A Promise Kept - Chapter 44 - Born as the Seventh Month Dies

Born as the Seventh Month Dies

“I don’t see why any of you panicking. You’ll ace the OWLs,” Wendell said encouragingly. “The week will fly by.”

Harry wasn’t nervous about the exams. No, the root of his own worries stemmed from the eerie silence within Britain. Since the escape of Azkaban, it quickly became clear that Voldemort was doing his utmost to keep a low profile, and despite the best efforts of the Aurors, they had been unable to apprehend any of the wayward Death Eaters.

Harry had expected nothing less.

It wasn’t as though they would be roaming around the country attacking and murdering people, not yet, at least.

No, Voldemort would be keeping them safe, healing them after such a long stint in Azkaban, as best he could, and biding his time, waiting for his next grand gesture.

With Dumbledore dead and his most loyal once again at his side, the sky truly was the limit for the Dark Lord. Harry knew something was coming. He could feel it brewing, simmering under the surface, and it would undoubtedly explode quite spectacularly, but only when Voldemort was ready to reveal himself.

The one advantage Harry was certain he held, however, was that he did not believe Riddle would do so until he had gotten hold of the prophecy, which meant that he would need to either attend the Ministry himself, or he would find a way to lure Harry there the collect it on his behalf.

It was difficult to tell which approach he would take.

If he was absolutely certain of his success, he might just opt for the former. With Rookwood assisting him, he would undoubtedly find a way to access the Hall of Prophecies, but he would not find what he was looking for.

Perhaps he would expose himself in the process, which would serve to reveal the truth of what hung over Britain but would inevitably plunge it into the dark days to come.

Maybe he would attempt to lure Harry there in his stead.

It was riskier to do so, especially without leverage, but again, what the man was looking for was no longer there. A glass orb sat in its place, but when broken, it would not speak the words he yearned to hear.

It was a small victory, but it brought an anticipatory smirk to Harry’s lips.

“Aren’t you worried about the OWLs?” Marisa asked.

Wendell snorted.

“This jackass could do them in his sleep. Lucky bastard.”

“If you’ve studied, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Not when it comes to the OWLs, at least,” Wendell sighed.

He was worried. All of them were, and each had spoken their minds about what was happening in Britain, and the part they believed Harry would play. In truth, they were not so far off the mark with their assessments, but it was not as simple as Harry wanting to be the one to kill Voldemort.

No, the two of them were slowly but surely being drawn together by magic neither of them understood, and even if he wished to, Harry knew he could not avoid it forever.

The best he could hope for was that they would meet under his terms, that it would be him holding an advantage of sorts when the moment came, but that certainly was not a given.

Voldemort, for the level of insanity that plagued him was an incredible wizard, and intelligent man, and the most dangerous of foes any could face in Harry’s position.

He would not forget that.

How could he when the man had spent decades to be what he’d become, had murdered countless of people along the way, and still yet breathed freely despite what had befallen him.

No, even without the Horcruxes to sustain him, merely defeating him would be no easy feat, and Harry was deeply aware that his own path would be fraught with danger and could well end in the most undesirable of ways.

So long as he took Riddle with him if that was so, he could live with that, and as had become the norm these past months, his mind wandered to all he needed to do to even have a chance to live beyond the contents of the prophecy.

“I can’t believe our fifth year is done,” Isabelle sighed. “It’s gone so quickly.”

For the others it may have, but for Harry, he had spent each day waiting for news to reach him of any further developments, planning for what was to come, and reliving those hours he’d spent with Pettigrew.

He’d found it odd that he’d done what he had without so much as a nightmare or any guilt to follow and even questioned if there was something wrong with him. Worse yet, he’d not had anyone to discuss it with, not unless he was to reveal what he’d done.

That was until he’d spoken to Reginald Yaxley.

“You’re distracted, boy. What’s on your mind besides the obvious?”

Harry shook his head.

For weeks he had been unable to forget what he’d done, and yet, it wasn’t because he regretted his actions.

“What would my grandfather do if he found the man that betrayed my parents to Voldemort?”

Reg’s expression darkened, and he leaned back in his chair, frowning thoughtfully.

“Well, do you want the truth or would you like me to embellish Charlus’s character for your own good?”

