Surpassing Danger
Chapter 5: Reading Lines (Year 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
Danger trotted down the third floor corridor, mentally checking off the occupants of the rooms she passed. Voni and Par—he's at work, she's downstairs. Arthur and Molly, when they're here—he's at work, she's at the Burrow. Sirius and Aletha—she's at Hogwarts, he's…
She stopped, backed up three steps, and took another look.
What is he doing?
Only the bottom half of Sirius was visible, sticking out from under the bed. He was emitting a series of muffled noises which sounded suspiciously like a mix of French and English curse words, and every so often the entire bed shook.
That's a very good question, said Remus, taking a look through Danger's eyes. Either the doxies are back, Kreacher's decided this would make a good den, or Sirius can't remember where he put something.
I'm betting on number three. Danger stepped cautiously into the room. Do you think he needs help?
You could ask. Just make sure he—
"All right under there?" Danger said aloud.
Sirius jerked and swore more distinctly.
—hears you coming, Remus finished with a mental chuckle. Ah, well, it's just his head. Now if it were something important…
Danger stifled her snickers in her sleeve and sat down on the floor as Sirius emerged from under the bed, rubbing the back of his head and scowling. "Don't do that."
"Sorry." Danger kissed her fingertips and leaned over to brush them against the slight lump under Sirius's hair. "Looking for something?"
"I could have sworn I put a box of my old manuscripts under there when we got back from the Den after Christmas." Sirius slapped at the sleeves of his robes, raising clouds of dust. Danger coughed and scooted back. "But now I can't find it. I've looked everywhere."
And this, said Remus with a weary mental sigh, is a pureblood wizard, ladies and gentlemen.
"Er." Danger drew her wand. "I don't know if you've considered…"
"If I've considered what?" Sirius looked up. Then he sagged in place. "I," he said in tones of great dejection, "am an idiot."
"Yes, but you're our idiot, and we love you just the way you are." Danger directed a quick mental Scourgify over her Pack-brother, wiping away the dust he'd been ineffectively smacking at, then turned towards the bed. "So how would I do this? Summoning Charm?"
"No, that's too risky, especially when we're not sure where it is." Sirius drew his own wand, little bursts of sparks starting to emanate from its tip as he gestured in explanation. "Summoners work in straight lines, so if it turns out I'm wrong—I know, shock, astonishment, but it has been known to happen—and it's in another room, or even back at the Den itself…"
"We have an enormous mess." Danger nodded. "What should we use, then?"
"Variation on an Auror charm. We use it to check if there's somebody hiding in a building we're about to search. Should work just as well for boxes." Sirius frowned for a moment, then nodded and lifted his wand. "Revelio cistam fabulae!" he intoned.
An arc of light swept from the end of his wand and out through the room, widening as it went. On a shelf in the closet, something sparked.
"Well, that would certainly explain why I couldn't find it under the bed." Sirius clambered to his feet. "Do you ever wonder if I'm losing my mind?"
Danger lifted an eyebrow. "You have a mind?"
Sirius leaned his head against the open closet door. "Fourteen years," he told it. "You'd think I'd learn not to give her straight lines."
"But then how would we have our fun?" Deciding to have pity, Danger rose and crossed to Sirius's side, looking up at the box with interest. "So what's in there? I know you were working on a few things right after the Department of Mysteries, after Marcus…"
"Died." Sirius slid an arm around Danger and held her for a moment, giving comfort as much as taking it. "He's in good hands, though. Yeah, I had a couple different stories going, but then we had that damn full moon in January and that blew open a case or two we'd been working at the Office, so I tossed everything in here and set it aside until I had more time, and forgot all about it until now. So…" He swished and flicked, and the box rose from the shelf and floated out of the closet. "Why don't we have a look?"
"Sounds like fun. May my personal shapeshifting monster of evilness join in?"
"Only if he promises not to drool on my denouement again."
Typical, Remus said in tones of disgust. Fall asleep on one book and you're marked for life.
Giggling, Danger relayed this. Sirius paused in the act of pulling manila folders out of the box to give her a raised-eyebrow look of his own. "And were you the one cleaning up the puddle under his chair?"
