8 th December 1994
"We have nine werewolves in custody, another four got away including Greyback." Amelia said as soon as she entered Cornelius's office for the impromptu War Council. She accepted the cup of tea Bertie pressed on her. She looked calm and collected but Sirius knew she had hardly slept a wink.
Sirius nodded at her. Her numbers tallied with the numbers Remus had relayed to him during the early hours of the morning. "Thirteen werewolves; and four targets with Greyback attempting to get to your good self, Amelia." He listed from memory.
Amelia gave a huff. "It's a pity I wasn't home," she said belligerently, "I would have loved a go at him. By the time the wards alerted me and I got there, he was long gone."
Cornelius looked at her in disbelief. "Rather you than me."
"He left a message." Amelia said tersely. "The body of a young lamb with the name Susan written on it in blood."
"Fenrir will not be able to reach her in Hogwarts." Albus reassured her.
"Especially now we know the Durmstrang ship is the likely point of entry for Riddle's associates." Sirius added. "The kids are taking precautions too. They've set up a good buddy system."
Amelia breathed out. "Three other homes were hit; the Weasley's, the Longbottom's and Dirk Cresswell's. The only casualties were at the Weasley's; Arthur was knocked out for a while although the healer has cleared him for work this morning and Percy who is at home receiving treatment for scratches."
Bertie sighed. "He's very lucky it wasn't a full moon and the scratches were given by a werewolf partially transformed otherwise he would have contracted lycanthropy himself."
"He thought he had." Sirius muttered.
"He'll still be scarred for life." Amelia retorted, but she softened her hard words with a nod of agreement. "He was lucky."
"The press this morning has been very positive." Cornelius said brightly, picking up his cup and saucer. He pointed at the Prophet laid out on his desk. "Rita managed to capture all the salient points."
"It was a good article." Sirius admitted grudgingly. He really didn't like Skeeter but she had her uses.
The article that morning certainly played to the alliance's rather than to Wenlock's agenda. It had celebrated the capture of the rogue werewolves; had given credit to law-abiding werewolves who'd blown the whistle on the imminent attacks because they supported the recent push for new laws. There was a strong statement from Augusta which questioned why the supporters of fairer laws had been the subject of the attacks, casting suspicion on the other political side as the originators. Augusta should have been a Slytherin, Sirius thought with amusement. He would have liked to have seen Wenlock's face when he'd seen the article.
More importantly, Sirius mused as he sipped his coffee, the article and the events of the previous night had sent a clear message to Voldemort; that Fenrir had ultimately failed his mission to derail the alliance, to hassle and hurt them. Arthur was more determined than ever in the wake of the attack and the whole affair seemed to have given Percy a good kick up the arse. When Sirius had paid them a call at breakfast, Percy had been up at the table eating a veritable mountain of bacon and sausage, and had been talking about retraining as a solicitor focused on werewolf rights. It looked like Remus had been right about Percy, Sirius considered ruefully; the young wizard had needed to find his own way.
"We've come out of this remarkably unscathed." Albus commented. There was a hint of disbelief in his voice. "I fear this will only enrage Tom to greater acts of defiance."
Sirius hummed. "He'll certainly be pissed at Fenrir's failure." He set his cup down, glancing at the clock. "We owe much of our success last night to the information Sian provided to Remus and Tonks."
"Fenrir is going to have to address the dissension in the ranks of his pack." Bertie theorised. "That should keep him busy for a while and unable to assist Riddle with any plans."
"He's likely to discover that you and Remus have offered sanctuary." Amelia sighed. "Are you and Remus prepared for that?"
"We already have a better location chosen for such a scenario. The chateau will become a way-station." Sirius said. "All the werewolves taking refuge in our pack know there is a risk Fenrir will react once he's aware of the exodus from his own." He shifted uncomfortable with the truth of what he was about to say. "Remus is also very aware that ultimately it may come down to a fight between him and Fenrir. He's…" he struggled to find the words to fit, "prepared is the wrong word but…"
"Accepting such a thing will come to pass?" suggested Bertie.
Sirius nodded. "He's returning to France today to shift everyone to the secondary location."
"Sian?" Amelia asked.
"Staying at The School House in Hogsmeade. Kreacher is taking care of her." Sirius said. "She's shaken up but holding steady." He still didn't like her much. It wasn't rational but in some way he blamed Sian for drawing Remus away from himself and James in the past. And yet probably out of all the werewolf contacts Remus had made back then, she was the one that had done the least to attract Remus to the packs.
Sirius pushed the thought away and gestured at the clock. "We should all get to the chamber."
"Indeed." Albus said, rising with surprising grace.
The group made their way through the Ministry corridors to the Wizengamot chamber, drawing looks and murmurs with every wizard and witch they passed. They entered the Wizengamot together and Sirius knew they made a statement; the head of the DMLE, the head of the DOM, the Minister, the Chief Warlock and himself all together.
Wenlock's face was a picture.
Sirius felt a rush of satisfaction similar to the rush he'd once gotten when they'd played a good prank – not one of the malicious ones but one of the funny make-everyone-laugh types. He parted ways with the others as he walked up the steps to take his seat, the rest of the Wizengamot Houses rising in respect, although Sirius noted that Wenlock was the last to rise and he sat almost with Sirius rather than after him. It was a small rebellion but one that told Wenlock's supporters that Wenlock was after Sirius's position; was close behind and would one day have the Houses stand for him, sit for him. Since Sirius found the whole sitting thing bizarre in the first place, he was mostly amused by Wenlock's pettiness.
