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One
Much like other people he knew, Leo Hurst existed in two worlds. The Lower Alleys had always been his home. His mother had grown up in the Alleys—though she had managed to attain education outside them—and it was where his Aunts, Uncles, and cousins still lived.
His father had never even been properly introduced to the part of London where Leo spent his childhood. Malcolm Hurst was respectable, a potioneer, rising in the ranks of the Guild until he had achieved the position of Aldermaster.
Leo could move through that world too, could pretend to belong.
The trouble was that the respectable elements of society—the ones that had their formalized government—pretended that the first of his worlds didn’t exist. Leo was well aware that the Ministry could take control of the Alleys if they wanted. They didn’t care to, only because they didn’t care about that part of magical London at all.
And so, there was an informal economy running under the formal one of the Upper Alleys. It was in this space the Rogue operated, the de facto government that served all the people the Ministry didn’t care to.
The Alleys existed in a perpetual state of precariousness. The Ministry could bring them under its thumb by force—through Auror raids and arrests—or by simply providing the people of the Alleys the services the Rogue hadn’t the resources for.
The great irony of the Alleys was that if the people there had access to good education and outside opportunities, the very structure of their community would begin to fall apart.
Thus, the Alleys balanced between gradual absorption in times of prosperity and the chaos and violence of hard times.
These were not times of prosperity. Everyone knew it, too. The air in the Alleys felt tense, an atmosphere of grim anticipation permeating everything.
This time it wasn’t the Ministry’s fault, at least not in any direct way. No, the threat these days came from a different quarter.
Much like the Alleys weren’t controlled by the Ministry, the Cesspool wasn’t controlled by the Rogue. Like many of his predecessors, Leo had tried to improve the squalid conditions and rampant crime in the past, but the Cesspool resisted order, even in the form of the Rogue. It bred the kind of chaos that could easily spill over and overtake the unaware. One of Leo’s main occupations in life was trying to keep the Cesspool from consuming the Alleys.
The Cesspool was spilling, and everyone was on edge.
It was times like this that brought every division of society simmering to the fore. Leo thanked whichever god it was that had kept anyone from dying at the hands of the Carpathians the last few weeks—the number of close calls hardly bore thinking on. This only reinforced sentiment against the coven, and the resulting peace was tenuous at best.
That was a headache in and of itself, and it was just a symptom of a larger problem. Something nasty was brewing in the Cesspool.
Three days ago, someone had disappeared. From all Leo could figure, they hadn’t even ventured into the Cesspool, only skirted the edges. The man was still gone.
He wasn’t someone important in the court, but the man paid his tithe. Leo had been petitioned for assistance by the man’s family. He and Marek had been searching relentlessly for over a day. They had no leads.
Leo suspected the man was dead. He just didn’t know why.
Someone was hiding out in the Cesspool recruiting. Who, for what, or why were all questions Leo couldn’t answer. He only knew even that small bit because Krait had told him that someone had been coming around the Storeroom, seemingly after Harry. A couple of others, Leo knew, had been approached too. For everyone he knew had been approached, he imagined there were at least three where he didn’t.
Leo’s control was beginning to fray. It was his job to keep the people of the Alleys safe, and they were starting to realize it was a task beyond him.
A second search of the missing man’s apartment yielded nothing. Leo sighed. The only thing left to do was ask people if they had seen anything strange the day of the disappearance and hope something turned up. Leo wasn’t optimistic.
The sun was going down, and he knew it was time to call it quits for the day.
He felt his heart sink with the sun. Harry was going back to America tomorrow. He’d barely seen her all break, and she clearly hadn’t had a chance to come say goodbye.
She didn’t owe him anything, Leo reminded himself sternly. The disappointment that had taken up residence in his chest didn’t listen. Leo cared for Harry far more than was wise. More, too, than she cared about him.
He needed to get himself together. Leo didn’t have time for this—he didn’t have time for anything anymore.
He paused as he passed Lamia Lodge. Bothering vampires rarely ended well, but he should ask if any of them had seen anything. He doubted they had, but it would make it look as if he was doing something.
He pushed the door open. For the first time in his memory, the hinges didn’t squeak (when had that happened?). Gavril looked up from the desk anyway. “If it isn’t the Rogue himself,” he said. “What could we possibly do for you?”
“I won’t be long,” Leo said, “I only wanted to know if you, or anyone else, saw anything strange three nights ago. A man’s gone missing near the edge of the Cesspool.”
“I have seen nothing strange,” Gavril replied, “But I’ve hardly questioned the entire coven on the matter.”
“If you could pass the word along and send a message to the Phoenix if anything turns up, I’d be grateful.”
“Hmm,” Gavril commented, “Perhaps. Anything else, Rogue?”
“No,” Leo said with a soft sigh, “Unless you have anything for me?”
Gavril hummed. “Not at all, Rogue. I don’t suppose your little messenger bird caught up to you? She was by here a few days hence.”
Leo straightened. “I haven’t seen her. Why?”
Gavril shrugged. “She seemed concerned that you know of some matter—one clearly of little import.”
“Do you know what it was she wanted me to know?” Leo asked with forced patience.
“Hmm, something about the human that came here.” Gavril pretended to think. He was baiting him. “The man trying to convince us to join his ridiculous cause.”
Leo’s mind whirled. “If this… person… has been trying to recruit you, have they approached the Carpathians?”
Gavril sneered at the mention of the Alley’s other coven. “They’re always ones for pointless causes, aren’t they?” he said. Leo took this to be a yes.
“Thanks, Gavril,” Leo said, “Don’t forget to send a message over if anyone knows anything related to the disappearance.”
“Anytime, Rogue,” Gavril said, back to his usual sardonic amusement.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Leo spent the next week trying to track down the man that had been trying to recruit the vampire covens.
Leo figured that if someone had been breathing down Krait’s neck to find Harry, then they must be in the market for a brewer who could shaped imbue.
To that end, Leo spread rumors of a new potioneer in the alleys, capable of shaped imbuing, who was setting up business against Krait. He staged a conversation where Krait complained about the competition, timed for maximum overhearing potential. He went to rent an apartment from one of the worst gossips in the alleys under Polyjuice, with a dark, mysterious hood drawn over his face. He set up some basic potions to brew, making sure the smell spread beyond the confines of the tiny apartment, and had Marek Polyjuice as an equally suspicious buyer (who was, of course, overheard by the gossiping landlady).
Marek then took up the role of the mysterious potioneer, with the court told that Marek was traveling abroad for secret business. (Leo didn’t even want to think about the amount of time he would have to spend replacing his discretionary Polyjuice stores). He sent Aled to investigate the brewer to make sure he planned to pay his tithe. Word spread around the court fast, after that. Leo even mentioned the presence of a new and mysterious brewer in the Alleys to his father.
This farce had been going on for a week when the transfigured pocket watch that Leo had—linked to Marek’s identical one—heated up. This was the agreed-upon signal for the arrival of the mysterious recruiter at the apartment. Leo, going through reports in his office at the Phoenix, apparated to a nearby street. He took the short remaining distance at a run—he hadn’t wanted to get too close, lest the noise alerted the buyer to his presence.
After scaling a wall, Leo watched from a nearby rooftop as a man in incredibly suspicious attire left the apartment. Leo followed him, tailing him across rooftops for an alleyway or two before moving back down to street level.
The man didn’t go to the Cesspool at all, instead walking through Knockturn to Diagon and taking the Floo from the Leaky Cauldron. Leo managed to point the man out to Margot before he vanished into the pub, so at least he could have the children keep an eye out for him. He hoped Marek had had better luck.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Marek made it back to the Dancing Phoenix before Leo did. He was waiting as Leo walked into the inn. As soon as Marek saw him, he said enthusiastically, “I got it!”
“Really?” Leo asked him skeptically, “That actually worked?”
“Sure did,” Marek said with satisfaction, “‘Accidently’ ran into him with a knife in my hand, and get this? He didn’t even vanish the blood. Do you have the ancestry potion ready?”
“It’s upstairs,” Leo answered.
They went up to Leo’s makeshift potions lab (he couldn’t exactly brew Polyjuice somewhere his father would find it). A piece of parchment bathed in the potion he’d made, and a few drops of blood later, they watched as their mysterious recruiter’s family tree was drawn out in indelible ink.
Leo looked at the name. Barty Crouch Jr.
It was clear this was bigger than the alleys. Leo was going to have to expand his information network.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Rigel recognized the handwriting on the letter she received at breakfast. It hadn’t come with a letter from Archie, which implied that it hadn’t been sent through Archie at all. She tucked the letter into her bag to read later.
She opened it, after classes that day, in her private lab.
Archie—
I know we’ve only spoken once, but at the time you implied you might be open to helping with a problem of mine. People around here are being recruited. Don’t know who for, but I suspect it has something to do with your set. If you know anything about the fiasco at the World Cup, or anything at all that you’d think would help, I’d be grateful if you’d let me know.
I’m not a particularly good correspondent, so don’t bother sending it by letter. I hear you have one of your Hogsmeade weekends coming up. I’ll be in the Three Broomsticks at noon.
—Leo
Rigel read the letter twice. Leo was asking Archie (Archie!) for help. If the situation in the alleys was bad enough that Leo was willing to turn to even noble gossip for intel…
She couldn’t go to meet Leo; that much was obvious. It didn’t matter if her aura was suppressed, Leo would still recognize her by her magic in a heartbeat. But she did know things that Leo might be able to use. And he was right, sending them in a letter would be too dangerous.
She would send a letter as Archie, she decided, telling Leo it would be too suspicious on her end for her to meet him. Archie could write him a letter as Harry, offering the information she’d collected should he be willing to send a messenger to come pick up the letter in person.
She stayed up until midnight to call Archie, resigning herself to tiredness the next day. He answered the mirror almost immediately.
“What’s up, cuz?” he said, with his trademark mischievous grin.
“Hello, Archie.” Rigel proceeded to explain the letter and her plan.
Archie squinted at her through the mirror. “Are you sure you shouldn’t just… go?”
“What?” Rigel asked incredulously. “You want Leo to realize that the Rigel Black most of society is familiar with is actually Heiress Potter? In a pub full of dozens of Hogwarts students, no less.”
“Leo wouldn’t out you like that,” Archie protested. “He’d be surprised, sure. But that doesn’t mean he’d go yelling about it in public.”
“Leo can’t find out about the ruse!” Rigel told him, a little hysterically. “It’d make him an accomplice, and he has enough on his plate without having to deal with my problems on top of everything else.”
“I don’t think it’d be as bad as you make it out,” Archie told her gently, “But I won’t argue with you about it. Are you sure there is no way to get around his weird non-aura-based magic senses?”
“Pretty sure. He could feel my magic back when I had my aura suppressed all the time, so…”
“Well, we can do it your way, then,” Archie said calmly, adding, “Though I must point out that this would be so much easier if you didn’t spend so much time around people with insanely specific magic sensing abilities.”
“Leo is just one person,” Rigel protested, a little offended.
“Didn’t you say that Snape could sense the shape of your occlumency shields, even when your aura is suppressed?”
“That, at least, isn’t hard to fake,” Rigel told him.
Archie gave her a skeptical look. “I think we need to have a talk on what qualifies as ‘not hard,’ cuz.”
Rigel shook her head fondly, “Whatever you say.”
Archie grinned, “Naturally. Now, what is all this information I supposedly have for Leo then?”
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Pansy and Draco didn’t appreciate her excuses for missing the Hogsmeade weekend, but they were used to them and left her alone without too much complaint.
She passed the day brewing in her lab. At dinner, she listened to her friends chatter about their Hogsmeade trip.
“I still think that man was watching us,” Pansy said, with a moue of displeasure.
“To what end?” Draco replied, a little dismissively. “He was probably just starstruck by your beauty, Pans.”
Rigel looked up. “Who was this?”
“A man in Hogsmeade,” Pansy said, “A couple of years older than us—maybe out of school. He kept glancing over at us.”
“I didn’t notice anything,” Draco countered with a frown.
“Well, that means nothing as to whether there was someone there,” Blaise answered slyly.
Draco gave him an offended look. “I’m telling you, I would’ve sensed if he was watching us,” Draco said, unwilling to reference his empathy more directly than that.
Rigel ignored him, asking Pansy, “What did he look like?”
“Fairly tall, I think,” Pansy said, “Brown hair, pleasant to look at. Not from a family I recognized. Why?”
“No reason,” Rigel answered, though it was clear nobody believed her. It might well actually be nothing, though. Sure, Pansy’s description could describe Leo, but it could depict plenty of other people too. And why would Leo be in Hogsmeade when she had already declined to meet? (And would Pansy even be capable of catching him out if he were?).
She sighed and pushed the matter out of her mind. She wouldn’t worry about Leo until she knew she needed to.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Rigel woke, suddenly. It took her a moment to place herself. It was past midnight, but still several hours before dawn. Why had she woken?
A moment later, she noticed the figure standing over her bed. She just managed to bite back her scream when she realized who it was.
“We need to talk,” Leo said, his voice a whisper.
“What the hell?” she hissed back, “What is wrong with you?”
“We need to talk,” Leo repeated. “Are you coming or not?”
Rigel was very tempted to refuse. Being woken up in the middle of the night to find someone she had been trying to avoid looming over her bed was not her idea of a good time.
She doubted Leo would leave easily, though, and it would be significantly worse if any of her dormmates woke up. She got out of bed (one benefit to sleeping in her clothes was that she was already dressed). Leo followed her silently down the hallway into the common room. Even empty, as it was at this hour, it was not the best place to have this conversation. But her lab tracked entry and exit times, and she did not want to have a discussion with Professor Snape about why she was brewing potions in the middle of the night with an accomplice.
She took a chair, avoiding Leo’s gaze. He settled into an armchair across from her, snapping up a privacy ward as he did so. “Is it safe to talk here?” Leo asked, a question that, asked under privacy and silencing charms, signaled a level of paranoia she was intimately familiar with.
Rigel shrugged, “As safe as it is anywhere else.”
Leo’s gaze searched her face. “I have to say, lass, this explains more than it doesn’t.”
“Lass?” she asked a little hoarsely, “Leo, what—”
“Harry,” he said gently, “You know I can recognize your magic.”
She didn’t say anything. Part of her wanted to protest more, to find some story to convince Leo she was not, in fact, Harry. The rest of her was just tired.
A moment of silence passed. Leo added, “You know I won’t tell anyone.”
Harry sighed. “I know.”
“I suppose,” Leo began slowly, “that the whole identical twin cousin thing makes more sense now. Though it still doesn’t explain how you managed to pull it off.
“My current appearance is somewhere in between how Archie and I look naturally. I found a ritual to combine hairs. And I modified Polyjuice to last for about a year at a time, so no one realizes that I’m changing my appearance.”
“A year? Really?” Leo asked, sounding surprised. “I’m impressed. I suppose if I were a better potioneer, I’d ask how, but what I really want to know is if you can modify Polyjuice to be longer than an hour but shorter than a year.”
She shook her head. “No, not really. It’s impractical for almost anything.”
“Except deep cover, or, I suppose, long-term impersonation.” Harry couldn’t get a read on Leo’s tone. It might’ve been teasing, but she wasn’t sure.
She decided to redirect to Leo’s misdeeds, “This doesn’t explain why you felt it necessary to break into my bedroom.”
“Lass, I didn’t know it was yours at the time,” Leo pointed out, as if it were perfectly reasonable for him to break into other people’s bedrooms, so long as they weren’t hers.
Harry frowned. “How did you even get there in the first place? There are wards to keep people not in my year out of the hallway.”
“A gentleman never reveals his secrets,” Leo answered, apparently practicing his mysterious eye twinkle.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “ You have no excuse not to tell, then.”
Under the silencing charms Leo could’ve yelled at the top of his lungs without waking anyone, but his laugh was barely more than a puff of air. His face turned serious, and he added, “You know I wouldn’t have done it, were it not important.”
She nodded in acceptance, but added, “I think we’ve already talked about your tendency to be overbearing.” Leo winced. She hurried on before he could say anything more, “I got your letter. I should’ve made more of an effort to come by before going back to school. I do actually know things that might help. It’s just—”
“You’ve been busy,” he said in an understanding tone. “You know, it’s rare that I meet someone juggling as much as I have to, but I’ll admit, lass. You may’ve got me beat.”
She tried to smile but wasn’t sure she’d managed it. “I don’t do it on purpose,” she complained, “But Riddle won’t leave me alone, and…” she threw up her hands a little helplessly, adding in a small voice that she hated, “No matter what I do, I just can’t seem to escape.”
“I can’t relate exactly, seeing as I did this to myself and I don’t have the leader of the SOW Party knocking down my door, but I can’t say I don’t fantasize about running away sometimes, too.”
“You’d never leave your people like that,” Harry said, absolutely certain.
“No,” he agreed, “I wouldn’t. And I definitely can’t now, just when something dangerous seems to be brewing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of it sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “I have to see this stupid tournament through.” She hugged her knees to her chest, feeling a little lost. “I guess I can only hope it will be as worth it in the end as I thought it would be when I started.”
She thought Leo looked like he wanted to ask but wasn’t ready quite yet to open that can of worms. Instead, he said, “It seems like we’ve both been trying not to burden each other with our problems. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t say it’s been really working out for me. It’s starting to seem like maybe our problems are a bit more connected than I had expected, too. Maybe it’s time for a new approach.”
“You want to deal with our problems collectively?” she asked hesitantly.
“Why not? It’s still the same amount of work split between us both. But I think you might be a little more helpful with some of my problems than I realized. This might end up being one-sided—I don’t know how useful I can be to you. So I understand if you decide you need to focus on the tournament. But I’d appreciate it if we could at least talk about it and see.”
Harry nodded slowly. “I think you’re right. I haven’t wanted to trouble you when you have so much going on, but the alleys aren’t nearly as removed from the rest of this mess as I thought. Over the break, I saw—”
“Barty Crouch Jr.?” Leo asked.
“You know?” Harry asked, feeling relieved. “I’m glad; I was feeling guilty that I never got the chance to tell you.”
“Gavril mentioned something you said, so I went looking,” Leo admitted.
“I have something else to feel guilty about. I sent a tip to the Aurors.”
Leo’s voice was grave, “Lass, you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
“I… it was anonymous. I just warned them that the terrorists seemed to be recruiting in the lower alleys.”
Leo sighed. “I wish you’d at least talked to me beforehand. I can’t say that I truly believe Auror involvement will help matters. On the other hand, I’m not sure we can do this alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I’m not sure if they’ll be helpful or not. But at least they know now? So, if they’re going to try to do something useful, they can get on with it.”
“Let’s hope, lass. Still, it is never a good idea to rely on the Aurors. Not for us, anyway.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted.
“So,” he said, changing the subject. “What can you tell me about Barty Crouch Jr.? I don’t know much about the man, besides who his father is. I was hoping your cousin could help me.” His tone took on a teasing quality, “But if your cousin Archie has been in America this whole time, I’m not sure he’ll be nearly as big a help after all.”
She agreed, laughing a little. “No, for politics, you want me.” Harry paused while she organized her thoughts. “Barty Crouch Jr. is the major SOW Party member in charge of the tournament. When I was in the Alleys, though, he was trying to recruit the Shrouds for Voldemort.”
Leo frowned. “So, is he a traitor to the SOW Party, or are they behind Voldemort?”
