Chapter Text
Lucius Malfoy determined there was something immensely satisfying about watching Sirius Black flounder in front of an audience. Whether it was the satisfaction in knowing his instincts to try and thwart the hiring of the half-breed Remus Lupin were correct, or if it was something far pettier that made Lucius grin at the sight of the disgraced Black desperately try to defend said half-breed to a small multitude of ministry officials (as well as the other ten members of the Board of Governors,) it was impossible to tell. Regardless, when Lucius arrived at the ministry that morning for a meeting that would determine the outcome of Lupin’s ill-fated employment, he hadn’t anticipated the degree of enjoyment he would gain from it.
Currently, Black was passionately debating with Paimonius Nott about Black’s credibility as an impartial observer, given his well-known romantic partnership with Lupin. Nott was a tall, dark fellow with respectable parentage whose children and grandchildren were all associated with Slytherin and Ravenclaw houses at Hogwarts. Lucius did not doubt that Nott would come out triumphant in this exchange of wills.
“How can we trust that anything you’re positing is unbiased? Without a truly impartial observer of events, there is simply no way to take you at your word, Master Black. Surely, your presentation of the scope of the danger that Lupin presents to the residents of Hogwarts is undermined by your desire to see your partner employed.”
“Are you saying that my ability to value the lives and well-being of others is lesser than my desire for my partner to have a job?”
“What I’m saying, Master Black, is that the only evidence of Lupin’s credibility is your word, which our evidence of his danger far exceeds. The Board struggled with even allowing him to be employed in the first place, and it was only on Headmaster Dumbledore’s assurance that he posed no threat to the students and staff at Hogwarts that he was allowed to teach. Clearly, his trust was misplaced.”
Yes, Lucius thought savagely, Black’s bleeding heart was certain to be the end of him.
The silence following Nott’s arguments was thick, and the large chamber in which they were holding the meeting made it even more daunting.
And then, a dainty “Hem hem,” broke through the quiet. In the crowd of observers was a short, stout woman with brown pin curls hidden beneath a small pink hat. The woman smiled with her too wide mouth.
“Master Black, even before his hiring, there were concerns over Mister Lupin’s ability to teach. It would be simply unthinkable for him to continue in his position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor after he’s attacked a student,” she said in a simpering voice.
Black looked up at the woman with nothing less than hostility.
“The attack was not the result of any negligence, nor did it have anything to do with his capability to teach! Furthermore, I don’t believe that you’re even a part of this council, Ms…?”
The stout woman stepped forward from where she had been seated with other ministry officials.
“Dolores Umbridge, Master Black. I’m here as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and representing liaison for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. You might remember me from our Hogwarts days?”
“I don’t seem to recall,” Black drawled back in a haughty tone.
Umbridge pursed her lips in a show of restraint, seemingly taken aback by his answer.
“Ah, well. I’m hardly surprised, seeing as I was in the year below you and sorted into a different house. No matter…”
Lucius, conversely, did recognise her to some degree. He recalled her entering Slytherin in her first year at Hogwarts, the same year as the younger Black brother. She was noted as being one of the few half-bloods in Slytherin and made quite the fuss over her alleged relation to the Selwyn name.
He also recalled Slughorn referring to her as an idiot.
“...as I said, I’m here on behalf of the Minister. He was quite taken by surprise over the news of a werewolf attack on Hogwarts grounds, at the hands of a teacher, no less! He suggested that Hogwarts might do well with some additional…guidance.”
A chuckle came from elsewhere in the room. “Ah, Ms Umbridge, as proactive as ever. A skill that has served you well in your career, no doubt.”
As though he had always been there, Albus Dumbledore was standing at the far end of the room, his mild-mannered voice a grating addition to Lucius’s morning.
“I believe this was intended to be a closed meeting,” sighed a resigned Charlus Abbott from the other end of the room.
Dumbledore smiled wryly. “Apologies Master Abbott, I am simply here to propose a potential solution, seeing as it is in fact, my hiring choices that are at the center of this council.” The twinkle in the old man’s eye was foreboding.
“I recognise that the circumstances of Mister Lupin’s employment as professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts has become controversial as of late. However, if the Board sees fit, I would like to inform those here today that there is another position open at Hogwarts as of about one hour ago.”
Charlus Abbott raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
The old wizard nodded his head lightly.
“Our Hogwarts caretaker, Rubeus Hagrid, who also serves as Professor for the Care of Magical Creatures class, will be leaving Hogwarts temporarily for a personal sabbatical. If any present here no longer feels secure in Professor Lupin’s role as Defence professor, I wish to vouch for his teaching ability and would be honoured to offer him the role of Care of Magical Creatures professor.”
Lucius scoffed at the Headmaster’s audacity and decided to speak out for the sake of reason.
“Headmaster,” he began, “while your… solution is noted, the concern of the Board of Governors and attending ministry representatives is not a concern over quality, but safety. The issue behind Lupin’s continued employment is that he is, in fact, a non-person, as per the legal definition. I fail to see how a ‘beast’ would serve to adequately teach students about how to deal with his fellow ‘beasts.’”
Several of the members of the board tittered in response to his words, a fair few of them nodding in assent. Black had gone quite pale with rage, though to his credit, did not rise to the bait that Lucius had laid out for him.
Pity.
Dumbledore glanced at Black before calmly returning his attention to Lucius.
“Thank you for clarifying your concern, Mister Malfoy. However, you broaden the purpose of my words. I was merely proposing an alternate outcome to this meeting, rather than a simple termination ultimatum. And, while I do retain the right through my capacity as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to employ whosoever I choose, I continue to respect the rights that the Board of Governors hold in overseeing the school's staffing policies. Hogwarts is a school of rich tradition and magical diversity, especially amongst its staff, and I would hate to see the school regress in the wake of a man being victimised by an outside source. Be that as it may, I am well aware of the concerns of some of the students and their guardians and recognise the need for someone to take responsibility. I am simply asking those here to remain open-minded to alternative possibilities.”
Charlus Abbott stroked his impressive moustache and leaned back in his seat.