Augusta nodded at him across the chamber; she looked fierce in red, her head held high. According to the Auror's report, she had whacked one of the werewolves across the back of the head with a cricket bat. He glanced at Arthur and was relieved to see him looking well despite the fading bruise on his temple. A glance up at the public gallery had Sirius connecting gazes with Amos Diggory. He looked just as furious as he had at the previous Wizengamot and Sirius wondered whether angry was Diggory's current constant state of being.
The Wizengamot was called to order, allowing Sirius to break his glaring stand-off, and the usual agenda progressed with little fanfare or surprises. There were a couple of Heir announcements including a change of Heir for Flint that interested Sirius. Marcus Flint had apparently split with his father over the issue of the Dark Lord's genealogy. Sirius cast a glance toward Lucius who made a cautious nod of agreement; he'd speak to the boy through Draco, assess whether Marcus Flint could be an ally or, at least, a neutral.
The agenda moved on.
Sirius chatted with Richard Bones during the break as he normally did. Richard was unsurprisingly concerned by the message that Fenrir had left at Amelia's and Sirius did his best to allay Richard's concerns while recognising that Richard had genuine cause to be concerned.
Finally the last item of the agenda was called; the report from the Committee reviewing the Magical Creature laws.
Dirk Cresswell shifted to the centre of the Wizengamot to make his report. He opened his mouth to speak and…
Wenlock stood up. "Point of order, Chief Warlock!"
The entire Wizengamot shifted to look at Wenlock. He'd made an effort with his appearance, Sirius realised. The robes were new, a dark authoritative blue colour but old fashioned in style; set to emphasise conservatism and security. His crest was prominent on the breast of the robes, silver thread catching the light and drawing the eye. Wenlock had obviously taken care in his grooming; not a hair was out of place. He made a solid impression and had clearly learned over the previous months that style was just as important as substance in the political arena. It was also clearly the opposite of Sirius's own style which displayed his physicality and emphasised his reputation as a former Hit Wizard, a battle mage. 'Here,' Wenlock was saying, 'see how safe I am compared to the dangerous Black.' Sirius was somewhat amused again.
"Lord Wenlock." Dullard, the clerk was on his feet, glaring at Wenlock. "What is your point of order?"
Wenlock sneered at him; he'd addressed Albus not Dullard but the clerk was resolute and Wenlock finally spoke.
"Due to changed circumstances, any member of the Wizengamot can call for a Committee to be dissolved and all suspended or withdrawn laws made under that Committee's purview to be voted immediately back into law." He drew himself up. "After recent events, I wish to make such a call in regards to the Committee to Review the Magical Creature and Races Laws."
An outbreak of chatter in the public gallery accompanied the knowing looks exchanged across the floor of the Wizengamot by the various factions.
Sirius watched instead of taking part, quietly observing the Minor pureblood Houses in Wenlock's group starting to recognise that the move hadn't taken the Potter alliance by surprise; that some of the neutral Minor Houses weren't looking toward Wenlock but away from him.
Dullard dragged the session back to order. "What are the circumstances that would constitute a reason for such a call to be made?"
Wenlock smiled as smugly as a cat that had caught a canary. "Firstly, the events of the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament clearly show that dragons are dangerous creatures. Lord Potter was almost killed by a feral dragon, and the rest of the Champions were gravely injured." He lifted a hand in the direction of the empty Potter seat.
Sirius raised an eyebrow at the gesture. It irritated him but then he knew it was meant to irritate him so he let it slide.
"Secondly, the events of last night when three members of this Wizengamot were attacked by werewolves clearly demonstrates that these creatures are just that; creatures." Wenlock sniffed. "We did not have such a spate of attacks while the Werewolf laws were in place and they should be reinstituted immediately."
Dullard sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Does anyone object to Lord Wenlock's call for a dissolution?"
It was Daniel Greengrass who stood up for the alliance in opposition. Wenlock had wrongly presumed it would be Sirius and so all his careful grooming was for nothing. Daniel was the consummate neutral; safe, cautious and conservative. His own immaculate green robes lacked the newness of Wenlock's and therefore seemed more genuinely Daniel's own style rather than an affectation.
"I object." Daniel said forcefully. "If I may take each point in order: each task within the Tri-Wizard Tournament is constructed to give the Champions an almost impossible challenge. Dragons were used back in 'fifty-three in the first task resulting in two of the Champions sustaining similar injuries to the ones that we saw in this year's tournament; minor burns, scratches and bruises. We would never normally sanction young men and women climbing into a dragon's nest to steal eggs. In fact, there is an international law prohibiting such action whether dragons are in the wild or on a reserve because of the danger to the thief. The tournament constitutes an exceptional circumstance in regards to the law."
Daniel adjusted his stance, commanding all attention.
"In addition to this, the dragon that went feral went feral with assistance from wizards."
Murmurs swept the Wizengamot until Albus stood and called for silence so Daniel could continue.
"What evidence do you have of this supposed assistance?" demanded Wenlock.
Amelia stood up, coolly gazing up at Wenlock with considered derision. "The official DMLE investigation with the support of the Magical Forensics team from the DOM found that the Horntail had been drugged to be overly aggressive. In addition, the chain securing the Horntail had been charmed to vanish during Lord Potter's task. It is the view of the DMLE that there was an attempt to sabotage the first task and Aurors are tracking down the suspected culprits."
Daniel nodded sagely at her succinct reporting and turned to Wenlock. "A dragon sabotaged by wizards cannot be said to have changed the natural threat that dragons represent above and beyond the usual circumstances that exist and did exist at the time the Committee was formed. Therefore, I believe there is no substance to the first point of Lord Wenlock's argument."
Wenlock's nostrils flared in anger.
