Chapter Text
June 3rd 1999, Hogwarts Grounds
The trip back across the lake was a sobering affair. Harry had spent most of it watching Hogwarts slowly grow smaller and smaller in the distance as the boats crossed the lake. The castle was still in ruins after the battle, a massive hole had been blown through one of the towers while the bridge connecting the castle to the land had been completely obliterated. Every window had been shattered and the Great Hall was still a mess after the party that had lasted three straight days.
House elf, muggleborn, half-blood, pureblood, adult, teenager, children, it didn’t matter- everyone had joined in the festivities. There had been so much for everyone to celebrate.
Headmistress McGonagall had assured the students and parents that the school would indeed be repaired and opened for the fall semester. And as if determined to keep true to her words, McGonagall had already begun contacting magical carpenters and magical stonemasons with plans to expand and update the ancient Hogwarts structure.
Harry had taken the same boat as Hargrid, Neville, Ron and Hermione. The ride had been a mournful affair, Neville and Ron’s conversations and reminiscences with Harry had been a welcome distraction from his thoughts of the battle and the losses that they had taken. He had tried to talk to Hermione, but their conversations were, at best, cordial- not like the deep conversations they had had just months before.
Harry could still remember the way her body felt curled up against his own as their fingers entwined and they bared their souls to each other.
No.
That was the past. He shook his head. He had made his choice during the battle and he had done what he thought was right. They were at war and war meant that difficult choices had to be made.
Even if those choices meant losing the girl he loved.
The loud thud of the boats reaching land broke through Harry’s reverie. They had reached the other side which meant that Harry had officially graduated. The others had already begun climbing off the boats and running off to their families, leaving only Harry and Hagrid in the lead boat.
“Harry,” Hagrid said in his gruff, but warm voice. “It’s time.” He gave Harry the kind of encouraging, patient smile that parents gave their children on their first day of school.
Harry nodded and climbed out as well.
Seventh Year families were allowed on the castle grounds to watch their students graduate. So naturally, Sirius, Uncle Remus, and Kreacher were already there waiting for Harry to arrive. Remus had put on his best suit, while Kreacher wore what looked to be a black t-shirt depicting 5 cartoon robot lions and a pair of blue shorts. Meanwhile, Sirius stood as tall and as dignified as he could, putting as little weight as possible on the cane supporting his right side. The Battle of Hogwarts had been injurious for Sirius. Harry found himself running into his father’s arms. Sirius gave him a tight, back-breaking hug that was strengthened by Remus and Kreacher joining in.
“You did it,” Sirius said, a swell of pride in his voice. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes.
Harry nodded. Even though Harry had seen Sirius during the celebrations, it still felt like forever since he had seen his father, especially with all that had happened.
All around them, graduates were reuniting with their families. Ron with his entire clan of red heads, Neville with his grandmother, the Patil twins with their parents and grandparents. But there were also students who had arrived to find no one. Susan Bones sobbed with Hannah Abbott- both had lost their parents during the war.
Theo Nott and Gregory Goyle quietly left without saying much of a word to anyone. Their families had all either been killed during the war or arrested in its aftermath. The only family of Voldemort’s supporters that still seemed intact were the Malfoys. Both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had come to congratulate their son amongst the dirty looks and hateful sneers from people all around them.
“Leave them be Harry,” Remus said in a quiet tone. “Today isn’t about them. It’s about you and your friends.”
Harry nodded and he turned to see Neville running towards him. The two embraced in a tight hug.
“We did it, Harry!” Neville exclaimed.
“We did,” Harry agreed. “Can you believe it?”
Neville shook his head as they broke the embrace. “No! I thought we were goners for sure when we went into the Forbidden Forest!”
“Which time?” Harry asked and the two friends broke out into a hearty laugh.
“So are you really going into the Auror Academy?” Neville asked.
Harry nodded. “Tonks and Kingsley put in a good word for me- I’ve already received early admission. You’re always welcome to join me. I’m sure the academy would accept you with no questions asked.”
