Unforeseen Trials (Completed)

A hard prod to the ribs erupted Tonks from her slumber.

"Miss Tonksy!" A high-pitched voice squeaked.

' What in the hell did I do to deserve this?' She thought to herself, opening her eyes slightly to see a long, green finger prepared to prod her again.

"I'm up, I'm up!" She growled.

It took most of Hogwarts less than a week to realize that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was not a morning person; her regular absence at breakfast had forced the Hogwarts rumor mill into overdrive.

She either had a drinking problem, or a lover, or she was leading a group of Piddlydinks, whatever the hell that was, to overthrow the government.

Sitting up in her bed, the young metamorphmagus frowned at the intrusion, shortening her black hair from its usual shoulder length to that of a more manageable pixie cut, Tonks proceeded to interlock her fingers before stretching her arms above her head, letting a loud groan escape her lips.

She grimaced slightly as she did so, sore from her intense training session the night before.

Training for a professional duel was different than training for battle with Albus; the later contained more moving pieces, a larger area, and required a greater level of patience; while the former was fast, simplistic, and sometimes brutal.

The truth was, while she enjoyed the biweekly training sessions with Dumbledore, she missed the roar of the crowd, and the payday that came with it. While the allure of adding "Hogwarts Professor" to her resume was hard to pass up, it wasn't exactly the highest-paying job.

If she won, the Boxing Day Invitational would satisfy both her need for adulation and money till her contract ended in June.

"What time is it?" She asked the elf next to her as she stood up, waiting for Lizzy to give her instructions.

"It is 5:15 Miss Tonksy, Headmaster Dumbly is needing yours presence."

She smiled softly at the young house elf, dismissing her with the promise that she would be up to Dumbledore's office shortly.

Looking through her wardrobe, she fingered her dragonskin battle robes softly before pulling them out and putting them on, the events of the last few years having left her paranoid.

' Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.' Dumbledore wouldn't be asking for her at this hour if it wasn't an emergency.

Her shoes echoed off the winding stone staircase beneath her feet as she ran her way up towards the office of Albus Dumbledore.

"Come in." A tired voice replied before she could even knock on the door.

For a moment she wondered if it was her heavy steps, or something else that gave her presence away.

' Probably both.' She thought as she made her way across the room and towards the wizened warlock.

' Tired' Tonks thought to herself as she grasped his hand. 'He looks tired.'

Absent were the eccentric nightgowns and jovial smile, their place taken by a midnight purple - almost black nightgown.

Dark circles had formed under his light-blue eyes, and his skin seemed to droop more than usual; all of which was accompanied by a tired, uncertain grimace.

In that moment, Albus Dumbledore seemed so much smaller than his somewhat tall frame.

He smiled sadly at her attire.

"No need for battle robes, Nymphadora." He responded - a mixture of amusement and sadness in his voice.

A confused look came across her face at his perplexing tone; "what happened, sir?"

He motioned for her to sit, pouring them each a tall glass of brandy.

She did the best to hide her surprise at the gesture, to no avail.

"I'm afraid we'll both need it."

' At this hour?'

A tremor went through her as a whirlwind of possibilities played through her mind.

A defeated look came across Dumbledore's face before taking a rather large sip of the golden liquid, closing his eyes for a long moment.

"This morning the night-nurse at St. Mungo's found Sirius dead in his bed."

The proclamation shook her.

Sirius was an enigma of a man.

The daughter of Andromeda Black had met Sirius on several occasions before his stay in Azkaban, though she could barely remember those times.

Her mind was filled with vague glimpses of memories that she could barely comprehend - stealing a much younger Sirius's wand when he had his back turned, Padfoot chasing his own tail, a pair of teens laughing, one of whom had incredibly messy black hair.

And like that he was gone with no explanation.

It took her years to figure out the truth - Sirius Black had betrayed his best friend to Voldemort.

It was a reality she had had to live with throughout her time at Hogwarts as the first Black relative to enter the school since his betrayal.

She would never forget that day her mother had told her she had received a letter from cousin Sirius, proclaiming his innocence and requesting a meeting.

She had begged her mother not to go, and when Andromeda wouldn't concede, she insisted on accompanying her.

And like that he was back in her life again, to her families benefit.

Being restored into the Black lineage had brought her family respect, and an encouraging friend who supported her endlessly.

Sirius had been that older brother who was always there with whatever you needed - whether it was a shoulder to cry on, or a glass of firewhiskey.

And like that he was gone again, this time permanently.

"How?" Her voice trembled as she whispered, in too much shock to speak louder, or even move.

"St. Mungo's still has to run diagnostics, but the suspect he had an allergic reaction to a potions ingredient."

' How did they mess that up?'

"I suspect that he was injected with a poison."

A solitary tear ran down her cheek; outside of her parents, Sirius was the closest thing she had had to a family, and now he was gone.

"I mean how?" She asked, wiping another tear from her face. "He was under 24-hour security."

The headmaster gave her a sad, contemplative look. "I am not sure; I suspect Death Eaters found a weakness in the security."

Tonks took a large sip of her brandy before allowing her head to fall into her lap.

She cried quietly for several minutes. Sirius had been a kind and generous man; despite his cursed history, she had never seen him treat others unfairly.

Sirius had also been the last male in his family.

"What do you think will happen to the Black Estate?" She asked, looking for confirmation.

"I imagine that Mr. Potter will inherit the majority of the wealth and responsibilities of the Black family."

