Maybe
Chapter 12
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 12
Albus Dumbledore was enjoying himself.
It wasn’t often he got to be honestly manipulative.
In most situations, of course, he didn’t want to be manipulative. Even if he thought he knew what was best, and even if he turned out to be right (as was the case an overwhelming majority of the time), it was still his policy, most of the time, to give advice and guidance, then step back and let events happen unless he took part overtly. Besides being ethically correct, it was in general more entertaining.
However, in this case, he knew perfectly well what was going on. He knew that Lars Vilias and his government didn’t. And he knew that Lars would never believe or accept the truth unless the evidence was in front of his face and too powerful to be ignored.
And so, he carefully manipulated Lars into a frantic search for Sirius Black, having him send his men hither and thither, keeping the Minister’s thoughts firmly on the escaped criminal. Scrying turned up nothing, as Dumbledore had known it would, since he had personally reinforced the anti-scrying provisions on the school that morning. However, investigation into who had last seen Sirius... that proved a bit more fruitful.
"Would you care to explain this, Lars?" said Dumbledore politely, tapping the deposition made by the Auror on guard in the Ministry holding cells from six pm to midnight. "Why Cornelius Fudge was allowed to see Sirius Black, when all other visitors, even Black’s own wife, had been denied?"
"Fudge was there?" Lars took the scroll from Dumbledore’s hand and frowned. "There’s no official record of any visitor at that hour."
"If you read a bit farther down, Lars, you’ll see that Cornelius ordered Auror Narpin to allow him entrance, and to conceal the fact that he’d visited."
"He has no right to order anyone to do anything," snapped Amelia Bones, taking the scroll from Lars. "Especially not my people. I’ll have a talk with Narpin later."
Lars paced up and down the length of the office once and ran his hands through his thinning hair. "It’s so frustrating... I have a terrible feeling that I’m missing something vital, something obvious, and that as soon as I think of it, I’ll know where to find him."
"Does anyone know the current whereabouts of Cornelius Fudge?" asked Dumbledore, once again redirecting Lars’ attention, before the man could realize that what he was missing was the fact that Sirius Black was not only a criminal but a father, and a devoted father, and that his first act, if he had escaped on his own, would have been to seek out his children and make certain that they were well...
Of course, checking on the children would not help them find Sirius, but it would alert them to certain other occurrences that Dumbledore would prefer to remain secret for...
He checked his watch. One and one half hours.
Lars and Amelia’s low-voiced colloquy was abruptly terminated as the door of Lars’ office flew open.
"Minerva?" Dumbledore rose, surprised to see his usually cool, competent Deputy Headmistress in such a state. Her hair was in disarray, her robes likewise, and her face was flushed.
Minerva did not even acknowledge the presence of others in the room. "Albus, I must speak with you immediately. It involves our mutual friends. I believe they may be in trouble."
"Of course. Pardon me for a moment, Lars, Amelia." He left the room quickly, stepping into the outer office, which was mercifully empty, and closed the door behind him. "What is it, Minerva?"
She told him everything in a few terse sentences, moving agitatedly about the room. "I should have brought Pettigrew here immediately, but I was foolish," she finished in dismay. "I thought it could wait until after my afternoon classes — if Meghan’s been hurt, or Sirius, or one of the Longbottoms, I’ll never forgive myself..."
Dumbledore put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself, Minerva, the situation may not be as desperate as it seems. I have an idea." He rose and opened the door to the inner office. "Lars, Minerva has reminded me of something it seems we have all been forgetting. Sirius Black’s daughter. Might he not have gone to check on her, possibly to try to steal her back from her foster family?"
Lars froze for a second, then he and Amelia both hurried through the outer office and into the hallway, where Dumbledore could hear them snapping out orders to the lingering Ministry workers.
"Are you insane?" Minerva hissed at him. "Sending Aurors to the Longbottoms’? What will Sirius do?"
"Sirius, my dear Minerva, will do what he has been doing for the past nine years. Unless he is somehow incapacitated, which I highly doubt, he has the ability to hide in plain sight. It caught you yourself quite by surprise, if I remember rightly."
Minerva sighed. "As usual, you’re right." She suddenly smiled ferally. "And if the Aurors should find Pettigrew there..."
