Peter sighed at the latest front page of the Daily Prophet and thanked Merlin he'd been sent out on surveillance duties and would not have to deal with the latest Dark Lord rant.
It had not been a pleasant few weeks, or rather months.
Firstly, there had been the unmitigated disaster of the second task when the Champions had apparently rallied together to overcome the task's constraints ensuring there was no loss of life. That, combined with the heroic images of Potter wielding Excalibur had led to days of Dark Lord ranting, including many hours spent planning how the Black Lake could be dredged so the Dark Lord could make the infamous sword his own.
Recent events still stung more though.
Such was his devotion to their master, Dennis Travers had been the first to report his father's absence, handing over without delay the small missive his father had left him. The letter had been brief; Boris Dolohov had contacted him and was attempting an abduction that would please the Dark Lord; Travers Senior was off to help him as he owed Dolohov a favour; that he would return within a couple of hours.
When noon had passed without any sign of his missing follower, the Dark Lord had immediately ordered them to move locations; for Travers to kill Karkaroff, and for Barty, who had long since taken on a new identity to provide a spy at Hogwarts, to relocate their vanishing cabinet to another part of the school. Travers had disguised himself once more as a Durmstrang student and escaped through the cabinet back to the cottage.
As soon as he'd arrived, the second vanishing cabinet had been shrunk down and packed along with everything else. They'd moved back to London, settling back into the flat above the apothecary – the Dark Lord proclaiming that if Fenrir had meant to betray the location in a fit of pique, he'd already have done it.
The Dark Lord was not pleased at having to relocate again though. Travers had taken the brunt of the punishment on behalf of his absent father, but had been spared permanent injury because of his own devotion to the Dark Lord. When the news of Travers Senior's death had been announced in the papers, the Dark Lord had even allowed Travers a day without punishment to mourn. Still, Travers was still healing from the punishments inflicted from the Dark Lord's fury and with Fenrir searching Europe for Remus, and Barty hidden away at Hogwarts in his latest persona, there was only Peter left to gather intelligence.
Possibly the Dark Lord had assumed Peter would spy in his usual form as a rat but Barty had made plenty of the modified polyjuice and Peter had taken advantage of the stash Barty had left with the Dark Lord. He'd also helped himself to some of the petty cash Barty had stowed in the flat for emergencies.
It was nice, Peter mused, to walk down Diagon Alley without anyone giving him a second look. To be among people again rather than stuck in the cottage hide-away in the middle of nowhere. And Peter had chosen the perfect place for his eavesdropping – the Leaky Cauldron, heaving with the lunch time rush.
Peter thanked Tom as he placed a steaming plate of steak and ale pie with a mountain of vegetables and a liberal amount of gravy in front of him. He took a large bite of food and almost moaned in pleasure. It was wonderful to eat something with flavour; there was a shambolically small number of meals he was capable of cooking and none of them were very successful for all that they were edible.
"…I think it's disgusting!" A woman remarked at the table behind him. "A werewolf really!"
"I don't know," her companion twittered, "have you seen the photo of Lupin? He is a fine specimen and his position with Lord Black would mean his wife would be granted access to the highest echelon!"
"Cynthia, there are times when I don't think you have the sense Merlin gave a goose." The other woman remonstrated. "You'd never catch meallowing a werewolf to so much as look at me."
"What self-respecting werewolf would want to look at her?" A young man on another table whispered to his date who giggled.
Peter allowed himself a small smile and tucked into the beautifully prepared cabbage, peppered with tangy bits of bacon and buttery onions.
"…no, I'm telling you, it was Moody who was last with 'im." A lunching Auror sank the last of his beer down his throat and set the empty glass forcefully on the wooden bar.
It amused Peter that not once did they look in his direction.
"You're just jealous at the Squad, Jones." His colleague complained. "Everyone here knows it was the Squad that took him in. I was here meself taking witness accounts from anyone present."
"Padraig is right, Jimmy." The female Auror with them dipped a chip in a pool of brown sauce and ate it with gusto. "Chambers, Wood and Cambridge took down Travers Senior."
"Ah but, Lucy, my love, it was Mad-Eye who was the one to interrogate him." Jimmy crowed. "'e was the one who left him 'avin' an 'eart attack in the cell!"
Jimmy ordered up another beer and Peter felt a momentary flitting pang of a citizen's disapproval at the Auror's lunch-time drinking, before he drowned the impulse with the more amusing thought that Dennis would be pleased to know who he could hold responsible for his father's death.
"Whatever, Jimmy." Padraig, a curly haired twenty-something year old, picked up his bacon sandwich and focused on eating for a bite. "The Squad still deserves the catch."
"Yeah," Lucy complained, waving a chip, "and least Chambers doesn't use it to get in a girls' knickers like Brooks."
"'as 'e got in yours then?" leered Jimmy, as he handed over money for his beer.
"Leave off." Lucy poked him.
"Probably got in Tonks' though, right? Seein' as she likes to drop them for the beastie!" Jimmy laughed.
"Oy!" Lucy shifted upright, her brown eyes glaring at her partner. "You leave Tonks alone! Don't think I don't know what happened on your date with her, you tosser!"
"She can't expect to be a metamorphmagus and expect a bloke not to ask if she can make her tits more than a handful!" blustered the ill-mannered Jimmy.
Peter wondered if he shouldn't try and discern a surname so he could provide it to Sirius for retribution of some sort. There had been one rare occasion back in the old days when Sirius had dragged him around to his cousin's for tea. The bright wide-eyed little girl in his memory definitely didn't need to be so publicly disparaged.
"And people wonder why she had to look to a werewolf to find a decent bloke!" Lucy snapped up her cloak and stormed off.
Padraig looked after her, set the rest of his bacon sandwich down and slid off his stool.
"Where are you going?" demanded Jimmy.
"To catch up with her before she decides to hex my stuff along with yours." Padraig said wearily.
Jimmy paled, downed his beer and set off after his colleague. "'ey! Wait up, Padraig!"
With that the entertainment was over and the lunchtime crowd in the pub went back to their own conversations.
Peter listened for a while, letting the discussions on potion prices and the standard of wizarding portkeys drift over him. He slid a final piece of pastry through the last drop of gravy and made a moue of disappointment that his meal was over.