The statement hadn't caught her off guard; besides being Sirius's godson, Harry's great aunt had been born a Black, he would have been deemed a worthy heir, regardless of his direct relation to Sirius.

Dumbledore looked at her apologetically. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, especially right now, but I need you to convince Harry to name you as his proxy for both the Black and Potter families."

' How dare he.'

Her face narrowed, and her teeth sharpened; "don't you make the death of my cousin an opportunity to consolidate power, Albus." She hissed.

The older wizard met her glare with a stern look.

"Grow up, Nymphadora." His tone caught her off guard. Albus's tone had a range that normally fell between 'jovial' and 'disappointed.'

Condescending was new for him.

"War is coming, it is likely that Harry, and by extension you are the only person with two votes in the Wizengamot, those votes are going to be needed if we are going to win this war."

She frowned in uncertainty; in a practical sense, he was right, but the lack of humanity in his request was disturbing.

"If Sirius thought the family should be entrusted to Harry, and he names me as his proxy, I will vote as he wishes, I will advise him to the best of my ability but will ultimately leave the decisions on which way to vote up to him." The metamorphmagus said with more confidence then she felt, standing up as she did so.

"If you'll excuse me, headmaster; I think I should be the one to tell Harry of his godfathers death."

With that Tonks checked the time and let out a sigh of relief before quickly leaving the headmasters office and returning to her own; leaving her plenty of time to cry before meeting with Harry.

She felt Harry's attitude shift the second he had a proper moment to take a look at her.

His carefree smile had turned to anxiety as he fidgeted in his chair.

How did she tell him that his godfather was dead?

' Why did I volunteer for this?'

She chided herself for her cowardice, it had to be her.

She felt her eyes begin to water, and Harry's face turned to concern.

"Is everything alright, Tonks?" He asked, conjuring a box of tissues with a flick of his wand.

They went untouched, for the moment as she composed herself.

"Sirius was murdered this morning at St. Mungo's."

A rainbow of emotions passed over his face, before a mask of indifference overcame him.

His reaction surprised her.

"What happened?"

She stared at him for a long moment, lost within herself.

"Tonks?" Harry interrupted.

"We aren't sure, Dumbledore suspects it was poison. We suspect it was a Death Eater."

He nodded before standing up and turning away from her and towards her small window overlooking the lake.

She could hear a soft sob and saw him wipe away a tear.

Internally she felt a sigh of relief.

He turned around, perfectly composed, several seconds later.

Instead of pushing, she paused.

' Let him process it.' She thought, before pressing forward.

"You were the one of the last ones to see him alive; what did the two of you talk about, last week?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he squared his shoulders slightly, as though preparing to duel.

' What the fuck did I say?'

"Why?"

His tone was dangerous and full of suspicion.

"I was just curious, Harry." She said calmly. "If you want, I can excuse you from class today."

His shoulders slumped slightly.

He sighed, running his fingers through his messy black hair.

"No, thank you." His tone more cordial than friendly. "Thanks for telling me, Tonks."

He stepped out of the floo, and into the dimly lit, sparsely decorated, sitting room.

The mood was glum as societies elites milled about.

Voldemort scanned the room carefully, smiling at Lucius as he made his way towards him.

"Bartemius, it's good to see you could make it." The blonde haired man said respectfully, playing the part of an aristocrat perfectly

He smiled thinly back at the blonde man adorned in black robes with bone-white hems.

"Lord Malfoy, I wouldn't dare miss the opportunity to pay my respects to such a fine man."

He was only partially lying; while Sirius Black was an adversary, he was still a wizard, and a skilled one at that, it was a shame that he had to die.

The chameleon wore the mask of a grieving Wizengamot member well; and after a few minutes of small talk, Voldemort casually moved along, taking time to take in the bland-luxury throughout the room, awaiting the start of eulogies.

The death of such a prominent member of society called for more than the typical private, family ceremony generally reserved for the dead.

He eyed the crowd with interest as he glanced around the room.

The entire Wizengamot had shown up for the occasion, and like Lucius they wore the traditional plain black robes with a white hem that signified the death of a member.

At a later date, they would swear Potter in as both the head of House Potter and House Black, an unfortunate event, but one that wouldn't shift the balance - it was unlikely that Potter would vote differently than Black would have, making the sacrifice worth the loss.

After all, secrets won wars.

He spotted Amelia Bones speaking with an anxious Amos Diggory.

The curly haired brunette was gesturing wildly with his hands as the patriarch of the Bones family stared stone-faced back at him.

He had never had much of a need to interact with Diggory in his previous life, but his present predicament dictated he keep a schedule, and part of that schedule was fulfilling the duties of the head of the 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

Part of him found the mundane life amusing.

Hiding under the nose of his former adversaries, like the competent Amelia Bones, had provided its fair share of entertainment.

A much larger part found dealing with anxiety-riddled fools like Diggory aggravating.

The scene caused him to think of Bellatrix.

"We are ready for you." A non-distinct man called out to the assembled crowd, as they slowly made their way into the opulent atrium the ministry reserved for the death of a member of the Sacred 28.

As he made his way through the door, and into the dimly lit, circular room he saw Lucius separating from Octavius.

Catching his eye, he slipped into the man's mind with ease.

" Tell our friend that Damocles will be on duty that evening."

He pulled away.

Lucius had come through.

' So had Octavius.'