“The truth?”

Reg chuckled.

“Your grandfather was the best man I knew. He was the first out of the trenches to fight, the last one back, and always made sure we were all as well as could be, but, and I say this with the utmost respect, he believed in righteous justice. If he was to find himself alone with the man responsible for the death of his son…”

He broke off and shook his head.

“The truth is, Charlus would have made those final moments as miserable as he could. If there was one thing you didn’t fuck with, that was his family. He lost his father to Grindelwald, and even some of our friends. As I said, he was the very best man I knew, but there was an undeniable side to him, Harry. You did not fuck with Charlus Potter. It wasn’t just his name that garnered the respect of the others, it was because of all he did, and what he was capable of if provoked. Now, he wasn’t a cruel man, but he was willing to do what he believed was right, even if others did not agree.”

Somehow, Reg’s words brought him some comfort, and even a little closer to the grandfather he did not know.

It was one thing to hear stories about Charlus Potter, of how he led men in a time of war, and just how devoted he’d been to his wife and son, but Harry still did not know him from any other man he’d never met.

Still, he felt as though he did, and that his grandfather would wholeheartedly agree with what he’d done to Wormtail.

Harry certainly had not lost any sleep over it.

“Will we still be coming for your birthday week?” Wendell asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Well, I kind of figured that, well, with everything going on…”

“I’m not just going to put my life on hold because of him,” Harry sighed.

“I didn’t think you would. You still played Quodpot this year. What is it, four championships in a row. They’ll be queuing up to sign you. I’m surprised you haven’t been approached already.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

“Have you?” Olivia asked excitedly.

“By the Redcaps, the Dragons, and the Phoenixes.”

“Well, damn,” Maggie interjected. “You rejected them, didn’t you?”

“I haven’t replied to any of them. I still have two years of school left, and well, I’ll be going home.”

The others shared a look of concern, but they knew better than to try to talk him out of it. Not that they could, even if Harry was amenable to them doing so.

“Quodpot player by day, Dark Lord destroyer by night,” Wendell snorted.

“That’s not funny!” Isabelle huffed.

“I thought it was,” Harry said with a grin.

The girls did not think so, and Harry understood.

They’d never experienced what he had, and although Wendell hadn’t either, as a boy, he understood Harry’s position, somewhat.

He offered Harry an encouraging nod as the carriage came to a halt.

Outside, dozens upon dozens of parents were waiting to retrieve their children, more than was usual.

Although Azkaban was worlds away from America, witches and wizards had the capability of being anywhere in a matter of moments, and the news of the mass escape had certainly inspired an increase in security.

Harry groaned as his mother pulled him into a hug.

“No Sirius?” he asked.

She shook her head.

Lily Potter was tense.

“No, he has a Wizengamot meeting, and we need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Yes, Harry, we do,” she said sadly. “Say goodbye to your friends. You’ll see them soon enough.”

“Are you in trouble?” Wendell asked amusedly.

“Probably,” Harry chuckled. “That’s nothing new these days. I can’t even wipe my arse without doing it wrong.”

He could feel his mother’s glare burning into the back of his head, and he quickly finished his goodbyes before returning to her.

She said nothing as she took his hand and activated a portkey, which deposited them both in the kitchen of the ranch. A spread had been laid out on the table, and Harry looked towards his mother questioningly.

“I just wanted to do something nice before everything changes,” she said sadly.

He’d never seen her look so frightened or tired, but he said nothing.

Truthfully, he hadn’t known what to say to his mother for some time now, and it broke his heart to see the rift that had formed between them. Harry had not intentionally pushed her away or even meant to hurt her. On the contrary, he’d only ever wanted to protect Lily Potter.

It turned out that he’d been doing the opposite, but not intentionally.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely, taking a seat and pouring himself a cup of coffee, much to his mother’s surprise.

“When did that become a thing?” she asked.

Harry shrugged as he took a sip.

“Wendell might have been onto something, just not with what it is he drinks. It could be worse. I could’ve taken up smoking.”

His mother shook her head as she sat down.

“Harry, there’s something I need to tell you, something about why Voldemort came for us that night.”

“Came for me, you mean,” he replied pointedly.

Her eyes widened and skin paled.

“You know…how?”