Tom beamed at him as he scooped up the debris of the meal. "Nice to see a clean plate!"
"It was wonderful." Peter agreed easily.
"Dessert?" Tom offered. "We've a nice Summer pudding with cream or there's Spotted Dick with custard."
Peter was tempted but the crowd was already thinning out and he knew with that morning's news the Dark Lord would be impatient. "Alas, I have to return to work. My employer likes to crucio latecomers."
Tom laughed heartily at what he supposed was a joke and bustled away.
Peter drank down the rest of his pint and left a few knuts on the table for Tom. It had been a delicious meal. He ambled out of the Leaky, timing his departure just right to slide out behind someone else saving him having to use his borrowed wand.
He took a direct route back to the flat but kept his pace unhurried and was satisfied when he reached the apothecary that no-one had followed him. He used the wand to unlock the door and stepped inside full and content, nerves beginning to rise for his anticipated debrief.
"You've been at the polyjuice again." Barty's sing-song voice accused him sharply. "I don't make it for you!"
"No," Peter agreed, turning to face Barty who wore the face of the seventh year Ravenclaw he was masquerading as, "you make it for our Dark Lord."
"He does, indeed." The Dark Lord's voice had them both spinning around.
Travers carried the Dark Lord in and placed him reverently onto a chair piled high with a stack of pillows.
Barty immediately kneeled at the side of the chair. "Father, I bring news from Hogwarts."
"Then you shall begin." The Dark Lord said silkily, his small hand carding through the sandy blond locks of the boy Barty pretended to be.
Peter lowered his eyes to hide his instinctive roll at Barty's simpering son act.
"The school has been let out early by the old fool for an Easter celebratory feast." Barty said with the right amount of sneering snobbery at such frivolity. "The Express will leave tomorrow and arrive in King's Cross as usual. However, the Potter boy will once again not travel upon it."
"He is remaining within the castle?"
"He is going abroad, Father." Barty eagerly reported. "Both he and the treacherous Black. They are intending a small European tour from the little I was able to overhear from his gossiping school mates, culminating in Bulgaria with the wedding of the werewolf."
"Yes," the Dark Lord purred, "it would appear that our young nemesis is determined to sway the werewolves to his cause although I doubt many will want to marry the foul beasts."
"As you say, Father." Barty agreed eagerly.
"Your cover is secure?" The Dark Lord posed the question idly but Peter knew better than to think the answer didn't matter to him – so did Barty.
"My cover is secure." Barty confirmed. "They did an attempt a check with the map Peter described. I spotted it in the Potions class I attended but the masking charm was able to confuse it into believing I am who the polyjuice says I am."
The Dark Lord hummed. "Well done, Peter, for informing us of the risk of the map and the way to circumvent it."
Peter felt a bolt of satisfaction as the Dark Lord's praise warmed him. The others scowled at him and Peter ignored them.
"And what of our spy, Bartemius? Is Severus well?" The Dark Lord said softly.
"Severus has agreed to meet with his lover during the break." Barty said before pouting. "He claims in his letter that the antidote is progressing to the schedule he originally outlined and that Dumbledore watches him too closely for him to sabotage it."
The Dark Lord's eyes flashed angrily, the childish features showing a hideous fury before it was quickly masked. "I want you to press upon him that I will be most displeased should the woman wake. If he cannot find a way to prevent the antidote from working then he must find a way to prevent her from speaking."
"As you wish, Father."
"We will need to arrange a location so he can begin the next phase of the ritual potion." The Dark Lord murmured. "Not here. Severus will not find this worthy of a Potions Master."
"The LeStrange Manor stands empty, Father." Barty murmured. "It has a wonderful Potions lab."
"No," the Dark Lord said, "they know of you and of your association. They would have taken care to lay a trap. No. We must choose somewhere they would not suspect…" his cold gaze turned to Peter who immediately prostrated himself.
"My Lord."
"My faithful servant, Peter." The Dark Lord said smoothly. "You will continue to use the polyjuice and return to the place we visited for the ingredient of my ancestor." He smiled nastily. "The Potions lab in the west wing of the mansion will suffice for Severus's needs, it simply needs to be cleaned. You will see to this."
"Yes, Master." Peter replied immediately.
"I will place it under the Fidelius charm." The Dark Lord said with satisfaction.
Peter prayed he wouldn't be made the Secret Keeper.
"You may tell us all you learned today now, Peter."
His mouth dry, Peter took a moment to wet his lips. "I discovered the identities of those who captured your fallen follower, my Lord."
Travers started forward but contained himself after a swift glance at the Dark Lord.
"Who?" asked the Dark Lord, a glint of madness flaring again.
"Three of the team they call the Rat Squad." Peter explained hurriedly. "Chambers, Wood and Cambridge were responsible for the arrest."
The Dark Lord hissed angrily.
"However, my Lord," Peter continued, "it was our old enemy Moody who was responsible for his heart attack."
The Dark Lord snapped his wand up and a small ornament blew up, coating the mantelpiece with dust. He settled back in his throne of pillows and glowered. "Dennis…"
Travers kneeled beside him, pain coming and going on his face so quickly that Peter was almost convinced he hadn't seen it. "My Lord."
"Faithful Dennis." The Dark Lord said slowly. "You have been so good and taken your father's punishment with such grace. You deserve a reward."
"I live to serve, my Lord." Travers said, devotion dripping from his tongue with every word.
Peter considered that if he himself was to die, it was likely that Travers would take the place of the servant in the ritual.
"Then all those our dear rat has named are yours." The Dark Lord said. "Kill one or kill them all. I leave it with you."
"Thank you, my Lord." Travers said with a deferential nod.
Peter deduced that Travers would kill them all or die trying – the latter was not an impossibility given Moody's long history of paranoia and prowess with a wand.
"Anything else?" asked the Dark Lord impatiently.
"The masses are diverted by the news of the wedding, my Lord." Peter said quickly.
The Dark Lord hummed. "Your old friend must be lauded by his fellow lupines." He said eventually. "His relationship with Black has given him the power to suggest normality is a possibility for the pitiful creatures."
"But hardly socially acceptable yet," Peter said, "most of the remarks I overheard were not sympathetic to a witch, especially one with the gift of a metamorphmagus, aligning herself with a werewolf."