"His second point misses several salient facts." Daniel continued blithely. "Firstly, it is certainly strange that after years of oppression, a number of werewolves suddenly have decided to attack. After all, only the most restrictive of laws regarding their employment were suspended; the main law determining execution for a werewolf attacking a wizard or a witch remains in effect. Why would they attack now when we are making strides to help our fellow wizards and witches affected by lycanthropy?"
Daniel made a small wave towards Amelia again.
"According to the initial report from the DMLE published this morning, all nine of the werewolves arrested last night confirmed that they attacked on the orders of their pack leader Fenrir Greyback, a known rogue who has been wanted by the DMLE for over twenty years." Daniel gazed around the Wizengamot. "While last night was a systematic attack which hasn't been seen for a while, Greyback and members of his pack have been suspected in a spate of sporadic attacks over the last several years – hardly then, a changed circumstance."
He held up a hand as Wenlock made to argue back.
"Furthermore, the report clearly states that all attacks were thwarted thanks to information provided by disaffected members of Greyback's own pack who believe that their leader was wrongly endangering the political move to review these laws. Werewolves, ladies and gentlemen, provided the information to take down their own because of the steps we've taken to review the laws affecting them, to try to provide a fairer view." He pinned Wenlock with a hard stare. "I will give you that that is a changed circumstance but I would argue it is a positive one, supportive of the Committee and its aims which should proceed without any further attempt to derail the democratic political process."
Silence greeted Daniel's final words.
Albus cleared his throat, the sound echoing loudly. "Do you have a counter-argument, Lord Wenlock? Or do you withdraw your objection?"
Wenlock dragged his gaze from a triumphant Daniel to look at Albus. "I believe my initial argument stands." He blustered. "And I have the support of the Head of the Department overseeing the control of magical creatures." He indicated Diggory who nodded briskly.
That was poor form, Sirius mused. Had Wenlock been so sure the alliance would be taken aback by his use of obscure Wizengamot protocol that he hadn't been prepared for a cohesive opposition? It looked like it. And calling on Diggory, who simply looked like a bureaucrat trying to maintain the importance of his own position, was not a good move.
Albus smiled benignly at Wenlock. "Mister Dullard, am I correct in my belief that in matters of this protocol where a call is made for dissolution and an objection lodged that it is my right as Chief Warlock to determine the outcome?"
The point was made so mildly that Wenlock almost missed it but when he got it, he flushed a brilliant red.
"I was led to believe the matter is put to a vote, Chief Warlock." Wenlock spoke over Dullard as he began to answer.
Dullard glared up at Wenlock. "You were not recognised to speak, Lord Wenlock, and I believe the Chief Warlock addressed his question of protocol to myself as the clerk of this body." He moved to speak with Albus. "And the Chief Warlock is correct; he determines the outcome."
Albus beamed brightly. "In which case, as I am very well acquainted with both situations that Lord Wenlock outlined and which Lord Greengrass explained so well, I rule in favour of the objection to the call for dissolution."
"So noted!" Dullard called out. "The call for dissolution is defeated. The Committee will report as per the agenda of the Wizengamot."
And Sirius couldn't quite prevent his smile as everyone politely ignored the still standing Wenlock and focused on Dirk Cresswell as he began to speak.
A well-played prank, thought Sirius with glee; a well-played prank indeed.
o-O-o
The fury of the Dark Lord was something to behold.
Peter had seen it before when he'd been a spy. Mostly he'd watched in his rat form as the Dark Lord had tortured some poor bastard that Peter had revealed as a traitor or who had failed in their own mission. Peter knew that he'd been asked to witness both as an honour and to hammer home the message of what awaited him if he didn't comply with the Dark Lord's agenda, didn't complete his missions.
It was a lesson Bartemius Crouch Junior was learning for himself since he had turned up unexpectedly that morning just in time to witness Fenrir admit the failure of the werewolf raids the night before. The wizard watched enthralled and repulsed as the Dark Lord tortured Fenrir Greyback with verve and ferocity. Crouch had actually winced on a couple of occasions as the Dark Lord had applied a Crucio with enough force to completely levitate Greyback from the floor.
For the most part though, Crouch looked on like a son learning at his father's hand, eager and keen; something Crouch was deluded enough to believe was the deal with him and the Dark Lord. Peter wasn't about to disillusion him. Crouch would learn soon enough that the only person the Dark Lord cared for was himself…although admittedly he might have a fondness for the snake, his familiar. Crouch was just another tool; one who the Dark Lord used most effectively by pretending a paternal caring.
Peter didn't allow his own winces to show. He kept a small smile of faked enjoyment on his face.
"Explain to me again, Fenrir, what happened?" The Dark Lord sneered.
The large hairy man lying curled up on the floor, panted. "They were prepared, Master…"
"And why were they prepared, Fenrir?" The Dark Lord shot another Crucio toward Fenrir who yelped as it hit.
Fenrir caught his breath again. "Traitors. There are traitors in my pack."
The Dark Lord made a tsking sound of disgust. "You've lost control of your pack, Fenrir. How disappointing."
Fenrir whimpered, hugging one side where Peter was sure the ribs had actually cracked.
"I expected better of you, Fenrir." The Dark Lord continued. "You were such an Alpha when you were young but now…well, you're just an old wolf. I should have expected it."
There was a growl from Fenrir and he managed to stagger into kneeling before another spell sent him to the floor again, howling in agony.
"How can I possibly agree to giving your pack absolute freedom when I have taken the government, Fenrir, when you cannot guarantee their loyalty?" The Dark Lord said, holding the spell until Fenrir's howls turned to gasped breaths.
The wolf man lay curled up on the floor. It was clear that he wasn't getting up any time soon.
"Tell me you know who the traitors are, Fenrir?" The Dark Lord's voice fell to a low purr. "Tell me you have not fallen so far in your leadership that you do not know."