“Riddle will consider him a traitor,” Harry affirmed. “The radicals’ attack on the World Cup may have worked out for him politically, but I know he doesn’t support them directly. In fact, when he realizes Voldemort is behind it, I expect him to be very much opposed.”
Leo narrowed his eyes at her. “You know something about this Voldemort fellow.”
Harry sighed. It felt good, being able to lay the political tangles out in front of Leo, to be able to talk about them with someone who wanted the same things. But she didn’t know how to explain this properly, with the Vow holding her back. It had never really come up before because she had never truly wanted to explain before. She didn’t know how to talk about how her time in the Chamber had affected her. But Leo already knew. If not what she had gone through, then how it affected her. He knew how she had changed after the events of last year, too.
She suspected he, of all people, might understand the decision she had made in the Chamber, even if he didn’t like it. Harry knew she couldn’t voice that yet, Vow or no Vow, but she wanted to explain what she could.
It hit her suddenly that while she might not be able to, Archie could. She checked the time—a little past two in the morning. It would be late there, but he should still be awake.
“Wait here,” she told Leo, hurrying back to her dorm room before he could protest. She snuck back in (how was this her life?), grabbed the mirror, and crept back out again.
She retook her chair in the common room. Leo seemed to forget his annoyance in favor of curiosity. “What is that?”
“A communication mirror,” she told him. “Hold on.” She put her face to the mirror, “Harry? Harry, are you there?”
Archie’s face appeared in the mirror. “Hey, cuz,” he said, a little wary. “I was about to go to bed here, which means it’s got to be the early hours of the morning for you.”
“Is anyone around?” Harry asked him.
“No,” Archie said, concerned, “What’s up?”
Harry flashed the mirror to show Leo. Archie’s eyes widened. Harry told him, “Leo seems to think it is perfectly acceptable to go breaking into people’s bedrooms in the middle of the night.” Archie choked. Harry continued, “It’s safe to say he knows, now.”
“Hello, Archie,” Leo said to the mirror.
“Leo,” Archie replied, “It seems we need to have a talk.”
“I look forward to it.”
“We’re talking now,” Harry interrupted, a little perplexed by the whole exchange, “And we have important things to cover, so…”
“Very true,” Leo said, “Though you still haven’t explained why you needed to call Archie here, so I admit, I’m a little behind.”
“You asked about Voldemort,” Harry said seriously. “I can’t tell you about him, but Archie can.” To Archie, she added, “Voldemort’s been recruiting in the Lower Alleys. I know we said it wasn’t a priority right now with the tournament, but since Leo’s helping...”
“No, no,” Archie said, “This is good. We can do both.”
“Why can’t you tell me about him?” Leo asked Harry.
“It’s… complicated,” she said. “I may’ve used what I know to blackmail a politician. So, there are parts of this I’ve Vowed not to speak of. I told Archie about it before I made the Vow, and no one knows that he knows, so…”
Leo laughed. “Only you, Harry. Do I want to know how old you were when you decided to start blackmailing politicians?”
“You do not,” Archie answered seriously.
Harry glared at him through the mirror. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t done as much ridiculous stuff as I have. How old were you when you challenged for the Rogue?”
He shook his head. “Older than you are now?”
“You sure?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I’m almost sixteen,” she told him, though it is hard to be sure, now.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “I assume you’re going to explain that, too?”
“During my third year, I may’ve been given a time turner to take extra classes,” Harry began, “And I may’ve used it so much I added over a year to my age.”
“And my mother complains about the trouble I got into as a child,” Leo joked. Harry didn’t find it as funny. Objectively, she knew that her dreams would’ve been ruined if her mother had a gift like Eleni Hurst’s. She still envied Leo for his mother’s casual support and acceptance.
Leo seemed to realize that the joke had upset her a little. He changed the subject. “So, Archie,” he said to the mirror, “What can you tell me?”
“Okay,” Archie replied, “Let me see if I can get this right. In Harry’s second year at Hogwarts, there was a giant basilisk running around the school. It had been woken up by a student possessed by a diary, enchanted by Tom Riddle—to, what was it again? Hold a memory of his teenage self? Anyway, it kidnapped and tried to possess Harry, failed, and apparently didn’t die.”
“Wait, what?” Leo asked, “How does this—”
“Oh, yeah,” Archie added, “The diary thingy called itself Lord Voldemort.”
“Okay,” Leo said, seeming a bit overwhelmed, “An enchanted version of Riddle is running around recruiting people in the Alleys?” He turned to Harry, “But you said Riddle is not allied with Voldemort?”
Harry shook her head, “Definitely not.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Leo complained.
“I can’t talk about it,” Harry said, a little frustrated. “And I could be wrong. But I’m fairly certain, from the conversations we’ve had.”
“And he couldn’t have been lying?” Leo asked, frowning.
Harry shook her head. “He has a temper. And I’m not sure he could fake that.”
“Okay,” Leo said, seemingly realizing that she couldn’t say more, “But you think this diary is behind the attacks—on Novus, at the World Cup?”
Harry nodded. “It makes sense. It was… insane, but, well, it wanted to possess me to build a following to take over Britain, so…”
“There are a bunch of terrorists hiding out in the Cesspool,” Leo said faintly. “This is so much bigger than the Alleys. And much, much, bigger than I had imagined.”
Harry looked at his shocked, grim expression and felt understanding pool in her heart. It was just so big. She and Archie had decided focusing on the tournament took precedence for this exact reason. She didn’t know where to start. Even the thought of trying made her breath catch.
Surely, there was somebody, anybody, else to shoulder that burden?
There was, she realized. She could tell by the look on Leo’s face that he was going to try. Even if he didn’t want to, even if it was too much for him, too, he was going to try. Harry wasn’t going to let him do it alone.
“You’re right,” she said. “This is so much bigger than the Alleys. Which means it’s not your problem, alone. We’ll figure this out,” she promised.
Leo took one deep breath and then a second. “I don’t mean to drag you into this,” he offered hesitantly.
“I’m already in it,” Harry said, letting him see her newfound determination. “I foiled his plans last time. At some point, he’ll come after me for revenge.”
“Hey, you can’t be thinking of going and fighting terrorists without me,” Archie complained through the mirror. “I might be well out of it while I’m here, but it is technically Arcturus Black Voldemort will come for. Besides, I’m not about to let Harry be kidnapped and tortured by a madman, not again.”
As a joke, it wasn’t funny at all. Still, Harry appreciated the attempt.
“Okay,” she said, “If we’re doing this, we’re going to need a plan.”
“So, what is the end goal here?” Leo asked, “Are we trying to capture or kill Voldemort? Have him arrested? What about his followers?”
“Let’s start with Voldemort himself,” Harry said decisively, “I know Voldemort is recruiting in the Alleys and radicalizing people. But without their leader, I suspect, they’ll be hampered to some extent. Then, we can try to deal with Voldemort’s followers.”
“How do you kill a sentient diary?” Archie asked, “Or stop it from moving to possess another body? That’s how it escaped the last time.”
“Call it the construct,” Harry said. “It broke all links to the diary once it possessed the student; the diary is no longer relevant. And, I don’t know.”
“How about I take point on that?” Archie suggested. “There isn’t a lot I can do over here, but I can try to research how the… construct… works.”
“Will you be able to find anything there?” Harry questioned. “You won’t have access to the Black or Hogwarts Library.”
Archie waved a hand, “It’ll be fine. Hogwarts isn’t everything. I can always request to borrow books from Ilvermorny, and at worst, we’ll have to raid the Black library this summer.”
“Okay,” Harry agreed, “You can coordinate with me. I can at least see if we have any unique titles here that look promising.”
“Sure thing, cuz.”
“Let me know if you need me to steal anything from the Potion’s Guild,” Leo added, at least half teasing.
Harry laughed. “I think we’ll be alright.”
“So,” Leo said, “I think it’s obvious that I can work on rooting them out in the Alleys. They are based somewhere in the Cesspool. I haven’t managed to pin down where, but I think this just became my biggest priority.”
Harry tried not to let herself become too worried. “Don’t engage them,” she warned. “Try to find them without them catching on. If you engage, and don’t manage to destroy them, they’ll just move, and you’ll have to start all over.”
“I know, lass,” Leo said, amused. “I can handle this.”
Harry nodded. “That leaves me. If Barty Crouch Jr. joined Voldemort, there might be other people in the SOW Party that have as well. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find anything out, but I’m the best positioned of any of us to try. And,” she continued hesitantly, “I’d decided earlier that I need to tell Riddle. This is his enemy, too, and any help, even from such an unpalatable source…”
Leo’s face was soft with concern. “You would know better than me.”
Archie sighed. “I don’t like it, but maybe if he has to deal with this, he’ll finally leave you alone for once.”
“Oh, I think Riddle can multitask,” Harry muttered darkly.
“Well, on that happy note, I think it is time to adjourn for the night,” Archie said.
“Wait,” Leo interjected, “We should set a time to reconvene. I imagine the situation might change a lot, so we should try to have a time to meet and keep each other updated. Letters aren’t secure enough.”
“True,” Harry agreed, “Once a month? Or every two weeks?”
“Every two weeks,” Leo answered. “Biweekly.”
Archie squinted at Leo through the mirror. “I thought biweekly was twice a week.”
“No,” Leo said patiently, “It’s every two weeks.”
“That makes no sense,” Archie insisted.
“What else would you call it?” Harry asked, “Semi-monthly?”
Archie thought about it for a moment. “Fortnightly?”
“I don’t think that’s a word,” Leo informed him.
“It is,” Archie said confidently. He added in his best lecturing tone, “And even if it wasn’t, language is fluid. A word becomes a word as I imbue it with word-like qualities.”
“I’m interrupting this now. Where should we meet, Leo? How did you get here?”
“A secret passage from Hogsmeade,” Leo answered. “If you’ll let me into the common room, it wouldn’t be hard for me to come back again.”
“No,” Harry decided, “It’s too risky. I’ll meet you in Hogsmeade. The Shrieking Shack, 1 AM.”
“Well, until next fortnight, then,” Archie said cheerfully.
Harry eyed Leo. If she were feeling nice, she would offer to walk him out of Hogwarts. She wasn’t. Harry mostly just felt exhausted.
Leo had gotten in fine, hadn’t he? He could make it out. “I’m going to bed. Good luck getting home.”
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, “It’s good to see you, lass.”
“You, too, Leo.”
Two
Leo felt weirdly lighter for having discovered Harry’s secrets. Sure, they happened to be just as dangerous (and perhaps more) than she had always implied, but at least now he knew where the danger lay. Harry’s burdens might be at least as heavy as his own, but there was something liberating in that, too. It made him feel a little less alone to know he was not the only one carrying a weight just a little too heavy. The feeling of being utterly overwhelmed still surrounded him, as if he were floating in water, keeping his breaths shallow so that the air in his lungs buoyed him up instead of letting him sink. If he panicked, he’d drown.
Now he had an end in sight, a goal to work towards. His problems didn’t hang, formless and unending. They were quantifiable.
While helpful for his equanimity, this did not necessarily mean that his life became easier in the wake of Harry’s revelation. No, the day after his bout of breaking and entering into the supposedly safest place in the magical world, he sat in the corner of the Phoenix listening to Marek attempt to explain his decision to actually let himself be recruited to the terrorist organization .
Leo did not have the words to explain the ways in which this was a bad idea. He asked, “You realize you don’t know any occlumency, right?”
Marek tilted his head to the side. “What are the chances that will come up?”
Leo took a deep breath. “There are ways to check for Polyjuice, you know?”
Marek waved a hand, “That’s an aura thing, ain’t it? No one bothers to learn to read auras, ‘cept you, Leo.”
For what felt like the thousandth time, Leo said, “I don’t read auras.”
“You can tell all that weird stuff about a person’s magic, can’t you? It’s basically the same thing.”
“It is not the same thing .” Leo added quickly, before Marek got the chance to say anything else utterly idiotic, “There are other ways. Spells. Or they could just wait an hour for it to wear off.” Of course, with Harry’s Modified Polyjuice… but it wasn’t like they had a month to brew it, and even that assumed her modified recipe took the same amount of time to brew and that he had a safe way of getting it from her.
“You worry too much,” Marek informed him, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“What about when they realize you don’t know anything about potions?” Leo asked, exasperated.
“Well, if they need a potions expert, they can hardly know that much about potions themselves,” Marek pointed out.
“They certainly can know more about the subject than you, you stupid bugger.”
“Aw, are you worried about me?”
Leo resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall or, better yet, bang Marek’s head against the wall. “If I say I am, will you rethink this suicidal plan of yours?”
“No,” Marek said cheerfully, “But at least I’ll die happy.”
It was times like these where Leo seriously questioned his life choices. “Where’s Aled? He can at least get you an emergency portkey for when they inevitably try to kill you. Of course, it will ultimately be useless as you’ll likely be behind anti-portkey wards…”
“What?” Marek exclaimed, “You think a bunch of this Voldemort fellow’s goons can take me?”
“Yes,” Leo said shortly.
“I’ll be careful,” Marek said more seriously.
“You always say that, but it never seems to do you any good.” Leo sighed. “When have they arranged to meet with you?”
Marek filled him in on the details of the meeting scheduled for the next week, and they began to arrange a plan. Not a good plan, mind, but something better than Marek’s original idea to “wait and see what happens.”
Now, if only he didn’t have a million other things to do.
He managed to catch Rispah later that afternoon. She was in one of the court’s supply rooms—the one filled with items for emergency aid or disaster relief. They had three separate ones, all tied to the back of the Phoenix in wizarding space in much the same way their practice courtyard was.
“Hello, Leo,” she said, looking up from where she had been checking the expiration dates on their healing potions. She sighed. “We’re going to have to replace most of these again. These need to be taken to Maywell today, so they can be used before they expire.”
“It’s necessary,” Leo said. “And it isn’t wasteful.”
“No, it’s just expensive,” she corrected. “And a drain on our resources.”
Leo leaned against one of the walls. “I know. But as long as we can afford it, we’ll keep replenishing the supply because eventually there will come a day where we can’t afford it, and we need it.”
Rispah sighed. “It doesn’t make it any less infuriating.” She added, “I can’t suppose you came to help, so what is it you need?”
Leo explained, “I have reason to believe there will be an Auror raid on the Alleys sometime soon. Probably looking for those hiding out in the Cesspool.”
Rispah’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t suppose you can be more specific than ‘soon’?”
“Could happen at any moment or never,” Leo told her.
She sighed but still managed to look at him slyly as she said, “I suppose your source on this is as good as we’re going to get,” adding more seriously, “We’d best make plans. We’ll need to warn some folks without starting a panic.”
“More than that,” Leo told her, “We need to make sure they find our quarry and not anyone else.”
Rispah said sharply, “Leo! The Code!”
Leo winced but held firm. “Preferably without technically breaking it,” he added grimly, “I’d go after them myself if I could manage it, but if the Aurors are coming we might as well see if we can get them to do it for us.” He tried to push from mind peoples’ reactions if they knew he was deliberately trying to get people arrested by Aurors. “Rispah, this is bigger than the alleys, now. We think these are the people who attacked the World Cup, Novus, and the Muggleborn center. And it isn’t like they’ve pledged to the court.”
“I suppose that’s from the same source, too?” Rispah asked dryly. Leo didn’t answer, and after a moment, she sighed and said, “We’ll do this carefully, Leo. It does no good to get them out of the Alleys if you lose the Rogue, and there’s no guarantee this will even work. No, I will take care of this, and you’ll stay the hell out of it. And if I get found out, you’ll tell everyone you had nothing to do with it.”
Leo straightened, alarmed, “Rispah, I’m hardly asking you for that. Just help, is all. It’s not like—” he cut himself off, nearly growling, “If these people are terrorists who haven’t pledged to the court, the Code doesn’t apply to them. Especially if they had something to do with the disappearance, and—”
“You don’t know that, though,” Rispah pointed out. “And the best way for us to keep from being outmaneuvered is to have contingencies. If it becomes too much for me to manage, I’ll let you know. Until then—”
“Fine,” Leo snapped. “But I’m hardly going to throw you to the wolves. I can warn the covens and some of the business owners. You can be in charge of leading the Aurors around by their noses. If nothing else, I know you’ve been seeing Harry’s Uncle. And talk to Marek; we might have better intel on their base of operations soon.”
“Hmm.” Rispah looked thoughtful, “I think I might have to give an explanation of the alleys to get Remus to help. But aside from that, are you sure we shouldn’t come out against this group more openly? They’re obviously recruiting. Shouldn’t we try to cut down their support in the Alleys?”
“I can’t think of a way to do so without bringing danger on ourselves,” Leo admitted. “Right now, they aren’t setting themselves up against us so much as the Ministry. If we interfere, we make ourselves enemies—and targets.”
“Are they really just going to let us be?” Rispah argued. “We’ve dealt with shadowy opponents before; we can do it again.”
“People died,” Leo said firmly. “I’m not letting that happen again.”
“That isn’t up to you,” Rispah snapped, “And there ain’t no guarantee that people won’t die if we do it your way.”
Leo sighed. “What would warning folks even do? Nobody who was going to join that group is going to be scared off by people telling them they shouldn’t.”
“It cuts down on their allies,” Rispah answered promptly. “People that might look the other way to what that group’s doing. It might get us leads.”
“It might get us killed.”
“The longer they are in the Alleys, the greater the danger to all of us. You know how precarious our situation is—half the property past Knockturn isn’t legally owned in the eyes of the Ministry, and the other half’s documentation is forged. Now, the old Rosto working might hold anyway, but it might not. If anybody notices, looks too closely…”
The Lower Alleys had never been controlled by the Ministry and were largely ignored, meaning that property deeds had never been issued for the Alleys. Two centuries ago, the Ministry realized the oversight and had tried to give the rights to the land to various noble houses, ignoring the residents or owners at that time. The Rogue back then had placed a working over the Alleys, effectively hiding the knowledge of the problem from the Ministry.
The Rogue began keeping true, if not legal, property records. The working, then, had seemed a neat solution to a tricky problem.
It had since become the bedrock of the Alleys—and everyone knew how precarious that was.
“Concealment charms work best out of sight,” Leo said, repeating the old adage.
“Exactly,” Rispah said, sounding vindicated. “The Aurors are a risk in themselves, but they’ve been down here before without breaking the working. If this group does something to draw the attention of the entire Ministry and comes back here to hide…”
Leo sighed again. “I suppose you’re right.”
“We can start softly,” Rispah said, offering a sort of compromise. “I can warn a few people, and maybe word won’t get back to them immediately.”
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Rigel was not entirely sure how she should go about asking for information on Crouch Jr. After all, it was information on the Party, and she really ought to be keeping her friends out of her politics. On the other hand, this wasn’t even something she was intending to go against the Party on.
After deliberating on it for a day or two, she finally brought it up during one of their evening study sessions. “Pansy, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about Barty Crouch Jr., would you?”
Pansy eyed her speculatively, “Not really, no. Why the interest? You haven’t seemed particularly invested in information on the judges or organizers before.”
“I did think it was strange that he was the one that recruited Tahill,” Millie commented. “Is that what this is about?”
Rigel prevaricated. “Not exactly. It’s related, though. He’s in the Party, right? Why? Does he have close friends in the Party?”
Pansy and Millicent exchanged looks.
“Why?” Theo challenged her. “You’ve already made your opinion on the tournament pretty clear.”