“The night Dumbledore was killed. I was with one of the very few people who knows of the prophecy, and he thought it best that I hear it, given the circumstances.”

His mother appeared horrified, and she wiped away an errant tear as it rolled down her cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, reaching across the table and taking his hand.

“Sorry about the prophecy, or that I found out the way I did?”

“Both. I wanted to be the one to tell you, but only when you were ready to hear it.”

Hary released a deep breath.

“Mum, it is something I would never have been ready to hear until I was told. I get it, I do, but you trying to protect me from this was ridiculous. You can’t protect me from what is unavoidable.”

“Not forever,” his mother admitted. “I wish I could, and I just wanted you to have something of a childhood before…”

“Everything went to shit?”

“Language, Harry,” she chided, “but yes, before everything turned out the way it is now.”

Neither said anything for a moment, and Harry continued drinking his coffee before placing the cup down.

“Well, there is nothing we can do to change it, and the best thing I can do is be prepared. That is what I have been doing all these years. Even before the prophecy, I knew it would come down to the two of us. Neither of us would let the other live in peace.”

“Harry, you shouldn’t be so willing…”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he cut in a little sharper than he’d intended. “I remember what he did, Mum, what he did to Dad, what he did to you, and what he would’ve done to me. I want him dead more than anything else, and I intend to be the one to put the bastard in the ground.”

She offered him a sad smile, and Harry squeezed her hand.

“I’m not scared of him. I made peace with what I have to do, and it’s not only going to be Voldemort that’s going to be in my way. You might not like it, but I’m going to be at the very centre of all of this.”

She nodded and wiped away another tear.

“I wish more than anything that things could’ve been different. I wish that your father was here, and that…”

“Me too, but we can only play with the hand we are dealt. We have to make the best of what we have.”

“I’m terrified, Harry. I’m scared that I will lose you…”

“That might happen,” Harry sighed. “There’s no getting around that, but I will do everything I can to put an end to him. I’m not stupid, Mum, I’m not just going to hunt him down blindly. I’m smarter than that.”

“I know,” Lily choked. “I’ve lived with this for more than sixteen years now, and it has never gotten any easier.”

“No, and it won’t until it is all over.”

“Will it?”

Harry shrugged.

“Maybe, I don’t know, but since we are being honest with each other, you should probably know that Pettigrew is dead.”

Her eyes widened once more.

“Dead, how?”

“I killed him,” Harry admitted unashamedly. “He was at Ilvermorny spying on me, and I ensured he was caught. I made him suffer for what he did, and he got no less than what he deserved.”

His mother was dumbstruck, and though Harry did not expect her to approve of what he’d done, he hoped she’d understand. He could not have allowed it to unfold any differently, and Wormtail would gladly have handed him over to Voldemort if the opportunity had presented itself.

For several moments, she remained silent, watching him with a myriad of emotions flickering in her eyes. Eventually, she seemed to settle on sympathy, and she stood, wrapping him in her arms.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Harry,” she murmured. “As your mother, I would do anything for this not to be your burden, and as a wife who had her husband taken from her partly because of him, I am grateful.”

“He was my Dad,” Harry replied, “It was only right that Wormtail died for what he did.”

His mother nodded, but she did not say anything else on the matter, something Harry was grateful for.

It was one thing to admit that he’d willingly killed the man for his transgressions against them, but she was certainly not ready to learn of the grim details that led to Pettigrew breathing his last. No, for now, at least, ignorance was bliss, but Harry knew he could not hide it from her forever, nor protect her from all he would have to do to see that it as Voldemort that fell when the two of them eventually met.

(Break)

Of all the things that had occurred, and were yet to come, the nomination of the representative of Great Britain in the ICW was not something Sirius wished to prioritise, but he knew that it was still important.

The person chosen would be responsible for liaising between the Wizengamot and the body on the continent, which was comprised of the most important nations in the magical world.

Nott hat the ICW truly cared about one single country.

During Voldemort’s first rise, they had done nothing to help the Ministry of Magic fend off the threat of the Dark Lord, despite Britain having come to the aid of many during the Grindelwald years. Hell, it had been Dumbledore himself that had defeated the man, and many Brits had lost their lives defending others from falling.

Sirius remembered his grandfather’s view on the ICW well enough.