"Precisely. Ah, and that reminds me, I have a letter for Lars, which I really should give him immediately." Dumbledore produced a small scroll from his robes. "It seems to have opened accidentally in transit, so there would be no way to tell if anyone had perused it..."
"Give it here." Minerva read over the contents of the scroll once, then again, and snorted. "Rather florid, isn’t it? ‘...fire magic so intensely powerful that almost nothing remains...’ ‘...claims not to have seen the boy since midday...’ ‘...respectfully submit that one or more of his former guardians may have reclaimed him, possibly by using force...’ Pompous fool."
"Indeed."
"Which of them..."
"Danger."
"Ah. And the others..."
"Aletha’s plan was to retrieve Harry today, and Remus, as far as I know, is still in the process of looking for Hermione. If he has been successful, then they should all have returned safely by tonight."
Minerva gave one of her rare true smiles. "I look forward to it."
"As do I," said Dumbledore. "As do I."
xXxXx
The fire in the fireplace in the Hogwarts kitchens flared green. Sirius stumbled out, unbalanced because of the weight of Meghan, who was clinging to him. She had positively refused to Floo either before or behind him, insisting on going at the same time.
Not too surprising, really. She hasn’t seen me for three months, she doesn’t want to take any chances.
He sat down heavily on the hearth as soon as Meghan let go of him, hand pressed to his side. The stab wound was not as deep or as serious as he had first thought it was, but it was still dribbling blood and probably needed to be washed out — soot got everywhere when you Flooed.
"Can I have some warm water and clean cloths, please?" he heard Meghan ask one of the house-elves.
Sirius managed a smile. "Going to take care of me, Pearl?"
Meghan crossed her arms in a gesture Sirius found highly familiar. "Well, someone has to."
Sirius chuckled, ignoring the fresh ache the motion set up in his side. She gets more like her mother every day.
Two house-elves came running up, one with a bowl of water, the other with a pile of cloths. Meghan accepted both, thanking the house-elves and making them blush, which involved turning a deeper shade of puce than usual. "Now don’t move," she said sternly, pulling his shirt up. "This may sting a little."
It did. But Meghan’s touch was gentle, and Sirius had other things to think about.
Augusta Longbottom had been deeply skeptical of his story, but she was willing to hear him out. She recalled enough of the stories Frank had told her from the days of the war to know that he wasn’t making all of it up. Still, Sirius rather thought it had been Meghan’s obvious ecstasy at seeing him again, instead of his somewhat halting explanation, that had convinced her he wasn’t going to try to kill her.
And then the Aurors showed up.
The first flash of green fire in the kitchen fireplace had sent him almost automatically into dog form, but he had still thought it was all over when he realized why they had come. All Mrs. Longbottom had to do was tell them he was right there...
But she didn’t.
Instead, she had directed them to the unconscious Wormtail, telling them that she had seen him transform from rat to human and attack Meghan, and that she, Neville, and Meghan had taken care of him themselves.
Basically, she told the truth, leaving me out of the equation. I was just the big black dog the little girl was holding onto.
So now Wormtail was in Ministry custody, and the Aurors knew he was an illegal rat Animagus, so they were probably watching him closely — if they knew their business, they’d have anti-transformation wards on his cell —
And it’s only a matter of time before he’s identified, and then...
Then the celebration could begin.
"All done," announced Meghan. "Stick this on, Dadfoot."
Sirius looked down to find his daughter indicating the bandage she was holding to his side. He pulled Minerva’s wand from his robes and applied a Temporary Sticking Charm, and Meghan took her hand away.
Have to return this to her at some point. Going to need my own back, come to think of it. Maybe Dumbledore can do something about that.
Or maybe I’ll just get it back when the Ministry morons finally have to admit I’m innocent.
"Want to see our new Den, Pearl?"
Meghan nodded eagerly. "Is it here in Hogwarts?"
"Yes. Just down the hall a little ways."
xXxXx
Serpina was filing her nails when she heard a small voice say, "Excuse me?"
She looked down to see a little girl standing with one hand on the back of the huge black dog she already knew. "You must be Meghan," she said, setting aside her nail file.
The girl smiled a bit shyly. "Yes, ma’am."
"Not ma’am. Serpina, or just ’Pina if you like."
"’Pina. That’s pretty. Is it safe for my Dadfoot to come out?"
"Yes, it’s safe, no one’s anywhere nearby."
