Not all of us need help hunting."
Greyback started to lunge as the door shut and left Max and Greyback alone. The steamed Greyback had simmered down with the help of the liquor and Max felt peace return between the two of them. They stayed silent and didn't speak much to each other the rest of the day. Greyback sat on the couch as Max conducted business around the flat. There was an unspoken dialogue repeating itself in the silence, however. A truth neither could avoid. If Igor had not arrived at the flat at that moment... Max Forrestor may very well have been the victim of a spurned werewolf, but it was a truth that the Death Eater would soon forget.
Meanwhile at the Safe House...
Remus and Peter sat in the kitchen of the safe house with the trinkets received from the untouched flat of James Potter's. The photo of James and Lily, some letters between them and from the Potters, the snitch from his final match, the toaster (his first muggle appliance) and the mail all rest strewn across the table as Remus picked at his breakfast and Peter devoured his.
"Remus? What's wrong? What's that?" He nodded to a partially wrapped book in Remus' hand. "You've been clutching it since you got it from the mailbox."
"It's a children's book. Tales of Beedle the Bard. I haven't seen a copy this old in some time." Remus said gazing at it as he removed it from the wrapping again. "Someone mailed it to James."
"And you opened it? That doesn't sound like you. More like something I'd do," He laughed but When Remus didn't return the laughter it made him nervous that his friend believed him.
Kip puttered around the kitchen, clutching one of the letters written by Mrs. Potter to James and nearly weaping over it as he did his tasks. He snapped his fingers and floated more coffee across the room which James ducked under as he entered with Sirius beside him.
"Congratulate me, gents! I just successfully changed the nappy without Lily's help."
"Which is code for 'Sirius helped him'," Lily smirked as she walked in, looking in desperate need of sleep but just grabbing a glass of milk from the counter instead.
"Moony," James called and Peter couldn't help but notice Remus flinch at his own name and avoid the gaze of James sat at the table beside him pat his friend on the arm. "Glad you're back safe, mate. Glad you took Wormtail with you. After what happened at my parent's home... what's that?"
"A package," Remus muttered. "It was on your doorstep at the flat."
"Let's see then," James took it casually and lit up at the sight of the vintage book. "Blimey I thought this was gone for good!" He flipped it open to the first page and found a note tucked inside. "It's from my Dad's cousin, Charlus."
Peter recognized the American flag on the postage and asked, "Your cousin lives in the United States?"
"Married a Black," James said. "Easiest to just move to avoid the family drama. He had a kid before I was born, so dad sent this book as a baby gift since they weren't expecting me to pop up that late in life." James gushed over the hand-drawn illustrations and intricate calligraphy of the book that clearly was centuries old, passed down from father to son.
"I see where your love of drawing came from," Lily smiled and rest her hands on his shoulders to peer over and onto the ancient pages.
Peter picked the note up from where James had set it and read it aloud, "Dear James, I can't believe you're a father already. Fleamont would be so proud. It doesn't feel right for this book to stay in my possesion anymore when it was meant for his son, so I hope it brings joy to yours. Give your wife my congratulations as well and Harry a hug from his family overseas. Best wishes, Chalrlus and Dorea."
Lily blinked. "How does he know his name is 'Harry'?"
Jame flipped to the back page of the book where the family ancestry had been etched into the back cover, and there was Harry's name and birthday. "It's enchanted, like the tapestry at Sirius' house. When a new descendant is born it shows up here." He ran his index finger along the family tree and pointed out some names, "Oh, blimey, my Mum's cousin died. That witch was pushing one-hundred though," he skimmed the list and grew sad at the realization that so much of his family was gone as a result of his parent's having him late in life. As if Lily sensed his sadness, he felt her comforting hand on his shoulder tighten. Then he spotted the very bottom of what was once a thriving tree and saw his name and Lily's over Harry's name and birthday. There was an immense pressure James felt as he realized Harry and his extended cousin's son were the last of the Potter descendants.
He said, "It's good you went, Remus. I'm glad you got your hands on this before someone else. With Harry's birthday printed in here, it could be bad if a Death Eater read this. You shouldn't have opened it though. It could have been a trick."
Remus had been sitting still this whole time, nervous to speak up, but James' words prompted him to take a breath and mutter. "I didn't open it, James..."
Everyone looked up at him with a panicked look, including kip.