“A shower of piss stains who shit their pants at the thought of doing anything worthwhile.”

He remembered his grandmother chastising the man for his colourful language, but both Arcturus Black and Charlus Potter had been unapologetic for their shared thoughts on the ICW.

Neither had been flattering, and both had fought in a war they were not obliged to be a part of.

Of course, both had their reasons, but they, like many others, could’ve stayed home and watched from afar as Grindelwald inevitably took over the magical world, one country at a time.

They hadn’t, and yet, the ICW remained as ungrateful as ever.

Sirius doubted that would change in the coming conflict, but the position among them needed to retain its integrity.

“I nominate Lucius Malfoy,” Fudge spoke up. “He is a great man, undeniably generous with his philanthropic work, and his name is spoken with the utmost respect. I can think of none better to represent our equally great nation.”

“A pair of dangling troll’s bollocks would be more respectable,” Sirius muttered, eliciting a snort of amusement from Augusta Longbottom.

Fudge glared at the woman, but she was unmoved, returning the gesture until the man looked away.

“I accept the nomination,” Lucius declared with a grin.

“Are there any other nominations?” the Minister asked irritably.

“I nominate Sirius Black.”

He looked sharply towards Amelia Bones, who had stood to offer his name.

“His name carries more respect than that of Lucius Malfoy, and his character has never been brought into question. He serves us here, our children as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and his legacy is undeniable. Many Lord Blacks have served Britain during times of need, and I do not doubt that the current one would be a credit to Britain.”

“I accept the nomination,” Sirius announced as he stood, meeting the narrowed gaze of Lucius.

The man had not expected, nor had he, and Sirius knew that an election between the two of them would be close.

Lucius would bribe and blackmail as many as he could to gain the victory, but there would be those who’d dare not vote against a Black, and those that would do so for the very reasons Amelia had provided.

Still, who would be chosen remained to be seen, and Sirius was pleased to be part of anything that irked the Dark Lord.

“Once more, the vote is split evenly,” Fudge said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “Are there any among you that wish to change…”

“That is coercion, Minister,” Amelia interjected. “Another vote must be held.”

“We’ve held eight!”

“Perhaps nine will be the magic number,” Amelia replied with a grin.

It was indeed a tiresome process, but keeping Lucius out of the chambers of the ICW was paramount. Besides, it was amusing to see that, despite his undoubted best efforts, he’d been unable to sway the vote in his favour.

Voldemort would not be happy, and that brought a smirk to Sirius’s lips.

He certainly did not covet the position, and would rather have no part of international politics, but for the time being, it was worth it to be the proverbial thorn in the sides of Voldemort, Lucius, and Cornelius Fudge.

“Very well, we will reconvene in one week to hold yet another vote. Dismissed!”

He left the room flanked by his entourage, and Sirius followed only a few moments later after saying his goodbyes to the very few colleagues he liked.

It was late in the evening in Britain, and the meeting had lasted for more than six hours. Odd for one that had been called as an emergency gathering, which Sirius did not doubt had been done intentionally in the hope of the vote taking place in his absence.

It was an underhand tactic, though one he’d been prepared for.

Still, it meant that he’d missed Harry’s return home, and as he arrived in the kitchen upon taking his leave of the Ministry of Magic, he found Lily alone, nursing a cup of tea.

She looked to be broken, pale, and her eyes rimmed red from tears.

“It did not go so well then?”

She snorted in response.

“He already knew.”

“How?”

Lily frowned.

“I don’t know, but he’s known since the night Albus died. He’s been carrying it alone all this time, Sirius.”

“Bloody hell,” he sighed. “Where is he?”

“He went for a fly.”

Sirius nodded as he took a seat.

“What did he say?”

“Not as much as I expected, but then again, it wasn’t as though I told him something he didn’t know. I feel like a lousy mother.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth. Harry has always had his ways of finding things out, and the boy is tougher than we ever were. Look at him, Lily. I worry about him, but I’m so damned relieved that he is the way he is. It gives me hope that he might just manage what most would think is impossible.”

She nodded.

“More than you know,” she said sadly.

Sirius frowned.

“What is it?”

She deflated.

“He caught up to Peter.”

“He what?” Sirius gasped as he stood.