The dog transformed into the rather good-looking man she’d been introduced to that morning. "Anyone else home yet, ’Pina?" he asked.
"No, I’m afraid not. But they did say they wouldn’t be back until after six, and it’s not even five yet..."
"I know. I just wanted to be sure."
"I understand. Password, please?"
"Chocolate chip," said Meghan importantly, and Serpina allowed her portrait to swing open, giving the two access to their rooms.
I do hope the rest of them arrive safely... and soon...
xXxXx
"Food first or den time?" Sirius asked Meghan.
"Den time," Meghan decided.
Sirius Summoned some of the covers from his and Aletha’s bed, and Meghan pulled the cushions off the sofa. Together, they built a den for two and crawled in.
The first thing Meghan did, rather disconcertingly, was burst into tears.
Emotional overload, Sirius diagnosed, holding her close. Too much tension for far, far too long, and then a terrible scare this afternoon — being held hostage is frightening for adults, what is it going to do to her, she’s only seven...
"Going on eight," Meghan mumbled into his chest, and Sirius realized he’d spoken the last part of his thought aloud.
"I stand corrected, Pearl. You are indeed going on eight."
To himself, Sirius smiled. She can’t be too traumatized if she can argue about her age.
He held her tightly and let her cry herself out and fall asleep against him.
It has definitely been too long. I’d almost forgotten what this feels like.
He felt a surge of anger. Damn whoever came up with this whole "let’s split up the Pack" game.
The anger, though, instead of smoldering in him as it had for the last few months, burnt itself out quickly. It’s over now. Or close to over. We’re fighting our way back to each other. Meghan was the last piece, and I have her now. The others are on their way. They should be here in time for dinner. And no one can find us here.
His own eyes were closing, and he let them. There’s no reason I shouldn’t. We’re safe now.
As safe as we ever can be.
xXxXx
Danger came awake with a start.
Now that’s timing, said Remus in her mind. How did you know I was just about to call you?
Wormtail!
Where?
Not here. At the Longbottoms’. With Meghan. He tried to hurt her, but the boy stopped him — and Sirius jumped on him —
Sirius?
And then Meghan stabbed his leg and the old witch took him out with the flowerpot — and he’s been arrested!
What are you talking about?
A dream, Remus, it was one of my dreams, but not a prophecy — a seeing! It just happened, it really happened, right now, or just a minute ago — Sirius has Meghan back, and Wormtail’s been arrested!
But what was he even doing at the Longbottoms’?
Trying to kidnap Meghan, I think. That’s what it looked like. But that doesn’t matter now — they got him, they got him, and they know he’s an Animagus, they’re watching him so he can’t transform — we’re going to be free! All of us! Really and truly free!
Remus shot her an image of himself doing one of the Marauders’ victory dances. Danger added herself to the dance, then, feeling naughty, started subtracting clothes from the images, until Remus canceled the whole picture. Not in front of the cubs, he admonished.
We’re not.
I’m still linked with Harry.
So unlink and let’s think dirty for a little while...
No, you need to be awake. Your stop’s coming up.
Aww.
Remus loaded his tone with innuendo. I’ll make it up to you tonight.
Danger made her own decidedly flirty. I can’t wait.
The connection closed. Simultaneously, Draco stirred against her shoulder. "We there yet?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Almost, little one. We need to be awake now. Come on, wake up."
Grey eyes came open slowly, refocusing on place and time. "What do we do now?"
"We change here and take that train for two stops, and then we change again and look for our friends — they should be on that second train."
Draco smiled. "And then we go home?"
"And then we go home."
The train started slowing down as the station name was broadcast through the cars. Danger arched her back, stretching.
Not much longer now. She held onto that thought as onto a prayer. Not much longer now.
xXxXx
He huddled in a dark corner of the pub. No one was paying attention to him. His gold was as good as anyone else’s, and no one seemed to care that he wrote notes to get service rather than saying what he wanted.
The gold was his, taken from his stash at his home. Likewise the parchment, quill, and ink, and the bowl filled with silvery potion. The clothes were also his own, once he’d taken a long shower to wash the defilement from his body. The wand was stolen from an unsuspecting witch on the street — she likely hadn’t missed it yet. People weren’t nearly as careful as they needed to be.
A fact he was counting on to help him in his present quest.