"Well, actually…"
"Forget I asked," said Sirius hastily, turning back to his work.
The giggles intensified.
When Remus arrived, he casually flicked an Ear-Hair Hex onto Sirius in passing. Sirius growled when he reached up to scratch his ear only to discover a thick thatch of black obscuring it, and fired back with a Catfoot Jinx, which would have made Remus unable to put his heels on the ground for about a day. Remus dodged it and was about to return fire when Danger ordered a general truce and slashed a Finite over Sirius's ears.
"Honestly," she said, glaring at husband and Pack-brother. "I thought I could relax when we put the cubs on the train earlier this week, and here you two are, worse than any of them!"
"What's that?" Sirius asked, cocking his now hair-free ear towards her. "I didn't catch it."
"I said—" Danger stopped as both men started to laugh. "Oh, Merlin's tea and crumpets. You deserve each other, you realize that, don't you?"
"I think about it every day." Remus sat down on the bed and patted the spot beside him. "And I also think about things I don't deserve. Such as you."
Danger opened her mouth and closed it again. "Well played," she said after a moment, coming to sit down. "For that, you get mostly forgiven."
"Mostly?" Remus glanced at her uneasily. "Why only mostly?"
"Because I say so. Now hush. I want stories."
Grinning, Sirius obliged, pulling out the desk chair with a foot and seating himself as he selected a folder from the pile. "Part One," he read aloud. "Sing a Song of Sixpence. In June of a year known to later chronicles as the Annus Mirabilis, the Polite World of England was presented with a fine tidbit of scandal…"
Leaning back against Remus and letting her eyes drift half-shut, Danger listened dreamily to the tale of a young woman trapped by the expectations of her world, torn between hiding her fine mind in order to get a husband and escape her overbearing relatives or shocking society by revealing that she could and did think, study, and learn as well as any man. The heroine's final decision, to make her own way in the world and let society say what it would, brought a smile to her face, and she glanced up at Remus. So is it true that reading scares men away?
Only the sort of men who can't bear the thought that anyone in the world could be smarter than they are. Remus dropped a kiss on Danger's forehead, just touching her hairline. And that sort, you're likely better off without.
Amen. "That was charming," Danger said aloud, sitting up. "I love how you invoke the time period you're writing about with all those little details."
"I'd like to know more about those characters," was Remus's contribution. "We get to hear her decision, but we don't find out what came of it, how it worked out. Though it is 'Part One', which implies a 'Part Two'."
"Yeah, I've got plans that way, but I wanted to see how it went over first. You're curious, then?"
"Very much so." Danger nodded emphatically. "About what it is she'll end up doing with her life, how that little house comes into it, and if she ever does meet the fortune-teller again, or the girl with the kitten."
"In my head she does, but I'll have to wait and see if it works out that way on paper." Sirius returned the folder to the box and picked up another. "Oh, here, this is a good one. Creepy, but good." He cleared his throat and began to read. "Clouds scudded raggedly across a sky the hue of fresh blood as a silent figure slipped out of cover to drink at the hillside spring…"
Danger shivered uncontrollably at several points through this story, grateful for Remus's warm, supporting arm around her waist. "She did it to him herself?" she said when Sirius had finished. "I mean, I know she had to, but…" She stopped and made a face. "Pardon me while I try and get this foot out of my mouth."
"Strange that you would be writing a story with that as a motif, six months before everything happened in the summer," said Remus neutrally. "Or are you trying to take over the true dreamer post in the family?"
"Merlin's toenails, I hope not. One's enough." Sirius set the story aside, got up, and crossed to Danger. "Hey," he said gently, tapping her chin with one finger until she looked up at him. "Don't do that. It'll turn out right in the end."
"I know." Danger reached up and pulled Sirius down to the bed on her other side. "But the end never comes soon enough."
Sirius sighed. "You can say that again."
"Missing Letha?" Remus asked, releasing Danger so that she could scoot back on the bed, tucking her legs up under her. "You were just getting used to having her around, and now she's gone."