Neville shook his head. “I’ve had enough of dark wizards and the like for one lifetime. I think I’d want something more quiet- maybe become a farmer or an herbalist. I think I’d like to try cross breeding some plants to see if I can create a new herb for potions.”
Harry smiled. That sounded on point for Neville.
“Neville!” called Ron from behind them. “Come and get a picture with the family!”
The Boy Who Lived looked over to see the entire Weasley family all gathered together. Mr and Mrs. Weasley, a dark-eyed Percy, a sullen George, and Ginny, who had braided her hair into a flaming rope and wore a pretty yellow sundress. She seemed especially happy to see Neville. It made Harry somewhat happy to see that the Weasleys were doing well, despite their immense loss.“Be seeing you, Harry,” Neville said with a smile as he turned and headed off.
Harry returned the gesture as he watched his best friend walk away. “Be seeing you.”
“Seems like you two have made up after everything that’s happened,” Sirius said. He placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“I’m not so sure about the other one,” Harry quietly replied. His gaze turned towards Hermione, who was standing alone.
His heart broke for her. Hermione, who had obliviated her parent’s memories of her in order to keep them safe during the war. With all that had happened, she hadn’t gotten a chance to find them and hopefully restore what had been erased.
There was a sadness in her eyes that tortured Harry’s soul. Hermione, who had stayed strong throughout the entire war, who had made plans for the journey to destroy the Horcruxes. And in the end, what did she have to show for it? Nothing. Not even her family.
“You should go talk to her,” Sirius said. Even without Harry telling him, he knew what was occupying his mind.
“I’m not sure if she’s forgiven me,” Harry replied, surprised at the bitterness in his voice.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” Sirius said. He gave Harry a soft push in Hermione’s direction.
Harry stumbled, and walked over to her with a nervous step in his gait. Hermione was just turning to leave when he caught her.
“Hermione! Wait up,” he called out.
Hermione stopped and gave him a curt nod. “Harry,” she said. Her voice was distant and lacked the usual warmth and joy that Harry had grown accustomed to hearing.
“Do you have any plans?”
“For the rest of my life?” Hermione asked.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, just for the next year or so.”
“Find my parents, try to restore their memory,” she replied. “But I don’t know where I’d even start looking. They could be anywhere.”
“Do you need somewhere to stay?” Harry blurted out.
The offer seemed to stun Hermione.
“It’s just that... Grimmauld Place has a lot of extra rooms and Sirius only needs one office. And I’ll be at Auror Academy and the house will be empty so he could use the company.”
A sad happiness shimmered in Hermione’s eyes before she shook her head. “No, thank you for the offer, but no,” Hermione said. “I’ve already booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the next three months. That’s going to be my home base during my search.”
Oh. He supposed this was it.
Hermione smiled at him, a slight, barely there smile. The kind of smile one gave a friend to reassure them that they were okay, when they were anything but. The kind of smile that Harry returned.
“I’ll see you around Hermione,” Harry said, smiling even though he wanted to cry.
Hermione nodded and returned the smile. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”
****
Present Day, Langtry Gate
Harry returned to Langtry Gate not too long after his meeting with Malfoy. By now, London was in full bloom, a city alight with life, always moving, always hungry. People moved in hurried crowds to their destinations. Businesses of every kind opened up, hoping to draw clientele into their storefronts.
Langtry Gate was a pit of controlled chaos as Aurors interviewed victims, took statements and hauled suspects into holding cells. Harry walked past a cell filled with angry looking drunks banging on the bars and scared young men sitting on the benches in solemn contemplative silence.
“Rough night?” Harry asked as he approached a man with thinning brown hair slicked back across his head. His face was covered in faded scars that sliced their way across his handsome features. Wrinkles lined the same face that had missed many a night of sleep. But despite the scars, there was a brightness in his eyes that Harry hadn’t seen in years. Clearly, fatherhood had done wonders for Senior Auror Remus Lupin.