"Indeed not." The Dark Lord agreed. "But if this marriage were to occur, it would send too much hope into the werewolf community. You do not set your dog at your dinner table and dress it in fine clothes."
Peter thought of his mother's yapping Yorkie with its winter woollies and dog boots, and said nothing.
"No, dogs are good for guarding and terrorising but they should still be treated like dogs." The Dark Lord sighed. "We cannot allow this marriage to happen." His eyes narrowed on Peter again. "You said the witch had the ability of a metamorphmagus?"
Peter nodded swiftly.
"Then she may be an interesting specimen to keep." The Dark Lord said coldly. "Perhaps the child she carries would have the same value of examination."
"My Lord." Peter said prostrating himself again to hide his shudder of revulsion. He could imagine the horrors the Dark Lord's examination would form and he would not wish it on his worst enemy never mind a young woman such as Nymphadora Tonks.
The Dark Lord sighed. "Fetch parchment and a quill."
Peter rushed to do his bidding, laying them out in easy reach of the Dark Lord's tiny hands.
"While I did not want to provide Fenrir an advantage as part of his punishment, I fear I must change my plans." He grimaced. "I had thought Fenrir would have tracked Lupin down and killed him by now. He was once a capable asset."
"Hopefully, the old wolf will realise Lupin will be in Bulgaria for his own wedding, Father." Barty offered dryly.
Manic laughter erupted from the small child and the Dark Lord patted Barty's head. "You do amuse me." He waved around the room. "Leave. I have letters to write to old associates."
Vaguely aware that Barty headed for the vanishing cabinet to return to Hogwarts, Peter bowed and made for the door to fulfil the other mission his master had given him. He would need to apparate to Little Hangleton and assess the situation with the lab. And if on his way he stopped at the owl post office and offered his old friend Moony an early wedding present of a warning, well, he was only fulfilling his master's original wish and instructions on the matter of Fenrir, after all.
Satisfied with his justification, Peter hit the street and safely out of earshot of the tiny flat above the apothecary, he began whistling. Maybe there would also be time for a Spotted Dick and custard…
o-O-o
The news of the diadem being found had Albus settling into the comfortable chintzy armchair he had conjured for himself with a squirm of glee. He took in the arriving teachers with a sense of satisfaction. He nodded to the four Heads of Houses as they made their way into the room.
Their fourth staff meeting was about to commence and Albus felt that they had made many improvements since the start of the year – the debacle of Harry being entered in the tournament notwithstanding nor the ongoing sabotage of the tasks. The teachers seemed happier and more engaged; the students brimming with enthusiasm…Hogwarts hummed with happiness at the energy, both spiritual and magical.
He smiled a welcome as Irma, Matilda and Septima took their usual seats. The librarian, the historian and the Arithmancy Professor had become a tight threesome during the previous months. As had the next trio; Bathesda, Alison and Rolanda were not far behind the other ladies. The Ancient Runes Professor, the Muggle Studies Professor and the Flying Instructor were all Quidditch mad it transpired. There was a heated debate about the last match of the season taking place from what Albus could overhear.
He turned his attention to the unlikely duo lurking in their usual corner; Alastor and Severus. Both were watching everyone else. Albus hid a smile as Firenze entered deep in discussion with Aurora and Tobias. The duelling contest had concluded with a win for Beauxbatons but Hogwarts had performed well especially given the lack of formal training in prior years. Opening it up to the lower years had made for a fascinating competition; Daphne Greengrass's prowess had been a definite revelation.
Hagrid arrived carrying an injured owl and took a seat next to Pomona. Sybill arrived in her usual flurry of scarves and finally Helen entered briskly, providing apologies for Poppy who was treating a student in the infirmary. Argus took his place at the door, glowering as usual. Albus sighed inwardly. He feared the caretaker was seeing his last year at Hogwarts.
Minerva cleared her throat pointedly; they were ready to begin.
Albus greeted them warmly. "It is good to see us all here again for another round-up." He said cheerily. "Perhaps we shall begin with the academics?"
He listened with half an ear as Minerva covered the best and worst performers in each year, with each Head of House chiming in as required. It was only as she reached Harry's year that he tuned back in as the conversation turned to the boy himself.
"…I think it's clear that Mister Potter will require an individualised lesson plan next year." Minerva sighed.
"If he returns." Severus inserted snidely.
Minerva glared at him. "There is no suggestion currently that he will not."
"He does have to survive the tournament." Severus rejoined.
Albus cast a warning look in Severus's direction. "Let us all hope that he will and that he will resume his studies here with us formally next year."
"An individualised lesson plan will be the way forward." Filius agreed with Minerva. "He has mastered most of the spell-work required to achieve his NEWTs."
"But not in every subject." Pomona objected.
"And his theoretical understanding is still somewhat behind NEWT level." Severus sneered.
"With some tutoring, I believe he could pass his OWLs in the wand subjects early with Exceeds Expectations if not Outstandings." Minerva took a breath. "He could also easily achieve NEWTS in the wand subjects the following year focusing on theory as opposed to the practical work which he is already performing well. In all other subjects, bar Runes where he is already a year ahead, I would propose to keep him with his year group." She paused. "He could begin a Mastery in one of the wand subjects post completing his NEWT."
Albus wondered if she was hoping Harry would choose her subject.
"It seems a sensible and balanced plan." Helen commented. "He doesn't need the isolation of being completely separated from his peers and his friends, but this recognises that he has different educational needs without making him too different."
Severus snorted quietly from his corner but he remained thankfully silent otherwise.
"What does Lord Black think?" asked Matilda, leaning forward. "Has this been discussed with him?"
Minerva inclined her head. "Sirius and I had a brief discussion just this morning. He is happy with my proposal. He is concerned Mister Potter is becoming increasingly disassociated with Hogwarts and his peers as the year progresses and would like to encourage him to strengthen his ties with his friends and year group." She pursed her lips. "He has requested that, subject to some additional security, next term Mister Potter be granted to spend the occasional night in the Gryffindor boys' dorm with his friends. I have granted the request."
Albus was pleased with the news. He had been a touch worried that Harry would not wish to return to Hogwarts for his fifth year or that Sirius would decide that Harry would be home-schooled instead. If there were plans to ensure Harry continued to feel a part of the Hogwarts student body then his small concern was appeased.