“Thank you for your words Headmaster, Master Malfoy. Master Black, your opinions are also noted in the records. Shall we put this to a vote, then?”
Silence.
Abbott nodded.
“Very well. Then, logistics and positions can be reviewed by the Headmaster at a later time. I will remind those present that our vote will not determine the role Lupin would occupy while at Hogwarts, but instead the broader prospect of allowing him to remain on as a faculty member entirely. The majority will determine the outcome. Then, all in favour of Lupin’s retention?”
Black quickly put his hand up, to no one’s surprise. What was surprising, however, was the calm, composed expression on his face as he did so. Lucius was expecting more of a tantrum from the younger man.
Slowly, Paedomina Vane raised her hand, blushingly lightly as she did so. This was of no concern to Lucius; she wouldn’t be the first unsuspecting woman to fall for Black’s surface-level charms.
To her right, Genevive Flint was also raising her hand.
To Lucius’s trepidation, after a few moments passed, more and more of his fellow board members were raising their hands as well: Fawley, Burke, Bulstrode, Drake, MacMillan, and even Willifred Parkinson had his hand raised.
Lucius desperately looked over to Paimonius Nott, expecting to see at least one matching show of rejection, but to his dismay, the man’s hand was also raised, and his eyes were deliberately directed anywhere but at Lucius.
With the obvious exception of himself, the entirety of the Board of Governors was showing their favour for a dangerous half-breed – one with ties to multiple blood traitors, no less – to continue to taint the halls of Hogwarts and its students with its presence.
Suspiciously, Lucius regarded Black once more. Had he done something to control the outcome of this meeting? Was that the explanation behind his being so cocksure?
Charlus Abbott, meanwhile, had lowered his hand as a signal to the rest of them to do the same.
“Well, that settles it quite nicely, I think. If that’s all…?”
“Hem hem!”
Once more, everyone turned to the back corner of the room. Dolores Umbridge had again stepped forward, a self-satisfied smirk painted across her face.
“What an… unexpected show of hands! It would seem that the Board of Governors is as united as always,” she giggled.
Turning to address the entire room, Umbridge spoke louder. “With this outcome, I would like to submit to the board one more cause for consideration.” The woman waved her wand and a soft pink sheet of stationary made its way to the podium in front of Charlus Abbott. She smiled toothily.
“Enclosed, you will find a proposition from Minister Fudge himself – in anticipation of such an outcome – that there be more powers granted for ministry oversight at Hogwarts. The first point on the docket is the case for the inclusion of a faculty or staff member of Hogwarts with a person who primarily defers to the ministry. And, as luck would have it, it seems as though one or two such positions have been made known during this very meeting. I believe the responsibility for staffing delegation would fall to Headmaster Dumbledore, and it would be up to you, Headmaster, to decide which teaching role you would prefer filled. I assure you, my qualifications for either are… extensive.”
. . .
Shortly after the meeting, Lucius took the chance to corner Black in the corridor. He demanded to know what the younger man had done to sway the other ten people in the board to his cause. Surely, he reasoned, there was more to it than his meagre defence of Lupin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Black scoffed. His self-righteous expression then changed into something more disconcerting, an expression that conveyed nothing but mischief.
“I merely sympathised with some personal causes that our fellow councilmen hold dear. A sponsorship here, a donation there… and I think you know how much our dear Charlus loves his… ‘exotic’ wines. At the end of the day, Malfoy…” Black placed his hand on Lucius’s shoulder, and angled his head to be able to whisper into his ear:
“The Black family’s pockets have always been deeper than yours.”
It had been two weeks since the end of Harry’s fourth year, and two weeks since he bid Ron and Hermione farewell at King’s Cross Station. His small family hadn’t garnered any more looks than usual, which indicated that Remus’s outing as a werewolf thankfully hadn’t made its way into the minds of the general public just yet. This was in no doubt, Harry thought, thanks to Hermione’s forced ‘treaty’ with Rita Skeeter. Interest in Harry had dropped significantly after he finished the tournament in last place, and the public’s attention was instead more focused on Cedric Diggory’s success.
After they returned home that day, his godparents informed him that Remus had not been sacked — much to Harry’s relief — but would instead be teaching the Care of Magical Creatures class in place of Hagrid. When asked why, Sirius and Remus eyed each other and shrugged in tandem.
“It made sense, what with my condition. There are few others more uniquely suited to the role than I,” his tad had justified.
“Since some of the families of students might have some concerns after the events of last year, Remus wanted to respect their wishes and relocate to a different role,” his padu had explained.
Either way, they reassured him Remus would be remaining at Hogwarts for the time being, at least until Harry graduated.
As for the mysteries still left unsolved, there had been no updates on the situation of Peter Pettigrew or Barty Crouch Junior, and Harry knew better than to keep pestering his godparents about what they knew. However, that didn’t stop him from talking about what he did know of the situation, which had led the three of them into a conversation about how Pettigrew had been able to make his way into the castle at all, one evening after a dinner of tikka masala. Their empty plates were magically washing themselves in the sink and a cloth was independently wiping down the table while they relocated their discussion to be in front of the sitting room’s cracked fireplace.
“Quite useless though, aren’t they? I’ve no idea why rats are even allowed at Hogwarts at all.” Harry began, seeking some insight. “Actually, why are they allowed at school? Rats don’t exactly… do much? Same as cats, if I’m being honest, although Crookshanks did come in handy this year.”
Sirius shrugged, falling inelegantly onto the overstuffed loveseat, pulling Remus to collapse next to him with an oomph . “Haven’t the foggiest, though I do know from experience that dogs aren’t allowed in on account of being too big.”
Harry had the sudden mental image of Sirius sitting in on a potions class as Padfoot.
“How’d you find that out?”