Lupin nodded as Harry reached him. “Rough night,” he agreed. Lupin had traded the ragged and patched professor robes to fine tailored suits and comfortable leather loafers. At the moment, he was dressed in stylish gray slacks along with a matching grey vest over a crisp white collared shirt. “Are you back?”
Harry nodded as well. “I am. At least until I find out who killed Neville.”
Lupin sat down at his seat, opened a manilla envelope and began to fill out an incident report. “And then what?”
Harry narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Justice, I suppose.”
“And what is justice to you?” Lupin asked.
Harry didn’t have much to say to that, not after he had just threatened a seated Wizengamot member a few hours prior.
“You know, we could use people like you,” Lupin said as he dipped his quill into his ink pot and began writing his report.
“Aurors?” Harry asked, taking a seat. Lupin’s desk was organized chaos- stacks of manilla folders created towers while three different cups, all filled with varying levels of cold coffee, were situated on precarious positions all over.
“People who fight for what’s right. People who care,” Lupin replied, looking up. He motioned his head to his surroundings and only then did Harry notice how tired everyone in the bullpen looked. Aurors normally looked the part: dressing in fine suits and long coats, being alert and engaged with whatever tasks they were involved in, just simply always being focused. But now, everyone just looked... exhausted, like miners who had just spent the last 12 hours digging with their bare hands. “Rourke and Finnigan prevented a riot last night, and Verus and Blackmoore broke up a smuggling ring.”
“And they’re back here after a long night?” Harry asked.
Lupin shrugged his shoulders. “I tried sending them home, but they insisted on working. I’m gonna give them another half-hour before ordering them to go home.”
The middle-aged werewolf turned and gave Harry a stern look that reminded him of the teacher who had reprimanded him repeatedly back in Third Year for his reckless behavior. “We’re understaffed and overworked, Harry. Our world is on the brink, even before Neville’s death. Years of anger and resentment building up the tinder to a massive fire that will swallow everything whole and leave only ash and cinders.”
“We arrest the perpetrators,” Harry said after a pause.
“Is that enough?” Lupin asked. “Are we treating the problem or just treating the symptoms?”
“What?”
A gentle smile formed on Lupin’s scarred face. “It’s not enough to just arrest the criminals. More has to be done.”
***
August 1, 1996, Grimmauld Place
Harry had always hated walking through the second floor hallway. According to Sirius, the rest of the Black family were proud pureblooded fools who were still living off the glory of their ancestors. The walls of the hallway were once decorated with old paintings of dignified-looking members of House Black. Their attire ranged from ancient tunics and cloaks to more modern suits. All of them had watched Harry with a look of sickened disdain, as though smelling something foul and dirty. Harry ignored them, something he had learned to do long ago.
But Sirius and Harry had taken down those old paintings and put them in the cellar, where they could rant and scream about their pure blood values to the Christmas decorations and firewood. In their place, Sirius had put up photographs of Harry and himself through the years.
Some of his favorites included Harry and Sirius wearing matching jerseys and caps at a Falmouth Falcons game, Sirius and Harry standing in front of the blazing red Hogwarts Express before Harry left for his first year, as well as a photograph of Sirius with Harry’s mum and dad on their wedding day. The photographs never failed to put a smile on Harry’s face.
Sirius was busy scribbling away at something in the study, one of the few times Harry had ever seen Sirius work. There was a fire and an almost mad passion in Sirius’s eyes as his quill danced across the page.
“Sirius.”
“Harry,” Sirius replied.
“What are you working on?”
Sirius turned from his document to smile at Harry. “Not much, just finalizing some legal documents that need my seal and signature.”
“What kind of documents?”
“I’ll tell you when it’s time,” he said, hastily rolling up the papers and putting them into his desk drawer. “Did you need to talk to me about something?”
Harry nodded and handed Sirius a manila envelope.
“What is this?” Sirius asked as he opened the cover and quickly skimmed the contents. His eyes widened as he realized what it was he was holding.
“Harry,” he said quietly, tears welling up in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
Harry nodded. “You fed me, you taught me, guided me and loved me. This just makes it... legal in the eyes of muggle law.”