"Do I have a window right here that I don't know about?" Sirius demanded, jabbing a finger at his forehead. "Stick a Knut in my ear, it opens up and let you see what I'm thinking?"
"Actually, it's a little bigger than that." Danger framed her face with her hands. "As you said yourself, fourteen years, and for the first one or two at least, you were still getting used to being with people again."
"You did lose some of that pureblood unreadability after Azkaban," Remus confirmed. "And it never worked all that well on me, anyway. I'd had too much practice watching people to see who might know things."
"I should probably hate you right now," said Sirius conversationally. "Isn't that the proper manly response when people catch you having emotions?"
"Either that or hit them." Danger extended her hand, palm down. "Need a target?"
"You're just going to pull it out of the way on me, aren't you?"
"And there we are!" Danger pointed at him dramatically. "Proof that the mindreading goes both ways!"
"No, that's just the voice of painful experience. In some cases more painful than others." Sirius snickered, then grew quiet. "I… don't know," he said after several seconds of silence. "If I'm missing Letha, or if I'm glad she's not around right now. In some ways, I'm not even sure if I want her to come back. Which sounds awful, and isn't at all what I meant, but…"
"A case of half a loaf not being better than no bread?" Remus inquired. "Because what you truly want is to have back the woman you love, the woman who loves you. A woman who's still working out what she feels, even who she is, makes a highly uncomfortable substitute."
"I'm glad you know what I mean, because I had no idea." Sirius sighed again. "And it doesn't help that I keep wondering—please don't jump on me, I know this is ridiculous, I'm working on it—but if she wouldn't have been a little quicker to come back if our lives weren't as crazy. If we hadn't lost Marcus, or we weren't part of the war, or I wasn't…" He shrugged. "What I am."
Danger lifted both eyebrows this time. "You mean a wisecracking pureblood white sheep with an endless appetite and the biggest, softest heart of any man I know?"
Any man? Remus asked silently, his mental tone carrying a strong hint of amusement. Should I be getting jealous again?
It's only the truth. You have a nasty ruthless streak, love, though you don't show it much. Sirius has to be reminded to be pragmatic.
I'll decide whether or not I'm insulted by that later. "It's a fair thought to have," Remus said aloud, drawing Sirius's eyes. "But not one to dwell on, though I'm sure you know that."
"Know it, yes. Do it… well, like I said, I'm working on it." Sirius smiled, and though the expression wobbled slightly, it reached and warmed his eyes. "That's part of the reason I went looking for the stories. I wanted to see if there was anything I'd started that I could expand on, deepen and broaden a bit, maybe write some of this out and get it off my chest. Or out of my head. Whatever."
"Did you find it yet?" Danger asked, scooting closer.
"Maybe." Sirius rose and returned to the desk. "But let's keep looking. I was thinking more along the lines of a bard's tale, sort of, oh, what's that word—the one that isn't a crocodile."
Remus coughed once. "I believe the word you're looking for is 'allegory'?" he suggested delicately, as Danger buried her face in her sleeve.
"Is it? That's good to know." Sirius looked up from the box and grinned at his friends, then went back to rummaging.
And he's back, Danger said, her shoulders still shaking with suppressed merriment. Only Sirius—"the one that isn't a crocodile", honestly.
Don't encourage him. He'll only get worse. I've heard him— Remus broke off. Something's wrong, he said without preamble.
Danger looked up. Sirius was sinking slowly into the desk chair, a folder open in his hands, his eyes fixed on the words within it. "What is it?" she asked, scrambling off the bed. "Sirius, what's the matter?"
"I never wrote this." Sirius looked up at her, his expression of bafflement imperfectly concealing fear. "I don't remember ever writing this. But it's my writing—my DictaQuill, anyway—and my style, or one of them—" He ran a hand impatiently through his hair. "I just don't remember ever coming up with these characters. This setting, these actions. They don't sound familiar at all."
"May we hear?" Remus sat up straighter, but did not rise, and sent Danger a tiny beckoning feeling, calling her back to the bed. This could be something or it could be nothing, but whatever it is, it won't get any better for his panicking, he reminded her. And he feeds off us like we do off him, so if we're calm…
Calm. Right. Calm. Danger sank back down beside her husband. Something or someone else may have taken over my Pack-brother and used his writing to send us a message, but I can be calm about that. It's nothing new. It's nothing strange… She stopped. And you know what the sad part is? Compared to the rest of our lives, it's really not.