The animagus leaned back on the couch, draping his arm over Remus’s shoulders, squeezing the taller man closer to his side. “Well, for a few days in our seventh year, James tried to pass me-as-Padfoot off as his familiar when he landed himself in the hospital wing after a nasty quidditch accident. I reckon his nose was never the same, though your mum disagreed, bless her. McGonagall was mysteriously alerted to the fact that a massive black dog was haunting the halls of the infirmary and delivered Prongs the bad news that dogs weren’t allowed in the castle due to their size.” Sirius shrugged. “Still, I reckon it’s because she feels threatened by anyone of the canine persuasion, being a cat part-time, herself.”
Remus rolled his eyes fondly, adjusting his body to be more comfortably seated. “He didn’t break his nose, Pads, it was a bloody nose and a mild concussion. He was only out of classes for two days, but the two of you demanded that he need a support animal for the week. Frankly, I don’t think Minerva would have cared about there being a dog in the castle if you hadn’t made such a mess of the hospital beds, jumping and rolling all over them. Hagrid’s dog lives on Hogwarts grounds, after all.”
“I’ll have you know that I was an excellently behaved companion, thank you very much. You, of all people, should have figured that out by now.”
“Har har,” Remus rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the original question. “Do you actually want to know the answer, Harry?”
Harry nodded despite himself, curiosity peaked. Sirius also nodded, perhaps instinctively.
“Well then, since you asked, there is a reason for rats to have been selected as an appropriate animal companion for school in Britain.”
Remus disentangled himself from Sirius’s arms and stood up, making his way to the front of the room in a seemingly unconscious mimicry of where he would have stood in his defence classroom. His arms began to weave invisible illustrations, gestures syncing up with his descriptions.
“Not just owls, but toads, cats, and rats were all previously used to deliver wizarding post, dating back to the second century. In those times, when messages weren’t sent much farther than to the other end of one’s village, toads were often favoured by people who lived in marshlands, while rats and cats were useful in small villages. Owls are a relatively modern method of delivery, only since wizards began needing to send messages over long distances. They were originally sought after for their superb nocturnal abilities because, like cats, they got rid of rats during the black plague.
“As you know, wizard-kind is notoriously behind on advances in things like technology, transportation, communication, and medicine.”
Harry’s thoughts travelled to James, sitting on a rickety hospital bed at SMELT, and he was sure that his godparents’ minds had gone in a similar direction. Remus continued, undeterred.
“Back then, it was no different. The black plague was a big problem in wizarding society, just as it was for muggles. Some wizards had even speculated that it was a dark curse cast upon the world. Owls and cats were seen as good luck, because households that possessed them seemed less susceptible to the plague, even though we now know that it was likely because there was less contamination by vermin as their cats and owls were hunting them. Of course, lack of hygiene was the true spreader of the bubonic plague, but that’s the running theory as to why cats and owls in particular were preferred as familiars.”
Remus paused, a momentary interruption in his impromptu lecture. “Seeing as owls are slow-flying birds, they might gradually phase out in popularity in favour of something faster. Sea-faring birds are becoming a quite popular replacement for owls when it comes to international communication. I’ve heard that the ministry has begun training albatrosses and that birds such as terns are already widely used in North America, steadily replacing their preferred homing pigeons.”
Harry looked at Sirius. “Isn’t Apus part tropical bird, or something? He’s got those weird colours on his crest.”
Sirius shrugged.
“Well, the seller would’ve had me believe that he was part fwooper, but I’m more inclined to believe that his feathers were spelled to be that way to fetch a higher price. I’ve never heard Apus make a noise louder than a ruffle, let alone anything resembling a fwooper call.” The man then yawned, canines flashing as his mouth stretched open. He pressed one of his hands to his eye, presumably to rub out any fatigue.
“Speaking of toads, though, remember that bloody awful woman I told you about, Moons? Umbridge? She accosted me when I was visiting Arthur in his office today, insisting that I join her for tea, batting her eyes and everything. This is the fourth time this week! I more or less had to tell her to fuck right off, which will probably bite us in the ass sooner or later. I asked Sluggy about her to get an idea of who we’re dealing with, and he reckons she’s after the status of being associated with the Black family name no doubt, and ha! Isn’t he one to talk? At least he had the decency to be upfront about it. Hopefully, she doesn’t give Harry any problems next year.”
Remus sighed wearily. “Well, I’ll be around to keep an eye on things. I’ll report straight to Dumbledore if I see her demonstrating any inappropriate behaviour. I’m sure he’ll be itching for an excuse to remove her from the job, anyways.”
Harry had never heard either of his godparents mention anyone named Sluggy before, and he was about to ask who Sirius was talking about when a familiar, ethereal light appeared through the window.
Remus rushed to let what Harry now recognised as a Patronus inside. The Patronus (a phoenix) had barely made it through the window before it opened its beak to let out a message in Albus Dumbledore’s low, mild voice.
“Dear Sirius and Remus: if at all possible, I would like to visit your lovely home in the next hour to discuss a matter of great importance. I am aware that young Harry is likely to be present with you this evening, yet I would advise that this conversation be had only with those possessing of-age ears. Though a hasty reply would be deeply appreciated, the matter is not particularly urgent.”
Harry watched as his godparents looked at each other to have a brief, wordless conversation before they turned to look at him.
He took that as his cue to leave.
“Erm, I’ll just be upstairs then, shall I?”
Remus grimaced apologetically. “Would you rather go to the Weasley’s for a bit?”
“Nah, it’s just as well; I’m a bit knackered. I’ll just be in my room, then?”
“Thank you, cariad. I’ll be doing a silencing charm just in case, partly so we won’t keep you up and partly for Albus’s privacy.”
“That’s fine.”
While Harry was tempted to try and listen in, he knew that Remus’s silencing charms were particularly effective, and he was a bit wary of invading his headmaster’s private discussion.
He had barely made it halfway up the stairs when Sirius’s low murmuring caught his attention.
“Is it alright for me to say that I have never been more riled up than I am right now after witnessing teacher Moony give a lecture on the origin of wizarding familiars in Britain?”
“Not when our son is still within earshot, Pads!”
“Ah, oops. Sorry, Haz!”
Harry, who had been doing his best to carry on the tradition of blocking out the romantic banter between his godparents, was covering his ears with practised haste as he marched up the stairs. “It’s fine, Padu. I didn’t hear anything too weird.”