It had taken weeks of communication between Harry and Mr. Chatha, the lawyer that Hermione’s parents had suggested, before the adoption papers had been drawn up.
Sirius pulled Harry into a tight embrace. His godfather’s arms held him firm against his body, evoking memories long buried within him. It was the same hug that Sirius had given him the first night Harry had come to him, the same hug that Sirius had given him on his first day of primary school, the same hug before Harry had left for Hogwarts. Sirius was Harry’s godfather, but he had loved Harry with the same firm, gentle love as any father.
And so when Sirius released Harry from the hug, he did so as Harry’s father.
Sirius brushed a tear away from his eye. It was an odd sight. The only time Harry had ever seen Sirius cry was whenever they laid flowers for his parents.
Harry would place flowers on their graves, but Sirius would lay them down and spend some time looking at their headstones, lost in thought, in memory. Memories of friendship, love, anger, hate, deep sadness and boundless joy. Memories of silent regrets that still haunted him to this day. Sirius was an unyielding tree, a lighthouse in the darkness, standing strong against a storm of memories as he silently spoke to his best friend from the other side of the veil.
He took Harry’s hands and squeezed them tight. Once they had been big enough to completely envelop his own, rough and calloused, but ever since he had traded in manual labor for politics, they had become soft and wrinkly.
“I knew I could never be a replacement for Prongs or Lily and I never wanted to be. That’s why I never wanted you to call me father,” Sirius said with his gaze down. “But that never meant that I don’t love you like you’re my own.”
He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment bound with a wax seal. The symbol imprinted on the wax was one Harry had seen dozens of times- a ‘B’ enshrined within a round shield before a crossed pair of swords, the symbol of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.
Nothing but a bunch of pretentious ballbags.
“Open it,” Sirius said, handing the roll to Harry.
Harry took the parchment before giving Sirius a suspicious look. He broke the seal and unrolled the document.
I, Sirius Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, do name Harry James Potter as my heir apparent on this Eighth Day of the Seventh Month of the year 1996. Upon the signing and verification of this document, Harry James Potter shall have all the rights, privileges and protections afforded to any and all members of House Black including, but not limited to, House Black’s Wizengamot Seat, access to the House Black Vault within Gringotts bank and ownership of 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, Seat of House Black.
Should Harry James Potter wish, he may take the surname Black as his own, thus becoming Harry James Potter-Black.
Regardless of his choice, henceforth, Harry James Potter is the heir apparent of House Black.
Signed on this day and witnessed by Auror Remus Lupin and Professor Minerva McGonagall.
Sirius Black III
Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black
8th, July 1996
“All those years together,” Sirius said softly. “I may not have always been your father, but you were always my son.”
It was Harry’s turn to blink back tears and he found himself in his father’s arms, holding him tight and not wanting to let go.
***
Present Day, Langtry Gate
Nymphedora Tonks was not what most people pictured an auror to be. While most aurors expressed an almost regal demeanor with their auror coats and impeccable grooming, Tonks was more casual in the way she dressed. At the moment, she wore a black Ramones t-shirt emblazoned with their symbol, an eagle holding a baseball bat in one talon and an apple tree branch in the other. She wore the shirt under a brown leather jacket with torn blue jeans. Her hair had been split down the middle into two colors- a shock of hot pink and a shade of sky blue. Her ears had sharp elf-like points at the top and were heavily pierced. Dark eyeliner and heavy make-up completed her punk-rock look.
“Harry,” she said with a curt nod.
“Tonks,” Harry replied. “Shacklebolt give you a new assignment?”
Tonks nodded and tapped her forehead. Almost instantaneously, her face and features transformed. The bright, multicolored hair was replaced with radiant, platinum-blonde locks, while her homely features became more sharp and angular. Dark almond-shaped eyes became sharp sapphire blue. Her normally tanned skin became almost impossibly pale while her elven ears shifted back to a more subdued, human look. Her full cheeks sharpened giving her face the kind of features that women starved themselves for.