"Eleven are missing," Fenrir choked out, his voice a raspy mess from the screaming, "but only one since I called for warriors. She's a friend of Lupin."
"Lupin?" asked the Dark Lord as though he didn't know although Peter suspected he did.
Fenrir's lip curled. "Dumbledore's wolf." His gaze darted briefly to Peter and Peter knew what was coming and jumped before Fenrir could push.
"Remus Lupin, Master," Peter said, "you may recall that he was part of the group of friends I had within Dumbledore's Order."
"Ah, that wolf." The Dark Lord chuckled quietly before he snapped his wand angrily, light spilling out to hit Fenrir again who arched upwards in pain, another bone snapping somewhere in his body. "Well, well, well. So, one of your pack runs to Lupin and all my plans for torturing Potter are undone! Unacceptable!"
The Dark Lord stopped, breathless, and he waved off his snake who was peering at him with what Peter presumed was a snake's expression of concern.
"Perhaps, Fenrir, we should let Lupin take your pack." The Dark Lord taunted. "You sired him, did you not? Sons challenge their fathers." He held out a hand to Crouch and Peter wasn't surprised when Crouch immediately sped to the Dark Lord's side. "Bartemius and I know this only too well."
"Lupin will never serve you as I." Fenrir said haltingly. "He is devoted to the Potter boy and Black; they are his pack. The rat will confirm it!"
Peter reluctantly nodded in agreement as the Dark Lord's red eyes fell upon him again. "Remus would refuse a place by your side, Master, I am certain of it."
The Dark Lord's young face turned thoughtful. He settled back on the mountain of cushions that Peter had constructed for him on the settee and glared at Fenrir.
"I will give you one chance, Fenrir," the Dark Lord said, "one chance to take back your pack and instil in them the need to obey me above all others. You will kill Lupin and your traitors or I will find another wolf to do it and take your place."
Fenrir's lip curled up in a half-snarl but he nodded, his hair falling over his face to hide the tiny flame of defiance in his eyes.
"Come, come now, Fenrir." The Dark Lord chided. "Your reward if you should prevail will be worth it. The freedom to roam unmolested…to bite those who would stand against us without penalty…all this will be yours and your pack's when I rule." His expression hardened and he motioned at the wolf. "Leave. And, Fenrir, do not come back until you have Lupin's head to show me."
Fenrir crawled to the floo and only just managed to croak out a destination. He disappeared in the green flames and Peter immediately locked the floo down.
"We should move location." Crouch said. "Fenrir is a liability and he knows where we are."
The Dark Lord smiled at Crouch. "An excellent suggestion. I grow weary of this place." He looked around the small living area of the flat in distaste. "But it will wait for tomorrow." He peered into Crouch's eyes. "You are here because you have news for me, do you not?"
Crouch nodded somewhat less eagerly than Peter had assumed he would. "Snape has made contact with Karkaroff."
"He made contact a week ago," the Dark Lord corrected silkily, "why the delay in informing me?"
"He threatened Karkaroff with punishment if he did not relay the message and I was interested in what he would do." Crouch admitted with a faked chagrin.
The Dark Lord stared at Crouch until Crouch averted his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Father, I should have informed you immediately." Crouch apologised, kneeling in front of the Dark Lord, a very picture of contrition.
"Do you challenge me, Bartemius?" The Dark Lord asked mildly, a small hand stroking through Crouch's hair in a way that turned Peter's stomach.
"Never." Crouch promised fervently.
"What did Severus do to Igor?" asked the Dark Lord, apparently appeased.
"A mild poison." Crouch said in a small voice. "Karkaroff was violently ill most of yesterday."
The Dark Lord gave a twisted smile. "See how wonderfully inventive my Potions Master can be? You should take note, Bartemius."
Peter wondered whether Crouch heard the warning in the careful phrasing; he certainly did. He shivered.
"Meet with Severus, Bartemius. Find out what message he brings me." The Dark Lord said firmly. "And do not delay again."
Crouch nodded. "Yes, Master."
Peter watched as Crouch bowed low to the Dark Lord before turning and opening the cabinet that would lead him directly to another hidden in Karkaroff's quarters on the Durmstrang ship. Peter didn't like the cabinet. He feared entering it and never coming out again. The Dark Lord had talked about how he'd first come across the cabinets when he'd spotted a damaged version forgotten in a room in Hogwarts. What happened if the cabinet was damaged while you were in it, mused Peter as Crouch entered it and closed the door, disappearing from view.
The Dark Lord sighed. "When I am fully myself once more, Peter, there will be a reckoning." He looked down at his tiny body with disgust. "But I cannot blame Fenrir and Bartemius for believing me weak while I reside in this."
Peter scrambled for a reply. If he confirmed the Dark Lord looked weak, he'd no doubt be punished. But if he didn't agree with him… "They forget that the strength of your spirit is undiminished, Master."
The Dark Lord smiled. "I chose well when I made you my servant, Peter. You of all my Death Eaters appreciate the honour the most."
Peter bowed his head, inwardly pleased to gain some recognition after weeks of Crouch being heralded as the favourite.
"You will convey a message to Lupin." The Dark Lord said, surprising Peter who almost made the mistake of looking at him.
"Me?" He squeaked instead.
"Who better to contact him than an old friend, Peter?" The Dark Lord said. "Tell him that Fenrir hunts him on my order but that if he survives I would welcome him and his pack into my service, and in exchange I will ensure no werewolf will ever be executed."
Peter frowned heavily. "Master, he will not…"
"No," agreed the Dark Lord dryly, "but I will give him the chance, one leader to another, and should the pack learn that he turned down my deal. Well…" he smiled again, that twist of lips that spoke of cruelty, "how long before Lupin would be cut down by his own kind?"