“There’s a good lad!”
Remus’s smile faded as he watched Harry march up the stairs to his bedroom. As he turned to face Sirius, he saw that his concern was reflected in his partner’s gaze. Remus found himself longing for the lighthearted mood that had filled their home just moments prior. The two men waited until they heard Harry’s footsteps fade, and listened as Harry’s door clicked shut.
“Do you have any idea what Dumbledore wants to talk to us about?” Sirius whispered, eyes flickering to the stairs to make sure that they couldn’t be overheard.
Remus shook his head.
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
Sirius grimaced. “Well, I wonder if it could be about some of the, well… the messages on your door?”
Remus shrugged. Hogwarts students weren’t strangers to non-human faculty. While there was always going to be roots of prejudice among the student population, there hadn’t been a large outcry demanding that Remus be ousted from his position, and no one was marching with pitchforks and picket signs outside of his office door. At least, for the most part.
On the last day of term, there had been several derogatory remarks painted onto his office door. The paint had been thick and black, likely in hopes of resembling the thestral blood from the night of the full moon.
“Hmm… potentially.”
Privately, Remus doubted this theory. It made more sense that Dumbledore would have sent them a letter if the harassment had started to get too out of control, rather than insist on meeting them in person to deliver the news. It was possible that this form of meeting was being done for Harry’s sake, as they had kept the information from him and intended for it to remain that way, but still, that didn’t seem entirely right, either.
The two men found themselves waiting for just under forty minutes when they heard the Headmaster knock at their door. Sirius went to greet the old wizard as Remus fetched tea from the kitchen. Pleasantries were exchanged, but eventually, the small talk tapered off to an end. As it did, Dumbledore heaved out a great sigh.
“Forgive my hitherto lack of forthcoming, gentlemen. As you can imagine, these past several weeks have been…” the old wizard sighed, his overburdened shoulders which were covered by thin lilac robes heaving as he did so – “...strained.” Likely without intending to, Dumbledore’s right hand twitched, drawing Remus’s attention. To his surprise, the headmaster’s hand was covered in wrappings. Noticing the attention the movement had drawn, Dumbledore gave Remus a wry smile, while his eyes flickered between him and Sirius. “I’ll relieve you of your anxieties and cut quickly to the chase. I should hope that it goes without saying that what I’m about to impart unto you is of the strictest confidentiality.”
The pair nodded, and Remus’s eyes flickered over to Sirius, as they often reflexively did. His partner was leaning against the doorframe separating the kitchen and sitting room, arms folded, eyebrows knit in.
“Thank you, boys.” At that moment, something passed between the three of them, reminding Remus of their long-shared history together. It seemed as though it wasn’t too long ago that the three of them found themselves in a similar scenario, Dumbeldore relaying them information that would serve to help them during the first war. Remus’s bad leg gave a painful, foreboding twinge.
“Are either of you aware of the dark artefact known as a Horcrux?”
A Horcrux?
Just thinking the word in his mind caused a chill to run up Remus’s spine, though his brain was drawing a blank. He’d never heard of a Horcrux, nor could he pinpoint the etymology of the word to derive any sort of meaning from it. To his surprise, Sirius made a noise of recognition.
“I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much about them. Before my time at Hogwarts, I remember hearing that one of my relatives – I believe it was my great-great Aunt or something – had been arrested for making one. From what I recall, she posted bail but died at home a short time later under ‘mysterious circumstances.’ I’ve no idea what the things are, though. I tried asking my Uncle Alphard, but I don’t recall a clear answer.”
Dumbledore smiled softly, though it was filtered through a greater expression of weariness on his face.
“No, no I don’t imagine that the amenable Alphard Black would have wanted to taint you with the knowledge of such things, though I’m not surprised that the topic of Horcruxes was present among the vernacular of the Black family.” He cleared his throat.
“I won’t be the one to burden you with what exactly the creation of a Horcrux entails, beyond what is necessary to convey the weight of such a thing. In short, a Horcrux is the creation of a dark wizard, using despicable means, to house a part of their soul in an object separate from their body.”
Remus felt his stomach churn with unease. Once more, he glanced at the stairs to make sure that Harry was out of earshot.
“Despicable means?”
The headmaster regarded Remus.
“To house a piece of one’s soul in an object other than one’s body, the soul must first be rendered unstable. To ensure instability, a wizard’s magical core must be transmuted – however temporarily – to be impure. Such impurity can be attained through an act such as taking a life, or something equally as vile. It is through instability that a wizard in tune enough with his soul can separate a piece of his soul from himself. A Horcrux is the object that houses the fragment of the tainted soul.
“We must not underestimate the impact of murder on the soul. Though we may become desensitised to death in our perilous lives, it does not change the reality that to take a life for a selfish purpose is to snuff out everything that person had the potential to be. It is not insignificant.”
Remus pondered this newfound information that the soul was something potentially tangible. Death was nothing new to him. He had come of age during wartime, and he and many of his friends had taken lives under the assumption that what they were doing was for the greater good. Had their souls been compromised as a result? And of course, from an even younger age, Remus had been taught that an innate part of himself was a bloodthirsty monster who longed for nothing but the death of others. Was the definition of a “dark” creature more literal than he had previously thought?
Sirius took a moment to interject, thankfully interrupting his spiralling thoughts.
“Look, I recognise that murder is bad and wrong and impure. That’s obvious enough. Put frankly, however, I can almost guarantee that the better part of the Black family tree has gotten away with murder in one way or another. So why doesn’t Grimmauld Place have hundreds of Horcruxes just… lying around? And additionally, why tell the two of us any of this?”
Dumbledore’s gaze flitted to Sirius.
“Actually, Mister Black, the primary reason I am giving you and Mister Lupin this information at all is because I have reason to believe that there are, in fact, Horcruxes ‘lying around’ your childhood home. Or, should I say, I suspect there to be at least one. I was hoping to receive your permission to search for it.”