Precisely. Remus tugged gently at a tendril of her hair. Now hush yourself.
"It hasn't got a title." Sirius was skimming down the lines, as though preparing to deliver an unfamiliar oration. "But sometimes that's the last thing that comes, sometimes you have to finish the entire story before you know what it should be called… oh, right, you wanted to hear it. Sorry." He coughed twice, swallowed hard, and began.
"Once upon a time, in a kingdom called England, there lived a young boy named Dafydd Beauvoi, the younger son of a Norman noble and his wife, a Welshwoman though she carried also the blood of Denmark. Dafydd was a beautiful boy, with his father's fine bones and his mother's fair coloring, but he was lonely, for his father's great concern was Owain his heir, and his mother's great love was Angharad her daughter, and neither had much time to spare for little Dafydd.
"And so one day he went exploring, and in a stream he found a girl of his own age, seven years, whose red hair spilled over the shoulders of a kirtle as green as her eyes. And as they bragged as children will—Dafydd was the son of a lord, the girl the granddaughter of a baron—Dafydd let it slip that he could make the arrows of his bow fly anywhere that he wished, merely by willing it so. The girl coaxed him into coming to her home, where her black-haired father laid a carven stick in Dafydd's hand and bade him wave it in the air, and as the boy did so, sparks flew from it, for the stick was a wand, and young Dafydd a wizard.
"Thus began the great magical House of Beauvoi, famed in song and story…" Sirius's voice trailed off. "I may remember writing this after all," he said, lowering the papers to his lap. "The problem is, I still don't remember thinking of it. It just…" He snapped his fingers ringingly. "…showed up. Like someone else was telling it to me, and I was just writing it down."
"Where were you?" Danger asked, a suspicion tickling at the back of her mind. "When you wrote it down, however it happened. Where were you that day?"
"That night. It was the night after everything happened at the Department of Mysteries. I know, because I remember putting aside something I was writing about Marcus to start on this." Sirius frowned. "But that would mean…"
"That would mean you wrote it at Hogwarts," said Remus. "Which may give us some insight into who could have been telling it to you."
Sirius glanced upwards. "Thanks," he said, only half sarcastically. "But who's it about, then? The father can't be Gryffindor, his hair's not black, and Slytherin never had a daughter…"
"Move down a generation." Danger shut her eyes, recalling a face glimpsed across the street, a whispered word from Luna, a friend's voice issuing from a stranger's lips. "What about Alex?"
"He'd fit, though I don't know if he had kids. He probably did, though, I think he told us once that he didn't have heirs of his own anymore, which means he has to've had them at some point." Sirius was nodding, tracing along the lines of writing with a finger. "Yeah, and right here. The girl was a baron's granddaughter. Moony, didn't that book of yours say Slytherin was some kind of noble?"
"I'd have to look to be sure, but I believe it did." Remus chuckled. "Wouldn't that have irritated Salazar Slytherin no end. His granddaughter, taking up with a Muggleborn."
"He probably would just have said it was bad blood calling to bad blood." Danger drummed her fingers against the duvet, thinking furiously. "If he could say anything at all. This would likely have been after the Battle of Hogwarts took place, wouldn't you think? After he'd broken with the other Founders, been cast out, and come back to try to take over by force, but been killed by one of Gryffindor's students instead?"
"After he'd broken with the other Founders," said Remus slowly. "And with his own son. Why did Alex stay? What made his father disown him?"
"Difference of opinion wasn't enough?" Sirius snorted. "It was for my parents."
"It might have been, but Remus has a point." Danger rolled her eyes at Sirius's snicker. "Be disgusting on your own time, please. What I'm saying is, this is a thousand years ago we're talking about. Family was everything to these people, the only ones they knew they could count on. A son could fall under his father's displeasure in an awful lot of ways—being disowned was the absolute last resort, a way to say this person had dishonored you so badly that they didn't even exist to you anymore. And Alex still managed it. What does that say?"