Remus confirmed, "It was open when I found it and left on your doorstep. Whoever rifled through it... they know when Harry was born... and that he might be the chosen one after all."
Later at Hogwarts...
"You cannot go, James. This changes things," Dumbledore insisted with a calm but firm tone in his office. James and Lily had immediately left Harry in the care of his godfather and the other Marauders and hurried to Dumbledore with the book. Now, they faced off as he attempted to put more restrictions on their freedoms and keep them in hiding, or that's how James took it.
"Sir, we can't send Longbottom in that trial alone today. Without Fabian to ensure Mulciber gets locked up, he's a sitting duck. If the jury ends up being rigged, then the moment they remove the handcuffs and say "not guilty", those Death Eaters will nab Frank in the corridors. He needs backup."
"And he will have backup," Dumbledore assured him. "Madeye, Dorcus, Myself. Need I remind you, James, there is a battery of trained professionals with experience ready to handle this."
"And how many of them have faced Voldemort and lived to tell the tale?" James said with a cocky tilt of his head.
"James," Lily said sternly from behind him. "Don't get arrogant. Dumbledore is the one who saved you from Voldemort."
"You're the one that saved me from him," James said, turning to face her and grasp her hand. "And you've got no auror training. If we could face off against him then we can face anything."
"Do not doubt, Voldemort, James. If he had made up his mind to kill you that day you would not be standing here this very moment." Now feeling that he had shifted into the Headmaster role once more, he looked to Lily. "Where is Harry."
"With Sirius?"
"Why are we trusting, Sirius?" Dumbledore shook his head.
"We? We are not doing anything, sir. I'M making decisions about MY son's safety."
"Trust no-one! No-one, Lily." He plopped himself into his chair like an exhausted parent. He pinched the brim of his nose and collected himself, which took no time at all as he had not really lost his temper to begin with. "James," Dumbledore attempted to calm the discussion "This Order is not supposed to be high profile. As I said at the meeting, the Minister is under enough pressure. We can't risk putting members in harms way."
"We are always in harms way, Sir," James said, attempting to remove the bite form his tone.
"But we don't have to be foolish about it," he said. The clock above him chimed and he rose. "James, you encouraged everyone to trust me at the last meeting."
"Yea... I knew you'd throw that back in my face the next time I disagreed with you," James smirked. "Don't misunderstand me, Sir. I do trust you. Lily and I both do. But that doesn't make me any less my mother's son."
Dumbledore let out a bellowing laugh at that as memories of the young Euphemia and her insistent attitude warmed his heart. "I suppose it doesn't. So you'll stay here?"
"It doesn't appear you'll be changing your mind," Lily says. "And we should get back to Harry."
"Yes, you should." He stared at her a long while and she kept her eyes trained on the floor. "You have more questions for me, Lily. Questions you've not wanted to ask. What are they?"
"They can wait for another day sir," she said confidently.
"Very well," He reached toward Fawke's perk and pet the bird who seemed to be aging rapidly. It let out a pleasant hum and Dumbledore stepped to the door. "I'll make sure you get out safely. Then I'll head to the Ministry."
James also had question for his old headmaster, but for now, one would have to suffice. "You have a bad feeling about tonight, don't you, sir?"
All he said was, "I do..."
Back at the Safehouse...
Peter lay on the bed, chewing on a bit of toffee when Sirius tip-toed into their shared room. He watched as Sirius carefully shut the door, not even wanting it to click. When it finally closed, he exhaled in relief. "Mission 'get Harry to fall asleep' is a success." He collapsed onto his own bed and grumbled, "Baby care is exhausting. No wonder Evans looks like a zombie."
Peter considered his next move. Finally he had a moment alone with Sirius and he'd have to use it well. He sat up, smacking on the toffee, then finally swallowing and saying "Padfoot?"
"uhhh?" Sirius grunted.
"About the book?" Peter stammered.
"Yea?" Sirius pushed himself onto his side and reclined there to face him.
"You don't suppose..." Peter started but declined to finish.
"Spit it out, Peter. Aren't we beyond secrets, you and I?" Sirius snapped.
His tone irritated Peter to no end, but the plump boy managed to maintain his composure. He was tempted to let everything unfold and destroy all trust Sirius had in the others, but Sirius was more volatile than Remus. He was unpredictable. Remus would weigh the information he was given and allow it to simmer. Sirius would blurt out his anxieties and suspicions and it all would lead back to Peter as the cause for the rumors. No, he'd have to take his time with the young Black, but he would start now. "It's just that," he said, "I wasn't with Remus when he found the package."