Sirius baulked in surprise. “Truly? I mean… of course, you have my permission. If such a thing exists, Kreacher – my mum’s old house elf – might know where it is, if he hasn’t gone off and died somewhere. Whose Horcrux is it? My mother and father were evil, no doubt about that, but to my knowledge, I don’t think they’ve ever actually murdered anyone.”
The old wizard’s expression didn’t give anything away, though he looked to Remus before gesturing at the chair nearest to the fireplace.
“May I?”
Remus nodded and watched as their former headmaster sat down. Wordlessly, he and Sirius moved to sit in the loveseat across from him.
“Three nights ago, the identity of the deceased infant was identified.”
The two men sat up straighter, eyes wide. Remus could feel the arm that Sirius had draped behind him grip the couch tightly.
“As we suspected, the infant had been deceased before it had the chance to be born. However, we discovered that Barty Crouch Junior had been keeping the body ‘alive’ using unicorn blood. We have reason to believe that the infant was a Horcrux, or at least a temporary one, similar to the former Professor Quirrell. Furthermore, through testing, we have discovered that the infant was likely the offspring of Bellatrix Lestrange and Tom Riddle, who the two of you would know by the moniker Lord Voldemort.”
“Are you…are you joking?” Sirius demanded, and would likely have stood up if it hadn’t been for Remus, who held him down and shushed him so as not to alarm Harry upstairs. Sirius glanced at the stairs before continuing in a furious whisper.
“Sorry, but there’s no way that Bella had a… had a baby with bloody Voldemort . She was a fanatic and certainly mad, but surely she hadn’t turned completely barmy? In any case, she’s been in prison since the night Lily died, and feel free to correct me if I’ve done the math wrong, but it’s been just a smidge too long since Voldemort died for that to be in any way possible.”
The old wizard nodded in affirmation.
“True, Bellatrix has not been with child since her arrest. Unfortunately, this leads us to the next difficult truth: the infant’s body has been preserved for far, far longer than we had anticipated. Likely, the infant was intended to have been a reserve plan for Voldemort if he died, to be used in the way that Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch were attempting. In other words: in the event that Voldemort’s body was destroyed, there would be a body ready and waiting for him, one that already housed a portion of his soul.”
Remus noted that his jaw was hanging open, and he shut it with a click. He cleared his throat, and his voice was hoarse.
“That’s… that’s horrific.”
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “According to the information we have managed to glean from Barty Crouch, the moment that he broke out of Azkaban, he had begun planning for Voldemort’s return. While fooling his father into believing he was under the effects of the imperious curse, he made contact with Peter Pettigrew and had him retrieve the infant’s preserved body from the Lestrange family vault. This likely happened in the months leading up to the attack, as the retrieval of the body signalled to those with the Dark Mark that the plan for Voldemort to return was in motion.”
“And the infant’s body being taken out of its stasis could have been another signal, which might explain why Karkaroff fled…” Remus muttered. He couldn’t help but wonder if Snape, too, had felt the call.
“It is also why, upon being informed of the signal by Severus over the Summer – though at the time not knowing what it meant – I was compelled to seek the employment of former members of the Order of the Phoenix during the school year, giving the school more protection if needed.” Dumbledore relinquished.
Remus baulked. However, he didn’t have much time to digest this bit of news, as the old wizard immediately thereafter pulled out his bandaged hand and began to unravel the wrappings, revealing dead, blackened skin.
“Furthermore, it would seem that there are even more Horcruxes housing the Dark Lord’s soul, preventing him from dying a thorough death. While I was searching the graveyard on the night of the attack, I found a curious item in the ruins of a house belonging to the Gaunt family, a family important to Tom Riddle. The item – a Horcrux – has since been destroyed, but not without some difficulty. I suspect that there are several more of Voldemort’s Horcruxes currently in existence, and I already have some of our people tracking them down with the intent of destroying them. Headmaster Valahul is also aware of these circumstances, and has declared his intentions to assist us in this endeavor.”
“Valahul is going to help? Are you sure it’s safe for him to know all of this? He has direct ties to Karkaroff, and who knows how many other former Death Eaters.”
The old wizard bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Ninel has been made aware of the basics, though we would be foolish to think him incapable of gathering his own intelligence. Regardless, he has agreed to search any locations that might have ties to Lord Voldemort within the boundaries of his purview and report back. As for us, we must do what we can within our own purview. Which is why…” he then retrieved something from the pocket of his robes and presented it to Sirius, who looked at the object in confusion.
In his hand was now a large, gleaming locket. On the locket’s face was an ornate ‘S’ made up of a single, twisting snake. “What is this?”
The headmaster looked at him gently. “This is what gives us reason to believe that a Horcrux might be in your childhood home. Should you wish to, you may open it and read its contents.”
Remus could see suspicion paint his partner’s face as he slowly opened the locket. A moment passed as Sirius took the time to remove a small, curled parchment that had been nestled inside. It took a beat longer for Sirius to read it.
Despite sitting next to him, Remus couldn’t tell what it was that Sirius had read to make his expression crumple in pain upon finishing the note. Wordlessly, Sirius stood up and left the sitting room, likely to retreat to their bedroom upstairs.
Concerned but curious, Remus snatched up the paper to read for himself.
Very little could have prepared him for its contents.
In careful, slanted handwriting were the words of someone who seemed to have been in a rush to get all of the words down.
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,
you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
The next few days, as Harry experienced them, were… odd.
After Dumbledore’s visit and subsequent departure, whatever information he had imparted left his godfather particularly sombre. And, to Harry’s shock, rather than his tad’s typical approach of letting his partner’s emotions run their course, Remus had apparently decided to manage the situation by catering to Sirius’s every whim and notion.
Sleeping in until noon? Sure. French toast for dinner three days in a row? Certainly. Let Padfoot run amok and track mud inside? Go ahead, the carpets can always be cleaned.