Having a sympathetic auror squadron on duty would make Bellatrix's task simpler.

Crouch took his seat and watched in impatience as Nymphadora Tonks, then Albus Dumbledore spoke about the impossibly tragic life of Sirius Black.

The two speakers each finished their speeches to moderate applause as the audience eagerly awaited Potter's speech.

Whispers broke out around him, and his back straightened as the next speaker took the podium.

"Good afternoon."

Harry Potter's voice started firm, but he detected a slight quiver, and his body language lacked the incredible confidence it displayed during the tournament and in Snape's memories.

' He's not used to public speaking.'

He listened half-heartedly as the boy spoke, instead taking a chance to observe how he handled himself.

He had watched as Potter pranced around Hogwarts makeshift arena, dismantling his older opponents with ease before nearly killing his opponent a few weeks prior.

He had watched the memory of Potter forcing Severus on the defensive with an inventive, and brutal combination during one of their training sessions.

And he had watched Vector's memory of the boy chase away several dementors at the beginning of his third year.

Harry Potter was impressive with a wand, and, if Vector was to be believed, he had a brilliant mind.

He watched green eyes dart around the room, eying the exits and examining the crowd with distrust.

' He's paranoid.'

And rightfully so.

Potter's speech paused briefly, and for a moment Crouch caught his eye, and easily slipped into his mind.

Onstage, Potter rubbed his forehead absentmindedly, and Voldemort delved carefully into the boy's surface thoughts, not daring to dig deeper.

The child in Potter desperately wanted to blame this on him, and Malfoy, and Lestrange, and any other Death Eater.

But Voldemort could sense his trepidation, deep-down Potter knew he wouldn't be taken seriously.

Voldemort slipped out of his mind before he made a decision, wanting to hear his choice as he made it.

Potter had the chance to publicly blame those he deemed responsible. The press would eat it up, but the proclamation would be met with skepticism.

The public already thought Potter was a danger, calling attention to the natural death of Sirius Black would not end well for him.

He listened as Potter closed his speech, void of emotion, with no mention of a conspiracy, and smiled.

"What did you say, Goldstein?"

The calm voice echoed off the stone corridor around the corner and through the slightly ajar door of her classroom, stealing her attention away from the stack of essays in front of her.

She let out a sigh, jumping to her feet to go handle the brewing. The menacing nature of the familiar tone causing her to move with a bit of haste.

' He's not handling this well.'

Tonks frowned. His godfathers murder had changed him.

"Mr. Potter!" She cried out in alarm as she eyed the scene in front of her.

Stuck against the wall, with a wand to his throat was Anthony Goldstein.

Harry lowered his wand but did nothing to remove his housemate from the wall, allowing him to hang like a fly in a spiders web.

"Mr. Goldstein, what happened?" She asked, removing the Ravenclaw from the wall.

The tall, lanky boy had an arrogant air about him, reminding her of Lucius's kid.

That thought caused her to pause.

" Minerva had just been made aware of Draco Malfoy, Anthony Goldstein, and Daniel Avery practicing obliviation in an unused classroom, Tonks."

"Harry and I got in an argument this morning at breakfast about his dueling tactics, he attacked me as I walked away."

"Bullshit!" Harry yelled, his wand in his hand again.

Septima's warning aligned with Dumbledore's thoughts on that particular trio, and she came to a snap decision.

"Mr. Potter." She growled in warning, offering him what she hoped was a stern glare; before shifting her focus to Goldstein.

"As his dueling coach I have no problem with his dueling tactics." She said in a somewhat testy tone.

' And your story is bullshit.'

"Though he is a bit of a hothead." She agreed readily.

That wasn't bullshit.

The defense professor thought about her options and smiled.

"Two weeks detention to be served with myself and Professor Snape, for attacking a student - Mr. Potter."

At the mention of Snape, Goldstein's face widened.

Harry's smile was more of a slight smirk.

"If you'd follow me to my office, Mr. Potter, we can schedule your detentions."

They walked quietly till her door shut behind her.

"Thanks, Tonks -" He began, but she cut him off.

"What the HELL was that, Harry?" She shouted, thankful for the charms silencing her office.

Harry's face contorted into a snarl, an expression of hatred briefly flashed across his face.

And then it was gone as if she'd imagined the whole thing, in its place was a mask of calm anger.

"He was making fun of Sirius, and all but accused me of playing a part in his death."

Tonks felt herself shifting into her natural form, her diamond-shaped face narrowing in contained anger.

"So, you attack him? I thought you were smarter than that, isn't that what you always say? Don't you pride yourself on being better than everybody else?"

He deflated but didn't respond.

She calmed herself.

"We're worried about you." She said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You haven't grieved."

She didn't see him shed a tear; not when he was told of Sirius's death, nor when he delivered his eulogy a few days later.

Outside a brief moment, neither she nor Septima had seen Harry mourn Sirius's loss; there had, however, been several slight changes to his personality.

Harry eyed her suspiciously.

' One of those changes.' She thought, remembering how closed off he became when she had pushed him on what Sirius had told him before his death.

He seemed to determine her question as innocent enough before staring down at his shoes briefly.

"Just because you haven't seen me grieve, doesn't mean I haven't." He started softly.

"I have grieved."

His shoulders sagged as he whispered; "Sirius was my godfather. He was the most important person in my life."

Unshed tears sat in his eyes as she considered his words.

Was she being quick to judge? Maybe she should talk to Daphne.