"He pissed his daddy off good and proper." Sirius grinned. "Even more, you think, than siding with the other Founders could've done?"
"Taking sides is something you can take back," Danger pointed out. "Especially when you're young, easily misled, you can change your mind about things. Slytherin would have felt betrayed, angry, he wouldn't have understood his son's decision, but I think he'd have stopped short of a formal disowning. Unless…"
"Unless Alex had already done something his father considered beyond the pale." Remus smiled, squeezing Danger's hand. "What would you say to his falling in love with a Muggleborn? Even marrying one, perhaps?"
"I'd say he had good taste in women." Sirius winked at Danger. "Everybody knows that's where all the best ones come from."
"Are you complimenting me, him, yourself, or all three?" Danger asked.
"Yes." Sirius looked back at the story in his hand. "So if this is Alex and his daughter, and she's a redhead, her mum probably would be as well. Not that it matters, just keeping things straight. But what about this Dafydd kid?"
"That surname sounded familiar," said Remus. "Say it again?"
"Beauvoi." Sirius spelled it out. "And it's striking sparks with me too, but I can't think of why. My mind keeps flipping back and forth between thinking I've heard something just like it and thinking I've heard something completely different…"
"Back and forth, like and different," Danger repeated aloud. "Opposites. 'Beau' is good, isn't it, or beautiful?"
"Yeah, so the opposite would be 'mal'—" Sirius smacked himself in the forehead with his handful of papers. "How dumb can one guy be? Don't answer that either," he added hastily. "But of course that's why I think I've heard something different. I have. Flip 'beau' for 'mal' and you get—"
"Malfoy." Remus nodded. "Or something close enough to make no difference, not in those days."
"You said a mouthful." Sirius laughed. "You'd think no one could mess up my surname, right? B-L-A-C-K, not much room for error, but no, I had one ancestor who perennially signed himself, from the age of seven onwards, as Perseus Block. Known, apparently, as 'The Blockhead', and not entirely because he couldn't spell…"
"You've thought of something," said Remus when Sirius trailed off. "Can you get it into words?"
"Variant spellings." Sirius set aside the story and drew his wand. "Variant pronunciations. And something Albus showed me a while back. Revelio fabulam gladii argenti!"
This time the pulse of light left the room entirely, returning a moment later to dance invitingly in front of Sirius, who nodded. "Must be down in the War Room. 'Scuse me, right back…"
Do you have any idea what he's talking about? Danger asked as Sirius hurried into the corridor.
Not offhand—but wait, no, the spell. "Fabulam gladii argenti". Remus traced the curling path of a strand of brown hair which had made its way over his shoulder. The Tale of the Silver Sword. It's an old wizarding legend, about a magical sword which can choose a leader in time of need—
Like Excalibur?
Yes, though there's no stone involved. I'm not entirely sure how it does do its choosing, it's been years since I read it—
"Found it!" Sirius bounded back into the room, waving a scroll over his head in triumph. "I was able to Summon it from the stairs. Look, here it is—spelled Beaufoi, not Beauvoi, but like you said, Moony, close enough."
"'The hilt of the Silver Sword shimmered with the gleam of Mars, the light of the ancient god of war,'" Remus read aloud, accepting the scroll. "'It arose from its place on the table and turned as though regarding those who had called to it. Great was the fear of the wizards there gathered that they had awakened something too powerful for them to control, that the Sword might turn upon them and slay them all for their presumption, and almost to a man they cowered back. Almost—but for four men. Those four, the Sword inspected gravely, for each was valiant in his own right. One was the Sword's own keeper, the young head of the House of Beaufoi, who had proved his manhood by avenging his father's death…'"
Another legend involving Mars, Danger commented silently. Isn't he also supposed to be the one who turned Romulus into a werewolf?
Wizards were seldom peaceful sorts. Though in this case… "'The gleam of Mars'," Remus repeated. "Mars, the Red Planet. A silver sword with a red hilt."
"And with a 'great name' engraved on its blade," Danger added, pointing at the phrase. "The name of a famous wizard, perhaps? Say, one of the ones we were discussing earlier?"