"You are very clever, Master." Peter babbled out quickly.
The Dark Lord inclined his head. "I am fatigued, Peter. A potion and then bed, I fear."
Peter nodded briskly and hurried to comply, already wondering how he was supposed to get a message to Remus, and knowing if he did not, it would be him writhing on the floor in agony.
o-O-o
9 th December 1994
"…and one, two, three…no, don't look at your feet," Andromeda instructed briskly, "and one, two, three and…"
Harry gritted his teeth and carried on attempting to lead Andromeda around the duelling area of the training room which had been turned temporarily into a dance floor. He wasn't doing too badly, he thought desperately; at least, he hadn't stepped on any toes during the current lesson which was much better than he'd done at all his others.
A polite cough interrupted them.
Harry stumbled to a stop as Andromeda halted mid-step. They both turned to look at the new arrival.
Narcissa stood just inside the doorway with a wide smile on her face. "Forgive me, Sirius informed me that you were both in here practicing a dance for the Ball before our dinner, and well, I could not resist taking a peek."
"He's doing very well for someone who has had no lessons until this Summer." Andromeda said defensively.
"I'm pants." Harry admitted bluntly. He pushed a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I'm going to totally embarrass Hermione at the Ball." He sighed. "The Champions are supposed to open it with a dance and I can't do it!"
Narcissa's face softened a little. "Andromeda is correct, Harry. You are doing well for someone who has not had previous training or experience. However, we cannot have you representing the House of Black with such a lacklustre display." She gestured at her sister. "May I?"
Andromeda sent her a look that said 'be careful' but stepped aside.
Narcissa moved into the space she had vacated. "Now, I believe that your problem is just a matter of perspective, Harry."
Harry frowned at her.
"You hear the word 'dancing' and it terrifies you." Narcissa explained. "You stiffen up, you become self-conscious about your body and you fail to listen to the music."
"Uh-huh." It was a reasonable enough theory.
"So, we are not dancing but flying." Narcissa lifted his hands into the correct places, pausing to correct his posture. "You hold your partner as you would your broomstick; with tender care and trust that they will follow your lead and perform the tricks you need them to make."
He gazed at her warily but got the analogy. In the air, his broomstick was his dancing partner.
"A waltz is very similar to the first Obroski drill for a Seeker. Do you know it?" Narcissa asked.
Harry nodded; the Obroski drill she had mentioned was a basic searching drill, one of the first Wood had taught him because it was simple and easy to master. He felt some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders.
"Excellent." Narcissa said. "Close your eyes and focus on the pattern and transferring your movement to a ground practice. When you have it clear in your head; move and trust that I will follow."
Harry did as she instructed. The pattern was familiar enough and he had practiced it on the ground during his first year when he was reliant on having supervision when he flew.
He signalled his intent with a brief press of his hand against her waist (a shift of his hand on the broomstick) and moved. He stepped easily through the pattern, his hands alerting Narcissa (the broomstick) and moving with him. After a while, music began to play. Harry ignored it, just as he ignored the crowds on a game day and carried on with the drill until the music stopped and Harry opened his eyes.
A smug Narcissa beamed back at him. "Very good, Harry."
"Very good?" Andromeda remarked as she applauded them both. "It was bloody brilliant!"
Narcissa lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "I suggest you continue practicing the drill, Harry." She considered him carefully. "You should also practice with Hermione ahead of the Ball. Both of you will be more confident if you have practiced together."
"That's a good idea, Cissy." Andromeda said.
The door to the training room opened and Sirius poked his head in.
"We're about to sit down for dinner." Sirius informed them cheerily. "All OK in here?"
"A breakthrough." Andromeda said brightly. "Cissy is a marvellous teacher."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Narcissa."
"Not at all, Cousin. It was my pleasure." Narcissa said. "You may escort me to the table."
Sirius sent him an amused look but Harry offered his arm and they walked through the rooms to the dining table which was resplendent in crisp white linen, gleaming china crockery, shining silver cutlery and sparkling crystal.
Hermione raised her eyes as she took in Narcissa on Harry's arm and he knew he'd have to explain it to her later but that was good as it would give him the chance to ask her to join his practicing. Narcissa was right about that; he probably would feel more confident if he and Hermione had already danced before the Ball.
Lucius was sending his wife an equally questioning look but Narcissa simply gazed back serenely as Harry seated her in her usual place.
Draco caught Harry as he made to move to his seat. "Obroski?"
Harry nodded quickly. Evidently Narcissa had used the method on Draco in the past. Somehow that was more comforting to him. Draco was very polished in comparison to Harry and if Draco had needed Narcissa's flying analogy in order to learn to dance then Harry felt better about needing it himself.
He sat down hurriedly as Sirius assumed his place at the head of the table.
Sirius tapped it once and each place was suddenly filled with a bowl filled with a steaming portion of creamy watercress soup, along with side plates of warm brown bread rolls and golden butter. Harry dug in hungrily.
Ted cleared his throat. "Dora said that Remus has gone back to France?"
Sirius nodded, scooping up some soup. "After Fenrir's recruitment meeting, there was an influx of werewolves trying to escape any future missions. So, we're moving the werewolf sanctuary to the Baltics. The chateau will act as a way-station instead. Remus is sorting out the details and the move over the next week or so."
"A sensible move after the events of Wednesday." Lucius commented, fingering his napkin. "The word is that Fenrir has sought help from a sympathetic healer yesterday to deal with injuries. I doubt that the Dark Lord was pleased with his performance and made his displeasure known to him."
"Do we have to speak of such things at the dinner table?" asked Narcissa sharply.
"I agree," Andromeda said firmly, "the dinner table is no place for such talk."