Tonks had never seen him so vulnerable.

"You don't need to grieve alone, Harry. I lost him to, you can always come to me."

Her response sounded weak to her ears, and she frowned.

He scoffed. "It's not the same."

She frowned in anger before controlling herself.

' You volunteered for this, Nymphadora!' She chided herself.

"What do you mean, it's not the same?"

"Sirius is the only family I've ever known." His voice cracked, and a tear made its way down his cheek.

"You can see your family any time, I'll never see what's left of mine again.

The Dursleys treated me like an elf." He spat. "My parents were murdered." His voice trailed off and he stared at a spot behind the wall.

Growing up she had heard stories about the great Harry Potter, the hero who had defeated 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

He was the ultimate underdog; a child who possessed something within himself to defeat the most powerful dark lord in recent history.

A one year old accomplished what even the great Albus Dumbledore could not.

He was the embodiment of hope.

Harry Potter was a living fairytale because of death.

It was horribly tragic.

"Sirius was all I had," he started sadly. "Now all I have left of him is some gold, some property, and some titles." He finished bitterly.

' That may be the understatement of the year.' That portfolio contained millions of galleons, and several properties.

"You have me." She said seriously. "And Daphne, and Septima, and Remus." She counted the names off one by one on her fingers.

He smiled, and they sat in silence for several minutes.

"Every night this week at 7 you will meet me for detention, except for Thursday."

Harry gave her a confused look.

"What's Thursday?"

She smiled brightly; "you're meeting with the Headmaster."

His eyes glanced briefly towards the windows as he rounded the corners and exhaled softly when he was sure he was finally alone.

Harry had spent the last twenty minutes weaving through Hogwarts, trying to lose whomever was tailing him.

He had gone back to the girls loo on the second floor twice since he and Daphne had attempted to access the Chamber of Secrets, and on both occasions, he had gotten the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

'Why' was obvious and presented its own concerns, the real question is how somebody could know that he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was.

Or did they know? Maybe they just spent a lot of time in that part of the castle and were curious as to why he was intruding?

' Or maybe they're just following me and have know idea what I'm doing down there.'

Either way, he needed to find out 'who' was following him.

Five minutes, three quick turns and a brief passageway later, he ascended the stairs towards the headmasters office, eager to get the meeting over with.

He had dreaded this meeting for two days.

The first two nights of 'detention' with Tonks had been spent in the Forbidden Forest, where they passed the time tracking and evading each other.

He was shit at finding her, and honestly had no interest in improving, he had no intention of needing to track someone.

Fortunately, the snakes of the forest make for great spies.

After ninety minutes Tonks declared him a "natural" at both tracking and evading, much to his delight, and promised that Friday they would get "back to the basics."

He suspected the reason they had spent time in the forest was because she wanted to give him a few days to process the death of Sirius before letting him try and curse her.

He fought a yawn as he entered the office.

Despite his lack of interest in tracking and evading, the brief time he had explored the forest had spurred interest in him. In his three and a half years at Hogwarts he had been too busy exploring the castle to worry too much about the vast forest that bordered the lake and backed up to the mountains.

Albus Dumbledore peered up from a stack of parchment, briefly meeting his eyes.

"Good evening, Harry."

He found himself stifling another yawn.

No matter how far he pushed himself, Harry had found sleep hard to come by over the last week.

"Good evening, Headmaster."

' I wonder what we'll talk about first?'

His godfather, he supposed.

Prior to Hogwarts, his life had been a maelstrom of neglect and despair, then he learnt of magic, and things improved, but things weren't normal until he had met his father's best friend.

His godfather had done more than just provide for, and encourage, him. Sirius had provided him with a safety net, shielding him from the darkness of society, allowing him the opportunity to have some semblance of a childhood.

In a lot of ways that Sirius died in St. Mungo's two weeks ago.

He had barely recognized his godfather in the hospital.

The Sirius he knew made fart jokes and played small pranks on people in Diagon Alley.

He had provided him with a sense of normalcy he had never had.

While his godfather had been honest with him regarding most topics, he had never been forthcoming - that had changed the last time they had met.

Kind, jovial, and compassionate. That was the Sirius Black he would remember.

The headmaster flicked his wand and Harry watched intently as Dumbledore's cluttered desk quickly began to pick itself up before each item marched their way to their proper spot in the office.

He watched with amusement as a snow globe hopped itself off Dumbledore's desk, gently floating to the ground where it hopped three times before placing itself on a shelf several meters off the ground.

"An animation charm with a featherlight enchantment and some sort of spring enchantment." He stated, more to himself than Dumbledore.

"That would work, I suppose." The headmaster postulated, his left hand running through his thick beard.

"Why would I use an animation charm, Harry?"

He frowned in humiliation at being wrong.

If the tragic death of Professor McGonagall had a silver lining, it was having Professor Dumbledore teach the subject he was most passionate about.

Harry had come to treasure sixth year Transfiguration, and he planned on taking full advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself.

The answer was obvious, when he thought about it.

"Only a novice would."

How embarrassing.

In his rush to show off he had given an inefficient answer.

"If you were using a charm, you would have charmed all three; if you can enchant the other two, you can enchant the animation as well.

After that it's a simple activation charm."

Professor Dumbledore smiled.

"Very good, Harry."

He nodded politely at the praise, still upset at himself.

Looking to make up for it, he flicked his wrist, conjuring a comfortable looking leather armchair.