"So?"
"So... what if he opened it himself?"
"Why would he do that? Isn't it a federal offense or something," he scoffed at the thought of Remus breaking a law.
"Exactly... why would he," Peter shrugged. "It's not like he could do anything with knowing Harry's birthday. He already knows it."
Sirius thought of what Peter was saying. Remus did already know it. Only those in the Potter faction knew beyond any doubt that Harry was born just before midnight on July 31st. The Death Eaters weren't certain though. And if they found out, that could mean only one thing... that someone in this house told them. It would make sense for a traitor to offer an alternative way for Death Eaters to come to that information... a way that wouldn't point back to him. Sirius locked eyes with Peter as if asking him to just come out and say what he was meaning to say, but the smaller boy made no movements nor a sound as she stayed atop the bed. Sirius then glanced at the door and spoke. "No... He told us he found it open."
"Ok," Peter said then, tempted, added a final button. "If that's good enough for you..."
Sirius glanced back to him a moment, then in a quick movement he was moving towards the door.
Peter knew his plan had backfired. Sirius was heading in for a confrontation. The Pettigrew boy practically leaped from the bed, but his legs tangled under the pillow in his lap and he faceplanted. He transfigured into a rat momentarily to slide out from under the covers that had tangled around him then reformed beside Sirius. "Where are you going?" He said nervously.
"To see Remus," Sirius said determined.
"Sirius, wait!" Peter begged but was too late. Sirius was halfway down the hall.
Sirius took a breath outside Remus' room and banged on the door angrily. "Remus?" He heard nothing so he knocked again. The only thing he heard this time was the bolt in the door locking. That triggered Sirius and he ripped out his wand and undid the lock before charging in anyway.
Remus was sitting with his back to him on the bed, but jumped up both out of offense and surprise when Sirius barreled in anyhow. Sirius froze. Remus was red in the face, his eyes seemed a bit puffy and his nose sniffled. He had a scowl on his face that seemed like a mixture of heartbreak and anger. "What?" He growled out. "What do you bloody want?!"
"Nothing," Sirius answered quickly. "Nothing I just... I needed to see you." All anxieties and suspicions faded away at the sight of his friend in this moment of vulnerability. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Everything ok?"
"Why do you care?"
"You know I care," He whispered. "You may not choose to accept it but I do..."
Remus just whirled around and sat on the edge of the bed again, his back to Sirius. He waited a long time in silence until Remus finally spoke up and said. "It's just how we left it... the flat. Nothing was out of place. At first I was relieved. It was nice to see somewhere we considered a haven untouched. But then... I saw the pillow on the floor. Tabitha had knocked it off the couch when she stood to go make me more hangover juice. It was the night she first held me. The night she told me how she felt. You asked me how I felt and I said... I couldn't be in love with her."
"But you were," Sirius said. "You still are..."
Remus nodded. He stayed silent a long while then said, "I don't want to hate you, Sirius. I don't even want to be mad at you. But I am... not because you sent her away, but because you're the one who told me to go for it in the first place."
Sirius had forgotten that bit. He'd tried so hard to find his friend some happiness but it ended with nothing but pain.
Remus continued, "I can't forget what you did, Sirius, and I won't go as far to say that I trust you..." he spoke with gritted teeth but paused, took a breath, stood and faced Sirius to speak softly. "But I want to try. On that sofa, with that bloody hangover, I made choice to fall for someone. That was my own fault, not yours. It doesn't forgive what you've done since then, but it doesn't make you responsible for everything. I was ready to burn the bridge forever. There is a lot about you I'm still unsure of these days... but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't humbled by my little outburst at the meeting. It was a reminder that we all fall short sometimes.
Sirius just stood stunned. All of a sudden he was back in school again, earning forgiveness for his sins from his best friend. All that was left was to embrace, forget and move forward. Sirius smiled in relief and took a step forward, but Remus lifted a hand and stepped back to stop him. With those small movements, it felt as if an erumpent was crammed in the room and the pressure of it on both of them.
"No, Padfoot," Remus said in a hurt tone. "Not there yet... just give me time."
"Of course, Moony. However long ya need. Just don't make it years, ok?"