Lily nodded.

“He killed him, Sirius, and was so casual about doing so. He didn’t tell me how, but he was adamant I knew that he suffered for what he did.”

“Bloody hell, this is my fault. I told Harry that there was a possibility Peter was watching him. He must’ve…”

He broke off and looked out of the window, but Harry was nowhere to be seen.

“I should’ve known better.”

“You warned him of a threat.”

“But didn’t think of what he might do with the information. Of course he was going to look for him.”

He dragged a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I…”

“Harry wouldn’t want you to apologise. He’s probably grateful. At least one of us has been honest with him.”

“This is all such a mess, isn’t it?”

“It was never going to be any different. It breaks my heart, Sirius. Harry is not stupid. He knows what all of this means. He’s going to fight, and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it from happening.”

“No, there isn’t,” Sirius agreed sadly. “He is like Charlus, and oddly, like my grandfather, which is not such a bad thing with what is coming. Moody says Harry is damned good, and I found that out for myself when I duelled him. He might not be ready yet, Lily, but one day, he will be.”

“Do you really think so, or is it just wishful thinking?”

“No, I know he will be. I’m still going to speak with him. There’s no point hiding from it all. He finally knows the truth, and he might not say it, but he will need us to be there for him.”

“We will be.”

Sirius nodded as he made his way towards the back door.

They would.

Despite what he might think, Harry was not in this alone. There were those willing to help him, even if their cause seemed to be rather hopeless right now.

That would change, and though it was Sirius holding everything down, for the time being, it would undoubtedly be Harry who would step up soon enough to lead.

It was a daunting thought, but Sirius stood by his belief that if there was anyone that could succeed where all others had failed, it was his godson, the one person that Voldemort should truly be fearful of.

(Break)

“If it was anyone but Black, this would’ve been only a formality,” Lucius grumbled irritably. “There are still those that believe him to be more dangerous than me.”

Perhaps he was.

Sirius Black had been a problematic young man for many of the Death Eaters, even as a recent graduate of Hogwarts, and the Dark Lord could only imagine he had become much more so since taking on the mantle of the Lord of his family.

“Then we must increase our efforts to see him eliminated.”

“But how? It is not as though he can be reached in Hogwarts, at his home, or during the Wizengamot meetings,” Lucius pointed out.

“For now,” the Dark Lord conceded. “What say you, Bellatrix?”

In the months since she’d been liberated, she once more closely resembled the woman he remembered. Severus had done a remarkable job with all of them, and son enough, they would be ready to serve fully.

“Sirius is not a Black,” Bellatrix giggled. “He is nothing like any of us…”

“Most say he is like your grandfather,” Lucius interjected. “I do not remember Arcturus so well…”

Bellatrix cackled.

“My grandfather was weak in his later years. Pathetic. If Sirius is like him, it was when he outlived his usefulness.”

The Dark Lord wasn’t so sure of her assessment.

Thus far, Sirius Black had proven to be resourceful, clever, and had become among the most respected men in the country. It was a testament to him that he was able to compete with the likes of Lucius, even when the man was using underhand tactics to gain an advantage.

Not that it mattered.

He would not live much longer, after all, and the Dark Lord had other things on his mind beyond the troublesome man.

Potter.

The boy was key to cementing his position, and yet, there was still no word from Wormtail, despite the school year having come to an end.

Something was amiss, but the Dark Lord felt something of a relief as Barty entered the room from an equally lengthy absence, and he stood to greet him.

The man was smiling, and though he looked tired from his time away, it did not waver as he prostrated himself before his master.

“My Lord,” he greeted him.

“What news do you bring, Barty?”

“Little,” the man admitted, “but maybe something of use. Has Wormtail not returned?”

“He has not,” Voldemort muttered irritably, “nor has he sent word.”

Barty frowned.

“Perhaps he has fled.”

Perhaps he had, but the Dark Lord did not believe so. No, the rat would not do such a thing, not unless he felt he was safer elsewhere, and that simply was not true.

Something was amiss, troubling about his continued absence.

“So, did you manage to locate where I might find Black.”

“No, my lord,” Barty replied apologetically, “but I did manage to help Wormtail in his efforts. Every year, Ilvermorny opens its gates to the public for the Quodpot finale.”