"Wait, hold up." Sirius made a time-out T with his hands. "Are you saying this is Gryffindor's sword? The Sword of Decision? But that would mean it was being guarded by Slytherin's Heirs. That can't be right!"
"It can if they were Alex's." Danger poked Sirius in the chest, directly atop his pendants. "A bit hypocritical, are we, oh honorary one?"
Sirius growled half-heartedly and batted her finger away. "All right, all right. It just seems weird, that's all."
"They were friends to start out with, remember," said Remus, still perusing the scroll. "Gryffindor and Slytherin. Imagine if, say, Wormtail had a child—"
"Moony!" Sirius yelped, clapping his hands over his eyes. "Images, man, images!"
Remus blinked. "Wormtail's hypothetical child causes you to have images?"
"It doesn't cause them for you?" Sirius shuddered theatrically. "Fourth year," he told Danger. "Wormtail was working on spells for his Animagus and got two of them mixed together. One of them was for his size, the other was for his tail. And to top it all off, he reversed two words in the tail portion. So instead of either shrinking safely to rat size or growing this long pink thing behind him, he shrank half of the way to rat size and grew this long pink thing out in front…"
Danger fell over on the bed in helpless giggles.
"Ah, yes." Remus got up and walked unerringly to the desk, his eyes still trained on the words of the scroll. "That."
"'Ah, yes, that.'" Sirius glared at his friend. "How can you not be scarred by 'ah, yes, that'?"
"Because I, unlike some Marauders, do not have a mind which permanently inhabits the gutter." Remus sat down in the desk chair and picked up the page which contained Sirius's story about Dafydd Beauvoi, holding it side by side with the story of the Silver Sword. "Possibly also because I wasn't there."
"You weren't—that's right, you were still in the hospital wing. Bad transformation a couple days before." Sirius groaned. "Do you have any idea how lucky you were?"
"Judging by the gagging noises you and James made when you came to see me later that day, and the more or less permanent blush Peter wore for the next week, I can guess." Remus looked up. "None of which vitiates my point, by the way. Would you blame Wormtail's hypothetical child for his, or her, father's sins? Or would you try to remember he was our friend once, and this was something good that had come from him, something we could still do for him, even though he's made himself no longer our friend by his actions?"
"I know, I know. Plus Alex had made his own decision by that point, and Godric isn't the sort to turn down help, no matter where it comes from. So let me see if I've got this straight." Sirius started ticking off points on his fingers. "We're pretty sure the little red-haired girl is Alex's daughter, which makes her an Heir of Slytherin, and so would hers and Beauvoi's kids have been. Somewhere down the line, they come into possession of Gryffindor's sword, and even further along, it gets made into the Sword of Decision. Then what?"
"'But the House of Beaufoi is no more,'" Danger quoted, sitting up again. "They must have died out at some point. Either that or they 'are no more' because they became the Malfoys."
"I think we'd have noticed by now if Draco spoke snake," Sirius said dryly.
"There were three Beauvoi children in the beginning," Remus pointed out, setting aside the two pieces of parchment. "Two sons and a daughter. What if the present-day Malfoys descend from the other son?"
"But the other son was a Muggle," Sirius objected. "How can they—"
"A thousand years, Sirius," said Remus patiently. "A lot can happen in a thousand years."
"Like magic blossoming in a second line of a family." Danger frowned. "I wonder what happened to the daughter?"
Remus ran his finger down the parchment. "It doesn't say. Maybe we'll ask Alex the next time we visit. Though he may not be allowed to tell us."
"No harm in asking." Sirius nodded. "We'll have that as our working theory, why don't we. Two magical Beauvoi lines of descent, the older one from Dafydd and the little red-haired girl, and then the younger one from Dafydd's brother, which turned magic somewhere further along. But how do you go from that to one of them going extinct and the other getting stuck with a name like Malfoy? I mean, I know how I'd do it if I were writing it, but you know what they say about truth and fiction…"
"Do you have any books in the library on wizarding genealogy?" Danger suggested. "That might have something, even if it's been 'cleaned up' to say more what the purebloods want it to say. We can probably sort through the gibberish and get at the truth, given what we already know."