I am the master of scrying spells. It was I who learned what Cornelius Fudge had been unable to learn for these six years — who it was that humiliated him so terribly and forced him to resign — scrying back through time, in idle curiosity, I discovered that none other than Sirius Black was responsible for that.
And I took that information to Fudge, and used it to gain his trust. He thinks I serve him.
The man snorted and took another gulp of his drink. Fool. I serve only one master.
But if, as it so happens, I can aid my master by helping Fudge in his little power play and revenge scheme, and have some fun of my own along the way...
He snarled silently. Or at least that was the way it was supposed to work.
But I will have my revenge.
He touched the wand to the surface of the liquid in the bowl and began the process of scrying, thinking the words savagely when he couldn’t say them.
I will find them. And I will show them the true meaning of a blaze of glory.
xXxXx
"Petunia?" Vernon Dursley walked into the kitchen, where his wife was starting dinner. "Shouldn’t the boy be doing that? He is being punished, after all."
Petunia chopped an onion in half and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "He can’t."
"Why not?"
"He’s not here."
"Not here?"
"I’ve told him and told him, if he’s not ready to go when Dudley is, I’ll leave him behind. We waited a full five minutes and he didn’t come. So I left."
Vernon nodded decisively. "Good. Make him walk. Teach him a lesson. How far is it?"
"About six or seven miles, I suppose. I don’t keep close track."
"So he ought to be here in about an hour." Vernon smirked. "And we’re not waiting dinner for him, either. He gets whatever’s here when he decides to show his face."
xXxXx
Harry roused, blinking sleepily. He seemed to have gone to sleep sitting up, leaning on someone’s shoulder, with his glasses on...
He stiffened as he remembered. He’d been kidnapped.
But his kidnapper said she loved him.
And she means it, too, said a quiet voice in his mind. Harry jumped before remembering about the magical necklaces that let people talk in their minds...
"I’m sorry, that was probably spying," said Moony, lifting his necklace off Harry’s neck. "But you were thinking fairly loud. And she does mean it. And so do all of us." He smiled a little sadly. "Or we will, when you meet us again and we get a chance to say it to you. You’ll be meeting Danger fairly soon now, she’s my wife, and Hermione’s older sister, and she’ll have your brother Draco with her. And then, when we get to where we’re going, you’ll meet Padfoot, your godfather, and his little girl Meghan, who’s something like your little sister."
"Is Neenie like my sister too?"
"Yes. The four of us, the adults, have been taking care of you and her since before your second birthdays. Meghan was born about two months before you turned three, and then Draco came to live with us just before you were four — on his fourth birthday, as a matter of fact."
"Why?"
Moony chuckled. "Now that’s really a long story. Would you be willing to wait a few minutes? We’re about to connect with Danger and Draco, and I’d rather see that done before I get into history."
Harry nodded. "I’ll wait."
The train came to a halt. Miss Letha, who had been leaning against the corner of the seat with her eyes shut, opened them and yawned. "Neenie, wake up," she said on the tail end of the yawn. "Danger’s coming."
The girl had been lying with her head pillowed on Miss Letha’s lap. Now she sat upright quickly, eyes fixed expectantly on the door. "Not yet, Kitten," said Moony, smiling at her. "They’re on their way across the platform. Boarding... now."
"They know what we look like?" asked Miss Letha a touch anxiously.
"Yes, I gave Danger the images hours ago."
Harry realized he was missing something here, but he didn’t want to be rude by asking. The door of the compartment slid open at this point anyway, and his attention was fixed on the people who entered. One was a boy about his own age, who went straight to Miss Letha and hugged her tightly, and the other was a woman who practically ran to Neenie and snatched her up into a fierce embrace. Then she turned to Harry and did the same.
Over her shoulder, Harry saw the boy hug Neenie and whisper something to her that made her giggle, then approach Moony, stop, and get down on one knee. Moony placed his hand on the boy’s head, then motioned him to stand up and hugged him before doing the scent-touch thing that he had done earlier with Harry. Harry might have felt jealous again, except that the woman — Danger — pulled away from him at that moment to look him in the eye.
"I’m so glad to have you back, Greeneyes," she said, smiling at him. Her fingers swept down her cheek, then touched his, and Harry found his hand reciprocating without conscious direction from his brain, and his face stretching in a smile to answer hers.
He felt curiously shy, but at the same time, wonderful.
Maybe he did belong with these people after all.