"Can we continue or are we to assume Potter is our only student?" inquired Severus pointedly.
Minerva sent him a quelling look but she picked up the parchment she had discarded and continued with the academic performances of the other years.
Albus subsided, content to hear that Natalie Warren was currently top of the seventh year and destined to graduate with a full set of Outstandings.
Minerva set one parchment and picked up another. "I shall move onto the points system. I am pleased to say that all professors are complying with the guidelines set out at the start of the year. The Houses remain fairly equal although Gryffindor currently leads due to our success in the Quidditch cup."
Severus glowered in the background as Minerva once again accepted the congratulations of her colleagues.
"Shall we move on?" suggested Albus smoothly inserting himself into a pause. "Helen, perhaps a report from the infirmary?"
Helen nodded. "We have two second year students currently in the infirmary, Amy Addison and Larry Cable."
Pomona sat forward and Albus was reminded that the students in question were Hufflepuffs.
"Both mis-timed the stairs yesterday and had a bit of a nasty fall." Helen continued. "They should be fine for the Express tomorrow." She cleared her throat. "Generally, we have had a good term. A few minor accidents and mis-spells but no major outbreak of illness. The at-risk children are all doing well, I'm pleased to say. Two have been removed from their current living situations due to the evidence and have been placed with either close relatives or godparents. There was one report of bullying but Professor Flitwick was quick to step in."
"An attempt at theft." Filius reported with a disapproving scowl. "The culprit has been issued with a first warning."
"Poppy is doing duty over the Easter break as I have a return to the States planned. That's all from the infirmary." Helen concluded.
Albus smiled at her benevolently. "And that does neatly bring us onto the arrangements for the upcoming holiday. Alastor, if I can prevail upon you?"
"Security will be maintained over the holiday." Alastor said firmly. "We will maintain constant vigilance."
Albus ignored Minerva rolling her eyes.
"What about during the Lupin wedding?" asked Septima seriously. She leaned forward attentive and curious.
Alastor glowered. "Bloody stupid timing but we have it covered." He nodded at Minerva. "Those with personal invites will attend. Minnie will be away for the entire weekend of the wedding; the Headmaster for the day before and of the wedding; me, I'm going just for the day."
"The invitation was extended to all Remus's former colleagues," Albus explained hurriedly, "but clearly we need to maintain a quorum of teachers given the students remaining within the castle." He nodded at the Head of Ravenclaw. "Filius will assume overall responsibility for the school in my absence with able assistance from Professors Snape and Sprout."
"There'll be a group of aurors patrolling during the period an' all." Alastor said firmly.
"That's reassuring." Alison commented. "There are rumours going around the school that a former follower of Voldemort may be masquerading as a student."
There was an evident question in her tone and Alastor snorted while Albus shot her a faintly disapproving look.
"It is a suggestion that perhaps those with ill intent who had hidden on the Durmstrang ship and killed Headmaster Karkaroff have entered the school under false pretences." Albus conceded. "However, there is no proof."
"We did have an artefact in our possession that allowed us to identify the students benignly without asking them to take a blood identity test." Alastor growled. "There was no evidence of anyone not being who they said they were and the Board of Governors have seen fit to refuse the request to run additional tests."
"No student is acting out of character as yet." Snape added snidely. "Although we should all endeavour to be observant and raise any such abberant behaviour to their Head of House or the Headmaster."
The rest of the teachers nodded.
"Will we have to retake identity tests?" asked Irma pointedly looking at Alastor.
"It would help eliminate the possibilities." Alastor said. "But I've been told I can't insist on it unless you leave the grounds."
"We could volunteer." Alison said. "I'd be happy to offer to do a test."
"Me too." Helen concurred.
As more staff stepped forward until they all had confirmed they'd retake a test, Albus beamed at them widely. "Excellent." He said finally. "As Alastor has said it will help eliminate the possibilities and in the meanwhile we should all keep our eyes and ears peeled for trouble."
"Wish the sodding French were as accommodating." Alastor grumbled.
"Has anything come of the investigation into the sabotage of the second task?" Rolanda asked.
Alastor sighed heavily. "The sea snake was supposedly in a cage and under the control of a merman."
"There's evidence that the merman was subjected to the Imperius curse." Albus said gravely. "We fear it was Bartemius Crouch Junior. He has no doubt inherited his father's aptitude with languages."
"The merman was under orders to release the snake regardless of how the task was done." Alastor said brusquely.
"At least nobody was killed or hurt this time." Helen said grimly, no doubt remembering the death of the dragon handler in the first task.
"And the preparation of the third task?" asked Tobias delicately. "Is that going well?"
"We've locked down as much as we can but that maze is so bloody public!" Alastor gave another glowering grimace.
Albus didn't respond to the disapproval. "The Quidditch pitch was the most sensible choice."
It was Rolanda's turn to snort.
"Do we know which students are staying over in the castle over the holiday period?" asked Matilda returning them to the topic at hand.
"A full list will be published shortly." Minerva confirmed briskly. "However, as usual for this break all the seventh and fifth year are remaining behind in anticipation of exam revision, and we have a good proportion of the other years choosing to remain behind across all three Houses."
"Some of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students have requested leave given the recent terrible events and they have all been granted dispensation to travel home but will face an identity check on their return." Albus said. "We expect the temporary placement of Professor von Humberg as the Headmaster of Durmstrang to be made permanent in the new term."
"Those poor children." Pomona sighed. "Such a terrible event."
"Some have taken up the counselling we have offered." Helen said comfortingly.
"A most unfortunate incident." Albus demurred.
He quickly brought the meeting to an end and called for Severus to remain behind.
"I noticed you received another letter at dinner." Albus said without preamble.
Severus looked at him sourly. "As you know I have been summoned to a meeting during the holidays with Crouch."
Albus nodded gravely, remembering the last time the two had met. He hated that Severus risked his life in his role as a spy but he knew that there was no choice. If Sirius had not insisted on Severus resuming his role, no doubt Albus would have had to request the same at some point. "It is remarkably dangerous for you to meet him alone, Severus."