"Do we have any books on wizarding genealogy, she asks." Sirius swept Danger a flourishing bow. "My lady, your wish is my command. Pardon me a moment." He shot back out the door.
"Watching you manage him is an education," said Remus, returning to his side-by-side comparison.
"I learned from the best." Danger sat down again. "I notice you framed Wormtail having a child entirely in hypothetical terms."
"Should I have done something else?" Remus looked at her over the top edge of the scroll. "Or is there something I don't know?"
Danger leaned back on her hands. "No dreams, not on this one. None at all so far this year, actually. Which could mean we've worn out our allotment of warnings, or just that it isn't time for us to get one yet."
"Or that nothing's going to happen in the immediate future about which we need to be warned. I think I like that better." Remus paused. "Very nicely done. You almost had me. Now let's get back to the original topic. Peter Pettigrew and his offspring, hypothetical or not, and what you do or do not know about said offspring."
"Damn." Danger pouted. "What gave me away?"
You were purring, Remus said, switching into silent speech. In the back of your mind. Now let's have it.
I don't know anything, Danger protested. But, well, children do tend to happen when people get married, if there's nothing barring the way. And I did give Evanie those rings…
And you called me ruthless. Remus shook his head. Still, I suppose the punishment fits the crime. But I do feel sorry for Evanie. And, assuming you're correct, their child. Or children. She may have chosen to stay with him, but the children won't have that choice.
They might not have to make it, though. Danger slid off the bed and came to sit on Remus's lap. Aren't we hoping to have the war over within the next year or two? To see if we can't slide that first dream of mine into reality? We could always "miss" a few of the lower-ranked Death Eaters when we're cleaning things up, and there's lots of places in this world for a little family to disappear.
As long as they make it that far, I'll pledge to keep my wand off him. Remus slid an arm around Danger's waist. We might have to speak firmly to Sirius, but we'll get Aletha's help with that one.
Sounds like a plan.
"Here it is, I found—" Sirius cut himself off as he loped back into the room. "Don't you two ever get tired of doing that?"
"Don't you ever get tired of asking silly questions?" Remus returned. "Let's see it."
"Here you are." Sirius handed over the thick hardcover. "Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Good luck finding anything useful."
Remus flipped to the back of the book. "Let's see here. Lestrange, Longbottom, Lupin, a-ha. Malfoy." Opening the book to somewhere near the middle, he turned a few pages, then began to read aloud. "The name of the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy first occurs in wizarding history in the time of King James I. The founding member of the House at this time was one Lucius Malfoy—"
"No way." Sirius sat down on the corner of his desk. "You're making that up."
"See for yourself." Remus turned the book so that Sirius could see it. "Down in print."
"History repeats itself with a vengeance." Sirius laughed. "So what did this Lucius do?"
"Maybe it says. Let's see." Remus returned to the page. "—one Lucius Malfoy, though he was born with the name of Beauvoi or Beaufoi, under which style there is evidence that the line is considerably older. This said Lucius, however, was followed throughout his lifetime by unjust rumors that he had murdered his cousin, William Beauvoi, in order to inherit his money and property, including the present-day Malfoy Manor (Wiltshire, England). This led to his being given the darkly punning nickname of 'mal foi', or 'bad faith'. In an attempt to lay this calumny to rest, Lucius adopted the altered form Malfoy as his legal surname, which succeeded in silencing all but the most pernicious of the slanderers. His current descendant, another Lucius, resides at Malfoy Manor with his wife Narcissa (nee Black)."
"Published before 1984, I see." Danger grinned briefly. "But that answers that question, doesn't it?"
"Clear as mud," said Sirius. "Olden-days Lucius took his cousin out of the picture, that much I get, but what's it got to do with our two-lines theory?"
"Everything." Remus set the book aside. "Think about it, Sirius. Why would William Beauvoi have had money and property, and Lucius Beauvoi none? And why would the author be so coy about 'the line' being older under the Beauvoi name, but never say outright that Lucius had older magical ancestors? Unless—"
"Unless he didn't," Sirius completed the sentence for him. "Unless it was his cousin who came from the magical line, and he was actually Muggleborn." A broad grin split his face. "D'you think our Lucius—"
"Do not call him that." Danger winced. "Not ever again."