Rigel might have been willing to explain her suspicions about Crouch Jr. (if not the link to Voldemort) to Pansy, but she wasn’t going to say such a thing in front of Theo. Instead, she said, “I promise it isn’t something I want to know to go against the Party.”
Draco huffed. “That still doesn’t answer the question.”
Pansy just looked at her wryly. “We don’t know that much about him. Would you like us to find out?”
“If it’s not too much trouble? I know it’s a lot to ask.”
Pansy just gave her a look. “Just give us a few weeks, okay?”
Rigel assumed this meant her and Millie. “Thanks, Pan. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
A week after first hearing about Marek’s highly suspect decision-making, Leo was following him covertly through the dirty, run-down streets of the Cesspool. Marek was heading to the meeting under Polyjuice. He had been given an address, but Leo doubted it would be that simple.
He was right. As Marek neared the designated meeting place, he was greeted by a hooded figure. The person held something out to Marek, and they both vanished. A portkey. Leo sighed, but he wasn’t surprised. He would just have to hope Marek made it out alive.
Less than an hour later, one of his ears alerted him to Marek’s return to the fake apartment. It was not until several hours after that that Leo was able to talk to him. They had agreed to a delayed debriefing in case he was being watched.
As Marek walked through the door of the room in the Phoenix that functioned as Leo’s office, he said, “See, Leo? I told you it’d be fine.”
“You survive until you don’t,” Leo said agreeably.
Marek flapped a hand at him. “Oh, come off it. It went fine. They took me to what I’m pretty sure is their main base. I didn’t get a chance to see the outside, and it’s got to be unplottable or something because none of the locating charms worked. So, we aren’t any closer to finding it, but,” he shrugged, “We didn’t expect to be.”
He was right about that, but it was annoying all the same. “Did you meet the leader of the operation? This, Voldemort fellow?”
Marek shook his head. “Wasn’t Crouch either—and I saw his face. He was young, and I’d recognize him if I saw him again, but…”
“Who knows if it’s even his real face?” Leo agreed. “What else? Their aims? What did they want from you?”
“Mostly just potions,” Marek admitted. “Some of those funky shaped-imbued ones. Besides just the barrier one, I mean. Aside from that, it was mostly just rhetoric. Muggleborns should pay for what they’ve done; that sort of thing.”
“So basically, they asked you for a bunch of potions and told you a bunch of crazy shit.”
“Pretty much,” Marek agreed. “I have two weeks to deliver the potions, and I’m to come to them the same way.”
Leo frowned. “Make a list of what you need, and I’ll see that Harry gets it. Let’s hope two weeks is enough.”
“Yeah,” Marek said, pulling out a piece of paper. “About that. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure a lot of these potions don’t exist yet. And, uh, some of them look kind of dangerous. I mean,” he looked down at the paper, “Who wants a potion form of the cutting curse?”
Damn. Leo sighed. “How likely is it that you think you could get useful information from them by continuing this? Is it worth supplying potions to terrorists?”
Marek hesitated. “I think another visit or two, and I may have something. Whether that is worth it or not…”
Leo was not particularly pleased with this turn of events, but he was angrier with himself for not seeing it coming. Of course they would want more than just protection potions. And it wasn’t like they would want anything benign. Battle potions were restricted for a reason. “Did they check the potions you brought them?”
“One of them, yes,” Marek answered.
“Could we give them a couple of good potions, with the rest as duds?” Leo asked.
“Maybe,” Marek said thoughtfully, “I don’t know if I could control the potion they chose to test, but I suppose it’s worth a shot. It would mean that this next meeting would probably be the last one I could safely go to.”
Give me the list,” he told Marek. “I’ll get it to Harry; see what she can do. We’ll try once more to pin down a location, but then we’ll cut our losses.”
Marek nodded. “I’m not that eager for this to continue long-term, to tell the truth. We can try to track them down in other ways.”
“Yes, and none of them so far have been successful. We need to find them.”
“We will,” Marek said. “If not with this, something else. We’ll get them eventually.”
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Sometimes Leo questioned Harry’s choices. It provided a nice break from questioning his own. He was in Hogsmeade well after midnight, attempting to break into a boarded-up, ramshackle house. He said attempting because it wasn’t a simple matter of picking locks or dodging wards. No, every door and window in the house had to be boarded up from the inside. So here he stood, outside a shack, trying to slowly levitate down pieces of wood blocking the door from the inside as part of some of the least enjoyable breaking and entering he’d ever participated in.
Consequently, he was about five minutes late entering the Shrieking Shack. Harry was already inside (somehow), sitting in a beat up wooden chair, clearly watching (but certainly not helping) his attempt to enter.
“Leo,” she said with amusement, “I see you have arrived. You didn’t have any trouble getting here, did you?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. “Your cousin?” he asked, taking the other chair.
There were only two chairs in the room, but there was evidence of more destroyed furniture. He supposed they could always repair the broken pieces into usable furniture.
“I’ll call him now.”
She did so, and once Archie’s face had appeared in the mirror, they got down to business.
“Harry, why don’t you start,” Leo suggested.
“I have nothing yet,” she reported, “But some friends of mine are looking into Crouch Jr.’s connections in the SOW Party. Hopefully, they’ll have some information by the next time we meet.”
“Your friends in the SOW Party agreed to look into someone else in the SOW Party because you—someone definitely not in the Party—asked them to?” Archie asked skeptically.
“Yes,” Harry answered. Leo caught a hint of defiance in her tone. “They are my friends.”
Archie did not seem happy but let the matter drop. “Any other news?”
Harry turned to Leo, “I got your letter. I brought the potions with me today. I made two useable potions of each type, and the rest are duds.” She hesitated. “Even just two of some of these potions could be dangerous. If you think Marek can get away with bringing just one of each, I’d suggest doing that. I’ve marked the good ones for you.”
“Alright, I’m lost,” Archie interrupted, complaining, “You’ve already been up to stuff without me?”
They filled him in, and he added, “Risky, but we do need whatever information we can get.”
“Okay, so we’ve agreed on that. Any other news, Leo?”
“Not really. There have been no Auror raids in the Alleys so far, but we can hardly assume that will hold. I’ve been warning shopkeepers and the like, but Rispah is handling most of the heavy lifting there. If we can get information on a location, she is going to try to lead the Aurors to them.”
Harry bit her lip. “I should probably apologize for that, again. I should’ve at least talked to you.”
“Can’t say I appreciate it, lass, but it’ll be alright. And we may be able to work it to our advantage. Aside from that,” Leo said, moving on, “We’re trying to see if we can gather any information on Voldemort’s activities in the Alleys. The trouble is, Voldemort’s group seems to be very good at avoiding people they think would give information to the Rogue. It might also be that a portion of their supplies are acquired outside the Alleys. Still, we’re going to keep trying.”
“Good luck,” Harry said skeptically.
Leo turned to the mirror. “How’s the research going, Archie?”
“I’ve made progress,” he said, his face cautiously optimistic. “A lot is going to depend on how the construct was made in the first place. Even so, the fact that it still exists, despite existing for decades in a diary and then requiring a creature to possess, tells us a good deal. On the other hand, Hermione caught me researching the other day, and it isn’t exactly easy trying to explain why I was interested in dark rituals and magical sentience. I put her off—but I do think I should tell her about Voldemort.”
Harry frowned. “Sure, but if she wants to start coming to our meetings, I’m not sure we can keep her from figuring out everything.”
Archie looked up through the mirror with a silly grin on his face, “I know. She’s incredibly clever, isn’t she?” Leo realized that Harry’s cousin Archie was at least half in love with the girl. Which explained more than it didn’t. (Still, Leo had never looked that ridiculous himself, had he?)
Harry looked a little frustrated with the less-than-helpful response. “Archie, it’s not that I don’t think Hermione is trustworthy, but you have to admit that knowing our ruse would be dangerous—for her. She’s a muggleborn. Her protections under the law are practically nonexistent. Less than mine.”
Archie’s grin faded. “I know, Harry. Gods, Harry, I know. But what do I do? She’s going to figure it out eventually, and—”
Leo felt this was probably a good time to interrupt. “Yes, true ignorance is probably the safest. But it isn’t the only defense. As long as people have no reason to suspect she knows anything, no reason to call her into an Auror office, she will be safe. And, I hate to say this, but bigotry will be on your side here. No one will want to admit an American-educated muggleborn figured out what was right under their noses the whole time. But, aside from that, I think you are both getting ahead of yourselves. I think she can come to these little meetings without necessarily putting anything together. The main difference is just that Archie and I would need to pretend to be good friends.”
“I still don’t like it,” Harry answered.
Archie looked contemplative. “It isn’t perfect, but I would really rather Hermione at least be in on the whole Voldemort thing, so…”
Harry sighed. “Alright. When I call you next time, I’ll assume it isn’t safe.”
“Okay,” Archie agreed. “Is there anything else to discuss?”
“Nothing,” Harry said, “Except, two Saturdays from now—”
“A fortnight,” Archie interrupted.
“A fortnight from now is the fourth task. So, I think we should push the meeting a day.”
“We can skip it entirely,” Leo offered, somewhat unwillingly. “I know you’ll probably be tired.”
Harry shook her head. “It’ll be fine. I’ll see you then.”
“See you, cuz,” Archie said, “’Night.”
“Night, Arch,” Harry answered.
The mirror went dark. Leo turned to look at Harry. He missed her green eyes, the flat grey disguise making him feel like something was missing. Still, he’d recognize Harry anywhere. Her fiery magic hanging at the edge of his awareness was a comfort. Even dressed as a boy, with grey eyes, Leo thought she looked beautiful. He was far from an unbiased source—but did it matter?
It didn’t change the fact that he loved her. It wouldn’t change the fact that, no matter her feelings (whatever they might be), she was scared of his.
Still, he didn’t manage to stop himself from asking, “I know it’s late, lass, but I was wondering if you might want to stay and talk a minute.”
“Oh,” she said, “About what?”
“Anything. How are you holding up? With everything?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m okay. They haven’t announced it yet, but the fourth task is rumored to be some sort of scavenger hunt. Which doesn’t sound that bad.”
“No, it doesn’t.” There was a short silence while they both tried to think of something to say. “I… I know it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to sneak out of a castle in the middle of the night. For what it’s worth, I appreciate it. Whatever he might be in the future, Voldemort is mostly my problem now. But, well—it’s nice to have hope. I just have the feeling that—”
“That we could win this?” Harry interrupted. “Yeah,” she said with uncharacteristic solemnity. “Sometimes, with the tournament—I just feel so bloody helpless. This… this makes me think we might actually be able to do something.”
“If nothing else, it makes the weight easier to bear.” He hoped it made the weight of her problems easier to bear, anyway.
Harry turned to meet his eyes. “Leo, I’m glad you’re here.” His heart pounded faster at the words. This couldn’t be healthy, tormenting himself like this.
“You too, lass,” he said, accidently infusing the words with his sincerity. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming.”
Harry drew back. “I’ll see you next time?” she asked.
“Until then,” he said, sighing internally. He clearly needed to work on keeping his feelings in check.
Three
The next day (or, more accurately, later the same day), Harry was still contemplating the odd conversation she’d had with Leo the night before. She had joined her friends for lunch in the Great Hall, but her mind wandered.
As a general rule, Harry had trouble talking about her emotions. Hell, she had problems feeling her own emotions. It was something she was trying to work on after the debacle with her magic the year before. Yet, Harry still found herself avoiding any difficult emotion that was remotely avoidable.
It wasn’t hard to talk to Leo, though. She’d thought it would be, after the awkward conversation at the end of summer, where he’d confessed his feelings. It was awkward with Draco sometimes—had been ever since that kiss. It was different with Leo; he understood her at a different level. Whether she’d meant to or not, she had landed herself into a situation not that different from his. Oh, she wasn’t the acknowledged leader of the underbelly of the wizarding world. But she had indirectly taken on responsibility for the rights of a hell of a lot of people when she had decided to bargain with Riddle. Draco didn’t even grasp why it was important to her. He could not understand her deep-seated fear of failing everyone. Of letting Riddle win.
With Voldemort in the Lower Alleys, Leo couldn’t not understand. It was easier, somehow, to let the hard emotions bubble up to the surface around him. Easier to acknowledge that she was afraid because she knew he was, too.
Pansy interrupted her thoughts. “Rigel,” she said, with the air of someone repeating themselves.
“Sorry, Pan,” Rigel answered, “I was just—”
“Distracted, I know,” Pany said. “Millie and I have gotten—well, as much information as we can, anyway. Do you want to come back to the common room to talk?”
“Sure,” Rigel said, looking down at her plate. “I’m done now if you want to go.”
They talked of inconsequential things on the walk back to the common room, charms homework and new dueling exercises.
Millie and Pansy led Rigel back to her dorm room—apparently, even the common room was too exposed. “Well?” she asked as Pansy closed the door. “What did you find?”
“Barty Crouch Jr. joined the SOW Party fourteen years ago,” Millie began.
“We don’t know why he decided to join,” Pansy added bluntly. “Maybe it was an attempt to break away from his father, but no one seems to know for certain. What we do know is that during his time in the Party, Crouch Jr. has been closely associated with the Lestranges.”
“I really should’ve put it together sooner,” Millie said. “But the rumors were always about the Lestranges themselves, and I hadn’t realized Crouch was assisting them at the time.”
Pansy got to the point. “Back before the Great Split, there were leaks in the Party. Ways for the Light to get information on Party plans before they happened. Some of these were more legislative, from people in the Archives and other Ministry departments, but many of the leaks were from within the SOW Party itself.”
“And the Party could’ve never pushed through the legislation they passed that Halloween if word was leaked to the Light,” Millie said, taking up the narrative. “So, the Lestranges, apparently with the help of Crouch Jr., were in charge of eliminating any potential leaks.”
“Presumably, this means Crouch Jr. is at least somewhat dangerous,” Pansy said wryly, “Despite all appearances to the contrary.”
“We don’t know what he has been doing for the past eleven years,” Millie said. “It might be secret work for Lord Riddle; it might be nothing at all. Nevertheless, there is likely some reason Lord Riddle chose him to organize the tournament.”
“But we don’t know what it is?” Rigel asked.
“We do not,” Pansy confirmed.
“The Lestranges aren’t involved in the tournament, though, are they?” Rigel asked, that horrifying possibility having just occurred to her.
“Not as far as we are aware,” Pansy answered.
It seemed it would not be so easy to find answers to her questions. Because if Crouch Jr. now served Voldemort—when he had done Riddle’s dirty work in the past—how likely was it that other SOW Party members had allied with Voldemort as well? And the Lestranges? It wasn’t that she thought they wouldn’t get involved with a more extreme version of Riddle, but how would they have encountered Voldemort? How did the construct start recruiting people in the first place?
She just didn’t know.
“Thank you,” she told Millie and Pansy.
“Rigel?” Pansy asked. “We can try to keep looking.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I really appreciate you looking into this for me.” She turned to Millie. “Both of you.”
“Of course,” Pansy said, Millie adding her agreement.
One day—and she feared it might be soon—she was going to lose them both as friends.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Marek’s second meeting with the terrorist cell was scheduled for a week after Leo met with Harry in Hogsmeade. Two days before the planned hand-off, Leo was sitting in the public area of the Dancing Phoenix at his usual table, trying to catch up on paperwork. Sure, he was the leader of a section of wizarding society that did not participate in the formal economy nearly at all. Yet, the court was a government into itself, and thus Leo would never be able to escape the monotony of paperwork. Requests for assistance, tithe records, authorizations for the use of Rogue money; it never seemed to end.
He was behind, having spent a fair portion of his week on Voldemort-hunting and plots rather than his more mundane responsibilities.
He automatically looked up when the door opened. He was in the habit of noting everyone who entered or exited the tavern. Leo was surprised to see Will (or, more accurately, William Weasley) enter. Last he had heard, the curse-breaker had been in Egypt. If he was back in England, Leo would have to see if he had time to help them with their little problem.
Conveniently, Will made his way over to Leo’s table. “Hello, Highness,” he greeted him. “I was wondering if you had a moment to talk.”
“Sure, take a seat.”
Will sat. There was no one else around, but he cast a privacy ward.
“Next time, you will keep me well out of whatever it is you’re up to. But since I’m involved this time, you promised me an explanation, and I want it,” he said. “You said you meant no harm to any of the school’s inhabitants and that you would explain. So, talk. I have three brothers and a sister at Hogwarts.”
In hindsight, Leo should’ve realized that Will would be annoyed at being pressured for information.
“I just needed to speak to somebody,” Leo said. “I thought they might’ve been avoiding me, so I wanted to be sure. It’s all sorted now.”
“And who, exactly, did you need to break into a school to talk to?”
“Rigel Black.”
“Black?” Will asked, surprised. “Why?”
“Look, I know you’ve been in Egypt, so you might not have noticed, but something’s been brewing down here in the alleys. I caught a member of the SOW Party embroiled in it, and I thought the Party might be involved. I went to Rigel for information.” Normally, Leo would not tell someone so much, but as he was going to ask for Will’s help, anyway…
Will’s expression was serious. “Are they?”
“No, Rigel doesn’t think so. He thinks the Party member we’ve seen down here has been recruited by the group that attacked the World Cup and is acting independently.”
Will scoffed, a little. “How would he know?”
Leo hesitated. He might as well tell Will the whole story. He would bet a fair amount that Will was not in with the terrorists, so as long as he was willing to keep the entire things under wraps, it shouldn’t matter if he knew or not. “Rigel believes that the leader of this group is not a person at all, but a magical construct called Voldemort. It seems to fit with what we’ve—” Leo stopped when he saw how pale Will had become. “Are you okay?”
“You’re sure? That it’s Voldemort behind this?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“As confident as we can be. Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. I assume you are going to ask me to help?”
Leo was, by nature, an inquisitive person. He wanted to know why the name ‘Voldemort’ had affected Will so badly when, to his knowledge, the construct had only recently begun recruiting in the alleys. Still, Leo had to admit that Will’s help mattered more than untangling that particular mystery. “Yes,” he said, “We’ve been trying to track down their base of operations, but we haven’t had a lot of luck. We think it is at least unplottable, but presumably there are other protections too.”
“You want me to try to break them?” Will asked incredulously.
Leo sighed dramatically (it was always important that people understand how amazingly patient he could be, lest they try to take him for granted). “No, I don’t need the protections broken. I need them found.”
Will just stared at him. “I’m not sure that’s any easier. And if you want me to find them without breaking any protections, it may well be harder.”
Leo was well aware of the difficulties involved. Still, Will had a better shot at this than any of the rest of them. If Will could figure out where the wards were , then they’d know the base was somewhere inside them. “Just try. If it helps at all, Marek will be meeting with them soon. He thinks it was the main base he was taken to last time, but the wards stopped the trackers from working.”
“What sort of tracking spells did you use?” Will asked immediately. Then, “Wait, why is Marek meeting with them?”
“He’s undercover, of course. As their potioneer. And most of the charms were pretty standard. Ones to record his location, that sort of thing.”
“I’d like to analyze them if I can. I might be able to tell something from the way they stopped working.”
“Sure. Marek should be here later.”
Will was still frowning. He muttered, “Maybe I can devise different ones? Wait—how is Marek disguising himself? Or is he going as himself?”
Leo could think of no real reason this would be important. “He’s using Polyjuice.”