That earned a genuine grin from Remus who nodded and brushed the angry and hurt tears from his cheeks. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands awkwardly in his pockets to ask, "So... I have something to ask you."
"Of course. Anything..."
Why wasn't the questions coming? All the things Peter had said. Remus' mind was swirling with questions but he failed to pick a single one. 'Did you make a deal with Max Forrestor to send Tabitha away?' would have summed everything up, but there would be no going back from such an accusation. Was Remus afraid of being wrong? Or was he afraid of being right? He wasn't sure. All he could think to say was, "Are your loyalties... changed, at all?"
"What?" Sirius asked offended.
"Do you have any doubts that we are on the right side of things?" Remus pivoted to try and soften the ask. "It's ok if you do, Sirius. Doubts are normal in every stage of life. You said yourself you wouldn't have blamed Tabitha if her loyalties had changed out of fear. I just want you to talk about it before you act-"
"My loyalties to my friends haven't changed. I can take or leave this war, Remus. But my friend and his kid are my ride or die. That will never change and you know it," Sirius said cutting him off.
"Ok," Remus replied quickly to stop the escalation, remembering the last time they raised their voices it ended in a punch. "Just wanted to ask. What did you want to ask me?"
"Nothing," Sirius shook his head quickly. "I wasn't important." He turned and ripped the door open and left Remus alone. When he was in the hall, door shut behind him, he leaned against it and thought. Doubts? How could anyone doubt what's wrong or right about this war? How could anyone suggest it's ok to consider a change in loyalty.
Sirius and Remus lived in different worlds. One thought with their heart and the other with their head. One saw people as capable of redemption, the other did not. When conflict arose, there was seldom a compromise without James stepping in. Now, they were in a battle of trust, and neither knew what to believe or how to communicate with one another. They were at a stalemate... and it was doubtful they'd overcome it.
That Afternoon at the Ministry of Magic...
The time for the Trial had come. Madeye had instructed his Aurors to line the gallery of the courtroom. Dorcas was already inside. Frank was ready to testify with or without Fabian. He now stood between Dumbledore and Madeye, ready for whatever rested on the opposite side of the Wizengamot doors with the elaborate seal upon them. As they pushed through, the echo of the large creaking oak caused Frank's stomach to drop. On the other side of this door would sit the man who traumatized his wife, murdered his friend, abused countless others and planned to do it again and again if released. Goyle was no better. The slime of a man was captured in an attempt on the lives of the Bones' family. One of the oldest families filled with the kindest witches and wizards, some of them just children, and this man was ready to kill them in their beds. Travers would likely be sentenced to Azkaban. Dorcas had witness his attack in the Auror offices. So at least that was one victory in the pitch ring.
Frank took a breath, ready to hear the crowd murmuring. Some of them would be innocent onlookers and some would be spies for Voldemort. This night would hold more than just a victory for the fight against their Dark Lord. It would reveal spies, capture them where they sat, and move this war towards its end. Aurors would ambush the new Dark Aurors present if they tried anything, ending their crusade in the Ministry. All they could do was pray for no surprises.
But as the doors swung open and the three stepped in, Frank's heart dropped. There was no loud talking, just soft and angry whispers between Dorcas Meadows and Bartemous Crouch Sr. They stood at the main desk that sat above the jury benches, all empty, and bickered. Based on the body language, Dorcas was testing her limits with her boss and insisting on some wrongdoing while Bartemous held his hands up to suggest there was nothing he could do.
Aurors crowded around the top of the empty gallery, some talking to each other and the rest shrugging to Madeye in confusion as though they'd no explanation for the empty Wizengamot court room. Although, one patron sat in the gallery - legs crossed and hands resting atop his snake cane. Lucious Malfoy leaned back on the bench, nose in the air, watching the trio enter with only a mild smirk.
"What's the meaning of this?" Madeye called and stepped forward motioning to the near empty room.
Dorcus let out a frustrated huff then turned. "Marshall Fawley... he's a no-show."
Frank looked to Dumbledore as if to request further elaboration and the headmaster whispered back, "The prosecuting attorney."
"Without him," Bartemous said in his usual nervous voice. "I'm afraid I cannot continue. I dismissed the jury and closed off the gallery. The prisoners will remain in holding until Fawley is found."
"What's the need for a man in a fancy robe!" Madeye barked. "I'll put on that stupid hat and robe and prosecute them myself."