"Never fear," Severus sneered, "he will court the displeasure of the Dark Lord if he attempts to harm me again, and my position with the Dark Lord is assured as long as he requires potions made."
"I do care for you for you, Severus." Albus remonstrated gently. "Not just your worth as a spy."
Severus gazed back at him with an even dark gaze that in true Slytherin style gave away nothing.
"Why has he written again?" Albus asked steering the conversation back to business.
"He requests that in the event I cannot sabotage the potion to awaken the Summers woman, the Dark Lord is insistent that I do not allow her to speak."
Albus stroked his beard softly. "He gave something away in her presence."
"Undoubtedly." Severus inclined his head. "But what…" he made a sharp motion with one hand. "I assume you have assessed the likelihood of the person hidden at Hogwarts being tasked with the mission of destroying the potion?"
"It is a possibility." Albus mused. "We should increase security to your lab."
"Alastor and I have already taken care of it." Severus informed him. "If there is nothing else?"
Albus inwardly sighed and allowed Severus to leave in an impressive billow of robes. He sometimes wondered if he had made other choices whether Severus would have taken a different path. His choices in regards to Harry had been so far off the mark that he found himself questioning whether his actions in regards to Severus had been the same. He rather feared he had mis-stepped in Severus's youth – allowed the Marauders too much latitude in hindsight and punished Severus too severely in comparison.
Perhaps…
He shook his head.
He could not change the past, he could only work to make a better future. There was a sense that the end was almost upon them. The third task was not so far away and with it the inevitable confrontation that would take place between Harry and Tom…
Albus sighed and shook himself out of his melancholy contemplation. He should think of happier things, he determined; there was a wedding to look forward to after all.
o-O-o
Sirius sat on the arm of the easy chair in his study and stared at the blackboard. He sighed and raising his wand, scratched out Diadem. There was only one more possible horcrux to go – the snake. Of course, they just had to hope that Voldemort hadn't made any others in the meantime but the general consensus was that it was unlikely.
His mirror buzzed on his desk and he frowned. It was the silent signal – the one that he and James had spelled into the mirror in the event one of them was stuck on a date from hell and needed the other to call them for some reason. He'd never told Harry about that particular feature of the mirrors and none of the new mirrors he created had it. Which meant, Sirius mused rapidly walking over to the mirror, the only person it could be was Moony as he very much doubted Wormtail had a mirror still or would use it.
He picked up the mirror and sat down at his desk. He tapped the mirror carefully. "Moony."
"Padfoot!" Remus replied immediately. The image wavered as Remus hurried out an excuse to whoever it was he was with and settled into a more private space.
"Why the signal for an emergency call?" asked Sirius, half-amused and half-impatient to know the reason.
"Andy and Dora have been talking about wedding colours for over an hour, Padfoot." Remus sounded completely bewildered. "Over an hour!"
Sirius laughed and settled back in his chair. "Oh come on! That's nothing! How can you not remember Lily and Alice spending two hours on the subject for Alice's wedding to Frank?"
"Are you sure I was there for that?" demanded Remus bemused.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You were there; just as you were there for the marathon discussion they had about whether lilies were an appropriate flower for a wedding when Lils and Prongs got hitched."
"In all honesty, Padfoot, I think my mind has blanked out both events in self-preservation." Remus said dryly.
"Lucky you." Sirius muttered. He had tried drinking to forget at the time and it hadn't worked.
"Colours, Padfoot!" Remus stressed. "I mean, what does it really matter if the yellow is the wrong side of sunshine and things should be more to the gold side of the spectrum?"
"It's a woman thing." Sirius shrugged.
Remus sighed and cast a look beyond the mirror. "I should get back. Andy's being very…well, I don't know how to put it but I think Dora's pretty on the edge. I just needed a breather."
"Look, Moony," Sirius said, softening his tone, "Andy just wants Dora to have the best wedding and the best marriage."
Remus flushed bright red. He breathed deeply as though gathering himself and heaved a sigh. "I know I'm not the best catch…"
"That's not what I'm saying, Moony." Sirius interrupted him sharply. "You're a great catch and frankly, you're the one Tonks wanted. Andy just hasn't come round to the way it happened yet, that's all. In the meantime, indulging Andy's fervour is probably not a bad thing."
"You mean I should man up." Remus sighed.
"Moony." Sirius sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. The last thing he wanted was to pressure Remus any further about the marriage and the kid. Remus had stepped up and done the right thing.
"No, Padfoot." Remus said firmly. "I'm sorry." He reached out as though to touch Sirius and dropped his hand. "I know you're in a difficult position. Has it been very bad the fallout?"
Sirius gave a half-shrug. "The press has been good but commentary wise? Dora's getting the worst of it. I'm just pleased Andy and Ted are out of the country they don't need to hear everyone calling their daughter names."
Remus's eyes flashed amber. "They'd better not call her names at the wedding. We both made the lapse of judgement on birth control."
"Our friends are being supportive." Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "The alliance mainly disapproves about the lack of thought on the political implications by both of you."
"They're not wrong about that." Remus said. "I'll make sure we send some kind of pre-wedding apology note? Maybe with the wedding favours?" He sighed heavily again. "What are favours anyway? Did Prongs have favours because I don't recall anything?"
"Sure," Sirius said, "they had those little bags with hangover potion in them for everyone."
Remus stared at him. "How do you remember all this?"
Sirius made a vague dismissive gesture. "I think I thought Lily would kill me if I didn't! I was the best man." And there had been the hours spent making the damn potion…
Remus smiled at him nostalgically. "She probably would have done."
They shared a look of fond remembrance.
Remus cleared his throat. "Any ideas for mine and Dora's?"
"If you're going to use the favours as an apology, something suitably expensive." Sirius said dryly.
"That's…" Remus paused, "actually very helpful."
Sirius smirked at him and suddenly realised he hadn't told Remus the latest news. "Ooo-oo! On a completely different topic, we found some treasure today!"
"Treasure?" Remus's gaze sharpened. "In the Room of Requirement?"
Sirius nodded enthusiastically. "The Weasley owl showed up right on top of it. Bill was blown away."
"Is the item destroyed?" Remus asked, the image distorting as he changed position.
"Yes." Sirius nodded again. "Same as the others. One priceless treasure now one puddle of useless slag."