Will asked hesitantly, “What if I were to go instead?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but not five minutes ago, you were asking to be kept out of anything I was up to.”
“That’s before I knew this was about Voldemort. Whatever you are doing to fight him, consider me in.”
“Quite the about-face.”
“What can I say?” Will commented drily, “I’m magnanimous like that.”
Leo smiled, briefly, but ultimately, they had business to attend to. “Why did you suggest that you go in place of Marek?”
“If I have been in a warded area, nine times out of ten, I can tell you precisely which wards are there. And the tenth time, I can probably give you a pretty good guess. It might not help us pin down the location entirely. But it will get us closer.”
“It’s a risk,” Leo pointed out. “They might be suspicious if you can’t act the same way Marek did.”
“It’s not that large of a risk,” Will argued. “Especially if we prepare beforehand.”
“True. We can discuss it more with Marek.”
“Fair enough.”
“He likely won’t be by until dinner, so unless you needed anything else…”
Will dropped the privacy ward. “I wish I could say it was good to see you, Highness.” With that, he stood and made his way out of the Phoenix, likely to attend to other business in the alley.
And what a strange conversation that had been. The sense Leo had generally gotten from Will was that a lot of his reasons for being in the Alleys were purely monetary. He always managed to stay out of court politics or any of the more dangerous ventures that came around from time to time. He was imminently practical, and that meant extra income to support his family without risk to himself. Going undercover to try to root out Voldemort? That was risky, and Leo never would’ve guessed that Will would volunteer to be involved. His knowledge of Voldemort, too, was weird. There was something more there, but Leo couldn’t for the life of him say what.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
It took about three hours of arguing for Will to convince Marek to relinquish his role as a spy to him. Marek, it seemed, despite his earlier comments and the danger involved, was enjoying the spying for the adventure of it, or at least the self-importance it gave him. He didn’t appreciate Will moving in on his turf. Will, on the other hand, was serious, almost grim, as if Voldemort had personally threatened to kill his family. (Leo mentally marked that theory as implausible. He wasn’t worried; he’d figure it out eventually).
They planned for the meeting along the same lines as they had the last one. Leo followed Will to the meeting point, watched as he vanished by Portkey, and then returned resignedly to the Phoenix to wait the hours that would have to pass before they could have their briefing.
When two hours later, he still hadn’t heard back from his ears, he began to get worried. Polyjuice was such a messy way to send someone undercover. If he had stayed even a bit over an hour, it would be so ridiculously easy to become suspicious, even carrying another dose. Really, it was a damn miracle they had made it as far as they had.
And if Will had been discovered, been captured, there was precisely nothing Leo could do. After all, he still didn’t know where the terrorists were hiding.
Ten minutes past the hour mark, Leo felt one of his spells trip, letting him know someone was in his office. Either someone had scaled a wall and made their way through the window without tripping that alarm, or someone (Will) had used an emergency portkey that landed in the office.
He crept up the stairs, flattening himself against the wall beside the door, and shoved it open, wand at the ready. It was Will.
He didn’t look injured or worse for wear, but the Polyjuice had most definitely worn off. He was sitting on Leo’s desk one crate of the potions he had carried to the meeting beside him.
“I’ve been made,” he said wryly.
Leo snorted. “Yes, I can tell. I see you made it out okay.”
“Well enough,” he answered. “I had to take down the wards that prevented people from portkeying out, so it was probably a damn good thing it wasn’t Marek, but they didn’t manage to hurt me. I was able to grab a crate of the potions on the way out—I think it’s the crate with the potions that work, but everything was so hectic that I’m not sure.”
“Well, that’s better news than I expected, so I’ll take it. Any luck on the location?”
Will frowned. “Maybe. I need to go over my findings again, then go over the Cesspool to see if any readings match, but…”
“If you need any help, let me know. The Cesspool can be dangerous—we’ve already had one disappearance ‘round there recently. If the Voldemort-group catches you digging around down there, it could get ugly.”
Will shrugged. “If you think it’s an issue, I’ll take Marek with me.”
“You should, yes.” Leo considered again the idea he’d been turning over in his mind. He didn’t like it, but he knew his dislike was more for personal reasons than practical ones. And it was always the practical considerations that won out, in the end. “I’ve been meeting regularly with Rigel about our Voldemort problem. Next meeting’s Sunday at one in the morning, if you want to come.”
“I have questions I would very much like Rigel to answer,” Will said grimly. “So, consider me in.”
Leo would have to send Rigel a warning. Harry had met Will in the Alleys, but had she met him as Harriett Potter?
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Harry was admittedly somewhat exhausted after the events of the fourth task. But while sneaking around the castle in the dead of night did nothing for her sleep, she found herself looking forward to the night’s meeting anyway.
She crept past the immobilized Whomping Willow and down the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. It would take roughly half an hour to walk, though Harry jogged it. The passage wasn’t tall enough for her to stand straight, so she had to do it crouched over. The run, at least, always served to wake her up some before the meetings.
And it was worth it for a secure meeting place. Plus, the look on Leo’s face the last time, when he’d gotten inside to find her sitting there despite there being no visible points of entry, had been priceless.
Harry entered the hut and went to sit on one of the wooden chairs she had repaired while waiting on Leo last time. She was a few minutes early again, but she doubted Leo would be late twice.
She was right. Not five minutes later, the door creaked open (despite Leo’s best efforts), and he walked in. He hadn’t come alone. Entering a step behind him was none other than Bill Weasley.
“Hello, Rigel,” Leo said, a little bit of wariness lurking in his tone, as if he thought she might be angry at him for this new development. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought a friend.”
He’d sent her warning, but she hadn’t had a chance to answer before the meeting. She wasn’t worried; she already had an understanding with Bill. Even though she was playing the part of Rigel today, and not Harry, it should hold.
“Hello, Leo, Bill,” she said, nodding at both of them. To Bill, she added, “Though I must admit, this would not be the place I’d expect to run into you.”
“Black,” Bill nodded towards her, grimacing a little. “Leo’s told me a little bit about what’s going on, and I have to admit it’s a bit concerning. He said you believe Voldemort to be behind the terrorist attacks.”
“Yes,” Rigel said. She explained some of her reasoning—Harry hearing whispers of Voldemort in the alleys and the clear extremist nature of the attacks. She turned to Leo as a quiet signal to explain what she couldn’t—Rigel wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss the Vow yet with Bill.
Instead, Leo said, “I think it’s time for you to call Harry.”
She checked her watch and saw that it was, in fact, one o’clock. “Harry,” Rigel whispered into the mirror. “Harry, are you there?”
“Hello, cuz,” Archie replied. Rigel only hoped that Bill didn’t notice that Archie’s voice was deeper than her own natural speech. “I have Hermione here.”
“Hello,” Hermione said, her voice coming across clearly, even if it was proving difficult for them to keep both their faces in the mirror.
“Hello, Hermione. I’m here with Leo and Bill Weasley.”
“Bill?” Archie asked, with a hint of underlying panic.
“Yes,” Leo answered. “He has been helping with the attempt to locate Voldemort’s base. He wanted to come.”
“I’ve made progress, too,” Bill added. “I’ve managed to pin down their location to somewhere within about a one-kilometer radius.”
“Unfortunately, the undercover potioneer gambit has been blown,” Leo said. “But we had planned for that anyway, given the fake potions. Rispah has been working the Auror angle. No news yet on that, by the way—there still hasn’t been a raid. It’s a little strange, honestly. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be worried by the lack of an Auror raid, but here we are. We still haven’t been able to acquire any accurate information about Voldemort from the Alleys, either. With Bill’s radius, we can try to narrow the search, but ultimately they could be recruiting anywhere.”
“I’ve heard nothing from my dad about the Aurors,” Archie volunteered. “Not that I’d expect to, mind, but I can try to push a little and see if he says anything.”
The tense set of Leo’s shoulders eased slightly. “I’d appreciate it. Not that it will ultimately end up mattering, but…”
“In other news,” Rigel said. “I talked to Riddle. At the press conference. I told him that Voldemort had recruited Barty Crouch Jr., and it was pretty obvious he hadn’t known about it. He wasn’t pleased. He indicated that he would deal with it, but of course who knows if that’ll end up being useful. With my luck, he’ll ignore the Voldemort situation entirely and use it as another opportunity to come after me.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Archie said firmly. “Did you have anything else?”
“My friends got back to me about their investigation into Crouch Jr.,” Harry told them about his old work in the Party and association with the Lestranges.
“Do you think the Lestranges might be involved, too?” Archie asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “If I was going to pick out people more extreme than the SOW Party, and thus more open to involvement in an extremist group, then the Lestranges are prime candidates. Still, Bellatrix always seemed loyal to Riddle.”
Archie’s expression was pensive. “This is definitely something we need to keep our eye on.”
“Yes. How’s the research coming?”
“Well,” Hermione started, “We suspect Voldemort likely survived after being unable to possess you by temporarily possessing another creature, right? So, trying to kill him will almost always encounter this problem. The construct was anchored in the diary but cut ties before it was destroyed. Conceivably, any object it anchors to could be abandoned similarly. This leaves two potential solutions: either you could destroy the construct in its mental manifestation when it is not anchored to anything, or we could try to seal it to an object so that it cannot flee as the object is destroyed.”
“Those aren’t the only ways,” Archie cut in, “Theoretically, there ought to be a way to destabilize the magic that forms the construct enough that it becomes incapable of supporting its own existence. It might also be possible to take it by surprise and destroy an anchor before it knows to flee. The problem is we might not know if we are successful, and I’d rather not risk it escaping again.”
“Agreed.” Harry asked, “Do you know of a way to seal Voldemort to an object?”
“We haven’t found anything concrete yet,” Hermione said, “I have some hypotheses but no evidence to support any of them. But we’ll keep looking.”
“That’s good. What’s left to discuss?”
“I think that’s it,” Archie said.
“Same for me,” Leo added.
“I have to go back to Egypt in a week,” Bill said. “Obviously, I will help as much as I can with locating before then, but I imagine I won’t be much help a continent away. I could try to look into sealing, though.”
“I can send you the notes we have so far,” Hermione offered.
“That’d be great. And I know I’ll be in Egypt but let me know if you need anything. That goes for all of you. I want Voldemort dead as much as anyone, but the three of you, at least,” He gestured to Rigel and the mirror with Archie and Hermione, “are underage. Be careful. I do not want your parents trying to kill me for not warning them about what their kids are up to.”
“We’ll be careful,” Rigel said with some exasperation. What was it with Bill and her age? He didn’t have to try to protect her just because she was young .
“Please do,” he said.
“If that’s everything?” Archie asked.
“Goodnight, cousin,” Rigel said with a little amusement— Archie wasn’t the one staying up late for these meetings. “Bye, Hermione.”
“Until next time,” she answered. A moment later, the mirror went back to only showing her reflection.
Bill looked over at Leo. “I guess that’s our cue to leave?”
“You go on,” Leo told him, “I had something I wanted to ask Rigel, here, before I head back.” Taking the not-so-subtle hint, Bill said goodbye and left. When he was gone, Leo said, “I hope you don’t mind, lass. I thought we needed to talk without having to pretend.”
Leo sounded particularly serious, which was a little unsettling. She asked, “Is it something in particular?”
“The Lestranges—you wouldn’t happen to have heard anything from that lordling friend of yours?”
“Caelum?” she asked, a little surprised. “Nothing recently. I could always write to him, I suppose. But it isn’t exactly like he’d tell me if his parents were running around with terrorists. He might not even know.”
Leo’s eyes held hers, his face solemn. “Just don’t count on that being the case, okay?”
“I am well aware of what Caelum is like, Leo.” She was, too. She didn’t think Voldemort was someone he would get involved in on his own, but that didn’t mean his parents wouldn’t or that he wouldn’t keep it quiet if he knew what his parents were up to.
“He’s probably the best way to follow up on your friends’ information,” Leo said, pushing a little.
She didn’t appreciate it. “I’ll take care of it, Leo.”
“Sorry, lass,” he said, somewhat unrepentantly. “It’s just, this is important, and if some of the nobility, such as the Lestranges, are getting involved with terrorists and the alleys… This could get bad.”
“I know, Leo. But you came to me because I am more familiar with the SOW Party and the old noble families. You have to trust me.” She added sternly, “I will look into it and let you know what I find out.”
“I do trust you, lass. I’m just not good at being helpless.”
“Who is?” She tried to say it as a joke, but Harry’s voice was smaller than she’d like. His words inevitably made her think back to being trapped last year.
Leo looked a little tentative. “You know, if you ever want to talk about what exactly went on last year…”
“I… Not yet, Leo. I don’t know how to talk about that yet.”
“You don’t have to,” he said soothingly. “Hell, you don’t have to, ever. But I’m not going anywhere, so the offer stands.”
Harry tried to smile, but it was weak. She realized she found Leo’s presence comforting despite the topic he had chosen to introduce. She could almost bring herself to talk about it—but then she remembered the smell of that stupid hole, and her breaths became shorter, and… “Did you want to talk about anything else?”
“You know, the first time I saw you,” Leo said softly, his voice a calming buzz as she struggled for equilibrium, “Just a little boy being attacked on the street, I knew we weren’t done. You see, besides my mother, I don’t know anyone with magic like mine. Or maybe it is that people don’t treat their magic as I do. I’ve never really been sure. Your magic was under such tight control then, but I could feel the wildness of it, the way you fought with it. Even when you treated it as your enemy, you knew your magic was a thing into itself. I knew I wasn’t done with you then because I didn’t intend to let the first person I’d met with magic like mine escape. Your magic feels so much better now, as if you’re finally in harmony. I’m happy that you learned to trust it.”
Harry’s breathing had calmed throughout his speech. She smiled ruefully, “I believe you said you listened to your magic the first time we met. I suppose that was something I had to figure out for myself.”
“There are a lot of things in life like that,” he said, an odd quality to his voice. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter if someone tells you something; you still have to discover it for yourself.”
Harry supposed he was right. “It probably doesn’t help that I don’t tend to listen.”
Leo grinned at her. “Your stubbornness is part of your charm. Besides,” he added more seriously, “You always get there in the end.”
“Yes, but only after a lot of pain,” she tried to joke. And somehow, they were right back where they started.
“It doesn’t have to end that way this time,” Leo said earnestly.
“You can’t make any promises.”
He sighed. “I cannot. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.” She felt the strangest impulse to grab his hand or maybe hug him—anything to erase the worry that lined his face.
Instead, she turned away. “I know, Leo,” she said, adding, “It’s late, and I should head back. Until next fortnight?”
“I see you’ve come around to your cousin’s way of thinking,” his voice was a little too heavy to be teasing, “Thanks for coming, lass. I appreciate it. Until next fortnight, then.”
Four
Leo had come by Maywell to see his Ma and to sort out some Rogue business. He could usually get his mother to part with some general statistics on the types of injuries and illnesses she’d seen in the last month. She tended to be more forthcoming with information on illness than injuries, as the latter could be hard to anonymize.
He had just finished wheedling as much information as he could get from his Ma when Rispah burst through the front door. As soon as Leo saw her face, he knew there was trouble. She tried to look composed, but her hair was mussed, and she looked a little out of breath.
“Leo,” she said, in a voice just a little too loud. “They’re here.”
As Rispah had been working the last few weeks on the problem of the Aurors, there was little doubt in his mind about who she was referring to. “And?” he asked.
“It seems fine for now,” she admitted, “But you need to come. I just don’t know if this will turn ugly or not.”
He nodded and followed her back out of Maywell. Once they were away from the clinic employees, he asked, “What do you know so far?”
“Got word from one of the kids that they were entering the alleys. A man came up to the Phoenix panicking, too. I believe some came in from Diagon, but the rest apparated straight into the Cesspool. They’ve searched a few homes and buildings in the Cesspool, but mostly they seemed to be camping out down there performing some ritual. I thought…” She pushed back some of the hair that had fallen into her face. Her expression was troubled. “I’ve heard nothing from Remus. I don’t know what they’re doing.”
So that was what it was. She looked so panicked because she didn’t have a handle on the situation even though she had been planning for it. “I’m sure it will be okay,” Leo said, though he knew no such thing. “The working has held through Ministry raids before.”
“Remus did seem pretty confident in his ability to influence the Aurors’ plan down here,” she said. “I just worry. We are playing for higher stakes now, and I must admit that I don’t like it one bit.”
“The Aurors haven’t arrested anyone, have they?”
“Not that I’ve heard of, but people are getting pretty panicked, even though the Aurors’ main focus is the Cesspool. You need to help keep everyone calm.”
“What about everything else?” Leo asked as they walked to the Phoenix. “Have we found anything? Do you have a sense of how they’ve been doing with recruitment?”
“I think their numbers have been growing,” Rispah admitted, “But mostly, it just seems to be people from the Cesspool. People desperate enough to latch on to any sort of cause. Some shopkeepers have slipped me word when they suspect one of their customers is a part of Voldemort’s group. I have the shopkeepers’ descriptions of the people in question, but their purchases have mostly been ordinary.” Rispah sighed. “You might’ve been right, Leo—this isn’t the same as with Claw. They don’t seem to be trying to turn our people as much as collect people that, I suppose, they must think are useful to them. I have no idea what they’re trying to do or how to stop them.”
“Well,” Leo told her bracingly, “If you’re true about that, then warning people about Voldemort will probably put us in less danger than I thought.”
“It’ll get us less, too,” she muttered.
Leo pushed open the door to the Phoenix, and Rispah followed him inside. The crowded room was filled with talk, noise bouncing off the walls and ceiling beams. Solom was doing a roaring business. The kitchens were in chaos, and every one of the servers were busy. The inn was frequently filled to the brim in the evenings but rarely in the daylight hours.
Any encroachment by the Ministry was typically seen as a threat to the community as a whole. It scared people. It made them worry that the working would break or that the day had come when the Ministry decided to assert control over the Alleys.
The Phoenix was the beating heart of the alleys, and it was here people congregated when there was trouble. They came for reassurance and a reminder of the solidarity the people of the alleys shared
Leo knew how to reassure people. It was his job to make sure that nobody panicked and did something stupid. If the Aurors weren’t out to raid any businesses, he sure as hell didn’t want folks giving them a reason to change their minds.
The raid did mean he had to spend his entire afternoon in the Phoenix talking to everyone who came in after they heard the news.
A few more reports had come in from people in the Cesspool, but nothing seemed to be happening. The Aurors were camped out in one of the only open plazas in the area and were working on some sort of magical something. No one could give Leo a better description than that.
Will came in after a couple of hours of the madness, looking a little confused at the crowd. He managed to make his way over to Leo. “What’s going on?”
“You haven’t heard?” Leo asked, fully aware that Will must’ve come from somewhere outside the alleys.
“No.”
“Aurors are in the Cesspool as we speak. That sort of thing tends to spook people a bit.”
“Aurors?” Will asked, frowning. “That’s right. You said something about not having had an Auror raid—”
“Yes,” Leo told him coldly. “You never know when Aurors will turn up, and I’m sure if you’d like to carry on our conversation from the other day, we can find a better time.”
“Right,” Will said, finally catching on. “About that. I’m not sure I can get anything more done on the locating before I leave.”
“Frankly, I didn’t much expect it. But I should tell you, the Aurors are camped out down in the Cesspool doing some sort of magical ritual. We thought it might be to locate the terrorists. Do you have any ideas?”