Frankly, it was bizarre. Remus wasn’t known for a permissive approach to life, and Sirius wasn’t known for… well, whatever this was, Harry thought desperately as he watched his padu stomp up the stairs to his and Remus’s bedroom, only to forcefully shut the door behind him. Reflexively, Harry looked over to his tad to gauge his reaction and noted that the man barely looked up from the cookbook he was reading, lazily twirling his finger to get a wooden spoon to stir whatever was cooking in the pot.
Trying to be discreet, Harry meandered over to where his guardian was standing by the cooker.
“So… we’re having hotpot?”
“Mhm,” Remus nodded distractedly.
“Smells good.”
Remus smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment. There was an awkward pause as Harry thought of how to frame his question.
Merlin, this was difficult.
“Bit warm for hotpot though, don’t you think?”
“Hmm.”
“Was this… was this Padu’s idea?”
“Mmm.”
“So he erm, he likes hotpot, then?”
Remus’s eyes flickered to Harry, nose slightly wrinkled with bemusement. “Are you feeling alright, Haz?”
Harry groaned, not sure if his guardian was being cagey about the topic of Sirius on purpose, or if he truly was just very distracted by the arduous task of making dinner.
“Tad, you know Padu has been acting weird, right? He’s been completely rubbish at Quidditch lately and whenever he isn’t playing Quidditch or working on his bike he’s been pouting in your guys’ room. What exactly did Professor Dumbledore say to make him act like this? And you’re no better! Normally you’d tell him to ‘get on with it’ and he would get on with it because that’s what he does but it feels like this time you’re bending over backwards to keep him from crying over the smallest things!” Harry noticed he was breathing heavily.
Remus's eyebrow had quirked up, unimpressed.
“Finished?”
Harry scowled.
“Yes!”
Remus nodded once before turning his attention back to the stove.
“Good.” He flicked his wand at the cooker, causing the heat to turn down to a simmer, before turning his attention back to Harry. Remus jerked his head to the kitchen table, expression frighteningly neutral.
“Sit.”
Harry gulped, suddenly feeling like he had perhaps spoken a bit too harshly, before taking a seat in the chair nearest to him. Remus sat across from him, sitting carefully to be mindful of his leg, and clasped his hands under his chin.
His godfather regarded him.
“Harry, do you recall how you felt when Ruby died?”
With a pang, Harry recalled their family cat which had passed away shortly before he had entered Hogwarts. She had once belonged to his mum and dad, he had been told, and for a while, it felt like she was one of the few things that kept him tied to them.
“I guess so.”
Remus nodded slowly, expression still neutral. “And do you remember how it took you a while to bounce back from feeling low?”
Catching on and feeling quite chastised, Harry nodded, his shoulders scrunched up a bit.
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember some of the ways Sirius and I tried to help you feel better?”
Harry ducked his head down.
“You… took me to Hogsmeade and… and made my favourite foods and things like that.”
Remus’s neutral expression gave way to a small, fond, exasperated smile.
“That’s right. And were those things enough to completely rid you of your feeling sad?”
“...No.”
Remus nodded, satisfied, and sat back in his seat.
“No, no they weren’t. But, when you’re feeling down, sometimes you need a reminder from those around you just how much you’re cared for. Right now, your godfather is experiencing the renewal of a loss, a loss of the likes we can scarcely imagine. While the two of us don’t have the capability or responsibility to ‘fix’ it, we can do our best to let our Padfoot know that he has us to rely on when he’s ready to talk about it.”
Harry nodded minutely. Cautiously, he looked up at his guardian through ducked-down eyes.
“Did it… that is, did what Dumbledore have to say have anything to do with his brother? With Regulus?”
Remus sighed and slowly glanced to the stairs. Content that Sirius wasn’t coming out of their room just yet, he looked back to Harry, nodding.
“Yes, it did. Of course, it wasn’t the only thing we discussed, but it is the reason why Sirius has been feeling downcast. Dumbledore delivered some news that was a bit of a shock, that made Sirius realise that there was perhaps more to the story of his brother than he’d thought. I imagine your godfather had been doing his best to process it all.”
“He erm, he died, right? A long time ago?”
Remus nodded.
“Oh.”
Silence.
“I’d noticed that Padu has been talking about him a lot, lately.”
The older man hummed. “I’d noticed that, too. I think that with you getting to be older, it’s reminded him of Regulus. He wasn’t that much older than you when he died.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Remus nodded solemnly. “We were all very young when the war started. I think that both Sirius and Regulus saw the beginning of it younger than most. They weren’t raised in a very kind environment. It’s a wonder your godfather turned out the way he did. It was a lot to do with your father if you ask me.”
Harry thought about James, then, and how he knew him to be. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t conjure up an image beyond that of the pale, skinny man sitting on a sick bed at Saint Mungo’s.
“But, he also had you, right?”
Remus grinned fondly. “Yes, he also had me.”
“I’ve seen a photograph of Regulus before, I think.”
Remus quirked his head to the side, puzzled.
“Have you? Where did you find one?”
“Er… there’s the one Sirius keeps in your desk drawer, I think?”
“And why , exactly, were you snooping through the desk drawer, Harry?”
“I was looking for the boggart!” Harry rebutted defensively. He observed as the older man’s face scrunched up in momentary confusion before recognition dawned on his face. “The bogg…? Oh! Oh, right.” The werewolf placed his hands on his hips in exasperation.
“Harry, you know better than to be looking in mine and Sirius’s private space. Boggarts aside, there are plenty of things not meant for your eyes. Understand?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Tad, it was years ago!”
“Understand?”
“Fine! Yes!”
Remus nodded primly.
“Thank you. Anyways, you saw a picture of Regulus?”
“Yeah, the one with–”
“Oh, are you talking about this photo? I look ghastly with short hair, don’t you think?”
“Padfoot!”
“Padu!”
Sirius – sporting red-rimmed eyes and slightly scraggly hair – snorted in amusement of his own joke as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, snagging a chair at the end of the table and tossing a mid-size photograph down in front of Harry. Remus turned the heat off the hob and went over to his partner, offering him a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, both of which were returned by Sirius. For a moment, both men just stood there, finding comfort in each other as Harry looked steadfastly at a stain on the table. He could hear whispered words between them, and the louder of two voices insisted that he had heard the conversation happening downstairs and wanted to be a part of it.