Minerva nodded her own agreement. "After dinner will be soon enough."
Harry watched as the adult men exchanged identical looks of exasperated frustration at being curtailed by the women. He ducked his head and focused on his soup.
"How are the Weasleys?" asked Minerva, changing the topic. "I understand from the news reports that Arthur was injured again?"
"Bump on the head but he was fine at the Wizengamot yesterday." Sirius said succinctly. "Percy will have some scars but, thanks to his mother, nothing worse."
Harry felt a frisson of guilt ripple through him. He knew that the werewolf attacks on his supporters were Voldemort's way of coming after him; of telling him that no-one Harry cared about was safe. Yes, everyone had survived and the Weasleys had been the only ones hurt but…but it felt like that was already one too many people being hurt because of Harry; because Harry had told Voldemort he wouldn't be cowed or terrorised by choosing to compete fully in the tournament.
Sirius nudged his hand. "Something wrong with the soup?" He said quietly.
And Harry realised he'd simply been stirring it for a few moments rather than eating.
Harry flashed him a brief smile of reassurance and dived back into his meal. But his hunger had disappeared and it was a struggle through the rest of the dinner to do justice to the meal Dobby had prepared. From the looks Sirius occasionally sent in his direction, Harry was certain he hadn't fooled Padfoot into believing that everything was fine.
They all adjourned to the living area for the coffee portion of the meal, Harry eschewing it for hot chocolate, Hermione following Minerva and Andromeda with her insistence on tea. Draco accepted the coffee and pulled a face. Harry managed to wrangle sitting next to Hermione which was the only plus point in his opinion.
"If the ladies are agreed, may we speak of Fenrir now?" Lucius asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone.
He got a trio of glares for his trouble and Harry spotted Ted hiding his mirth in his cup of coffee.
"So the Dark Lord punished Fenrir for his failure?" Sirius asked, determining the answer to Lucius's question with quiet authority.
Lucius gripped his cane and gave a sharp nod. "So it would appear. He was suffering from prolonged exposure to a pain curse; cracked ribs and a broken wrist."
"My heart bleeds." Sirius commented dryly.
Lucius inclined his head. "He approached Wilkes for assistance this morning." He held up a hand. "Denied, obviously. Apparently, he's been tasked with bringing the traitors in his pack to heel and killing your pet werewolf as a bad influence or the Dark Lord will find another werewolf to work with."
Fenrir had been tasked with killing Remus?!
Harry's magic bubbled up and rattled the ornaments. He yanked it back desperately, breathing deeply to recover his control. Hermione slid her hand into his, settling him further.
Sirius's hand landed on his shoulder. "You know this for certain?"
"Wilkes told Fenrir that under the détente he couldn't help him and good luck finding someone with the wherewithal to help him who didn't have a détente with you, or who wouldn't refuse to help because of a deep desire not to draw the Dark Lord's displeasure by helping Fenrir with a mission given to him to make up for a failure." Lucius said.
Sirius glanced down at Harry with a silent question.
"I'm fine." Harry said.
"That's why the ornaments suddenly decided to get up and do a jig." Draco drawled from his seat on the other sofa.
Harry shot him an annoyed look. "It got away from me for a moment."
"I'm going to call Remus and let him know." Sirius said. "Is there anything else you should have told me, Lucius, I don't know, before we'd gotten to dinner?"
"No," Lucius said mildly, his eyes glittering darkly, "I think that's everything."
"Then I think we should walk Draco back to Slytherin and take our leave." Narcissa's sharp tone could have cut through concrete and evidently Lucius was aware that he'd annoyed her because he stiffened. "Draco can tell us how his date with Katherine Gillingwood went."
Draco sighed heavily but got to his feet. "Well, that should take all of two minutes." He complained as the Malfoys left.
Sirius made his excuses to the others and headed for his study to mirror call Remus.
Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. "You met Katherine didn't you? What did you think?"
"She's pretty and nice." Harry said. "But…I bet she bored Draco to tears within ten minutes of their actual date."
Andromeda coughed to try to hide her amusement. "Poor girl. You must have a different view surely, Minerva?"
"I cannot comment as I'm her teacher and there are students present." Minerva said briskly. "However, I will say that I feel Mister Malfoy possibly needs someone who'll challenge him a bit more."
In other words, Harry thought with satisfaction, Katherine was pretty and nice and boring just like he'd said. His satisfaction faded as he considered Lucius's news about Fenrir.
Remus was in danger.
Of course, they'd always known that opening up the sanctuary would mean that Remus would be in danger from Fenrir. It was a challenge to Fenrir's leadership of the pack, Harry could see that. Remus might claim that he wasn't fighting Fenrir for the leadership of his pack by offering those who no longer wanted to be part of Fenrir's pack a place to go but really it was semantics.
"…I think that's a good idea, don't you, Harry?"
Hermione's hand squeezed his, drawing him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry," Harry said with a mild blush, "I was miles away."
Andromeda smiled at him sympathetically. "I suggested to Hermione that she should join us for dance practice next Friday."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, sneaking a look at Hermione, "that's a good idea if you're sure you don't mind?"
Hermione shook her head, the heavy fall of her hair bouncing lightly on her shoulders. "I think I'd like to practice before we have to open the Ball."
Minerva grimaced. "Do not look at me accusingly, Harry. I was simply the messenger."
"And given your final performance tonight," Andromeda chipped in, "I shouldn't worry; you did fine." She sighed. "Narcissa would have made a good teacher, I think. She has a knack for it."
Minerva hummed. "Perhaps you and she would consent to teach a wider group? I'm certain there are other students who would appreciate a class on dancing ahead of the Ball."
Andromeda smiled briefly. "I'll ask her. I'll do it either way." She winced visibly and deliberately. "My poor feet!"