Will frowned. “Without seeing it, there isn’t much I can say. If they have a signature—some blood or hair from someone within the wards—there are a couple of rituals that might work.”
“I don’t suppose you would be willing to go down there and check it out?”
He shook his head, saying in a near-whisper, “They might recognize me.”
Leo whispered back, “There is Polyjuice, upstairs.”
“Right,” he started to leave, and then turned back to Leo. “You know, I did have things I needed to do today.”
Leo sighed. “Well, don’t let me or my silly requests get in your way.”
“I just wanted to make sure you knew.” He disappeared into the crowd, and Leo saw him climbing the rickety steps to the upper floors a moment later.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
That night Leo was, predictably, exhausted. The Aurors had finally ( finally ) packed up and left, though perhaps unfortunately without seeming to have found the terrorists in question. The Phoenix was still full of people, though many had already headed home for the night. Leo was headed back to his flat himself.
It took him a moment to register the screams for what they were. It was from about two streets over, but he could already see the light coming in behind the buildings in between. Fire . Leo ran.
Lamia Lodge was in flames, and the street was rife with fighting. He didn’t see any humans in the area; they must have (wisely) fled. It reminded him strongly of the night the Dancing Dragon burned. The flames and the chaos and the blood. At least tonight, there was no chance he’d find Harry here.
He made his way through the fighting, ducking and dodging blows but avoiding engaging any opponents. He’d rather know what exactly was happening before he started hurting people (or, well, vampires). The fire was raging, and Leo knew that at least some part of Lamia Lodge would be unsalvageable by night’s end.
At the entrance to the Lodge, he found Irina. He could see Gavril a ways away, in the thick of the fighting. She looked as if she were about to join him.
“Irina,” he called before she could get a chance. “What is going on? Is everyone out of the Lodge?”
“The Carpathians,” she near growled. “They set the fire, and even that was not enough for them. There are still people inside, but what can we do? The fire is too dangerous.” She turned away, clearly signaling the end of the conversation. She would be of no help while her mate was in danger.
The vampires might not dare to venture back into the burning building, but Leo had magic. It was still dangerous, of course, but he couldn’t just leave.
He cast a flame freezing and bubble-head charms on himself and prepared himself to enter. The actual fire or smoke inhalation wouldn’t pose much of a threat. The true danger lay in the possibility of the building collapsing. Still, he hoped his reflexes could save him from dying by burning rubble.
He started with the upper story of the Lodge. The flames formed a barrier between it and the door, and it seemed likely that people could be trapped inside. Smoke inhalation was hardly an issue for the vampires, but the fire itself could prove lethal.
Leo made it through the initial flames, hoping the stairs wouldn’t collapse before he returned. He cast aguamenti as went through the building, but he knew he wasn’t going to win a battle against the fire on his own. The priority was getting anyone still inside out.
The hallway upstairs had several doorways to what were, presumably, individuals’ rooms. The problem was he had no idea which might contain people. (He could hardly use a homenum revelio charm).
“Hello!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. The words seemed to disappear in the roar of the fire. “Is anyone here?”
Hearing nothing, he realized he was going to have to try the rooms one by one. The first contained nothing but flames that were at least as thick as those in the doorway. Which was… strange. He didn’t think a fire that spread as this one had could’ve started from a single point.
The second room was empty, as was the third. He walked through the fire to open the fourth door and found two vampires inside. Leo wasn’t familiar with either of them, but they seemed to recognize him.
“I’ve come to help,” he told them. “Let me cast a charm on you so that you can make it through the fire.”
“Go ahead, Rogue,” one said. He cast the charms quickly. They might not hold through the mess of flames they would have to go through to get out, which meant he would have to go with them.
“This way,” he said, walking back through the fire. The vampires hesitated at the edge of the fire but stepped into it after a moment. They made their way slowly back out of the building.
In front of Lamia Lodge, the fighting still raged. He couldn’t see Gavril or Irina, but several of the Shrouds were keeping the Carpathians from getting any closer to the Lodge. It all seemed a bit odd to him. Had the Carpathians been trying to trap the other coven in the Lodge so that they would burn? (Was this the doing of more than just a coven gone mad?)
He went back into the building, looking for more survivors, but he didn’t find anyone. Leo was going through the lower level when the ceiling started to groan and creak. He ran. Not thirty seconds after he made it out of the front door, half the roof fell in, flames guttering.
By this time, the fighting had wound down—the Carpathians having retreated—and some of the braver humans had started trying to fight the fire back with liberal use of aguamenti . With a concentrated effort of at least six different witches and wizards, the fire began to die. Leo spotted Rispah among them.
He turned to survey the remains of the coven. He didn’t see Count Aurel, but he spotted Irina kneeling on the ground. Next to her was Gavril’s body.
Leo walked over. “Is he okay?”
“No! I don’t know what is wrong with him. He was struck by this thing —some strange device—and I don’t know what it was, and he won’t wake! Why won’t he wake?”
This was something that Leo did not know how to handle. What did vampires do for medical care? He hardly thought Maywell was equipped to help.
The Count interrupted, having walked up behind them, “We can examine him once we have dealt with our nest. The sun will not rise for many hours yet, but the destruction has been most grievous.”
“If you require any assistance, Count Aurel, the Rogue would be happy to assist,” Leo said formally. “If you require other shelter for the day—”
“I thank you, Rogue,” the Count said. “But I would first like to examine what remains before determining whether assistance is required. Enough of the nest still stands that we might have no need to venture elsewhere.”
“As you say,” Leo inclined his head a little in acknowledgment. “Would you like magical assistance with repairs?
“That will not be necessary. I find the scent of magic often… lingers. It is better for us to rebuild ourselves.”
“Well, you know where to find us, should you need anything.”
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
The first Saturday after the first task, Rigel received two letters. One was from Leo—sent directly. The other was a packet from Archie, containing what looked to be more detailed notes on his and Hermione’s research. There was also a letter from Caelum.
Rigel,
How are you? Things here have been a bit crazy. There was a Ministry raid down near the Cesspool. It was a little strange—they didn’t terrorize people nearly as much as they used to. I’ve heard they were performing some strange ritual that took hours. Maybe you could ask if Harry knows anything about it?
That isn’t why I wrote, though. Everyone thinks that it might’ve been the raid that set the Carpathians off, but I worry that this was planned. But, I’ve danced around the matter long enough. The Carpathians attacked Lamia Lodge two nights ago, after dusk. Half the Lodge burned, and some of the coven was lost to the fire. Harry’s friend Kasten is fine, but Gavril was injured by some queer device. No one knows what exactly is affecting him, but Count Aurel believes it to be some strange sort of poison.
Considering the activity over Christmas, I worry. If this was planned—what was their objective? Did someone design poison to work against a vampire just to hurt Gavril? I admit I am generally fond of a puzzle, but I don’t like this one bit. Stay safe.
Leo
Brat,
I don’t doubt you’re languishing in some underfunded American laboratory at this very moment. Never fear, I am here to provide word of the civilised world to you. I have, you will find, completely mastered your Shaped Imbuing method. I daresay I have improved it slightly, in fact. I may be able to find time this summer, in between preparing for my Mastery exam and writing my thesis, to give you a few pointers.
Master Whitaker has more than prepared me for Mastery, of course, but he advises that it does not do to ascend the ranks too quickly. It gives the wrong idea about one’s priorities. Thus, I shall wait the traditional length of an apprenticeship before getting the formalities of Mastery out of the way. I suppose there is always some small improvement to be made, though I fear I shall soon surpass what my Master can hope to teach me. It is not surprising; true talent always rings through the noise. Just think of how quickly I was able to master your quaint brewing trick—even my father was impressed. He has a colleague with an idle curiosity regarding the strange process who had mentioned it to him, and you should have seen his face when I told him I could replicate it flawlessly. He should expect no less from the Lestrange Heir, of course, but you understand that outsiders to the art often underestimate even its most gifted practitioners.
One day, potioneers will get the recognition we deserve. When the world sees the true power of my brews, my genius will be undeniable. Don’t fall into your own cauldron before I have a chance to show you my improvements.
C. Lestrange
Caelum’s letter was… concerning. It was possible, of course, that the Lestranges had nothing to do with the construct and that Rodolphus Lestrange’s interest in shaped imbuing was purely coincidental, but…
There was also the matter of where Owens had gotten the Liberespirare potion. It seemed unlikely that even if Caelum’s parents were using him to supply potions to Voldemort, that Owens—an American muggleborn—would end up with one of them. She was starting to suspect that there was some larger puzzle here she wasn’t understanding.
Rigel didn’t have much time to think on it as her friends dragged her to Hogsmeade, and after Matheus’s warning about the fifth task, and her deal with Fleur, she was more concerned with other matters. It wasn’t like she could do very much about the Lestrange situation besides writing to Caelum (and she’d rather wait until after next week’s discussion before going ahead with that).
It wasn’t until a few days later that she realized that there were other ways to approach the problem. What she needed was information, and what she had access to was rather a lot of people who knew and interacted with the Lestranges but didn’t particularly care for them. Better yet, Rookwood’s father was Caelum’s godfather, and she already knew he, at least, was interested in shaped imbuing. Plus, after her efforts to corner Rosier at the beginning of the year, she could try to frame it as if she were protecting Harry.
This decided, she needed to find a time to speak to them. Eventually, she gave up on subtlety and approached them in the common room.
“Rookwood, Rosier. Could I speak with you a moment?” she asked. Rosier, correctly understanding that it was a private matter, led the way to one of the private study rooms. Rookwood followed. The study room was set up with four chairs oriented around a rectangular table. Rookwood and Rosier took the two closest to the door, while Rigel sat on the opposite side of the table.
“What can we do for you?” Rosier asked.
“Actually, I mostly wanted to talk to Rookwood.”
Rosier leaned back, hand clutching at his chest dramatically. “Rigel, you wound me. How could you say that you invited me here to talk to Edmund? ”
Rookwood, ignoring Rosier with the ease of long practice, asked, “What did you need to talk to me about?”
There was nothing in Rookwood’s expression to signify that the use of ‘me’ was a jibe at his friend, but Rosier spluttered at his words anyway. “Edmund, you traitor. You should be outraged on my behalf! Don’t tell me you would side with Rigel over me.”
“I wanted to ask you about Caelum Lestrange.”
Rosier sat up straight. “You have not made an enemy of the Lestranges, surely?”
Rigel shook her head. “No, nothing so straightforward. Lestrange and Harry are—not friends. I don’t know exactly. She taught him her shaped imbuing technique, and I have concerns.”
“About Miss Potter’s questionable choice in friends?” Aldon asked.
“I’m worried Lestrange is using her for her potions research,” Rigel said bluntly. She supposed that sounded suitably sinister.
“No offense, Black, but I am unsure how I can help you. I don’t know if that is what Lestrange is attempting, but it seems a likely explanation as any,” Rookwood said. Left unsaid was the implication that there would be no other reason Caelum would associate with a halfblood.
“Could Lestrange be trying to hurt Miss Potter as revenge against you, Rigel?” Rosier asked seriously.
Rigel stared at him. “Revenge for what? Pushing him back a few inches?”
“For humiliating him,” Rosier corrected with a long-suffering sigh.
“Look, Lestrange might not be up to anything,” Rigel pointed out. “He interned at the Guild with Harry, and they’ve kept in touch. It doesn’t have to be sinister. It just… might be. I only wanted to know if Rookwood had heard anything.”
“From my father, you mean,” Rookwood said easily. “No, I haven’t. I can write him if you’d like, but that does not guarantee he knows anything. He might be Lestrange’s godfather, but that doesn’t mean much—they rarely talk.”
“I would appreciate it,” Rigel said. “It’s likely nothing, but if you could check with your father…”
Rookwood gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sure, Black. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
Rosier added, “Come find us if it doesn’t turn out to be ‘nothing’ after all. You don’t ask for help nearly enough.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she told them politely. Rosier’s raised eyebrow made it clear he didn’t believe her, but he ushered them back out into the common room, nonetheless.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Leo approached the Shrieking Shack with what felt like an equal mixture of exhaustion, anxiety, and relief. The past two weeks had not been easy. Fears that the alleys’ two resident vampire covens would descend into war were rampant. Even aside from the possibility of retaliatory action from the Shrouds, there were concerns about what to do with a vampire coven that was no longer content to be peaceful. Driving them out of the alleys entirely would be costly and dangerous. Yet, it was no longer safe for them to stay. Countess Maricara had refused to account for the actions of her coven. Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion on what ought to be done, but few seemed to be willing to deal with the consequences of their proposals.
It was enough to drive him mad.
Seeing Harry, at least, would be a relief.
She was waiting for him as he slowly opened the door to the Shack (the hinges squeaked despite his care). Harry didn’t look nearly as tired as she had two weeks before—though that hardly said anything. There were still dark smudges under her eyes. Leo wasn’t sure if this was due to it being the middle of the night or a part of her ‘Rigel’ persona, but her expressions seemed flatter. He had attributed it at first to the grey eyes, but it was much more than that.
“How are things in the alleys?” she asked him softly.
“Rough,” he answered. “But we’re muddling through. Go ahead and call Archie so I can get my updates all out of the way at once.”
Harry did so, and a moment later, Archie and Hermione’s faces appeared in the mirror (the latter only half in the frame).
“Hello, Rigel, Leo,” Archie said cheerfully. Hermione echoed his greetings. Leo had had more than one conversation with Hermione over the summer. His initial reasons for approaching the girl had been to learn more about Harry. Leo found her to be likable, though, and knew that one day she’d be both a formidable healer and a formidable witch. He still couldn’t stop the small part of himself that wished she had never been inducted into their little group. The ease and freedom vanished when they had to be sure she believed in Harry and Archie’s lies.
“Leo was just going to tell me about the news from the alleys.” Harry turned back to Leo, “I already told Harry about your letter earlier this week.”
“Alright,” Leo said, trying to figure out just where to start. “So, we have two different problems. The first is the Auror raid in the alleys and the question of what—if anything—they discovered. The second is the Carpathian’s attack. According to Gavril, at least, the Carpathians had been receptive to recruitment by Voldemort. This means that there is a chance, and a good one, that their attack wasn’t random at all, but at the behest of the construct. That leaves us with the question of why?”
“It could’ve just been pure spite,” Harry offered. “The construct was never… sane. And the Shrouds rejected its overtures—quite forcefully. If it felt slighted, it might have lashed out with no real larger purpose.”
“That’s perfectly likely,” Hermione interjected. “But it’s honestly more of a best-case scenario. If it was for some larger purpose, then assuming spite as a cause runs a rather dangerous risk. So, while we can keep that as a possibility, we need to be looking at alternatives. Was there something the construct wanted in particular from the Shrouds? The attack doesn’t fit into the larger pattern of anti-muggleborn violence. And if it was out of spite, why didn’t the construct attempt to claim the attack in some way? Was it just trying to avoid the attention of the police, or is there some other reason it needed to be cloaked behind plausible deniability?”
“I doubt I’d know if anything had been taken,” Leo commented. “So, I wouldn’t know on that front. But they might not want to claim responsibility for the attack because they want to avoid possible retaliation. They are still in the alleys, even if Rispah suspects alley recruitment isn’t as important to them as we thought. It isn’t particularly wise to take credit for an attack on people that live close to you, though.”
“Possible,” Archie said, with a considering tone. “But Hermione is right about the pattern of attacks. Why the Carpathians instead of hitting another pro-muggleborn target? The Shrouds cannot have been the only group to get on the construct’s bad side. So why them and why now?”
“All good questions,” Harry said. “But ones I don’t think we can answer at this point. So, unless anyone has more ideas, we might as well move on. What about the Aurors, Leo?”
“As I think I mentioned, it wasn’t a typical raid. They mostly went down to the Cesspool and spent hours performing some ritual. Bill reports that it was intended to locate the base, but he had to leave before it was complete. He didn’t sound optimistic about it succeeding, but if it did, there is a distinct possibility now that the Aurors have information that we do not.”
“Surely that’s good,” Hermione protested. “If the Aurors can find the construct, then they can arrest it and the other terrorists?”
“It’s not that simple,” Leo told her. “The Ministry is inefficient at the best of times. If Voldemort truly has more people in the SOW Party, they might be able to slow down any investigation quite effectively. And that is ignoring the larger issue of the Aurors being unfamiliar with the alleys. If they are not completely successful on a first assault, the terrorists will just move their base, and we’ll be that much farther from finding them. If they have managed to locate the base but haven’t moved on it, that could be a problem.” The more attention they drew to the alleys before getting rid of the terrorists, the more likely it was that the Rosto’s working would crumble.
“I wrote to my father,” Archie said, a bit suddenly. By that, Leo assumed either he had written his uncle as Harry, or Harry had written her father. “I tried to ask for information about progress on the attacks—since mum’s work was attacked, it isn’t strange that I would ask. I didn’t get any clear response, though, just vague insinuations of a possible lead. I believe that it was sent before the raid, so I’ll try again.”
“I’ll write to Sirius, too,” Harry added. “We’re more likely to get information from him if Uncle James has told him anything.”
“That would be great, both of you. Thank you.” Leo meant it, too. He didn’t know how much information the Head Auror or Harry’s uncle would be willing to share with their children, but it was better than nothing. “How’s the research going?”
“It’s… going,” Archie said. “I suppose, if nothing else, we’re eliminating possible sources of information. It’s a little frustrating, as we still haven’t found anything concrete.”
“We’ll keep working on it,” Hermione added, “Though it might come down to experimentation more so than secondary literature. Also, I’ve been continuing my project on the fade, though I’ve had to slow down because of this. I was wondering if I could send you my notes, Rigel, when I get them compiled?”
“Sure, Hermione,” Harry said. This was the first Leo had heard about research on the fade. He supposed the nobles ought to be grateful—he wouldn’t put it past Hermione to discover a cure in a matter of years.
“Anything on your end, cuz?” Archie asked.
“Not particularly,” Harry said, and Leo recognized the tone as one she used when she was lying. “I did try to get information on the Lestranges, but it’ll take time to see if anything comes of it. I also discovered this week that for the fifth task they’ll be drugging us, so I might be busy in the future.”
“Drugs?” Archie asked incredulously, “Seriously? How are you at magically metabolizing poisons?”
“Practicing,” Harry said. “But it’s going to keep me busy.”
Archie grimaced. “Let me know if you need anything? I’m not sure what I can do, but…”
“It’ll be fine,” Harry said, in what must’ve been an attempt at reassurance. Instead, it drove home that she didn’t believe it either.
Archie nodded in resigned acceptance. “So, is this the end of our club meeting, or was there something?”
“We’re a club now?” Leo asked, amused.
“Of course! Aren’t clubs founded on a common interest and regular meeting times? We meet regularly, and we have a common interest—defeating an incorporeal magic construct.”
“Incorporeal isn’t strictly accurate—” Hermione began.
Her voice overlapped Harry’s question of, “So, what do we call ourselves then?”
“Defeaters of Underaged Magical Books,” Leo suggested.
“Hey! Our club isn’t going to be called DUMB,” Archie protested.
“If the construct has been sixteen for fifty years, is it still underaged?” Harry asked. “What about Meetings on Aging Diaries?”
“You all are terrible,” Archie complained. “We should call ourselves the Council On Overthrowing Lunatics. COOL for short.”