The punk-rock style clothes seemed almost jarring on such a classically beautiful face. “The hardest part is the accent,” Tonks said in her usual tone of voice. “A face like this needs to sound more posh. Something like...”
She gave a few coughs and took a deep breath before speaking. “I had a terribly marvelous time at last week’s gala- shame about the food though,” she said, her voice coming out haughty and somewhat high-pitched, so different from the rough style of speaking that Harry was used to. “Now Auror Potter, what brings you to this dreadful place?” She looked around as if worried that the bullpen would give her an infection.
Harry choked back a laugh. “Gotta report to Kingsley.”
“Ah yes, Head Auror Shacklebolt, as fine a gentleman as I have ever met.” She glanced at her watch, a well worn piece with a frayed leather band. “I suppose I should leave you to it then.”
She placed a hand in front of her face and suddenly the real Tonks was back, the same pug nose, multicolored hair and dark eyes that Harry had grown accustomed to seeing. “I need to change my clothes anyways.”
Tonks let out an exasperated breath. “I hate walking in heels.”
“How long will you be in?” asked Harry.
“As long as it takes,” Tonks said. There was a hint of sad bitterness in her voice that surprised Harry.
The sacrifice made by aurors was one Harry was all too familiar with. How many nights with Teddy had Tonks and Lupin missed? How many milestones, birthday parties, bedtime stories? Lupin and Tonks would never admit it. Even if Lupin was Shacklebolt’s second in command, the cost of being an auror seemed to be too high.
Harry took a deep breath. “Maybe you should take some time off?”
Tonks scoffed at the idea. “There’s still too much that needs to be done,” she said as she turned to leave. “Good luck on your investigation. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Harry watched her leave before turning towards Kingsley’s office. He made a mental note to take Teddy out for burgers and a concert sometime when this was all over.
July 9th 1996, Grimmauld Place Backyard
Harry gathered his Will and focused his Intent. Energy from the Source flowed through his body, wild uncontrolled magical energy that Harry shaped and focused into the wand he held in his right hand. Harry felt a sudden urge to move, to do something with this energy that was coursing through his veins.
Taking a breath to calm himself, Harry focused on his target: three soda cans in a row atop two stacked crates. He just needed to knock one off the crate. He let loose with a flick of his wrist. “Impactus!” he cried out as a blast of blue energy launched from his wand.
The bolt soared through the air and struck the leftmost can, sending it flying into the wooden fence beyond.
Harry felt his lips curl upwards into a smile. He did it! The spell was a crude, kinetic energy spell, meant only to hit your opponent and stun them momentarily. Nevertheless, it was the first time he had managed to properly use a force spell.
He gathered his Will again and let loose with two more blasts- one hit and the other left a nasty looking dent on the fence.
Better. Far better than last time or the time before that.
“You’re improving,” Sirius commented as he placed a hand upon Harry’s shoulder. He had dressed in a pair of camouflage green military fatigues and a white shirt, an odd contrast to his slicked-back hair and well-trimmed goatee. Sirius’s wardrobe mostly consisted of jeans and t-shirt depicting his favorite bands. Seeing him in attire more suited for the military was vexing to say the least. It was as if Voldemort’s return had signaled a change in Sirius’s demeanor.
He was preparing for war.
“Your tutelage has helped a lot,” Harry replied with a grin. The two had been practicing every day since Harry had started his summer vacation. Harry relished in Sirius’s daily lessons. His godfather and uncle Lupin had drilled his spellwork into Harry. Harry supposed that after the incident at the Ministry, the two had realized that they couldn’t stop him or the other students from fighting. What they could do, instead, was ensure that they were combat ready.
Sirius nodded. “There’s still a lot to work on though.”
“Like what?” Harry asked. He gathered his Will and focused his Intent defensively this time, knowing what was coming.
His godfather smiled at him before he thrust his hand forward, letting loose with a nonverbal spell. A flare of blue energy, much like Harry’s own, but monumentally more powerful, exploded from Sirius’s palm.