The Transfiguration Master examined the chair thoroughly before nodding his head in approval.

"Your studies are progressing well."

One of Albus Dumbledore's more under appreciated talents was his ability to gather information.

He had often wondered how many of his secrets the headmaster knew.

' Maybe he's the one who has been following me?'

He dismissed that thought immediately; Dumbledore didn't need to follow him personally.

' On his orders then?'

"They are."

And they were. His deep dive into wards, specifically those blocking the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, were starting to pay dividends, and he was using an ever increasing combination of curses and transfiguration pieces in his duels.

More than that, he had begun to design his first ward scheme.

The challenge was intoxicating.

His other studies had been neglected, though.

' Maybe it's time to change my routine?'

Dumbledore stood slowly, taking time to examine a picture on his desk.

The headmaster passed him the picture a second later.

It took a second for him to process what he was seeing, he had seen so few pictures of them, and never one like this.

"Minerva took that." He said sadly. "On the day they graduated from Hogwarts."

The sun was low in the sky, casting large shadows across the Black Lake as the squid played off in the distance.

Watching it play was a woman with thick, wavy, red hair and familiar green eyes lying on the broad chest of a hazel-eyed man with messy black hair.

His parents laughed as a big, black dog ran into the frame, interrupting their peace to mark his territory on a rock near the shoreline.

"This was taken a few minutes before their engagement."

Harry stared shocked.

"They were only 17!"

It was a stupid comment. Neither of his parents lived to be 22, and they were married when he was born.

Dumbledore smiled.

"They were in love and there was a war going on." He started. "Your father told me he didn't want to waste time waiting."

He processed that information for a moment as Dumbledore continued.

"You have Lily's work ethic and passion for learning; with James's, and Sirius's, aggression."

Harry frowned slightly at the ambiguous comment.

"Do you disapprove?"

' To anything I'm doing?'

He couldn't imagine the man did, he had enabled him, after all.

"Not in the slightest."

He relaxed slightly.

"Your parents, and their friends were remarkable young men and women." Dumbledore started morosely, a sad smile on his face.

"Your father and his friends - Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin -"

Harry noticed how he seemed to purposefully leave out any mention of Pettigrew.

"Used to run around the school utilizing the various passages to play pranks, they called themselves the Marauders."

Sirius used to tell him all about the group whenever he got drunk with Remus.

He smiled fondly at those memories, the pair would go on for hours about Hogwarts, repeating stories as they went.

It was sad, really. Neither had been able to move on from Hogwarts, and with Sirius gone, he suspected Remus never would.

"Their favorite targets used to be Slytherins, and their favorite Slytherin to target used to be Severus Snape."

Snape was always an uncomfortable topic at Grimmauld Place; while Sirius didn't feel great about tormenting Snape, he insisted that the bullying was mutual.

"In their fifth year, your father and Sirius saw a young Lily Evans talking to her childhood friend, Severus Snape, after class. Sirius, in what he insisted was an innocent prank, challenged Severus to a duel, at midnight near the womping willow, on a full moon."

' Remus.'

Dumbledore eyed him, no surprise on his face at his knowing Remus's secret.

"I see you have figured it out."

"What happened?"

' Was Snape a werewolf?'

"Your father stopped Severus from attending the duel, probably saving his life."

The headmasters face turned serious.

"I heard what happened between you and Mr. Goldstein, Harry."

He had the decency to look at the floor in shame.

But only for a second.

"I was only trying to scare him."

"You can't threaten other students, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed in anger.

"But he can spread lies about me with no consequence?"

He wasn't about to let that happen.

"Rise above it, Harry."

' Do I want to have this conversation?'

Arguing wouldn't get him back to his study any sooner.

"I'll try."

"Good." Dumbledore said in delight. "I was hoping to discuss a rather insensitive, but urgent issue with you."

Harry nodded his head, motioning for the headmaster to continue.

"I was hoping to restart the Order of the Phoenix, and I wish to use Grimmauld Place as its headquarters."

There was no way Albus Dumbledore was running a paramilitary group out of his home.

"I have a portfolio of properties you can use, but not Grimmauld Place."

He thought for a second.

"I believe I have a small island in the North Sea with a cottage or two on it, you can use that as long as I can join your club."

Dumbledore frowned; "London would be much more convenient, Harry."

"Magic makes it convenient, and you're not in a position to make demands, Albus." Harry replied.

The false kindness in his voice was the only skill he had learned from Petunia Dursley.

"Harry, your parents were very generous to the Order in the past, I'm sure they would want you to help the cause."

His parents had been happy to let the Order of the Phoenix meet at Potter Manor.

In retrospect, it was probably Pettigrew that gave up Potter Manor to Voldemort.

"And because of their kindness my 150 year old family home was burnt to the ground."

"Fine." Dumbledore replied curtly, clearly upset at being refused. "Any property you can sacrifice would be nice."

He smiled; "I'll key you into the wards over holiday."

Harry stood up and his chair disappeared.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ward scheme to get to."

Despite his obvious annoyance, Harry could have sworn he saw a pleased smile cross the old headmasters face as he left the legendary office.

"He's a parselmouth?"

"Yes, my lord. My spy has confirmed it."

Outside of eliminating the Potters, and attempting to eliminate their son, he hadn't given much thought to the prophecy.

Though he was beginning to rethink that approach; the boy was beginning to show too much potential to ignore.