“Are we cool, though?” Hermione teased. “I’m not so sure. What about the Down-With-Voldemort Club?”
Archie protested, “And call it what D-W-V-C? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Does it have to have an acronym?” Hermione shot back.
“I think the D-W-V-C has a nice ring to it,” Leo added.
Harry nodded in agreement. “So, we’re decided then. D-W-V-C it is.”
“I hate you all,” Archie moaned.
There was a moment’s pause as everyone looked at each other. “That was the end of the meeting, though,” Harry said. “So, meeting adjourned?”
“Until next fortnight,” Archie said, still sounding a little grumpy.
“Bye!” Hermione tried to wave through the mirror, but the motion was cut off when (presumably Archie) disable the connection.
Leo spent a moment enjoying the silliness their meeting had descended into. Then, he met Harry’s (grey, fake) eyes. “So, what didn’t you mention about the Lestranges?”
She sighed. “Caught that, did you? I didn’t know how to mention it in front of Hermione. I got a letter from Caelum. It was mostly normal? But he mentioned his father had been interested in his shaped imbuing, supposedly because a colleague of his had an interest in it. It just sounded… off to me. It got me thinking—you said Marek’s cover was blown, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, they would need a new potioneer capable of shaped imbuing, wouldn’t they? And the only people that I know are capable of it are Professor Snape, Caelum, and me. Out of the three of us, Caelum is the only one who might get tangled up in this.”
Leo didn’t know nearly enough about Harry and the Lestrange kid’s relationship. It was one thing to want to know (irrationally—Harry wasn’t his, damnit) if Lestrange had set himself up as Harry’s suitor. It was another entirely to consider the lordling as one of the many chess pieces in the increasingly dangerous game they were playing. “What do you think we should do?” Leo asked Harry. He was going to have to trust in her knowledge of her friend (suitor, colleague, rival?).
“I don’t know,” she said. “I need to write him back, push for information. But it isn’t exactly like we have a regular correspondence going. And it’s possible he doesn’t even know what his father is up to.”
“If they are using him as a supplier, he’d at least have to know the types of potions he’s making for them,” Leo pointed out, reluctantly. He didn’t want Harry to be disappointed because of Lestrange; he just wasn’t sure it was avoidable.
“I suppose,” Harry said. “I’ll write him back and make sure he knows it's urgent. And once I get a response, we can go from there.” She sighed. “It would be easier if I could just meet in person. But, I don’t think we want to wait till the summer on this.”
“Not really,” he said.
“Well, I’ll do what I can.”
“I appreciate it, lass.”
“You tell me that every time we meet,” she said with mock suspicion.
“Well, it’s always true,” he answered honestly.
“It’s good to see you, Leo.”
“You too, lass. Are you doing alright with everything for the fifth task?” He couldn’t say he wasn’t concerned that someone was going to drug her for what amounted to nothing more than a politically motivated sporting event.
She sighed. “I’ll be alright. I’ll just be glad when this is over.”
Leo would be, too. “You’ll let me know if there is anything I can do to help?”
Harry rolled her eyes at him, but he thought it seemed a bit fond. “Yes, if I find something that you—but none of the many people that have offered me help within Hogwarts—can do, I will let you know.”
Leo put a hand over his heart, as if he were in pain. “Are you saying I’m replaceable?”
“Never,” Harry said earnestly, and his response dried up in his throat.
She appeared to take his silence as an end to the conversation. “I’m going to head back,” she said.
“Goodnight, then,” Leo told her.
She stood, saying awkwardly, “I’ll see you next time.”
Five
Rigel spent too long agonizing over the letter she was attempting to send Lestrange.
Lestrange—
I appreciate your concern. As always, your solicitousness for my health is astounding. To return the favor, I must inquire after your mental wellbeing. Are you sure your memory is not suffering from some unfortunate potion accident? I hardly remember your mastery of my ‘quaint’ brewing technique being particularly quick or easy. In fact, I recall your complaints about the number of skills you would have to acquire to be able to use my ‘trick.’
And what is this about potions genius? I find it hard to believe that you could’ve improved upon my shaped-imbuing technique. In fact, I’m not sure which I find more unlikely: that Rodolphus Lestrange has shown an interest in potions, or that you’ve enhanced my already-excellent technique. After all, what more could it possibly need?
I look forward to seeing whatever ‘new’ advances you believe yourself to have discovered.
—Harry
P.S. I hope you have the sense to not fall into your cauldron, but if you feel the need to include it as a safety recommendation, I can’t be certain. Either way, do try not to die.
She thought that goading him might be the best way to get him to divulge information, but she couldn’t say she was particularly pleased with the result. Harry wished she could just ask him directly, but even aside from the security risk of sending letters, Harry didn’t have enough trust in Caelum to let him know she was investigating. After all—if asked to choose between her and his parents, she could hardly expect to be the victor. Still, Harry hoped he didn’t know what exactly he was doing. There was only so much she could excuse on his behalf.
Archie,
As always, it’s great to hear from you, pup. You asked about the attacks. James hasn’t told me anything specific, but I know the Aurors have it under control. I know it’s not something I can tell you to just stop worrying over, but I genuinely believe it is going to be fine.
You just focus on that tournament of yours, and let us handle the crazies, okay? I don’t have a ton of time to write now, but I will send more soon.
Your little cousin says hi. Or, well, she actually said “Achoo,” or maybe sneezed a bit. Really, it’s hard to be sure. We’re all here for you, pup. Let us know if you need anything.
Love from everyone,
Including your dad,
Sirius
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Leo was not sure he had ever been busier in his life. The alleys were hovering on a knife’s edge, and it was all he could do to keep the very ( very ) fragile peace. He assumed with time that people would calm down and they’d be able to put the Carpathians’ attack behind them. (And a much more realistic part of him warned that if the coven was allied with Voldemort, this might only be the beginning). Leo did not particularly want to start a war against a vampire coven unless it was unavoidable, so moving on was the only real option.
Having, perhaps, a pessimistic interpretation of his luck recently, Leo wasn’t particularly surprised when Marek slid into a seat on the other side of the table. “The Aurors are in the Cesspool again,” he told Leo.
“Again?” Leo asked, exasperation and exhaustion leaking into his tone in equal measures. “Whatever for?”
“More locating rituals? Doesn’t seem like there could be any other reason. They haven’t raided nothing.”
Leo sighed. “Do you think they’ll find something?”
Marek looked at him as if he were stupid. “How in the world would you expect me to know something like that?”
He wasn’t wrong, exactly. Leo rephrased, “Do you think there is a way we could find out if they find anything?”
“Nope,” Marek said matter-of-factly, leaning forward on his elbows. “There’s no way to get a listening charm in there without them noticing. I already tried. Unless Rispah manages to get something, I think we’re out of luck.”
Leo desperately hoped that Archie would hear something from Harry’s father. “We’ve been out of luck,” he told Marek.
“Can’t argue with that.”
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
This time, Leo beat her to the Shrieking Shack.
“How has your fortnight been?” he asked, with only a small sardonic twist on the word ‘fortnight.’
“I’d wager better than yours. How are things in the alleys?”
His shoulders slumped. “They’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked away and said, in a voice that clearly indicated he didn’t want to talk about it, “Shouldn’t you be calling your cousin?”
She sighed and took out the mirror. Archie answered on the first try. “Hello, cuz,” he said, but it lacked some of his usual enthusiasm. “What news have you got for me?”
“Leo, why don’t you start,” Harry suggested.
He shrugged. “The Aurors came back again. We think they were still trying to locate the terrorists, but we have no way of knowing. They may have gotten something, maybe not. That’s really the only relevant thing that has happened on my end.”
“I don’t have anything either,” Harry admitted. “I’m trying to get better intel on the Lestranges—” by which she meant she had written to Caelum, “But it’s too soon to tell.”
Leo nodded as if he understood. Harry had nothing against Hermione, but it was hard to have an open discussion with her there.
“What about you?” Leo asked, directing his question to the mirror. “Anything from your father?”
Archie winced. “Yes, but it’s nothing particularly useful. Just generally vague and unhelpful. It amounts to nothing more than ‘we’ve got it under control.’”
“So, do you think they might know something?” Leo pressed.
“Maybe?” Archie said hesitantly, “He said, and I quote, ‘We have leads we’re following.’”
Harry was startled to realize that Leo was fidgeting. He had a sort of nervous energy about him. “When was that written?”
Archie was starting to look a little confused by the sudden interrogation. “About a week ago. Why?”
Leo hummed quietly to himself. “That was after the Aurors made their reappearance in the alleys. They may have acquired new information.”
“Well, yes,” Harry said, “But that hardly helps us, does it?”
“Yeah, I can’t see my dad telling me more than he has,” Archie contributed. “Were you able to get anything out of Uncle Sirius, Rigel?”
“No,” Harry answered. “I don’t think Uncle James has told him anything specific.”
“Figures.”
“Harry,” Leo said hesitantly, turning towards Archie in the mirror just a moment too late. “Does your father ever bring papers from work home with him?”
“Yeah, he does,” Harry answered. She wasn’t sure if Archie knew this or not, though with any luck, Hermione wouldn’t think it strange that he— she, argh—did. Caught up in the logistics of the ruse, it took her a moment to realize what Leo was implying. Her eyes narrowed. “Why?” She wouldn’t be back home for, arguably, much longer than they wanted to go without fresh intel. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like this plan.
“Well, if we could look at those papers, we might be able to figure out what the Aurors know. So, we just need to—”
“You can’t be suggesting we break into my—” Harry (Rigel) paused, almost having given away the entire ruse, “My cousin’s house.” She plowed on. “Who’s to say Uncle James would bring something on that particular investigation home? Especially if it is sensitive. And if you’re caught—”
Leo said softly, “I know—” from the way he cut himself off, she knew he had almost said ‘lass.’ With the number of near slip-ups they’d had tonight alone, it seemed a miracle Hermione hadn’t seen through the ruse.
Archie’s face in the mirror was full of suspicion. “How were you intending to get past the wards without alerting anyone?”
Leo radiated innocence. “I was hoping your cousin would agree to come with me.”
“I’m at school,” Rigel pointed out, “And perhaps more importantly, I have the trace on me.”
Leo shrugged. “Wandless magic only. Though that is just to be careful. You used magic to repair the chairs in here, didn’t you? I’m not sure anyone pays attention to the magic people use when they’re supposed to be at school. Besides, you don’t really need magic for breaking and entering anyway, wandless or otherwise.” He coughed, and added hurriedly, “Not that it would be breaking and entering, of course, with you coming along.”
“You seem very sure of my answer,” Harry said drily.
Leo had the temerity to grin at her. “Ah, lad, don’t tell me that you object on the basis of morality. And aside from that, the only other thing to doubt is our skill. Are you seriously going to tell me you don’t think we can do this?”
Leo, unfortunately, was right. With some of the stuff she had done in the last four years, breaking into her own family home while she was supposed to be at school so she could look at Auror intelligence hardly rated. Leo’s plan was a risky—brash—and for little certain reward. It was also one she suspected would work. More than that, it was something they had to try if they were serious about opposing Voldemort (and, more importantly, helping Leo).
“Alright,” she said, “I’m in.”
Archie just groaned. “Nothing crazy ever happens in America,” he complained. “Not that I need your level of excitement, cuz, but you don’t have to hog all of the ridiculous plans for yourself.”
Hermione looked between Archie and the image in their mirror, “Am I the only one that thinks this is a bad idea?”
Rigel grinned a little. “See, Harry, I didn’t send your friend back weird. I was worried when the twins tried to get their hands on her, but she seems to have survived unscathed.”
Archie nodded in mock solemnity. “I commend your valiant efforts, cousin mine. I know it must have been a difficult endeavor to keep Hermione from succumbing to the weirdness that permeates the very air of Wizarding Britain, but you have succeeded against all odds.”
Hermione hit Archie lightly on the arm in mock anger. “If we’re doing this, we’re going to plan it within an inch of its life.”
They did. The plan involved more than one contingency and was specifically planned for the next weekend so that they could maximize the amount of work her father would have at home.
Leo was to be in charge of initial reconnaissance, using the earlier days in the week to figure out the dinner rotation. They would have to execute the plan when her parents were at Grimmauld.
Once Hermione was satisfied, they signed off the mirror.
“Do you ever…” Harry trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase her question. “Your father doesn’t know about the Rogue or the alleys. How do you have a relationship with someone you’re lying to? Is it even real?”
“I’m still your friend,” Leo pointed out reasonably, “Even though I only discovered your big secret two months ago.”
“That’s different,” Harry argued, a little frustrated. “You knew I was hiding something, lying to you. They don’t even suspect. They have no idea with what I do with so much of my life, and…”
“It’s hard,” Leo said, eyes soft and understanding, “Ma covers for me, but… My father’s disappointed that I don’t seem to have any goals, any direction in life, and it’s not like I can tell him the truth. It’s as if I become a different version of myself around him, and that version isn’t false, but it’s only a small piece of myself, and that is all he can see.”
“My father melted my stirring rods when I was little,” Harry admitted. “He didn’t understand, even before the ruse. But now he’s trying to be better, and that somehow makes it harder.”
“It’s always the hardest when my father’s trying to be understanding,” Leo agreed. “Because it is then that the lies always seem the least justified.”
It was nice that she could talk to Leo about this. Archie understood, sort of, but his relationship with Sirius had always been so unassailable. She wasn’t sure the ruse would shake it. By comparison, her relationship with her parents always seemed so fragile. Harry feared her lies would be enough to break it.
Leo’s very presence was soothing. He knew the truth, and he was still her friend.
The fear was still there. “What if they hate me?” she whispered.
“They’re not going to hate you, Harry,” Leo said. “They’re your parents; they are supposed to love you no matter what. And, Harry? If they do end up hating you—which, having met your parents, I’m fairly sure isn’t going to happen—that is on them, not you.”
“I lied to them,” Harry argued. “If the ruse is discovered, the political fallout could destroy my family.”
“Would you be happier if you had gone to AIM?” Leo asked. “You can’t—” he paused, frustrated. “It isn’t any more honest to make yourself into what people expect you to be. You just end up lying to yourself instead of everyone else.”
Isn’t that what her friends were always telling her, when she pretended to be Archie around Sirius? They thought she would rather pretend to be what Sirius wanted than tell him the truth. The situations were hardly the same—Sirius wasn’t actually her father, and Rigel knew why she had to pretend. Yet, Harry had gotten in the nasty habit of hiding behind people’s assumptions. It was necessary for the ruse, but…
Maybe that was just how Harry would’ve been anyway. Maybe Leo was right, and it was better to do the things you loved in secret than not at all.
“I still could’ve learned potions at AIM,” she told him.
“You would’ve resented it,” he answered. “I’m not saying you couldn’t have gone to AIM and been fine. It would just be different. Different challenges, and likely different lies, too. It’s like… imagining that everything would be fine between me and my father if I hadn’t challenged for the Rogue.”
“You’re saying the problems with my parents are because of the ruse,” she said slowly.
“They aren’t just because of the ruse,” he corrected.
Harry wasn’t sure she liked that idea. It meant she didn’t have an excuse to avoid dealing with it. She sighed. “Why do you want me to talk about things, Leo?” she complained dramatically. “I don’t think I like it.”
Leo’s expression lightened, and a small grin broke across his face. “Well, lass, it’s how most people deal with their emotions. You talk about it and feel better for having confronted it.”
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s cathartic.”
They stared at each other. She broke first. “Thank you, Leo,” she said, only slightly facetiously, “For forcing me to talk about my feelings .”
He smiled, and it did something strange to her stomach. “You’re welcome, Harry,” he said.
Her traitor mind noticed that he looked particularly handsome today—his shirt bringing out the green flecks in his eyes.
She’d already met her emotion quota for the day—hadn’t she? She would handle the feeling in her chest later.
“I need to go,” she told Leo. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, lass.”
Six
Harry had to come up with a non-Potions related excuse for why she was going to miss dinner and be gone several hours besides. It was unlikely, but Professor Snape would have the logs to prove she wasn’t brewing potions during that time, and if he compared notes with her friends, they would catch the lie. Admittedly, her friends would likely assume she was lying about something other than her need to sneak out of the castle to break into her ancestral home. Still, she’d rather not be caught lying to them ( again ).
Unfortunately, her usual repertoire of excuses was mostly Potions-related. She could hardly claim to be with the Gryffindors (as this was even more easily verifiable than the last excuse). In the end, she gave her friends a vague and unsatisfactory answer of where she’d be, also implying that she’d be eating in the kitchens. Draco, she thought, suspected this had something to do with a Weasley-related prank. Pansy reserved judgment but seemed to mentally log it as another instance to go on the ‘weird things Rigel gets up to’ list.
Excuses made, she escaped down the tunnel into Hogsmeade. Leo was waiting for her in the Shrieking Shack.
“Good,” he said when he saw her. “You’re here. I think your parents have left for dinner, but it’s hard to tell for certain.”
“Tapping into the wards worked then?” She had been curious. It didn’t seem like something that could work. Leo insisted that he could set up spells to piggyback off the family wards to record minor data that the wards recorded—such as people entering and leaving the house.
Leo huffed. “Lass, I know what I’m doing.” That may be—but she wanted to know who had left such gaping holes in Potter Place’s security.
“So you say,” she teased.
He handed her a piece of rope. “Ready?”
Before she could say anything, the world dissolved around her. It had clearly been a rhetorical question.
They landed a short way outside of the house wards. She could enter easily. Leo was more complicated. “Are you sure we should risk this?” She asked one last time. Harry could not think of a way to explain why she (or Archie, as she was pretending to be) would be breaking into her house with one of Harry’s friends during the school year. Getting caught was not an option.
“Lass, I’m no expert, but I’m near certain there aren’t any spells to alert your father to new entries into the wards. Only people who have never been to the house before at all, and people with ill intentions.”
“And if it senses that we’re here to steal?” Leo had tried to explain the concept he would use to get past the wards, but Harry still wasn’t confident she understood.
“It won’t matter in your case—you’re family. As long as your father doesn’t have any specific alerts on you, it should be fine. As for me, I just have to make sure the wards know I don’t mean any harm.”
“That still doesn’t explain it,” Harry complained. She started walking to the ward boundary, “Wait till five minutes after I cross.”
“I remember the plan, lass!” Leo called after her.
Despite the fluttering in her chest, Harry’s father did not floo back to see why his eldest daughter (or an intruder) had entered the house. Leo crossed the wards, and they crouched down near the boundary, hopefully for an easy line of escape should his presence set something off. It did not appear to.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Harry said incredulously, after a few minutes had passed.
“I think I should be offended,” Leo muttered.
“Well, if you’re such a good house-breaker, it’s a wonder you needed my help at all.”
Leo shrugged, treating the implied question seriously. “It’s easier to convince wards of your sincerity when you have something to work with.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” Harry was going to pin Leo down on this if it was the last thing she did. His ability to waltz through wards like they didn’t exist was infuriating and improbable (and something she deeply, deeply envied).
Leo grinned at her. “A project for the summer, perhaps. Where’s your father’s study?”
“Through here,” she said, leading him further into her house.
An old oak desk took up the majority of her father’s study. The room was old-fashioned, with wooden paneling and a few stuffy armchairs crammed into a corner. It was never generally particularly organized. While he did most of his Auror work at the office, his study was where he worked on Marauders products.