"Fine, fine. Present-day Lucius. Better?"
"Yes. Much."
"Picky, picky, picky," Sirius groused under his breath. "Do you think present-day Lucius knows he's named after a 'Mudblood'?" He primmed up his mouth and sketched dainty air quotes around the word. "Or has he convinced himself he comes from that 'considerably older' line and his ancestor was the innocent victim of malicious defamation?"
"Having experienced Lucius Malfoy's ability to deceive himself, I'd say by this point he could very well believe anything he wanted to." Remus sighed. "So, there it is. Confirmation, or at least fairly strong circumstantial evidence. The House of Beauvoi, however you spell it, is indeed no more."
"I heard a name I recognized on the way past," Danger said with a grin. "Care to turn back a couple pages and read us that entry?"
Remus gave her a weary look. "Must I?"
"I will, if you don't." Sirius whisked the book out of Remus's grasp and retreated across the room. "Let's see here. 'Though not a recognized wizarding House, the line of Lupin is nonetheless of respectable antiquity. Some historians claim to trace it to a wizard of legendary valor on the battlefield, known as John the Wolf for his ferocity towards his enemies in war and his dedication to his family in peace. However, as John the Wolf flourished less than a century after the Founding of Hogwarts, this claim is difficult to validate, and this author finds it more creditable that the line was founded in more recent times, perhaps by a notable hunter of wolves or breeder of wolfhounds. No current—'" He broke off, scowling. "Well, the hell with that."
"No current what?" Danger blinked, bewildered. "What's the matter?"
Sirius growled under his breath, but finished the sentence. "No current descendants of this pureblood line exist."
"You mean I married a ghost?" Danger poked Remus in the shoulder. "That's quite a thing to keep from your wife all these years."
"My crimes against existence are twofold, you see." Remus kissed the finger which had poked him. "I was born of a Muggle mother—how dare I—and then I compounded that error by going outside late one night as a child. With what results, you already know."
"So you're a half-blood and a werewolf. What part of that means you don't exist?"
"The part where they only acknowledge the world they want to?" Sirius closed the book with a thump. "Danger, these are my people. I grew up with them. So trust me when I tell you—they're insane. Completely and totally off the trolley. They know they have magic, and they know magic makes your wishes come true. What they've never quite figured out is, magic's not unlimited. It can't do everything. And one of these days, all those things it can't do are going to turn around and bite them all on the collective arse."
"May that day come sooner, rather than later," said Remus, shifting Danger's weight to the other leg. "And speaking of things magic can't do, how are the Red Shepherds coming along with their new place in Diagon Alley, the Pepper Pot? You were there the other day, weren't you?"
"Stuck my nose in, yeah." Sirius chuckled. "They've got it cleaned up all nice—actually looks like a restaurant now—and Percy's put a rush on the paperwork with the Ministry, so he thinks they should be cleared to open by next week. And unless I'm much mistaken, it smelled like they were trying one of Molly's recipes in the back."
"Well, that should guarantee plenty of customers if nothing else will." Danger got to her feet and stretched. "I wonder if they need any kitchen help? I've been thinking it might be good for me to get out of the house more…"
Struck me I hadn't given you much of the Pack-parents lately, so here they are, a whole chapter of them. And lots of stuff from earlier stories—did you think I'd forgotten? I never forget! Well, hardly ever.
There is a massive thunderstorm here and there's popcorn and a movie waiting for me, so just briefly: A Widow in Waiting is the title of my original. It's not published yet, but I'll let you know. When it is published, good sales guarantee frequent chapters of Surpassing Danger. Watch both here and on the Facebook page, facebook.com/annebwalsh.page, for details.
Thanks, everybody! Have a good (and safe, for those in tornado-prone places) night!
Oh yes. The opening lines of the two of Sirius's stories we hear are, in fact, the opening lines of two of mine. You might even get to read them sometime soon if all goes well… so let me know if you like what you hear…