Harry had expected it and immediately raised his wand in a defensive motion, creating a shield before him.
Sirius’s spell smashed through his shield and sent Harry flying to the ground. He landed hard on the grass behind him and felt the air escape his lungs. He lay on the ground for a second as stars danced in his vision. He let out a breath of air and a giggle escaped his lips before quickly becoming a loud uncontrolled laugh. Sirius laughed too as he offered Harry his hand.
“You’re getting better,” Sirius said with a wide grin. “You were able to create a shield nonverbally. Not bad for someone who just finished his 4th year.”
Harry coughed as he stood up and dusted the dirt off of his blue jeans and gray ‘Liverpool United FC” sweatshirt. “Uncle Remus was a big help.” His sides still hurt from laughing... or was it from the impact? “Not much help though- you still smashed through it.”
Sirius smiled. “That’s why we practice. The more you do it, the easier it becomes and the better you get.”
“Guess that means you’ve practiced that particular spell a million times,” Harry said, turning his head towards Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was watching them quietly from the kitchen window, a solemn expression on his face.
“Two million,” Sirius grinned. His voice was laced with his usual teasing tone and he tussled Harry’s hair as he spoke. “Should we call it a day?”
Harry nodded.
“Good, I’m hungry.” Sirius turned to walk inside.
“Sirius, wait,” Harry called out as he ran to catch up with him. Kreacher had already retreated inside, no doubt worried about whatever insult or treatment Sirius had in store for him. Harry’s thoughts drifted to Hermione and her horridly-named Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare, (SPEW for short). “Can we talk about something?”
Sirius stopped, his brown eyes becoming hard and solemn. It was a look that Harry knew well. It was the look that Sirius gave when he learned about the fist fights Harry had gotten into at school, the same look that Sirius gave whenever Harry talked about how horrible Snape’s bullying of the Gryffindors was.
“What is it?” asked Sirius. He sat down on one of the steps leading back to the house and patted the space next to him.
“Kreacher,” Harry said quietly after sitting down next to his father.
“What about him?”
“He’s a house elf, right?” Sirius nodded. “He can use magic, but he’s also aware of what he is. He does chores and works for no pay and dresses in rags.”
“Harry, what are you getting at?” Sirius gently asked. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pewter lighter and a pack of cigarettes. After putting one in his mouth and lighting it, he took a large drag.
“SPEW.”
Sirius coughed hard and nearly dropped his cigarette. “What?”
“It’s a club that Hermione started at Hogwarts this past year. It stands for the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare. She forced Ron, Neville and I to join.” Harry felt a smile creep up on his lips. It was a horrible name. It was one of the few times that Hermione hadn’t been exceptional.
Sirius grinned and snuffed out the rest of the foul-smelling cigarette on the steps. “And what does SPEW do?”
Harry shrugged. “Hermione found out that Hogwarts is maintained by a large number of house elves and she wants them to have equal rights to human workers, like pay and vacation days.”
“I see. So SPEW...”
Harry nodded.
Sirius chuckled. “Hermione really needs to think of a better name.”
“Ron suggested the Elvish Liberation Front.”
“A bit extreme don’t you think?” Sirius asked. “But we’re digressing. What I’m hearing you say is that you think that Kreacher should be paid and given vacation days? Treated as though he was a servant or butler, right?”
Harry nodded, his eyes focused on the ground, watching a black ant scamper across the pavement in search of food. He felt Sirius place a comforting hand onto his back. “Or at the very least, we could treat him better.”
“Kreacher is rude, crass, and disrespectful. He doesn’t seem to care for anything other than the Black family values.”
“‘Pureblood, above all else,’” Harry quoted quietly.
Sirius nodded. “And that’s Kreacher’s choice. We can’t control the actions of others, just our own.” He turned to face Harry and gave him a soft smile. “Kreacher is a house elf and that’s what he wants. It’s in their nature to serve. We can’t change other people, only ourselves.”
“Having this power doesn’t mean we’re any better, just different,” Harry said, reciting a line that Sirius had used on him back in grade school.