"Just as well you're married to a healer then." Ted laughed jovially. He put down his coffee as Sirius re-entered the room. "All sorted?"
"Remus had already heard on the werewolf network about Fenrir's latest assignment." Sirius sat down on the arm of the sofa next to Harry. "He's going to take some extra precautions."
Harry blew out a breath. Remus was sensible enough not only to know he needed extra precautions but to actually put them in place too.
"I've put The School House on lockdown to protect Sian. Tonks is going to go over and keep her company until Remus gets back." Sirius added.
"Well, that should be interesting." Andromeda said wryly.
Sirius frowned at her quizzically.
Andromeda grinned at Sirius. "According to Dora, both she and Sian are interested in Remus romantically."
"Ah," said Sirius, fighting to keep the smile off his face and failing, "awkward."
Ted covered his face with his hands. "I don't need to hear this. I'm her father!"
"You'll be relieved then, dear," Andromeda said mildly, "that Remus is looking at neither of them."
"Oh well, that's a shame." Ted said dropping his hands to reveal a look of genuine regret.
Andromeda raised both eyebrows. "First you don't want to hear about Nymphadora's interest in Remus, but now you're…disappointed Remus isn't interested back?"
"Yes?" Ted admitted hesitantly. "He's a good man."
Andromeda rolled her eyes but she patted her husband on his arm. "Yes, he is, and yes, I'm disappointed too, and on that note, I think it's time to go home and return you to the Gryffindor dorm, Hermione."
Minerva placed her empty cup down and stood with the others. "I'll walk out with you."
Sirius winked at Harry as he steered the others way, leaving him and Hermione alone briefly. He figured everybody knew Sirius was allowing them a private goodbye since they pointedly didn't look in their direction while gathering coats and chattering about the next week's dinner arrangements.
Hermione blushed lightly but leaned in for a lightning fast kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Harry nodded, heat flaring up in his own cheeks as Sirius glanced in their direction. He walked Hermione over and joined in the goodbyes.
The portrait closed and Sirius flung a friendly arm around Harry's shoulders when he would have made for the stairs. "Not so fast, Pronglet. You want to talk about what's bothering you?" He asked bluntly, steering Harry back towards the living area.
"Is that code for 'you will talk about what's bothering you?'" Harry asked, tension turning his words a tone more sulky than he had intended.
Sirius ignored the tone and ushered Harry back into his seat. "If you like." He sat down opposite Harry on the coffee table. "You were fine until Minnie asked about the Weasleys and then you started playing with your soup, so I'm guessing you're upset that they got hurt in the werewolf attacks."
It was a good guess.
"It feels like it was my fault." Harry muttered, knowing Sirius already knew but wanted Harry to admit it.
"And you know it wasn't." Sirius said firmly. "The only people responsible for hurting the Weasleys are Voldemort, Greyback and the werewolves who hurt them."
"Voldemort ordered the attacks to get to me." Harry argued hotly.
"Yes, he did." Sirius agreed. "He ordered these attacks because he's pissed at you and he knows hurting the people you care about hurts you." He held Harry's unhappy gaze. "And the people you care about know that too. Nobody blames you, Harry."
He wasn't sure that was true since Ron had been kind of quiet with him since they'd gotten the news about Arthur and Percy the day before, and maybe, Harry recognised with chagrin, maybe that was at the heart of his worry.
"And it's not your fault that Fenrir is going after Remus." Sirius continued briskly. "Fenrir's always been after Remus in one way or another. Really, Voldemort giving him an assignment to kill him just gives him an excuse to actively go after him."
Harry accepted that point since Remus's history with Fenrir started long before Harry had even been a twinkle in his father's eye.
"Not your fault." Sirius said again. He rapped Harry's knee lightly with his fist. "Any of this getting through?"
Harry sighed heavily. "Look, I know it's not my fault here," he pointed at his head, "it's just…"
"It doesn't feel like it here." Sirius tapped Harry's chest.
"Yeah." Harry admitted morosely. "And I get that my being upset is what Voldemort wanted but I can't help it."
Sirius pressed his lips together, looking at Harry sympathetically. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't get upset at people being hurt, Harry. And I can't promise you that nobody is going to get seriously hurt in the future because Voldemort is lashing out at the people you love to get to you, and frankly, the people who love you will try and protect you. But everyone is taking what measures they can to stay safe; we plan for the worst and hope for the best. The Aurors did a brilliant job on Wednesday for the most part and Molly was able to deal with the werewolf threatening Arthur and Percy. Arthur said she looked like a Fury in a nightdress."
Harry chuffed out a thin laugh at the image.
"It's OK to be upset." Sirius comforted him. "I got upset myself after the first task about you being in danger and had to remind myself it's exactly what Crouch wanted. Moony reminded me that it was alright to be upset; we just don't do it where Voldemort or Crouch will see us." He waved a hand around the room. "That's exactly why we've got these rooms; to give you – and me – a space to breathe in."
His heart tightened into an achy mess at the thought of Sirius being upset but he nodded in understanding.
Sirius examined his expression, switched to sit beside him, and pulled him in for a hug. Harry hugged Padfoot back for a long while, the confession of how he'd been upset after the first task fresh in Harry's mind.
"So," Sirius cleared his throat, "what's Obroski got to do with dancing?"
Harry shuffled back and began to explain. The explanation led to a demonstration and by the time Harry crawled into bed, he'd almost been able to forget that he'd been upset and why.
Almost.
Was Ron angry with him about the Weasleys getting hurt? Harry sighed in the darkness of his room, wishing for once that he was in the Gryffindor dorm with Ron just across from him so he could ask him. But he couldn't just walk over to the dorm, wake Ron up and ask.