“You’re allowed more time to yourself, you know?”
“I know I am, Moonshine. Thank you. Don’t worry, I’ll be plenty moody and whinge-y for the next few days.”
And then Sirius cleared his throat and spoke more loudly, for Harry’s sake.
“No need to keep quiet on my account! Smells good, Moony. Hotpot?”
Remus smiled, mildly exasperated. “Hotpot.”
“Merlin, have I ever told you I’m in love with you?” Sirius turned his fond gaze to the picture, still sniffling a bit, his voice a bit thick with emotion. The photograph in question contained four people situated closely together. A handsome man in his presumably early forties had his hand on the shoulder of an elegant woman who seemed to be of a similar age. What could only be a teenaged Sirius was standing between the two, expression fixed into a permanent scowl, hair shorter than Harry had ever seen it. On Sirius’s right, standing closer to the woman (who Harry assumed was their mother,) was a younger version of Sirius. This boy, however, seemed sallower and slighter, and his nose was slightly upturned in contrast to his godfather’s strong, sharper-bridged one. His dark, wavy hair had reached his chin, whilst his older brother’s was cropped closer to his ears in this picture. Sirius tapped the image of himself before continuing his commentary.
“Sorry again for being a bit of a mess these past few days, Hazza. Not every day you learn something life-altering about… well. Anyways, yeah, that particular picture was taken sometime in my fifth year.” He snorted. “My darling mum hated it when I grew my hair longer, and so it was a family tradition to cut it short the day I returned home for the summer hols. Reggie is the annoying berk standing next to me here, and you’ll notice that mummy never forced him to keep his hair short.”
Harry looked at Sirius with some trepidation. “Er, I mean, it’s okay. He looks a lot like you, just less handsome, I think.” Even as he said it out loud, he realised a beat too late that that probably wasn’t the kindest thing to say, confirmed by Remus who looked ready to scold him again. Thankfully, any such scolding was interrupted by Sirius’s resounding bark of laughter.
“Eh, Reggie held his own appeal to people, though his shit personality didn’t do him any favours.”
“Pads…”
“What? I’m allowed to say it! He was a bloody Death Eater and a blood-purist prick for most of his life, even if some great bloody locket says he changed his mind down the line.”
Remus rolled his eyes before looking at Harry. “Regulus and Sirius were very close as children, don’t let him tell you any different.”
Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, well, we were close until I realised where his priorities were. Fuck, if he’d only been…” he sniffed, and Remus tactfully conjured him a handkerchief, which he accepted gratefully before clearing his throat, dabbing at his eyes.
“Ahem. Anyways, yeah, we grew apart in school. He had his friends, I had mine.” He swooped his arm around Remus’s neck, bringing him closer to press a kiss atop his head. Remus smiled and moved to press a kiss to his partner’s cheek. Harry pretended to gag, drawing a chuckle from both adults. Remus sat straight, humming thoughtfully.
“I can’t help but wonder now if he wasn’t trying to protect you, in some misguided, strange way.”
Sirius sighed a great sigh in response. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering that myself, these past few days. He couldn’t lie to our parents to save his life, or at least he never liked to lie to them, even if it was for a good reason. If he avoided knowing something existed, he wouldn’t have anything to hide from them.” He looked at Harry, smiling wryly.
“I think I’ve mentioned before that he died when he was quite young. Seventeen, nearly eighteen, barely a year after he joined the Death Eaters. I never knew why he died; there was no body, nothing to bury. I found out through the newspaper, seeing as my parents didn’t exactly owl me with the news.”
Harry’s eyes were wide, though he said nothing. Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking absently at the ceiling. “I’ve been a bit off these past few days because I keep thinking about how young he was, how young we were–” He gestured to Remus’s permanently injured leg– “how we didn’t know what we were getting into that young, not really. I’m also thinking about how you’re getting nearer to that age every day. Of course, I think any parent gets to this point eventually – the point where they realise that time flies by faster than any snitch ever could.”
He stands up, walking over to Harry before ruffling his hair. “It’s not a bad thing to mourn someone, sprog, but sorry if I’ve been worrying you. I loved my brother very much, and all of this grief that I’m feeling now is just all of the love I never got the chance to show him when he was alive.”
Harry leaned into his godfather’s hand, thinking deeply.
“He was… he was good, in the end, right?”
The hand in his hair paused.
“Probably, yeah.”
“Why then do you think he was sorted into Slytherin? If he was good?”
Sirius snorted.
“He was a sneaky little shit, for one thing.”
From across the table, Remus cleared his throat. Sirius grinned sheepishly. Remus rolled his eyes and offered a more impartial explanation.
“Hogwarts houses aren’t an indicator of good or bad, Haz. The sorting ceremony is more or less a means of helping students more quickly adapt to school life by giving them quick access to like-minded peers.” The werewolf eyed Sirius meaningfully. “Peter was sorted into Gryffindor, to offer some perspective.” Sirius sobered quickly, and Remus continued.
“Even Gellert Grindelwald was in Gryffindor before leaving Hogwarts for Durmstrang.”
“I didn’t know that!”
“Well yes, because you haven’t picked up a book a day in your life.”
“That is decidedly untrue.”
Harry interjected before the conversation could derail. “Why do you think Pettigrew was sorted into Gryffindor, anyways? He didn’t sound particularly brave, to me.”
Sirius scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “I’ve wondered that, myself. To be honest, I’m not sure. He was brave enough to pull pranks with the rest of us, and I suppose that it took ‘bravery’ to hang around us when he was so different, but it seems like a bit of a stretch if you ask me.”
Remus placed his chin on his hands. “I’ve always assumed it was because he chose to be there. The sorting ceremony isn’t set in stone, and there are more than four types of people.”
“How do you explain my sorting into Gryffindor being the fastest sorting anyone had ever seen? It’s got to hold at least some weight.”
“Yes, yes, you and James were soulmates from the start and red is your colour. But, Harry–”
Harry sat up from his slight slouch.