"Fawley was found to be most trustworthy by the selection committee. He can only be replaced by a unanimous vote."
Madeye looked at Dorcus as if to ask a silent question. She simply nodded. Both knew that Barty Crouch Jr. was on the selection committee. He'd never agree to replace Fawley if he knew it could delay the trial. They'd done something with the poor man - and recently.
"Now," Bartemous huffed. "I won't continue this in here. Mr. Longbottom we will inform you when the reschedule trial commences. Good day."
As he left, Dorcus stuck her tongue out at him behind his back then turned to Madeye who said, "Geezer's probably late for a dinner reservation."
Dumbledore, however, had not taken his eyes off Lucious since entering. The latter kept his gaze on the old man as well. While Dorcas and Madeye exchanged frustrations with one another on the absurdity of the situation, Dumbledore and Lucious stayed locked in a silent stare off.
Finally, Dumbledore said, "Alastor... Dorcas... Please take the Aurors and leave us. I'll meet you back at your office." As Frank turned to join them he added, "Stay with me, Frank. Don't leave my side."
"Yes, Sir," Was all he said which earned a chuckle from the headmaster as he contrasted the temperaments of the young Longbottom and the earlier interaction with the hot headed Potter.
When the two were alone, standing in the middle of the courtroom floor, gazing up at Lucious who hadn't moved, Dumbledore said, "Who told you Frank would be here alone, Lucious?"
A wicked smile crept across the face of the Slytherin. "Surprised to discover you're no longer one step ahead of us, Albus?" He hissed his first name at him.
"Surprised to see you still showed up as the messenger," Dumbledore said. "You never struck me as the bravest of Voldemort's followers. Which tells me you didn't even know the plan until you were already on your way to the Ministry."
Lucious huffed at that and scowled, "Did you think you could hide away your little band of followers while we expose ours? That isn't how chess works I'm afraid. To capture a queen, you have to sacrifice some of your most valuable pieces."
"Careful, Lucious. You're showing your cards a bit too much. Are you that afraid that Mulciber, Goyle and Travers will cower before the Wizengamot and expose names such as yours? So afraid of their lack of loyalty that you have to turn the courtroom into a fishing pond for Purebloods to make the risk worth it?"
"Your words, old man. Not mine," he scowled.
"We won't force anyone to risk themselves for this trial," Frank insisted. "Their lives are now pawns."
"Maybe not to you, Longbum." He smirked. "But they are to Dumbledore... or have you not seen the poem in my brother-in-law's recent publication?"
Dumbledore didn't look at Frank but knew the young man was giving him a surprised look, hoping for some kind of a response, but the headmaster gave none. All he said was, "Justice cannot be ransomed, Lucious."
"Maybe not all the time," Lucious said standing, "But it has for now." He turned and began ascending the steps. "Rook takes Bishop, Dumbledore. Your move."
Lucious allowed the doors to swing shut behind him and Dumbledore finally turned to Frank who said, "Sir, we can't let them force our hand. You know I want justice served as well, but if we have to give up three Death Eaters in order to keep our friends safely in hiding then I saw we do it and catch those sons-of-bitches the old fashioned way... the old Auror way. Courtroom be damned."
"Don't give up on your ethics yet, Frank. I admire them about you the most," He said and shook his head. "If only three Death Eaters were all that was at stake here. The longer we put off this trial, the more infiltrated the Ministry becomes. We must expose them and it must be done in this room were no rumors, or doubters can deny what the law has seen. There are still people out there that don't think Voldemort is real. We must convince them he is! We can't be bullied away from this opportunity to expose Death Eaters for who they are and who they serve."
"But at what cost, sir? Luring people like James or the Prewett's or McKinnons in here? And why? What do they want with them? What do they have planned?"
"Capture, I'm sure. Recruitment. Making an example of them," he shakes his head. "I can't be sure... not yet. But if we can figure out their motive then we can beat them at their own game. But that may be hard to achieve given what Lucious just confirmed for me."
"Which is what?" Frank asked.
"That there is a traitor amongst us, Frank. The guardian is and has always been... one of us."
A/N: Thanks for being here! I'm trying to make sure I have a good balance of every character because I don't want this to just be about the Marauders. I want to also introduce all the other players that were involved in the war. Who is your favorite character that you want to ready more about? Let me know in reviews or PMs.