Could he?
Harry sat up abruptly, considering the idea. It wasn't like it would be the first time that Harry had gone sneaking about Hogwarts in the middle of the night. OK, so it would be the first time that Harry had gone sneaking about while he was living with Sirius at Hogwarts since he knew part of the reason for their own rooms was to keep Harry safe, but…
But he didn't think there was too much danger with Moody's security people patrolling and the upgraded wards. And wouldn't it be worth it to check that everything between him and Ron was fine?
He pushed his covers away, pulled on his dressing gown over his pyjamas and hurried over to get the invisibility cloak – there was no point taking unnecessary risks. He wrapped it around himself, opened the bedroom door, and cast a glance towards Sirius's.
It was closed and there was no light peeking out of the crack at the bottom. Sirius was probably asleep.
Harry was careful though. He placed a silencing charm on his feet and tiptoed down the stairs and out of their rooms with his heart beating loudly in his chest.
Quick visit, Harry determined hastily; it would be a quick visit; there and back before Sirius even noticed he was gone. He practically ran to the portrait of the Fat Lady and had to catch his breath before giving her the password.
Sneaking up to the fourth year boys' dorm was a cinch after that. He opened the door, arrowed in on Ron and hurried over with Neville's snoring providing background cover. He shook Ron awake briskly.
Ron opened his eyes groggily and glared up at Harry for a moment before his brain engaged and the realisation that Harry was in the dorm when he wasn't supposed to be hit. Ron opened his mouth and Harry frantically shushed him. He motioned for him to follow him down to the Common Room. Ron nodded quickly and shoved his arms into his dressing gown as they left the dorm.
The Common Room was preternaturally silent; the slumbering fire casting everything in amber. Harry led Ron over to a couple of easy chairs in a corner and set up a privacy bubble and a notice-me-not charm.
"What's wrong?" asked Ron immediately. "Do you need us to go spy on someone or…"
Harry shook his head swiftly. "I just…" he sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose, "you've been quiet since yesterday and the news about your Dad and Percy and I…well…" he shrugged unable to actually ask Ron if he blamed him because he was so afraid the answer was yes.
Ron looked abashed. "You noticed, huh?"
"I noticed." Harry said, his heart beginning to sink. Merlin, Ron did blame him!
Ron subsided into the chair, deflating like a balloon. "I just can't help the way I feel, mate." He began.
And Harry couldn't say anything to that.
"I've just felt so guilty about Percy," continued Ron, staring at the fire.
And Harry couldn't…wait; what?!
"You've felt guilty about Percy?" Harry checked that he'd heard correctly.
"Yeah, I mean, I thought he was a total git to everyone before he lost his job and he's been an even worse git since," Ron explained, poking the carpet with his toe, "but he didn't deserve to be set on by a werewolf and my Mum said in her letter that he was really brave and defended Dad so…"
"So you've been feeling guilty about thinking he was a total git." Harry summarised, feeling gleeful that it wasn't about him at all. Guilt that he'd been so self-centred wormed its way through the glee in short order.
"That's about the size of it." Ron sighed heavily. "I mean, what do I say? Sorry I thought you were a git but you don't deserve being scarred for life and I'm glad you're not dead or a werewolf?"
"I guess?" Harry agreed hesitantly. "Maybe just focus on the 'I'm glad you're alright' bit. And I think it's OK that you thought he was a git before." Because Percy had definitely fallen into the git category in Harry's opinion.
Ron snorted. "Yeah." He darted a glance toward the girls' staircase. "I guess I should probably make up with Ginny too. She tried to talk to me earlier about Percy and I shoved her off."
Harry rolled his eyes at him. "She's very sorry about what happened with Hermione and she is seeing the mind healer now."
Although, admittedly his own forgiveness of Ginny's very peripheral involvement in the attack on Hermione had been mostly because Hermione had asked him to forgive Ginny, and because Hermione had already forgiven her.
Ron nodded slowly. "Right then." He glanced over at Harry and smiled. "Hey, thanks for coming and talking to me. I've maybe kind of missed this. You know, you and me talking about stuff just the two of us."
There was another twinge of guilt because Harry was rarely alone with Ron any more. He and Hermione made an effort to include Ron when they weren't on an official date but Ron was probably feeling excluded anyway. It probably didn't help that Harry spent most of the Gryffindor Quidditch practices with Ginny as she had taken over as Seeker, and his personal practice time had turned into something of a get together for the Champions. He sighed.
"I was just thinking if I was in the dorm I could ask you so…" he confessed, "I like having the rooms away from everyone but I miss living here too."
Ron punched him lightly on his upper arm. "Well, you can come over any time." He gave another sheepish smile. "And thanks. I'll collar our Ginny in the morning and send Percy a note."
"You can use Hedwig." Harry offered, still feeling a touch guilty that Ron's issue hadn't been with him and he might not have questioned his friend if he'd thought it wasn't. "And maybe we could go for a Quidditch practice just the two of us this weekend?"
Ron's face brightened immediately. "That would be great." He frowned as he got to his feet and Harry removed the spells he'd cast. "You should get back to your rooms, yeah?"
"Yeah." Harry grinned at him and covered himself with the invisibility cloak.
"Show off." Ron complained good-naturedly and waved in Harry's direction as he stifled a yawn on his way back to bed.
Harry felt a lot better as he opened the portrait hole out into the corridor. He stumbled though when he caught sight of the Grim sat just in front of it waiting for him, the Marauders' Map in its mouth.
Bugger.
Padfoot rose from his sentry position, took a step toward Harry and nudged his leg through the invisibility cloak.
Harry got the message; start walking.
He was in so much trouble, Harry mused despondently.
And began to walk.