Harry lit a lamp as they entered, the soft light diffusing across the room. The desk had a couple of blue government folders and a few loose pieces of paper lying around. Leo put a hand on her arm to stop her from reaching for the papers. She looked at him, and he hurriedly snatched it back again.
“Remember,” he said, “No one should be able to tell we were here. Don’t move or touch anything unless you’re sure you can put it in the exact same spot when you’re through.”
Right. She tried to catalog the room, holding the locations of the folders and papers in her mind. Harry thought it might be best to move only one folder at a time.
She hesitantly picked up one of the blue folders while Leo took another. The first page proclaimed it to be a case on possible smuggling of dark artifacts. She flipped through just to be sure, but there was nothing of use. She replaced the file and took another.
Two robberies and one case of fraud later, Leo said, “I think I found something.”
She leaned around him so that she could read over his shoulder. The case file was brief, with a single report of the first alley’s stakeout with a note of ‘Results Inconclusive.’ Another page was included on the second attempt. It contained a rough geographical anchor point for what looked to be wizarding space.
“It didn’t look to be enough for the Aurors to find them,” Harry said, reading through the report’s conclusion. “They think because it’s wizard space that further attempts would be useless? How does that make sense?”
“It’s because of the anchor,” Leo said, pointing to a different passage. “See, the anchor is a finite space the wizard space ties to, but it doesn’t have to be used as an entry or exit if they adjust their wards to allow magical travel in and out. And they could change the anchor. So, without a ward signature, finding the anchor point is useless.”
“And you can only get a read on the ward signature if you’ve been in the wizarding space,” Harry said, the pieces seeming to click. “How was Bill able to narrow down the location at all? Wouldn’t the space bounds prevent wards from being detectable from the outside?”
Leo shook his head. “I didn’t understand most of it, but there are traces of most everything. Clearly not enough to find it without first hunting down the anchor, though.”
“So, you think we could do it? Find it from this?”
“Yes,” Leo said, the relief in his eyes evident. “Though I wish Will hadn’t gone back to Egypt. It’s going to be hard to piece together without him.” Leo closed the file and put it back precisely where he had picked it up. “Let’s check the papers, just to be thorough.”
Harry wasn’t sure how necessary of a measure that was, but she didn’t object. Most of the papers were not related to James’s work at all, bills or bank statements or other detritus or ideas for a new prank product. The few papers related to Auror-work seemed to be disjointed ramblings of her father’s thoughts on one case or another.
They finished. Harry checked her pocket watch. “We should go, give ourselves a buffer before when we’d expect them back.”
They crept back out of her house, turning off the lamp and leaving everything exactly as they found it. Harry’s hand shot out to grab Leo’s when she one of the stairs creaked, but it wasn’t as if there were anyone home to hear.
Leo coached her through removing ward history, which seemed much too simple.
“It’s because the ward matrix recognizes you as family— I could not change the ward history without a lot more fanfare,” Leo told her when she said as much.
Harry kept expecting the floo to go off, for her parents to come home earlier for some unexpected reason or another—but the house was quiet as they left.
They portkeyed back to Hogsmeade, inside the Shrieking Shack (they couldn’t risk someone seeing their reappearance). It took Harry a moment before she remembered to move. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“Things can’t always go wrong,” Leo said, entirely too optimistically in her opinion. (Harry had never known an opportunity for danger to pass calmly by).
Harry rechecked the time. “It’s almost eight. I should go back now, so that my friends won’t ask too many questions.”
Leo snorted. “I bet they’d ask a lot more questions if they thought they might get answers to some of them.”
Harry shook her head fondly. “Goodnight, Leo. I’ll see you at the meeting.”
“Goodnight, lass.”
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Leo, buoyed by their unexpected success at their Potter estate heist (he wasn’t surprised they had gotten away cleanly, but the windfall of information was unanticipated), had decided to try his hand at another matter that had been troubling him recently: Caelum Lestrange.
As such, he was currently lurking around the Potions guild, trying to overhear something useful .
Half an hour into this mission, and he had already come to the conclusion that he had given the masters too much credit to assume they would talk about anything serious.
He had put some short-range listening charms in the main hallway to see if the gossip could at least narrow down his focus. Snippets of conversations wisped past where he was hiding in an alcove.
“I can’t believe that I have to put with one of the interns this summer—”
“—the price of autumn crocus? What does Illuminux —”
“—heard one of the interns is a muggleborn —”
“They gave him access to basilisk scales?”
“The new apprentices these days…”
“—in my lab! Just yesterday, interrupting my experiments!”
“—been asking about shaped imbuing. As if I have time for some halfblood girl’s absurd esoteric techniques.”
Finally, something at least marginally interesting. Leo pulled on that thread of magic, trying to follow the conversation.
“It is strange,” his companion replied. “If they want to know more about it, they could just ask the girl.”
“Unless there is some reason why they couldn’t,” the first man pointed out, “I heard she taught the Lestrange Heir, so it isn’t like she’s not eager to force it down people’s throats, even if they are dark.”
“The Lestrange Heir,” the companion scoffed, “Whitaker needs to be keeping a closer eye on that boy—we don’t need a Potions Master as dark as those parents are, and—”
“Quiet,” the first man hissed. “There is one enemy you don’t want to make.”
They drifted out of Leo’s range. He wasn’t sure the two (gossiping) masters knew more, but it seemed that someone had at least tried recruiting in the Potions Guild. At some point, they must’ve tried to recruit Caelum Lestrange. The question was whether or not they’d been successful.
Leo wasn’t sure he liked the odds on that.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Rigel didn’t open the letter at breakfast. But later that day, on her bed in the dorm room, she slit open the wax seal.
Brat—
There is no need to insult true potioneers just to make yourself feel better. I am sure one day you may be able to approach my brilliance in the art of potions. As for my improvements, you’ll have to wait and see. It doesn’t surprise me, of course, that you are filled with anticipation to discover the advancements I have made, but I am sure you have heard of the concept of patience. I know that it may personally be a bit beyond you, brat, but you will just have to put in the attempt.
If you are so curious, we can meet after you return from that heathen American school of yours. It is good to hear that you have yet to get yourself killed. I know that must’ve been a trial for you.
C. Lestrange
P.S. Brat, no safety recommendation is too obvious when it comes to you. You have no sense of self-preservation.
Rigel sighed. It was nice, of course, to know that on some level, Caelum cared about her. On the other hand, if he was supplying terrorists with dangerous potions that couldn’t be countered by normal means, it just wasn’t enough . And this summer was much too late to figure out if that was the case.
Sometimes, Harry had to seriously question her choice of friends.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
It had only been about a week since Leo had last seen Harry, but he found himself looking forward to their meeting anyway. Here they were, trying to take down a terrorist cell, and Leo was just happy that the girl he liked was going to help him do it. (Shouldn’t he be trying to keep her safe or something? That seemed much more in line with the dumb romantic behavior people normally exhibited).
The meeting started much the way it usually did. Hermione and Archie didn’t have any updates on the how-to-kill-a-former-diary-current-possession-monster research, though Hermione mentioned that they planned to “start collecting experimental data to test their theories,” which seemed like something a responsible adult would discourage them from doing, but that he wasn’t going to do a thing about. Leo could hardly tell a pair of fourteen-year-olds to be safe without an absurd level of hypocrisy.
Harry started to give Hermione and Archie an account of the Potter Estate Heist (Leo blamed the name entirely on Archie), “It went cleanly. We went in—the wards did not set off any alarms. We read through Uncle James’s case files and found the—”
The secret door to the passage to Hogwarts burst open, and two red-headed teenagers nearly fell out. “You did what?” they exclaimed, almost in unison.
“Fred, George,” Harry hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, you know how it is,” one started.
“We were sneaking around the castle—”
“—inciting mischief—”
“—causing chaos—”
“—and generally contributing to the number of school rules broken today.”
“A public service, I assure you.”
“When—”
“—to our surprise—”
“—we saw our Puppy sneaking off across the grounds.”
“We turned to each other. Gred, I said,”
“Forge, I answered,”
“’Tis our noble calling—”
Harry interrupted, “Basically, you followed me here.”
One of the twins looked to be pouting. The other was affronted, “Would we do such a thing?”
“Yes,” Harry said, blank face.
“Good point,” the other twin answered. “Who’s your friend?”
“Leo, this is Fred and George,” Harry introduced them. “Fred, George, Leo.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Leo,” Fred said.
“Breaking and entering,” George added, “You’ve been naughty.”
“And convincing poor, impressionable Puppy to sneak out to meet you in the middle of the night…”
“Someone might get the wrong idea,” George finished.
Leo realized his respect for Will had just risen several notches. Anyone who could put up with this for years and still be sane was not someone to be messed with. (He very pointedly did not think about how his mother would laugh herself hoarse at that thought).
“Charming friends you have, Rigel,” Leo answered. He realized as he said it that he retracted every unkind thought about Hermione’s presence at the meetings. Without her, the twins would have stumbled onto much bigger secrets.
Archie called out to the twins from the mirror, and Harry passed it to them for a moment so that they could greet him and Hermione.
Harry turned to Leo, face written with uncertainty.
He returned an understanding smile and a slight head bow to let her know it was her call.
She raised an eyebrow to ask, Are you sure?
He rolled his eyes at her.
She nodded, turning back to the twins, “I suppose I ought to explain.”
Leo figured he should reparo another chair together.
What followed was a somewhat tedious rehashing of everything their ‘club’ (as Archie insisted it be called) had been up to for the last few months. Leo admired Harry’s patience for putting up with the twins’ constant questions, commentary, and general deviations from the main storyline.
In some ways, it was much like Leo’s conversation with Will because as soon as Harry said, “Voldemort,” the twins stilled.
“That thing—”
“—is still alive?” Both of the twins’ faces were pale.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry said. She continued the story, and they didn’t interrupt again. She left out several parts—Will’s involvement, the Lestrange problem, and any details about events in the alleys.
They sat in silence for a moment as she finished, before asking, “How can we help?”
Harry looked unsure how to answer.
Leo thought for a moment. He had heard of the twins, though briefly. They might not be up for it, but— “I have an idea,” he said.
Leo continued, “The information that we got from the Potter estate, I’m almost through combining it with the data we already had. I had to send off a letter for help, but as soon as I hear back, I ought to be able to pinpoint the location of their headquarters.”
Harry narrowed her eyes at him. “Your point?”
“We can’t engage until we know, without a doubt, that we can win. We also can’t let them know that we are there. So, what is left that we can do? The answer is obvious—spy on them.”
“We could tell the Aurors,” Hermione suggested, halfheartedly.
“We could,” Leo agreed. “And we will, if it comes to that. But, if we could figure out what they are up to beforehand, we can counter their plans so much more effectively. I’d rather not involve the Aurors again before we have to.” As useful as the Aurors were, the greatest danger to the alleys would always be the Ministry’s attention.
“I don’t see how the twins can help with that,” the set of Harry’s eyes let Leo know that she was not about to let him put them in harm’s way.
“They’re inventors, aren’t they?” he asked.
“We are,” one of the twins said, a suspicious look on his face.
“They have wards against listening charms,” he said. “In fact, I can get you a list of the exact wards they have. If there is a way to get an object or spell inside the wards that can transmit through the wards to us, without being detected or destroyed… I’m not even certain if such a thing is possible, but…”
The twins shared a look. “We can try,” Fred said.
George asked, “But how would we get something like that inside the wards?”
“That will be a problem for me to deal with,” Leo said firmly. (Experimentation was one thing, but he wasn’t about to let children get anywhere near the terrorists in question. Nevermind that Leo was not much of an adult himself. He had yet to even turn nineteen.)
The meeting wrapped up from there. Harry had to request they meet a day early next time (something about the Light families’ Soiree). Fred and George had more questions (ranging from absurd to deadly serious), and Archie wanted to check how Harry was doing with the tournament. As a result, it took at least another ten minutes of chatter for everything to wind down.
Harry sent Fred and George back ahead of her, ignoring their suspicious looks.
“They’re really gone?” Leo asked a minute or two after that. As Leo was no stranger to curiosity himself, he knew that if the twins thought they could get away with eavesdropping, they would.
“I think so?” Harry answered, “Maybe put up a privacy ward just in case.”
Leo did so, retaking his seat. “Did you hear something from Lestrange?” he asked.
She moved to join him. “A letter,” she admitted. “It wasn’t particularly long. I was trying to needle him into telling me what he has been working on, but I think he just took it to mean that I was interested in his work. He said I’d have to come to meet him during the summer to find out.”
“So, the letter does not confirm or deny anything?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Harry sighed. “I don’t think there is much else I could do. None of my school friends seem to know anything. More letters will hardly help. Until I can see him in person, I’m not sure what I can do.”
“I tried poking around the guild,” Leo admitted. “I heard some rumors that someone had been asking around about shaped imbuing.”
“They’ve been trying to recruit there, too,” she said grimly.
“And the Guild Masters know that Lestrange can do your technique, so at some point—if they haven’t already—they’re going to try to recruit him. It’s really a matter of what he’ll say.”
Leo watched Harry’s expression carefully. It remained remarkably impassive.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I stand by what I said earlier—I don’t think he would join them on his own if he knew what they were doing. But his parents are an unknown variable. He doesn’t have the best relationship with them, but I think he still craves their approval, so…”
“So, a lot of this depends on what the older Lestranges are up to,” Leo commented.
The silence stretched on.
“You know,” Harry said, in a small voice, “Caelum is the only other friend I have as Harry . Everyone else, Fred, George, all my Slytherin friends, I’m going to lose that. I can’t be Rigel forever, and…”
“I think I get it. Your friends are all friends with Rigel, and Lestrange might be a blood supremacist , but he chooses to associate with you knowing you’re a halfblood. You know, I hate to say this, Harry, but that’s like the minimum requirement for friendship.”
Harry protested, “It’s more than just the pureblood thing. It’s too dangerous for me to spend too much time around them as Harry now because they’ll put the pieces together.”
“If they weren’t blood supremacists, you could trust them with the truth,” Leo pointed out. He didn’t know her school friends, but it was hard for Leo to think well of them. Harry always seemed so alone.
“I didn’t trust you with the truth,” Harry snapped. “You just showed up and took it anyway.”
Leo winced. He knew he occasionally trampled over people’s right to privacy with his unending curiosity. He was trying to be better about it, but…
“I’m sorry,” she added. “I didn’t mean it, or at least not that way. I trust you, Leo, but I still wouldn’t have told you. I’m not sure if I know how to have that conversation, to tell the truth.”
“That’s okay, Harry. You’ll figure it out, in time.”
“Leo,” she said, “I don’t know how long I can do this. I’m so tired—and I don’t know how to stop.”
Leo’s heart ached at her forlorn expression. He wanted to wrap her in a hug. Instead, he said, “I am not sure I will ever be able to tell my father the truth. Not while he is the aldermaster, and I am the Rogue. He has taken oaths, and—that isn’t the point, though. My father is just one person. Most of the people around me know what I am. Just because I intend to muddle through with the lies in my life does not mean you have to do the same. There will be fallout, sure, but you have an apartment in the Lower Alleys for a reason. I assume it’s your backup plan. You can use it.”
“It isn’t that simple,” she said. “There are reasons I have to continue this, too.”
“Alright,” Leo said, “tell me about them. Maybe we can work out a solution.”
She bit her lip. “For one, I’ve Vowed to do my best to win the tournament.”
Leo smiled. “Harry, are you sure you don’t have a saving people thing?”
“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “Why does everyone say that?”
“Harry?” Leo said, trying not to laugh. “Why are you in the tournament? You clearly don’t want to be.”
She sighed. “I made a deal with Riddle—a stupid one. If I win the tournament, he cannot back discriminatory legislation relating to healthcare, marriage, or employment.”
“Definitely not a saving people thing, then,” Leo mused, facetiously. “No, that sounds entirely selfish.”
She laughed, and Leo would’ve considered it all worth it just for that.
“After the tournament, then,” he told her. “It is that far away, and you could do it then.”
She sighed. “I don’t know, Leo. Archie, Riddle, it’d be dangerous.”
“Just think about it, lass.”
She touched his shoulder gently after getting to her feet. “I will,” she said quietly. Adding, in her normal voice, “I should probably go back. I’d like to get some sleep before I have to get up tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you next time,” he promised. “Goodnight.”
“Night,” she answered, heading for the passage.
Seven
Rookwood approached Rigel in the common room three days before the fifth task. “Black, can we talk?”
They went to one of the study rooms. It was clear Rookwood hadn’t mentioned this intention to Rosier, but the latter tracked the two of them across the room and slipped in before Rookwood could close the door behind him.
“Was I not invited?” Rosier asked, with mock-hurt.
Rookwood, as always, ignored him. “I don’t want to distract you before the task, Black. We can talk about this after if you prefer.”
“No,” Rigel said. “Go ahead.”
“Right. I received a letter from my father. He said that Lestrange has written him a few times, asking questions. Specifically, I think, if my father had a copy of a certain book.”
“What book?” Harry asked.
“My father didn’t say,” Rookwood answered. “But I think it must’ve been dark.”
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Leo had, after learning more about wards and magical signatures than he ever wanted to know, managed to find the entrance to the wizarding space that served as Voldemort’s base. He was particularly proud of this feat, having spent over three months on it.
Now, he just needed to figure out what to do with this information. In the best-case scenario, the twins would invent a listening device that worked. Even in this scenario, though, they had to find a way to get it inside. Leo didn’t think a Polyjuiced recruit was something that would work twice.
That still left them with a few options. While the wards of the wizarding space were set up to permit portkeys to enter, thus eliminating the need to use the entrance, portkeys out would require some reconfiguration. This meant Leo—assuming they had re-instituted the selective portkey barrier after Will broke it—could watch for people leaving. Leo, or one of the other thieves in the court (but Merlin, none of the children), could then reverse-pickpocket one of them. Then, it was just a matter of hoping the listening device was still on them when they re-entered the base.
This plan had holes—there was no way to transfer the listening device from that person’s pocket into becoming a permanent fixture of the base. It might well be the best option they had, though—short of getting one of the terrorists to plant the device themselves.
Thus, Leo was having the entrance to the wizarding space watched. They needed to know who was leaving the base (and with what frequency).
Because of the relatively few number of people in on Operation: Down with Voldemort and the danger involved with getting caught, Leo was obliged to spend one of the shifts outside the warehouse that housed the wizarding space entrance himself.
Consequently, Leo was currently lying on his stomach on an adjacent roof, watching the street, and that he had been in this position for the last three hours. Marek, Aled, and a few others he knew were trustworthy took turns on stakeout duty. It was still a massive drain on his—and all of their—time.
They tried to identify the people leaving, but everyone who emerged from the warehouse was disguised. Short of chasing them down and sticking them with needles, he wasn’t sure what more he could do.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Rigel didn’t even make it all the way out of the castle before being ambushed by the twins.
“Puppy!” They whispered-yelled at her. “You weren’t about to go without us, were you?”
Rigel sighed. “You know you don’t have to come to these meetings, right?”
“So considerate of you, Puppy—” George said.
Fred finished, “But we wouldn’t let you down like that.”
Rigel shook her head. She hoped they wouldn’t feel the need to chatter the whole way through the tunnel.
Leo was (unsurprisingly) waiting for them. As soon as Harry walked through the door, his eyes swept over her, as if assessing for injury. His face was a picture of concern.