“–I need you to realise that there is no such thing as an inherently ‘good’ or ‘evil’ person. We are only the sum of our choices and a reflection of our surroundings. Maybe Peter had the potential to help those who felt small. Maybe Regulus prioritised the safety and security that Slytherin offered him rather than be faced with the cruelty of his parents.” The man shrugged.
“Unfortunately, these are things we may never know. What I do know, however…” the werewolf stood up, grabbing his cane from where it had been leaning against the wall, “...is that you were placed exactly where you needed to be.”
. . .
The graveyard at St Jerome’s Church was surprisingly busy as they left, with several people starting to mill about the grave markers, visiting their loved ones. It must have been the pleasant afternoon sun and mild breeze, or possibly the simple convenience of it being the weekend that drew them there. Lucky for them, they’d arrived quite early in the morning, wanting to avoid the rush of London traffic that was certain to appear on their way to St Mungo’s. Harry, for his part, had been tasked with holding the bouquet of daffodils, jonquils, and lilies meant for his mother’s grave, and as a result, his nose was quite runny and red as he and his godparents walked back to their Ford Cortina.
They had spent the morning cleaning Lily Potter’s grave marker, Sirius and Remus chattering away to the chunk of stone as though it was capable of giving a response. Now, they were on their way to the St Mungo’s Establishment for Long-Term Treatment to visit James, equipped with another bouquet (though this one was made up primarily of gardenias and pink carnations) to freshen up his bedside. Remus was equipped with his stack of photos taken during the school year and Sirius was equipped with a large stack of letters while chattering away behind the steering wheel.
“Haz, you remember that one? Rem, hold it up a bit, there’s a love… yes! You wouldn’t have seen me take that one, of course, but that was when–”
“From when my transfiguration spell backfired, I know! And I thought I told you to not take any pictures! How did you get past Madam Pomfrey?”
“She and I have a long history, of course she let me in!”
Though Harry couldn’t see his face except for what was reflected in the rearview mirror, Harry heard Remus snort.
“Yes, and I’m certain it had nothing to do with your guardianship status.”
“It might have been that, too.”
They left the car in the car park nearest to the dilapidated department store that hid the wizarding hospital. However, instead of going straight to the ugly dummy that would lead them to the front desk, they took a left past the building and walked until they saw the large, white wall that hid the care centre. Sirius confidently flicked his wand at a large, stone sign reading ‘TEL MS, Manufacturing Services’ until the acronym rearranged itself to the proper order. When the sign finally read ‘SMELT,’ a large door emerged from its magical hiding place. The small family stepped inside and Harry was immediately hit with the strong smell of antiseptic. They quickly gave their usual greetings to the staff and made their way to the twelfth residential room on the fourth floor which had long-housed James Fleamont Potter.
Harry arrived at the door first and opened it to the familiar sight of fifteen curtained-off hospital beds, seven of which were currently occupied by patients in mint green gowns. Harry of course recognised his old professor Gilderoy Lockhart, a semi-recent addition to the memory ward, who was currently talking to one of the healers present, a matronly woman with a warm smile.
“What on earth are those delightful little things on the walls?”
The healer chuckled obligingly. “Those are photographs, Gilderoy!”
“Fascinating! What do they do?”
Also in the room were Neville Longbottom’s mum and dad, who Harry knew to be old friends of his parents. The remaining residents in the room were mostly unknown to him, but throughout his time visiting the ward, Harry knew them to be named Broderick Bode, Zenith Xeep, and a woman named Agnes.
Harry heard Remus strike up a conversation with a different healer at the front of the room as he signed the three of them in on the visitor’s list.
“How’ve things been going since we last visited?”
“Oh, you know, the Thickey family is back on our case for the care centre’s name change, but it’s already been fifteen years! You’d think they’d have let it go by now…”
Sirius meanwhile had pushed past the two of them to sit on the edge of James’s bed, though he notably turned up his nose as he walked past Lockhart. Harry went to join him, leaving Remus to wrap up the rest of the check-in. He arrived right as Sirius vanished the old flowers that had been occupying the vase since their last visit which, despite being placed under a stasis charm, had begun to wilt. Harry handed over the new bouquet, which the man accepted gratefully.
“Perfect timing, there’s a lad…” He then placed the new flowers in their vase, muttering a quick “aguamenti!” to refill the water. Remus joined them shortly thereafter, introducing the new photographs to James before sticking them on the wall. James had taken to the commotion gracefully, not reacting to his visitors beyond making a small humming noise with his mouth.
As Remus put up the pictures on the wall, Sirius unfurled the stack of letters he had brought, smoothing them out on the bed. Harry looked at them curiously.
“What are those?”
“Just some poetry I wanted to show off! I got into it as a hobby sometime in December, and I’m a dab hand at it if I do say so myself.”
“He is pretty good,” Remus reluctantly acknowledged.
“Erm… why exactly did you take up poetry?”
Sirius shrugged and Remus carefully turned away, hiding his face.
“Thought it would be funny, ended up liking it.”
“Fair enough.”
Finally, Harry turned to give his full attention to his dad. James was now sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at his hands, as though seeing them for the first time. His face was impassive, and his glasses were askew on his nose. Harry shuffled closer to James, nestling in close enough that their arms were pressed almost entirely together. He leaned his head on the man’s shoulder, getting comfortable. He felt Sirius move to sit on James’s other side, his arm reaching over his best friend’s shoulder to rest on Harry’s arm, sandwiching the two of them into a comforting side hug. Remus, having finished sticking the photographs to the wall above James’s bed, had moved around to sit on the stool facing the three of them.
Sirius rested his head on top of James’s, the movement jostling Harry a bit from his perch.
“Do you want to start, or shall I?” Sirius yawned, his relaxed position indicating which of the two options he’d prefer.
“I’ll go first,” Harry offered. He lifted his head.
“So, erm, don’t freak out, Dad, but a lot of weird stuff happened this year, starting with me and Tad going to Hogwarts to have dinner with all of the professors at Hogwarts…”