“Quodpot?”

“It is similar to Quidditch, and it turns out that Potter is rather gifted on a broom, but it wasn’t the match I was interested in.”

He produced a stack of photographs, some depicting the game itself, the boy flying rather exceptionally, but it was the snaps of Harry Potter Barty had procured after the event that interested him.

“How did you get these?”

“I impersonated a photographer from New York, kidnapped him, and killed him after leaving the school.”

The Dark Lord hummed approvingly as he continued to flick through the collection.

“Wait, my lord, I know this one,” Lucius interjected, taking one of the photos. “She lied,” he whispered. “Draco asked her if she knew Potter, and she said she didn’t. She is Van Droombeeld’s daughter!”

Lord Voldemort frowned as he found the same girl in more photos with Potter, the two of them having snuck away for some time together from everyone else.

“Then perhaps we have what we need,” he said thoughtfully, piecing a plan together. “Lucius, I will need your assistance and send for Augustus. We will his assistance.”

“Of course, my lord,” Lucius acquiesced, leaving the room to do as he was bid.

Voldemort nodded to himself as he took in the several images of Harry with various girls and another boy his own age. Barty had done well to acquire them and had undoubtedly fought the urge to against him.

Not that it would’ve ended well for the man within the protections of the school.

No, he had done the right thing, and as he took in Potter’s features, there was an eerie familiarity about him, one that reminded him of that Halloween night more than a decade prior.

Yes, he looked much like his father was not so far from manhood where he could cause all manner of problems for him and his followers, but it wasn’t as though he would live to see it.

“Let us see just how much the girls means to you, Potter,” he mused aloud, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

(Break)

He watched from a distance as Harry petted the nose of the enormous dragon. Norbert had evidently been eating well, and had continued to grow since the dragon had arrived almost five years ago.

How Harry could be so calm around such a beast was beyond Sirius, but then again, Norbert had not taken to him much, if at all.

He tolerated Sirius, and he seemed to like Lily somewhat, though the woman was not so receptive.

Harry, however, had built quite the rapport with the Norwegian Ridgeback, who appeared much like a puppy having its belly rubbed.

It was quite the sight to behold, and more so as Norbert took to the sky, casting a large shadow over the ground below on his way back to the cave he called home.

With the dragon gone, Sirius approached and pulled his godson into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he murmured.

The boy tensed before releasing a deep breath.

“I’m pissed,” he admitted. “If I hadn’t found out the way I did, I’d be completely ignorant of what is expected of me.”

“Nothing is expected of…”

“Don’t. Don’t say that when we both know it isn’t true. Of course, it is expected. When the git stops hiding, who’s the first person they’re all going to think about? Me, and they will expect me to put a stop to him, like they think I did last time, and I’ll be doing that, but not for them. I’m doing it for me, for my Mum, and for my Dad.”

“But you won’t be doing it alone,” Sirius assured him.

“I know, but when it comes down to it, it will be me and him, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And there it was, that quiet confidence, that self-assuredness that Sirius wasn’t sure the origins of. James had been rather cocky, arrogant some of the time, and Lily had been a little bit of a know-it-all bordering on irritating at Harry’s age.

For all the similarities, there were some glaring differences between Harry and his parents, and they seemed to be coming more prominent the more he grew up.

“What happened with Wormtail?”

Harry’s expression darkened into something almost empty, yet terrifying.

“He’s dead, isn’t that all that matters?”

“Usually, I would agree, but…I need to know…”

“How much he suffered?”

Sirius nodded.

“By the time I was done with him, he was begging to die. He even cried, asking for his mother. He pleaded with me to kill him, but instead, I cut his eyes out, and stopped the bleeding so he wouldn’t die too quickly. He survived for another three hours. He suffered more than you can imagine.”

Once more, he saw something so unfamiliar in the boys’ eyes, something almost feral, a darkness so few possessed. Oddly, it did not concern Sirius, but it brought him a sense of comfort, a sense of hope that Harry might well just possess what it was he needed to put an end to Voldemort.

As much as he admired and respected Albus, he had lacked that killer instinct, as such, so had the Order under his leadership. This time, it needed to be different.

They needed to be prepared to do what was necessary to fully dismantle the Dark Lord and his followers, just as Harry was.