He gazed intensely at the diamond-shaped face of Bellatrix Lestrange, and he knew immediately.

"He's found the Chamber."

Bellatrix met his gaze; "he has."

Septima Vector was turning out to be more valuable than he had anticipated.

Part of him was tempted to watch Potter try and breach the vast chamber he had frequented in his youth.

But he couldn't. Whether true or not, the prophecy was making Harry Potter too dangerous to let live.

He stood up with a grace unfitting of his hosts disgusting body and reached out, caressing one of her cheeks with his palm.

She shivered involuntarily at his touch, the simple shutter causing him to smile.

"If your spy does their part, Bellatrix, then nothing he discovers will be important."

' If the spy didn't do their part, they would die.'

Her gaze hardened, she understood his message; "of course."

He stopped her as she turned to walk away.

"Do not fail me, Bellatrix."

Her smile oozed confidence.

"Do not worry about me, my lord."

A streak of mustard yellow flashed at her from her left, causing Tonks to dodge the unfamiliar spell, letting it crash into the wards behind them.

Dueling Bill Weasley was different than dueling Albus, or on the circuit.

Bill wasn't a natural born dueler. He didn't possess elite athleticism, or a particularly large repertoire.

The spells he did use were meant to be used on mummies, creatures, and raiders, and they were more often than not, deadly.

" I know plenty of spells, Tonks. It's just none of them can be used safely in our practice duels."

She returned fire, hitting the curse-breaker in the face with a bone-breaker.

Bill's nose, or what was left of it, was spouting blood outwards.

Undeterred, he returned fire with a combination of curses she didn't recognize, mixed with a mess of nastiness.

She grinned as she pirouetted out of the way, causing the wards to hum as the spells crashed against them.

The older man was one tough son of a bitch, that much she was sure of.

She returned fire, but none of her spells found their mark.

Her grin turned into a frown as she felt the wards surrounding the room wane under the constant onslaught.

"TIME!" She yelled.

Bill held his fire, taking a second to repair his shattered nose.

Tonks watched as the shattered bone fragments began to reassemble themselves where his nose used to be while Bill grimaced in pain.

"It hurts like a motherfucker." He grunted out as she continued to watch in fascination.

"But it's the only way I know to reconstruct it perfectly."

"Why'd we stop?" He followed up.

"I felt the wards quake." She frowned. There had never been problems before.

Bill, his nose now back to normal, nodded his head. "Do you mind?"

Differing to his expertise, she observed silently as he worked.

Tonks watched in puzzlement as Bill ran several diagnostic spells in front of her before coming to some sort of conclusion.

"Do you know who laid this newest layer of wards?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"I assume one of the Blacks, maybe Sirius?"

They were utilizing the expanded dueling arena at Grimmauld Place; just because Harry didn't want Albus sneaking around his home didn't mean he had banished her.

"Too new. Whoever put these up did so within the last week."

"How can you tell?"

Bill paused for a second.

"Because this is my ward scheme, it was published in the Quarterly on Monday."

She was mildly surprised at the declaration; Bill seemed like the type to hoard his secrets.

"Why did you publish it?"

He frowned. "It was part of my Masters in Warding."

She was about to butt in, but he interrupted her. "Thesis's are public domain. I had it published discreetly. Someone must have found it and decided to run some experiments."

"What do they do?"

"They're meant for indoor use in magical homes, they utilize the magic in the home to power the wards, drawing energy in from its surroundings, you can weave them into anything. When done properly they will continue to increase in power."

He grinned slightly. "Pretty clever usage, actually… until they gave out."

"I bet it was Harry, then." She stated matter of factly. "Septima said he's brilliant at the subject."

If someone was going to get it wrong, it would have been Harry.

Bill nodded. "I'll have to sit down with him, show him how to do it properly."

She nodded in agreement.

"Alright, Red. What do you got for me?"

He laughed at her nickname for him.

"Not much. Rookwood has been to Little Hangleton - a muggle town - several times in the last month."

' What was a Death Eater doing in a muggle town if he wasn't massacring the entire village?'

"What did Gramps have to say?"

He rolled his eyes. "Thanked me, that's it. But he didn't seem surprised."

Like that meant anything.

Dumbledore had a great poker face.

"Your turn."

She debated what to tell him, not wanting to give him too much.

"A few days before her death, McGonagall got word from a student that Daniel Avery was teaching Anthony Goldstein and Draco Malfoy how to obliviate someone."

He furrowed his brow in thought; "who did she tell?"

"I don't know."

The room got quiet as soon as they stepped through the doorway.

Daphne gave his hand a comforting squeeze as he gazed around the pub suspiciously.

The murder of his godfather had left him weary, it didn't help that Professor Flitwick had been poisoned in this pub.

"I wonder if that bitch planned it this way." Daphne asked with a scowl.

He didn't like the scowl adorning her pretty features. Her smile, her sincerity, her confidence, even her glare - all were attractive.

But not her scowl; Daphne's scowl drew out her displeasure, her annoyance, and her superiority.

Some of her worst features.

"I'm not sure." He responded, guiding his heavily-bundled girlfriend towards a table in the back corner.

Skeeter had made a career out of exposing secrets, and since the death of Sirius, she had set her sights on Harry, and, by extension Daphne and the entire Greengrass family.

Expose's on both him, and the entire Greengrass family had made him furious, and drew out the ire of Alfred, who had warned the pair of this mornings 'Prophet.'