"So, there's just the snake to go in the treasure hunt." Remus smiled at him. "That's excellent, Padfoot."
"Bertie's over the moon." Sirius said wryly. "Both he and Amelia were looking smug at the Council tonight."
"Why was Amelia looking smug?" asked Remus.
"A monitoring ward on somewhere we've identified as a possibility for a hidey-hole pinged this afternoon." Sirius explained. "When the Squad went to check, they got confused and apparated back. Bertie confirms that there's now a Fidelius in place. Amelia thinks they're gearing up to move there for the final months leading up to this ritual."
"Which puts them somewhere we know they're generally at thanks to the location of the monitoring charm," Remus said, "but somewhere we now don't know about and can't get into without the Secret Keeper. Bugger."
"Exactly. I guess Voldemort's not against using something his enemies have come up with if it works." Sirius sat back. "To be honest, I don't think it matters that we don't know where they are right now. On the day of the ritual, we'll be able to pinpoint them if we allow their plan to play out."
"That's a big if, Sirius." Remus murmured.
Sirius nodded in sombre agreement. "Harry thinks we should be thinking of the endgame though and I agree with him, although I'm hoping with the diadem found, we can go after Voldemort more aggressively and take him down before then. If we haven't got him before the third task, Harry and the kids have a good training plan but as he points out, the third task isn't really about winning the tournament. As soon as it's over, winner or not, as an ingredient all the prep's done and he'll be ripe for the picking."
"Well, that's a horrifying thought." Remus commented sadly.
"Harry believes Voldemort has to have something planned for grabbing him." Sirius pushed a hand through his hair. "So frankly I think the main worry right now is Hogwarts. They lost the ship as their way into the school and I think they'll have planned a contingency. It's what I'd do."
Remus sighed. "What would you do exactly?"
"Ron was right; the easiest thing is take the place of a student or a teacher." Sirius replied promptly. "Albus says the teachers volunteered for tests but we're not performing identity checks unless people leave the grounds otherwise – and not at all for all the Hogwarts students."
"So there's a risk someone will go home for Easter and come back as someone else." Remus surmised. "We have the map."
"Yes," Sirius agreed, "but we don't know if Peter has done something to get round it. And if we do spot someone as Harry says do we then keep them in play where we know where they are or do we take them out?"
Remus sighed again. "Another good question." He shifted and caught Sirius's gaze. "You said Harry has pointed out a lot of this?"
"I'm very proud of him." Sirius felt a lump in his throat. "I am kind of torn about not wanting him to have to think about this kind of thing, but I'm pleased he's taking it seriously, you know?"
"I know, Padfoot." Remus took a deep breath. "I felt the baby move today for the first time and I…all I can think about is how can I keep that tiny scrap of life protected and safe? I know I love Harry but I guess there's still a bit of, I don't know, distance? Maybe because I know he's yours and I'm still only Uncle Moony at the end of the day. But that feeling yesterday…it was overwhelming and if that's how you feel about Harry…I don't know why you aren't bald from pulling your hair out."
Sirius gave a weak laugh. "Welcome to parenthood, Moony."
They both smiled somewhat sappily at each other before the realisation that they were smiling somewhat sappily at each other had them both suddenly snapping into action.
"Right, um…" Remus shook himself. "What about the 'power he knows not'? With the diadem found, we do need to think of the endgame and that needs to be part of it. Did the Italians let you have the Cavietti copy of the Lumiere account?"
Sirius shook his head. "It's worthless anyway, Remus, you know that. However…" he rooted around his desk and picked up a parchment lifting into the view of the mirror with a loud 'TADA!'
"A letter?" Remus squinted. "I can't read it, Padfoot."
"Then allow me." Sirius declared cheerily. "Dear Lord Black, I thank you for your recent correspondence delivered to me by our mutual friend, Elaine Delacour. She has kindly agreed to host a small introduction between us and your son, Lord Potter, on the tenth of April in Paris. I look forward very much to meeting you both. Yours, etcetera, etcetera, Vivien Verte." He put the letter down. "It just arrived this afternoon."
"I wish I could attend with you." Remus sighed, frustration tensing his face momentarily. "I feel like I'm letting you and Harry down."
"You should stop beating yourself up, Remus. You made a mistake but you're stepping up and taking responsibility." Sirius contradicted gently. "Harry and I understand you have different obligations now and you aren't letting us down. You're still there for us, we know that."
Remus gave a snort but he subsided with a nod. "So, any thoughts on colour?"
"I prefer gold to sunshine yellow if that helps." Sirius said.
Remus rolled his eyes, gave a wave and disappeared.
Sirius looked at the blank mirror and put it down gently on the desk. He missed Remus a great deal. He missed his counsel and steady support; missed having Remus's calm to offset his own frenetic energy. His other friends had stepped in and he knew he only had to floo call Minnie and she'd pop over for a nightcap and a chat but…
He'd had this particular ache before, Sirius reminded himself. It was the ache of a man who knew that life was changing because his best friend had found a romantic partner, had found a relationship which would take precedence over every other relationship in their lives, even their oldest and dearest friendship.
Sirius could remember the hurt he'd felt when his friendship with James had become secondary in his best friend's eyes to James's love and relationship with Lily; when nights out with Sirius had been eschewed for nights in with Lily; when time spent with just the guys suddenly became time spent with the guys and Lily…
In retrospect, the resentment and angst he'd felt at the time all seemed so childish, especially when he considered that Lily had become the sister he'd always wanted. And it wasn't the same with Remus and Tonks, Sirius mused. Remus and Tonks were already family, and Sirius was mature enough that he understood Remus's changing priorities and even supported the change. But change was change, and the ache of the losing what they had built since Sirius had become Lord Black hadn't yet been soothed by what they would become in the future.
There was a small knock on the door before it opened and Harry entered. He'd dressed for bed and Sirius glanced at the clock startled to realise it was after ten.
"You OK?" He asked as Harry wandered over to sit in the visitor's chair in front of the desk.
"Just restless I guess." Harry smiled at him. "I'm kind of excited about tomorrow and France." He gestured vaguely. "And Bulgaria and seeing Remus again." He pointed at the mirror. "Did he call?"
"I called him." Sirius said, ignoring the complicated rescue signal.