The words seemed to shake Sirius to his core, as his eyes went from prideful stubbornness to shamed realization.
“We should be treating him better,” he said quietly.
Harry looked upwards towards the windows belonging to their neighbors. He had always wondered how they could be so oblivious to the things that he and Sirius got up to. Sirius said it had something to do with the Black family magic, magic that was so ancient and readily available that it had taken root within the very foundations of Grimmauld Place. According to Sirius, here was where they were the most powerful, at the seat of House Black.
He supposed that it was lucky that the Black family magic shielded them from their neighbor’s prying eyes. Any neighbors or passersby would see Sirius and Harry as a typical muggle father and son playing a game of catch. rather than two wizards training in combat magic.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” Harry said after a while. “Kreacher does so much for us- he cleans and cooks and does a lot of other things. We eat at a table while he eats away from us. We sleep in rooms while he sleeps in cupboards. I think we could start somewhere there.”
Sirius nodded, his eyes deep in solemn thought. “Well, how about we start by making some food for Kreacher and having him join us for dinner?”
Harry smiled as he felt a cool breeze wash over him from the east.
Change was on the horizon.
***
Present Day, Langtry Gate
Harry stepped into Shacklebolt’s office where Hermione was already waiting. As always, Shacklebolt wore a white shirt, black tie, and suspenders. And, as always, his wand was holstered at his side. Hermione had taken one of the two seats in front of his desk, so Harry took the other. Shacklebolt
“So where are we?” Shacklebolt asked.
“Lucius Malfoy said that he isn’t responsible for the actions of his followers,” Harry said, twirling a pen in his hand. “Nevertheless, I told him that the DMLE would appreciate him keeping the rhetoric to a minimum.”
“Did you threaten him?” Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow.
Harry shrugged. “You know me better than that, Head Auror Shacklebolt.” He crossed his arms. “Of course I did.”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Shacklebolt replied. His tone was all business, but a hint of a smile crept up his dark features.
The Head Auror may have played by the rules, but he was also okay with his aurors bending them.
Shacklebolt turned to Hermione. “What about Kingdom Free Press?”
“All they know is that Neville was killed by a muggle weapon. I spoke to their editor and he practically salivated at the thought of an exclusive on this story,” Hermione replied., She tucked a strand of curled russet hair behind her ear. “They’ll have a retraction in tomorrow’s edition, but they want something to print now.”
“We don’t have anything to give them now,” Shacklebolt said, his hands going up to rub his temples.
“We do,” Harry said and two sets of brown eyes turned to him. “We know of Neville’s plans before his death. We know that he had political aspirations. We can tell them that Neville was planning to claim his House Seat, give them proof from a few pages of his journal.”
Shacklebolt’s eyes lit up from behind his scarred hand. “Perfect,” he said. “That will be enough to throw the news cycle to Neville’s planned political career from his murder.”
“What do you want us to do?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.
“Follow up on Neville’s journal,” Shacklebolt replied. He stood up and walked over to his window. Despite being half a mile underground, Langtry Gate projected an image of London. As far as Harry knew, the view was an accurate real time image. Harry had never quite figured out how they managed to do that. “Neville must have been gathering allies for his political run. I want to know who they were and what they know.”
Harry nodded and turned to Hermione. “I’ll take that one. Sirius is a seated Wizengamot member and has connections already.” Thoughts of his earlier encounter with Malfoy’s staff ran through his mind. “He can make introductions so we can leapfrog over staff blockades and meet directly with individuals.”
Hermione nodded in agreement and turned to face Shacklebolt. “What do you want me to do?”
Before Shacklebolt could answer, the door burst open and a young woman Harry had never seen before came through. She was young, so young that Harry briefly wondered if she was in the right place. Braided blonde hair crowned a skinny face with dark bags under the eyes. She wore a long white lab coat that came down past her knees over a pair of sky blue scrubs that looked like they had seen better days.
“Hannah,” said Shacklebolt. It seemed more of an acknowledgement of her presence than a greeting. “You seem to have pressing news.”