The whispers barely died down as the "most politically influential couple in centuries" took a seat in the corner with their backs to the wall.

Suddenly the Greengrass' held an influential seat in the Wizengamot, again.

Daphne cast a set of powerful privacy charms before facing him.

"How are you doing?" He rolled his eyes.

After giving him several days to grieve, she had taken to asking him "how he was doing" at random intervals.

"Angry, sad, bored, thirsty."

She rolled her eyes back at him, but let the topic go. She never pushed - or at least she knew better than to push in public.

Her eyes wandered over to Lily, who appeared to be having a rather unpleasant conversation with Anthony Goldstein.

He pitied his dark-haired friend, who had been assigned Goldstein as her partner in Charms.

He had found himself partnered with Nott.

Professor Avery must have thought the pairing would be an inconvenience, but, in all honesty, it had given him back his Saturday morning breakfast.

"Have you ever considered what you're going to do now?"

The question caught him off guard, causing him to shift slightly in his chair.

What was he going to do?

Tough times were coming, and whether he liked it or not he would likely play a big role in the coming war.

Voldemort was unlikely to leave the prophecy - real or not - unfulfilled.

But what more could he do? He was already pushing himself to the limit, he literally had no more time to devout.

' Maybe if I add some variety to my studies?'

He had been meaning to.

Tom Riddle had had incredibly diverse interests. From the standard topics taught at Hogwarts, to rituals, mind-magic, and even magical creatures, the teenager who became Voldemort was never satisfied with mastering just one topic.

Yet he was focused on wards, charms, battle, and transfiguration.

"The last time I saw him, Sirius told me that the healers discovered he had been obliviated, and that he was working to recover the memory."

People had been murdered for less, and if his godfather had known something that could shift the balance, then the Death Eaters couldn't let him survive.

A concerned look crossed Daphne's normally stoic features.

"I wonder what he knew?"

His mind shifted back to the vial his godfather had given him, untouched since that day.

' What could be so important that Death Eaters would take such a risk?'

St. Mungo's, especially the ward dedicated to the members of the Wizengamot, was supposed to be almost as secure as the Ministry of Magic, so what happened?"

The question had drove him spare over the last week; 'how corrupt can the government be?'

They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying their butterbeers, and each other's company.

From next to him Daphne chuckled.

"What?" He said in curiosity, the gesture catching him off guard.

Daphne didn't chuckle, she had too much control of her emotions.

But she didn't respond, her chuckle turning into full-blown laughter.

He followed her finger to the source of her entertainment, and immediately understood what had caught her attention.

Outside their silent dome, the entire bar was laughing at a giant, squawking Draco Malfoy, complete with a wide beak, large wings, and light-gold feathers.

Gesturing wildly on top of a table were Fred and George Weasley, who seemed to be pitching some sort of pastry.

Daphne wore a large grin; "I think I just found Astoria's Christmas gift."

He smiled at the slightly devious tone her voice carried.

A moment later the deviousness was gone, replaced by something different.

He saw a flash of uncertainty in her green eyes, causing him to squeeze her hand reflexively in reassurance.

"Would you like to spend Christmas day, leading up to the ball, with my family?"

For most of his life Christmas had been spent like any other day.

Then Sirius had come into his life, and Christmas had held meaning.

She took his lack of immediate response as uncertainty.

"It's okay if you don't. I just thought I'd…"

"I'd love to." He cut her off.

"Great." She said with a bright smile; "I'll let my father know."

He stared at her silently for several seconds.

For all her attributes, positive and negative, he loved that smile the most.

He was late.

He frowned. He hated tardiness. Being late wasted time, and time was his most valuable resource.

Harry could only blame himself, nobody had forced him to help Oliver Rivers and Su Li with their Defense Against the Dark Arts preparation.

His sometimes-tumultuous run at Hogwarts had seemed to be at an impasse; and for the first time since they publicly sided with Goldstein over him, Harry had felt completely comfortable in Ravenclaw Tower.

Then Skeeter had gone and fucked it up.

He tapped the marble scepter, revealing a wide, oval room.

Not pausing to take in his surroundings, Harry hastened his pace, crossing the room in a few seconds before opening a second door that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Harry hustled through the doorway and descended the staircase and exiting through a third doorway and hanging a left before pausing at the dead end.

Reaching out with mirth, Harry tickled the pear, causing it to giggle before exposing a previously unseen doorknob.

He paused to catch his breath.

Removing his wand, he tapped his charcoal coat, white oxford, and charcoal trousers, and watched in slight amusement as the clothes straightened themselves.

Despite knowing the arithmancy that held the spells together, he was still in awe of how simple magic could make everyday life.

Long fingers grasped the doorknob at just after 8:05 on the last Saturday morning before the holiday break began, and the castle was abuzz with excitement about the upcoming ball.

"You're late." A pair of voices deadpanned, causing him to groan.

Sitting down Harry calmly grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of him.

"Theo would you please pass the eggs?"

The wiry dark-haired boy scowled but handed him the eggs without any fuss.

He helped himself to a generous portion of eggs, amusement at Nott's annoyance causing him to smile slightly.

"Terry could you please pass me the bacon?" Terry, being a good sport, handed him the bacon without protest.

The trio settled in, nicely after that, making small talk for several minutes before Nott broached business.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get this over with, I have study group at 9:30."