"Did you tell him about the diadem and the letter from Madame Verte?" Harry asked excitedly.
"I did." Sirius confirmed. He got up from the desk and held out a hand to pull Harry from the chair. "I also told him we were starting to think about the endgame."
Harry glanced back towards the blackboard as Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. "It's weird to think we're almost at the end. It feels like it's been going on forever."
Sirius hugged his son to his side for a long moment. "It will end, Harry." He paused. "And then you will have responsible sex, get married, have babies and live happily ever after with the woman of your dreams."
"Oy!" Harry laughed, pinching Sirius in the ribs.
They wrestled for a moment before Sirius slung his arm back around Harry and marched him from the room.
"Come on." Sirius declared. "If we sneak down to the kitchen, Dobby will make us hot chocolate and marshmallows."
His gaze darted to the blackboard as he leaned back to close the door and he shot a spell to cover it once again.
Maybe they were getting close to the end, but it wasn't over yet.
o-O-o
Thomas Marvolo Riddle stared up at the ceiling above him. He was ostensibly resting. The young body he inhabited tired easily and after his letter writing of the afternoon he had been fatigued.
It was frustrating.
But it would soon be over.
The plan for his physical resurrection was in full motion. In only a few short months he would have a new adult body. Once again he would have the physicality to match his intellect and spirit. The ability to move and act…
He had underestimated the Potters that Halloween night. He had been too self-satisfied by Peter's betrayal of their hiding place and his grand plan to create an inviolate horcrux that he had not considered the fact that James and Lily Potter had already 'thrice defied him,' knew of his want to kill their child and had perhaps planned for the event.
The ancient Wiccan magic that the mudblood witch had used to protect her child was powerful. He had felt the wrath of an angry mother as it had sent his Killing Curse back full force to him, obliterating his body into ashes in a way the curse would never have done otherwise. Powerful and unknown; it was not a magic Tom would ever be able to wield as he was neither a witch nor a mother, and he had no wish to become either despite his envy at the magic.
But he was powerful enough to defeat it.
Choosing the Potter boy – Harry – for the ritual worked for him on several levels not least of which was the hypothesis that taking the boy's blood would neutralise the blood protection the boy's mother had placed around her child. He had done the Arithmancy and the theory supported his proposition.
And really it had been the only reason for his defeat that Halloween. Without it, a mere babe would not have withstood his attack or his power. Without it, he would have killed the boy before he'd turned twelve.
Thomas gave a disgruntled huff.
Occupying Quirrell had been difficult despite the wizard's simpering adoration of him, but it had given him the ability to spy on the eleven year old Harry and contemplate what about the boy was special.
The answer had been: nothing.
Nothing about Harry Potter was special. He was thin, small and under the school robes wore clothes that were second-hand and raggedy; Thomas recognised the signs of neglect from his time in the orphanage. He had felt a hard bitter satisfaction at that. Perhaps a baby had reduced him to a wraith but without his formidable parents, little Harry Potter had grown up without love or kindness it seemed.
Dumbledore knew, of course. It wasn't hard to see how the old fool sometimes looked upon his boy wonder with eyes filled with sorrowful regret. But Harry's situation didn't matter any more to Dumbledore than the plight of Thomas Marvolo Riddle had done so many years before.
Thomas contemplated that for a moment and wondered if he'd played it wrong with the boy back then. Yes, he'd made a half-hearted attempt to the boy onside during their confrontation in front of the mirror but…but if he had approached the boy not as himself but as a saviour, as someone who would rescue him from his situation, as repentant perhaps…could he have swayed his nemesis to his side?
Possibly not.
The boy he'd observed that year had been filled with too much righteous anger against the wizard who'd murdered his parents.
Of course, the boy he'd observed that year hadn't been anything special beyond his name and a fame he hadn't even known he'd possessed.
Harry Potter was an average student, no discernible intellect or power, and with only flying as a potential talent. He'd certainly managed to stay on that damnable broom longer than most when Thomas had convinced Quirrell to jinx it.
And yet…Harry had stood firm in their confrontation. Yes, the boy had been scared but he had still defied him, still challenged him. And in the end his mother's protection had saved him again. Quirrell had burned at the touch of the boy; Thomas's own form had been weakened with immense pain.
It had taken Thomas months to recover.
And then Peter had turned up.
There had been the babbling tale of how little Peter the Rat had been discovered, tales of his old friends Black and Lupin almost murdering him only for little Harry to stop them; poor honourable Harry whose sense of justice had wanted Peter locked up for betraying his parents rather than dead. And then as Thomas had plotted and planned, Peter's stumbling information about young Harry and tales of the two years he'd missed.
The tale of the Heir of Slytherin, the basilisk, and Harry slaying the snake had angered Thomas. It was unthinkable that the boy had spoken parseltongue (although magical transference on the night of the Halloween had probably been the cause); maddening that he'd killed such a powerful weapon that Thomas had under his thrall; infuriating that Lucius had used one of his precious artefacts in what amounted to nothing more than a political ploy but then…
The diary horcrux had been filled with more than soul, it was filled with his writings and plans. He had written in many times after he had realised what he had done in making it, and had felt the pull of his own horcrux wrapping icy fingers around the remaining soul within his body. A young girl would not have withstood it for long. Perhaps Lucius had been alerted to his survival after the events of his son's first year at Hogwarts (and really the younger Malfoy was a disappointment) and taken the diary out in anticipation and…and perhaps the diary had instructed Malfoy.
Thomas would find out from Lucius when he was returned to full power. He smiled cruelly. The diary was not the only thing Lucius had to account for. It appeared that Lucius had bowed to the political will of Lord Black faster than a tissue crumpled under a few drops of water.
Lord Black.
Thomas found his mind drifting towards the matter of Sirius Black and allowed it to drift. The wizard was proving to be a worthy adversary. Thomas had always admired the Blacks. Arcturus had been a contemporary – a couple of years ahead of him at Hogwarts and he had ruled Slytherin house like a King. There were few wizards Thomas admired but Arcturus had been one of them; highly intelligent, political and Slytherin to his core. And Sirius Black was Arcturus's chosen Heir.