He turned to Harry and Hermione. “Auror Potter-Black, Unspeakable Granger, our medical examiner, Dr. Hannah Abbott. She normally works within the local precincts identifying any dead witches and wizards and discreetly moving the bodies to our facilities.”
Harry chuckled. Anything to maintain the separation of wizard and muggle.
Hannah gave them a curt nod before turning back to Shacklebolt. “It’s about the latest body we took from the muggle morgue.”
“Yes, I recall you alerting Auror Tonks about this.”
She nodded. “It’s more dire than I thought.”
Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow. “Hannah, my aurors just prevented a potential riot last night. The newscycle is completely focused on Boy Who Lived Neville Longbottom’s murder. Purebloods suspect muggles. Half-bloods and muggleborns suspect purebloods. Our world is on the verge of imploding. How much more dire could it get?”
“Much,” Hannah said. “It took me approximately twelve hours, but I finally managed to identify the body.”
“It took you twelve hours to identify one body?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hannah nodded again, causing a few strands of hair to escape her badly tied braid. “The body was so badly burned that I had to use a variety of methods, both medical and magical, to identify it. Even then, the body was nearly cursed beyond recognition. Undoing the burn curse took me hours. Then there were other curses too: slashing, twisting, and bludgeoning curses, all cast post-mortem. Whoever did this hated the victim.”
“Fine, but what about this is so pressing?” asked Kingsley, folding his arms.
She opened a manilla folder. “Well for one thing, I identified the cause of death as a gunshot wound- same as Neville Longbottom.”
Shacklebolt’s eyes widened. Harry and Hermione gave each other alarmed looks.
“Doesn’t mean that it’s the same killer as Neville’s,” Hermione said after a moment. “Whoever this person is could have been the victim of a mugging.”
Hannah nodded.
“The only thing that’s recognizable about this victim is part of the tattoo on his forearm,” said Hannah.
“Tattoo?” asked Shacklebolt.
She nodded again. “Yeah, a bunch of animals before a crescent moon: a rat, a dog and a st-“
Harry grabbed the folder before she could finish speaking, his eyes desperately scanning the pages. His mind silently prayed, begged, that his suspicions were wrong. The first document in the file was a photograph. It was a grotesque picture of a body twisted and contorted in unnatural angles. The body was charred beyond recognition leaving nearly no remnant of skin or flesh, save for a somewhat large piece of integument on the forearm that had somehow remained unharmed. The patch of skin was somewhat pale and covered by an elaborate tattoo.
“He fought back,” Harry said, his blood surging through his veins as he read through the reports. His head pulsed with burning thoughts as he continued to look over the file. “That’s why he didn’t have any injuries other than the gunshot wound. The rest were caused post-mortem. He was combat trained and fought in both Wizarding Wars. He used the standard auror counter curses and defensive spells because he helped develop them. He was too used to combating wizards, never expecting his assailant to use a muggle weapon. That’s why he didn’t know how to defend against a bullet. Energy shields have no effect on kinetic weapons. The shoulder injury was sustained in an encounter in the woods during the first war, where he tumbled into a ravine. It never healed properly and bothered him for the rest of his life. His leg injury was a result of a stray spell that struck him during the Battle Of Hogwarts causing him to develop a limp. He had to retire from the Aurors afterwards and eventually claimed his Wizengamot seat.”
Shacklebolt’s eyes widened. “No!”
“The tattoo-” Harry’s voice came out in a quiver, so soft that he could barely hear it through the ringing in his ears. He turned to face Shacklebolt and Hermione. “He got it during his seventh year at Hogwarts to commemorate his best friend’s engagement, the same tattoo as my father and Auror Lupin.”
A terrible realization had crept into his mind. His conversation with Kreacher last night...
“Why are you suddenly calling me ‘my Lord’?”
“That is what you are.”
Stupid. He had been so fucking stupid.
He turned to Hermione who had a hand clasped over her mouth, a look of utter shock and horror on her face. She already knew who it was even before Harry uttered his name.
“Sirius.”