He didn't mind, Theo had never been one of his favorite people and timeboxing their breakfasts together was probably a good idea anyhow.

Harry groaned again. The trio had taken turns sharing information first, it just happened to be his week.

"Sirius was murdered."

"We know that." Nott said impatiently.

While it wasn't common knowledge amongst the public, in some circles, it had been widely assumed that Sirius Black had been murdered.

It wasn't at all that uncommon, members of the Wizengamot had a history of young and mysterious deaths. The intrigue always surrounded around who committed the crime.

Most assumed the 'who,' in this case, was him.

He had to hold back the snarl on his face at Nott's comment.

"I know why."

Harry, Daphne, and Terry had realized early on that the best way to get Nott talking was to feed him information, even if the information was more or less a guess on their part.

He idly wondered if Nott employed the same tactic.

He glanced at Terry.

"After his fight with Dolohov, Healers discovered that Sirius had been obliviated."

This seemed to peak Nott's interest. "Do you know what was hidden?"

Sirius had to have seen or known something worth breaking into St. Mungo's for; though what, was a complete mystery.

It had taken hours of discussion to come to a somewhat logical conclusion.

Terry was the one to answer.

"Not for sure, but we believe he discovered who the spy at Hogwarts was."

The best he, Daphne, and Terry could come up with was that Sirius had somehow discovered who a spy was; the only spy they knew of was the one Sirius had told him was embedded in Hogwarts.

More importantly, Nott was convinced there was a spy at Hogwarts, and if he found the information valuable he would be more forthcoming.

"Lucius Malfoy has asked father to place Damocles Rowles squadron of aurors on Madam Bones' residence for the foreseeable future."

Members of the Wizengamot, as well as high-ranking Ministry officials, were given a small security detail; if security would need to intervene, the detail would call in the assigned squadron, who would take the appropriate action.

' Why Madam Bones?'

Nott was slippery, and, from what he could tell, an indifferent participant to their meetings, only attending them dutifully at his father's request.

"Do you know of any planned attacks?"

He smiled.

"No. But Damocles Rowle is the cousin of Thorfinn Rowle, and he is a Death Eater."

He paused. They had agreed on two follow up questions.

' What would be most valuable to Dumbledore?' Or to Tonks, who he assumed passed information along to Dumbledore.

"Do you know if Rowle hand-picked the squadron himself?"

Nott offered him a nod of approval at his question.

"He recruited and trained them all."

"… so I'm not entirely sure what to do."

Astoria took a minute to ponder her friends dilemma.

She turned to face the smaller, insecure girl with curly raven hair.

It would be a tragedy if she didn't have a date to the ball, but would no date be better than going with a muggleborn?

Among the general populace of the school, nobody would think twice about the silly question; but Slytherin held different standards.

' So does her family.'

Chrissy Watkins found herself in the unfortunate position of being considered neither pureblood nor halfblood, nor muggleborn.

In a society based primarily on the caste system, Chrissy was an outlier.

Her friend found herself in the uncomfortable situation of representing the "gap" generation.

It took three generations of magical blood before a family was considered a pureblood; though the designation in and of itself meant nothing, it did open up new social circles.

Purebloods, and to a lesser extent half-bloods, hold the most powerful positions within the country; while muggleborns are often overlooked for some of the more plume jobs, some employers going so far as to openly discriminate against muggleborns.

Those in-between lived anonymous lives - overlooked by a society they merely existed in. Some families were content with that; Chrissy's weren't.

' How likely is she to get serious with this boy?'

It was a fair question; grabbing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks painted a different picture than attending a formal ball. If the boy in question was a passing fancy, was it really worth the backlash?

That was the question Chrissy had to ask herself; was it worth the isolation it would cause? Among her house? Among her family?

"I think you should take you father's advice, at least until you get to know Jacob better. Your father has worked very hard."

And he had, Noel Watkins did phenomenal work as a barrister, but more importantly his success had garnered him respect from some of the Sacred 28.

Feeling her heating charm fade, and not having the energy to recast the spell, Astoria excused herself, telling her friend that she had to finish packing before they left for the holiday.

Chrissy accepted the answer without fuss, and Astoria made her way back to the common room, hoping that Draco's mood had improved.

They both had been hoping to spend the day together. But her father wouldn't allow her to go to Malfoy Manor, and with Harry spending the day with them, her father felt as though the house was crowded enough.

Astoria slid through a crevice near the central part of the castle, utilizing a shortcut she had seen Harry use on several occasions.

The passageway was narrow for several meters before widening towards the end, depositing her in a hallway near the potions classroom.

Noise echoed throughout the sparsely used corridor.

"Again." A stern, familiar voice ordered from a room up ahead.

Trying, but failing to place the voice, Astoria slid closer to the door, daring to peek her head in.

She vaguely recognized the backside of Anthony Goldstein, who was directing his wand slowly while muttering.

Astoria dared to take a better look and gasped aloud.

"What was that?" The woman's voice said.

Anthony stopped what he was doing, and a robotic Lily Moon stopped banging her head on the chalkboard.

At that moment, Lily spun around to face her, staring at Astoria with a glazed over look in her eyes, as though she was unaware of her surroundings - she hardly recognized Daphne's friend.

Heels clicking off stone caused her to turn around, returning her attention to the familiar female voice.

She gasped as she saw the face of Professor Vector pointing a wand at her, an ugly snarl on her pretty face.

" Obliviate!"