In retrospect, Arcturus had never truly supported Lord Voldemort; had never intended to become a Death Eater, Thomas mused. As Lord Black, Arcturus had remained behind his formidable walls and told Thomas only when the entire living House of Black was in support of him would Arcturus allow himself to be Marked. Arcturus had to have known his grandson Sirius would never have supported Lord Voldemort.
Back then, the young Black hadn't really registered with Thomas as anything more than an annoyance – an acolyte of Dumbledore and another faceless Hit Wizard. He'd been angered at the revelation that Sirius Black, undercover and undetected, had managed to screw up the European side of the war for months. The Carrows had spent time under the Cruciatus curse for that oversight. He'd also been angered that Black had somehow escaped and killed so many in his wake. But he'd never stopped to evaluate him, too focused on Dumbledore, Bagnold and others.
That had been a mistake.
Black was every bit as dangerous as his grandfather; every bit as wily. Peter might have tricked him once but Black had escaped Azkaban. He had escaped again after Peter had fled to Thomas. But instead of going to ground as a wanted fugitive unable to do anything but hide, Black had claimed his Lordship and had turned the British wizarding world on its head. He'd assumed political control with ease, subjugated Lucius, and invigorated society, kicking it out of the inertia and apathy that would have allowed Thomas to have taken power with ease.
All for one boy.
Thomas wondered what it was to have someone love them so much they literally changed the world to ensure their loved one's safety and happiness.
A part of him, a part of him that remembered his childhood and the nights he'd dreamed of his parents turning up, telling him it had been a horrible mistake, and whisking him away to a loving home…that part of him envied Harry Potter the love of Sirius Black.
He glowered at the ceiling.
He had never had anyone but himself. He had never needed anyone else but himself. That little Harry needed Sirius Black so much…it was a weakness.
Of course, apart from Peter's foray at deception over Yule, they hadn't truly been able to exploit that weakness. Bartemius's plan had been a complete failure and eliminated two of his better supporters in Mulciber and Rookwood before they'd even entered the fray.
Thomas tutted under his breath.
Bartemius was intelligent and cunning but it hadn't escaped Thomas's notice that he was insane. No, Bartemius was useful because his obsession with getting revenge on Black was all-consuming and he would help Thomas achieve his aims so long as that revenge was on the table. Thomas was not going to lose sight of that. Bartemius had already killed one father, and even if he played at the role, Thomas had no intention of becoming a second victim of Bartemius's taste for patricide.
Dennis Travers was a loyal and faithful follower but he was dull and lacking creativity. He was a good foot soldier but he was not and never would be a lieutenant. Before Azkaban his father had been a smart man but his cleverness had dimmed with exposure to the Dementors and Thomas believed he'd been a liability – something that had been proven when the wizard had gotten caught and interrogated. Death was a lucky escape for Travers Senior; his Dark Lord would have tortured him for months for his transgression.
And Peter…Peter was a good servant. He had done all Thomas had ordered him to do and he could not fault Peter's care. But Thomas was never going to lose sight of how quickly the rat had turned on his friends. How Peter had ended up in the house of the brave was a mystery to Thomas. The rat would always look to the strongest to protect him.
Severus, on the other hand, was a worthy follower; intelligent, a genius at potions, and cunning. He had clearly capitalised on the advantage of being thought of as Dumbledore's spy and used it to save himself at the end of the previous war. Perhaps he should be angry at Severus for upsetting Quirrell's plans but Thomas had always believed his followers should be able to prevail on their own against all obstacles, and Severus clearly had no idea that his Dark Lord inhabited the snivelling Defence teacher the Potions Master had seen no need to hide his disdain for. Thomas did wonder if the death of Lily Potter might have affected Severus's loyalty but the hatred Severus had shown young Harry eased his mind on that score.
He rather feared Fenrir was one dog who'd had his day. Lupin was in his prime and Fenrir would be hard pressed to win against the younger wolf on an even playing field. Of course, Thomas had no plans to allow an even playing field. The Carrows had been his most vicious followers and he fully expected that they would ensure victory.
Soon, Thomas promised himself, soon he would have his body back and he would be able to entice his better compatriots back to his side. It was a shame Black had killed the LeStranges, especially Bellatrix, but once Thomas had removed Harry Potter from the world, the likes of Malfoy, Nott, Selwyn, Gibbon and Wilkes would once again bow at the feet of Lord Voldemort.
Stupid Purebloods, sneered Thomas's inner voice. So superior…so convinced of their own place in the world.
Thomas had created the persona of Lord Voldemort to appeal to their snobbery, and with the truth of his status as the only true Heir of Slytherin, it ensured that he had ruled over them once and would again. It amused him that they followed so avidly as he killed their kin indiscriminately. All Thomas wanted was power.
Power to rule, to make them all regret the day they had ignored or belittled a penniless orphan named Riddle. Power to ensure he would never again be that helpless or subjugated.
Potter wasn't a pureblood either for all he had been clothed in the robes of a pureblood family, mused Thomas. He had actually decided Potter was the more likely candidate for that infernal prophecy because he wasn't a pureblood. Stupid, Thomas berated himself. If only he hadn't chosen either of them perhaps he might have escaped the prophecy.
He really should try to find out the whole thing, but that would involve risking a trip to the Ministry and with the security measures that had been put in place it was unlikely he would be able to get in and out without being noticed at all.
No.
It would have to wait until he was restored to a body and then it would be moot as Potter would be dead.
Although Harry under the tutelage of Black was proving to be a rather different enemy.
The boy's abilities had grown since his observation of them at Hogwarts or perhaps Harry had hidden his true abilities back then. He had killed a basilisk at twelve, after all. His performance in the tournament was astounding. Thomas could lay some of it at Black's door, he mused. No doubt Sirius Black was coaching the teen. But that didn't detract from the fact that at fourteen Harry Potter was as much a magical prodigy as Thomas himself had been.
But Thomas was certain of his ability to best Harry once he was back in his own body. He had decades of knowledge and experience. In a duel, Thomas would beat Harry and all would see that he was the better wizard.
Images of spells and fighting flashed across his inner landscape and Thomas felt the pull towards sleep as the dream of defeating his nemesis tempted him into rest.
His last thought whispered in his inner ear as he let go of his hold on consciousness: he would beat the boy, but perhaps he shouldn't underestimate Harry Potter the way he had underestimated his parents.