“Good, and one day, I hope you will share the memory of that with me.”

Harry nodded, and Sirius released a deep sigh.

“Want some ice cream?”

“I’m not five.”

“No, but you’re never too old for ice cream. Come on, don’t be a bloody spoil sport.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed. “We’ll get ice cream”

It had been quite the day.

Knowing that Harry had learned about the prophecy a year ago, had managed to hold himself together, and even get justice for James by killing Wormtail was a lot to take in for Sirius.

A part of him felt as though he’d failed the boy, but equally, he was proud of Harry for coping so well.

Even so, he knew that moving forward, there could be no more secrets. It would only end badly for all of them, and though Harry was still only fifteen, almost sixteen, he was no mere boy.

Throughout his life, he had endured more than most ever would, and yet, his shoulders remained firm under the burden on them.

“Coffee?” Emmeline asked amusedly as she entered the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

“Just coffee,” Sirius confirmed with a chuckle. “Want some?”

“No, I need to sleep,” she yawned, stretching her hands towards the ceiling. “I’ve been on guard duty for two days.”

“Then you should probably sleep,” he urged.

In an ideal world, he’d be able to pull the guard completely, but if he was to do that, and Voldemort was, as expected, aware of their presence, the man would grow suspicious as to why they were no longer present.

“Bugger it, I’ll have a coffee,” the woman decided, taking the seat next to him.

“And maybe a shower?”

“I don’t smell.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit, Sirius Black,” she sighed, frowning thoughtfully.

“What is it?”

Emmeline released a deep breath.

“Probably nothing, but I was certain I heard something out of the ordinary, or felt it, at least. It only happened once, but…”

She shrugged as she took a sip from the cup Sirius poured her.

“You’re certain?”

“No, I mean, I was, but maybe I’m just exhausted.”

Sirius hummed.

“Well, we know others have been there.”

“Not tonight, not at first, at least, but I don’t think they were near me, or if they were, I couldn’t feel them. I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry,” Sirius comforted taking her hand across the table. “I’ll speak with Arthur and Sturgis. Go on, get some rest.”

Emmeline nodded as she stood, offering him an appreciative smile before leaving the room. Only a moment later, he heard the fireplace flare into life, and again shortly after, but it wasn’t Emmeline returning.

Moody entered the room and handed Sirius a slip of parchment.

“From Dung.”

Sirius unfurled the missive, which contained only two words hurriedly written in an untidy scrawl.

He’s Recruiting

Sirius nodded tiredly.

“That means he is preparing something big.”

“Aye,” Moody concurred, “but what?”

Sirius frowned.

It could well pertain to the prophecy, but he didn’t think so.

No, he would want to handle that situation delicately, not with a show of force. That, however, only meant he believed he had that in hand and was planning beyond it.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“Potter?”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, he won’t do anything until he has the prophecy, and that isn’t going to happen.”

“Black, we can’t…”

“No, Alastor, it won’t happen because Harry already took it.”

Moody’s non-magical eye widened.

“You took him? When?”

“No, I didn’t,” Sirius said sadly. “He retrieved the night Albus was killed. He’s known about it ever since.”

“Bloody hell,” Moody cursed, his magical eye spinning frantically in its socket as he pondered the implications.

He unleashed a bark of laughter.

“Well, we have one thing that has gone right,” he declared. “If he doesn’t have that, he will be cautious…”

“Or the opposite,” Sirius pointed out. “For now, until he has made a clear attempt to take it, Harry is safe enough, but after…”

“I know, lad,” Alastor sighed, “but it is still a small victory for us.”

Sirius nodded.

“With another,” he murmured. “He killed Wormtail.”

“Potter did?”

“He captured him at Ilvermorny. I don’t know all of the details, but enough that Harry tore him to pieces.”

“Good,” Alastor praised. “The little shit deserved it. Does he know?”

“I doubt it, but it won’t take long now that the school year is over. He’ll put two and two together.”

“Aye, and then what?”

Sirius released a deep breath.

“We will wait for his reaction. He won’t let it lie, even if it is the rat.”

“Aye, he won’t,” Moody agreed. “We must be ready to react.”

“React to what?”

Moody nodded darkly.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” he grumbled.