“I take it you saw the task?” she asked.
“I made time for it,” Leo answered. “If you want help plotting murder, let me know.”
It was probably bad that Harry wasn’t sure he was joking. “I think we should focus on the murder we’ve been planning, for the moment.”
“Wow, Puppy,” George said. “It was never just the Slytherins was it?”
Harry shrugged. “I mean, we made a club and everything.”
“I mean, I have to respect the commitment—” Fred said.
“But you need more style.”
“More style?” Harry asked incredulously. “Are you saying I’m not stylish?”
“Of course not,” Fred denied. “Would we lie to you like that?”
“You have. Repeatedly.”
Leo intervened. “Maybe we should start the meeting now.”
“Sorry, what is your club’s name?” George asked, as Harry called Archie on the mirror.
“The Down With Voldemort club!” Archie answered, having appeared just in time to hear the question.
“Well, I declare this murder club meeting now in session!” Fred gestured grandly as he said it.
“We’re a murder club now?” Archie asked.
“We meet to plot one murder in particular,” George said, rubbing his hands together. “Or at least I assume we do.”
“Harry,” Leo said, clearly having decided to ignore the twins. “Updates from America?”
“The experiments seem to be going well,” Archie reported.
Hermione clarified, “But we’re still compiling data. We should have some results for you soon.”
“Alright, then,” Leo answered. “Harry? What about from you?”
“Nothing, really,” she said, trying to let Leo know that she still had some Caelum-related news. “I was busy with the task.”
“Oh, right!” Archie said cheerfully from the mirror. “How did that go?”
He likely couldn’t see from the mirror, but the twins and Leo were all wearing dark expressions.
“I’ve been better,” Harry said.
“I still can’t believe they did that,” Fred said, no longer able to contain himself. “The ward at the end was particularly cruel.”
Leo’s head snapped up. “Barty Crouch Jr. was still in charge of this task?”
“Yes,” Harry said. “Riddle seemed to indicate that he had handled the matter.”
“I doubt it,” Leo said, “I can’t be sure, but I’ve seen someone I suspect to be him leaving the anchor point this week.”
“What does it matter?” Harry asked, exasperated. Voldemort would either blow something up, or he wouldn’t. “Why would he care about the tournament?”
“He cares about you ,” Leo insisted. “You spilt blood. Why a blood ward? If they wanted a final test, they could’ve picked something that didn’t require blood willingly given .”
“It was in the second task, too.” Harry tried to think through the logic Crouch would’ve had to employ. “Only one of the paths, but you had to spill blood to get through. I avoided it, switching paths. But they couldn’t have known which way I’d go? It could’ve been meant for anybody.”
“Maybe,” Leo said doubtfully, “But it’s your blood they got.”
It wasn’t actually. But Harry was hardly going to say so in front of the twins and Hermione. “Well, why do they want it then? What are they going to use it for?”
Leo shook his head. “I have no idea. We need more information.”
“Agreed,” Hermione said from the mirror. “We can look into this, but without more specific information, I’m not sure we’d be able to find anything useful.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Well,” Fred said, a little more serious than usual, “We think we can do the listening devices.
“We already had an idea for something like that,” George added, “It’s just been a matter of trying to adjust it so that it would be able to transmit through the wards.”
“How long?” Leo asked.
“At least two more weeks, maybe longer.”
“That’s good,” Leo said, meaning it. “As you all should’ve picked up on from my earlier comment, we’ve found the anchor point. We’ve been keeping a watch on it, trying to record movement. The idea was to try to figure out who else is involved, though I can’t claim it’s going well.”
“That’s still really good, though,” Harry said. “We’ve come so far.”
“True.”
Silence again.
“Well, I think that is everything for tonight,” Harry announced. “We’ll see you all again in two weeks.”
Goodbyes were said all around, and Harry managed to shoo Fred and George back down the secret passageway. As soon as they were gone, Leo put up the privacy ward.
“What happened?” he asked, without preamble.
“I got information from one of my friends. It’s nothing, really. But apparently, Caelum asked his father for a book. A book we do not know the name of, but which my friend assumed was dark. Do you think…?”
“We have so many pieces, Harry, and it still doesn’t make sense. We’re missing something, something big. I almost hope your friend is working with them because at least then you might be able to get him to tell you something.”
“How?” she yelled, frustrated. “The letters are useless, and I won’t be able to see him until this summer.”
“You snuck out of the castle to go to Potter Place. Maybe you need to do it again.”
“He thinks I’m in America!”
“Then, clearly, Archie needs to get his hands on an unregistered international portkey—”
“Which, I must point out, is illegal.”
“Which he won’t actually use. But if he can do it, you would’ve been able to too. It will seem ridiculous and a bit desperate, but plausible. And we only need it to be plausible.”
“You’re asking a lot of me,” she couldn’t help but say.
“Yes,” he answered solemnly. “You don’t have to, of course. But it is, I believe, one of the best plays we can make right now.”
“Merlin. Fine,” she snapped. “But we need to talk to Archie. And you’re going to help with the illegal portkey.”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to bed now,” she declared, getting up.
“Goodnight then, lass.”
She just glared at him, before storming into the secret passage.
She didn’t know why she was angry, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t at Leo.
Merlin, why did he have to be so calm in the face of it, though? So accepting of even her worst behavior? He shouldn’t put up with that, not from her.
Not from anyone.
Why did it make her chest feel warm that he had?
Eight
As it turned out, Will was back in town. He’d walked into the Phoenix the Monday after their meeting with a grim expression on his face.
He’d joined Leo, Marek, and Aled, where they’d been discussing the headache that was the ongoing stakeout.
Will’s spell for privacy seemed almost reflexive. “You all already know who I am?” he said.
Will could not be unaware of Leo’s knowledge of his background, but he supposed it made sense that he was unsure of Aled and Marek.
“Yes,” Aled said bluntly.
“Fair enough,” Will said. “Then it shouldn’t surprise you that I was at Dumbledore’s Soiree on Saturday. I mention it because one of the attendees, an Auror, was attacked. She took a knife to the throat and then was dumped at the edge of the wards. She said it was a vampire. I thought, with the Carpathians’ attack, and…”
“Yes,” Leo said. “That’s concerning. Of course, if it was only one vampire, it could’ve been anyone.”
“It’s more than that, though.” Will protested. “Why? She wasn’t bitten—it was a knife wound. And—why leave her at the edge of the party? She isn’t dead. Black healed her fine, though if he hadn’t been there…”
“But any decent healer could’ve done the same,” Leo said. “So, if they wanted to kill her, they would’ve killed her, not left her half-dead near people who would want to help her.”
“Precisely.”
“Yeah, that’s weird,” Marek contributed.
“Could be random,” Aled suggested.
“It could be,” Leo said. “But I don’t think it is. I have no idea what the point of such an attack was, but I strongly suspect there was one.”
Will nodded. “Yes, I think so too.”
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Rispah came to talk to him two days ago when he had been holed up in his office. She draped herself over the extra armchair and said, “Remus has suspicions.”
“About what?” Leo answered distractedly, working on going through reports on the grocery subsidy impact.
“The court,” Rispah answered as if he were an idiot. “If I want to be able to rely on his assistance with the Aurors in the future, we need to tell him about the Rogue.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
Rispah huffed. “No. About lots of it, yes, but not about the Rogue.”
“That’s nice,” Leo said blandly, sifting through his papers.
“You realize,” Rispah said, in a cold sort of tone, “That the only reason I have been so invested in keeping this from him is to protect you. He might not take kindly to the Rogue being friends with his niece, a niece that—I must remind you—is the daughter of the Head Auror. Someone you do not want to be noticed by.”
Leo looked up then. “Harry wouldn’t have brought him down here if he wouldn’t keep quiet about what she’s been up to. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Rispah sighed, with all her accompanying sense of drama. “You’ve picked a strange time to be trusting.”
“What can I say? I live to surprise you. Though I assume you’ll keep the property issues to yourself. I haven’t even told Harry about that.”
Rispah rolled her eyes, “Since neither of them are sworn to the Rogue, I should think so.”
Leo frowned for a moment, processing some of her earlier words. “Do you think we’ll need the assistance of the Aurors in the future?”
Rispah narrowed her eyes at him. “What, were you just going to kill all the terrorists and hope the Aurors never find out? If you drive them out of the alleys, they’ll just set up somewhere else. Surely, getting them arrested is a much better solution?”
“I mean, yes, of course. But if they tried to raid them now—”
Rispah had no compunctions about cutting him off, “And if you manage to listen in on them and discover they’re planning another attack? What did you think you were going to do? No, you don’t need them yet, but however legitimate or illegitimate government authority is around here, you don’t have a prison, and they do.”
“Okay, yes. I see your point. But that doesn’t exactly mean I can start coordinating with the Aurors.”
She rolled her eyes. “That is why I’m doing it. Though, I will say this—it wouldn’t hurt to get more allies on the force.”
“Improbable, but I’ll think about it.”
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
The week after the meeting passed in a flurry of letters.
Caelum,
This will sound strange, but I need to talk to you, and it can’t wait. Meet me this Saturday, 8 pm at the Leaky.
—Harry
Potter,
Are you crazy? No. You’re supposed to be in school.
C. Lestrange
Caelum,
Please.
—Harry
Potter,
No.
C. Lestrange
P.S. How did you manage to get this letter to me so fast? What is wrong with you?
Harry wanted to throw her hands up and scream.
Leo,
Slight hiccup. He said no. Can you watch and let me know if he shows anyway?
—Harry
Rigel,
Of course. But I won’t be able to let you know fast enough for it to matter. Should I try to talk to him if he does come?
Leo
Leo,
Maybe?
—Harry
They hadn’t made a Plan B. Harry was beginning to regret that.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Lestrange did not show. Part of Leo was frustrated at this setback. The rest of him was just relieved he wasn’t going to have to deal with him alone.
Leo was becoming more and more convinced that Lestrange was the key to the puzzle. Whether or not he would come willingly, or if they’d have to trick and force his information from him, had yet to be determined.
He went to their next meeting with an odd mixture of resignation or hope. (He had ideas about the Lestrange problem, but he suspected Harry’s indulgence with his plans was wearing thin).
Will came with him, this time, as he was in town. It wasn’t until they arrived at the Shrieking Shack that Leo realized the problems with this.
He hadn’t told Will the twins had gotten involved. The twins had clearly not told Will about this either. (And Leo really didn’t want to get involved in someone else’s family drama).
Will stopped for a moment on seeing his younger siblings.
The twins recovered first. “Bill! Fancy seeing you here!”
“I didn’t realize secret murder clubs were quite your thing.”
“We got here first, though. We call dibs on this one.”
Will turned to him and said, with quiet steel in his voice, “Leo, would you care to explain this?”
Leo held his hands up in surrender. “Not particularly?”
“Because it seems to me,” Will continued, “That you have managed to involve my brothers in this dangerous endeavor of yours.”
Harry came to his rescue. “They followed me here a month ago. They were just going to work on research, not anything dangerous.”
Will turned to her. “Black, I should’ve known. Why am I surrounded by reckless, underaged children .”
“Underaged!” one of the twins exclaimed.
“Children!” protested the other.
“For your information, we are seventeen and have been since we got involved here.”
Will sighed heavily. “Fine, then. What exactly have you been up to since you got involved in things that are none of your business?”
“Wait, let me call Harry,” Harry said, pausing the proceedings a moment while she got the mirror up.
When Archie and Hermione had finished greeting everyone, the twins began to speak. “So, we have your listening devices!” one said excitedly.
“Highly experimental—”
“But they should do the trick!”
“We think,” Fred (maybe?) amended. (Leo should’ve paid more attention to their differences in their magic when they’d been introduced).
“We think,” George agreed. “Here.”
He handed the devices to Leo. It looked to be a handful of buttons in two different colors.
“The black ones transmit,” Fred explained. “And the white ones receive. We’re still working on basic playback features, so right now you have to be listening in real-time. Inconvenient, but…”
“No, this is great.”
“How do you intend to get them into their base?” George asked. “You never really explained that bit.”
Leo explained the reverse-pickpocketing plan. It wasn’t the best, but it was what they had at the moment.
“Harry, Hermione?” Leo asked when he had finished. “What do you have for us?”
“Nothing significant,” Hermione said. “We’ve been looking at rituals that would require blood willingly given—”
“Blood willingly given?” Will asked. “Whose blood do they have?”
“Mine,” Harry said. “There was a blood ward in the fifth task.”
Will looked like he was thinking something through very quickly. “Tonks is your cousin, isn’t she?”
“Second cousin, yes,” Harry answered, perplexed. “Why?”
Will’s forward was creased in concentration. “It is just a thought,” he said, “But I think I know a couple of rituals that require blood from a family member as well.”
“The attack,” Harry gasped. “Do you really think they did that just for her blood? Just to incorporate me into some ritual?”
“I don’t know.” Will’s hands fidgeted awkwardly. “It fits the pieces, but I’m sure it isn’t the only thing that would. Even if it’s not a coincidence, they could have some other reason for collecting the blood of you both.”
“Assuming it was even perpetrated by followers of Voldemort,” Leo felt compelled to point out.
“Wait, back up,” Archie said. “Tonks was attacked?”
Harry explained the details to him and Hermione.
Hermione frowned, “I think we ran across a couple of rituals that would require a family member’s blood, but I’m not sure why Voldemort would want to use them. I’ll have to go back through and compile our findings.”
“That would be great, Hermione, thank you,” Harry told her. “In other news, I don’t have anything for us.” Her eyes told a different story.
“I’m going to try to talk to Tonks,” Will said decisively, “See if she knows anything else.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Leo said. “And if she is at all willing to work with us, it would be a good idea to have an Auror we can take our information to if things go south.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “I hadn’t intended to tell her all that much. But I guess I see your point.”
Leo shrugged. “We haven’t committed to secrecy in the alleys. And I’m sure she’s been briefed on the terrorists since she’s on the force. I’d also prefer if the Aurors don’t try to raid their base at the moment, but if you don’t tell her where it is, the point is moot.”
“Yes, I could just let her in on other dangerous secrets,” Will said sardonically.
“What secrets?” Fred asked.
“Dangerous secrets, too,” George added. “I think you have to tell us now.”
Will shared a wry expression with Leo. “I don’t, either.”
They made to protest, but Leo cut them off, “I don’t have anything from my end, either. Though we’ve been continuing the watch on the anchor point.”
“Do we need to help you plan the listening device infiltration?” Harry asked.
“No, we’ve got it under control. I’ll tell you how it’s gone next time.”
“Okay,” Archie said, “It sounds like that’s everything.”
There was a chorus of goodbyes, though liberally interspersed with outrageous comments from Fred and George. Harry had to pull them away from a tangent they had gotten into with Archie, but eventually, they were ready to leave.
Except, of course, Will wanted to stay behind to talk to his brothers. Harry looked between the twins and Will and said, “Leo and I will just talk outside.”
It was nearly May, so it wasn’t as cold as it could have been, but it was also Scotland in the middle of the night. Leo cast a warming charm on them both.
“He didn’t show?” Harry asked.
“No,” Leo confirmed.
“What do we do now?” she asked, looking up at the clear night sky.
“Kidnap him?” Leo suggested, not really joking.
She sighed, her exhale visible in the cold air. “I get your first instinct when people refuse to meet with you is to sneak into their bedrooms, but I don’t think that will work here.”
“No kidding. I don’t want to know what terrifying wards the Lestranges keep on their ancestral home.”
“Blood wards,” Harry answered, completely serious.
“Do I want to know how you know that?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Probably not.”
They stood there for a moment, watching the stars.
“You know that we need whatever information he might have,” Leo said quietly.
“That doesn’t necessarily give us the right to it.”
“He comes to the guild often enough. I could ambush him, force him to come to a meeting later.”
“ Leo .” There was a warning in her tone.
“He could still refuse,” Leo said. “It would just be harder to ignore than a letter.”
“He would still say no.” She sounded certain.
“I’ll convince him.” Leo would.
“Threaten him?”
“My father is the Aldermaster. He’ll come.”
She sighed. “Don’t threaten him.”
“Could you sneak away around dinner again?” It would be easier to convince Lestrange to a meeting that wasn’t in the middle of the night.
She hesitated. “Friday.”
“I’ll see you then.”
She huffed. “Goodnight, Leo.”
“Goodnight, lass.”
She headed back to the school, through the Shrieking Shack and whatever family drama might be contained within. Leo had always admired Harry’s bravery.
Nine
“Lestrange,” Leo said, from where he was casually leaning against an archway in one of the guild’s offshoot corridors. “Can I have a word?”
Lestrange spun to face him, dark robes swirling. “Hurst,” he said, uninvitingly. “What do you want?”
Leo inspected his nails in a dramatic show of nonchalance. “I have something for you, actually.”
“I’m not stupid,” Lestrange said, with a surprising amount of heat in his tone. “There is no way that is true.”
“It could be,” Leo said.
“It isn’t!” Lestrange practically snarled. “Now, what do you want?”
“Harry asked for your help, and you said no,” Leo said flatly.
Caelum started angrily. “It isn’t any of your damn business what I do or don’t do.”
“She needs your help,” Leo told him.
“What could Potter possibly need my help with?” Caelum snarled.
“Someone is trying to hurt her family, and you’re an idiot if you think she’s not going to do her best to get in the way. She needs as much help as she can get.”
“How could I possibly—”
“Friday, 6:30, outside the Leaky.”
“Hurst, if you think—”
“You need to talk to her,” Leo told him earnestly.
“I don’t need to do any—”
Leo left rather than deal with further sputtering. With any luck, Lestrange would at least come to figure out what was going.
Though, if this didn’t work, Leo reserved the right to revive the kidnapping plan.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Harry, for the second time in the past two months alone, snuck out of the school in full daylight.
It was starting to get a bit ridiculous.
However, excuses made and friends diverted, she slipped invisibly into the passage by the Willow and walked to the Shrieking Shack. She switched out her contacts and changed her hair a little.
Leo arrived in the middle of this process. “I suppose I didn’t realize how uncanny it was before, how similar you and your cousin look.”
Harry gave him a small smile. “It would never have worked otherwise.”
“Trust you to create impossible experimental potions to disguise yourself,” he teased. “It is good to see you with green eyes again, though.”
“These aren’t my natural eye color,” she said, for lack of a better response. “The Polyjuice changes them grey, and my normal eyes are a bit too unnatural to be properly replicated.”
“I remember, lass,” Leo said fondly.
When she looked to be Harry again, they portkeyed into an abandoned corner of Diagon and picked their way down the street to the Leaky Cauldron.
The pub was loud and raucous, something she probably should have expected around dinner time on a Friday night. Caelum did not appear to have arrived yet. They ended up lounging by the bar rather than trying to grab one of the few free tables.
“Lass, are you alright?” Leo asked, apparently reading something in her expression.
She didn’t know what to say. It would be impossible to deny the dread and nervousness sloshing through her veins, but neither could she articulate the reasons for the feeling. She had faced so much worse than a grumpy apprentice potioneer. Surely, she had no reason to be nervous now?
“It’ll be okay,” Leo said, with an annoying amount of insight. His tone lightened, “I know it’s scary—the moment of truth—but at least after tonight, you will know if he is a true friend.”
“Is it bad to say that I hope he has no useful information?”
“Not at all,” Leo answered. “It’s perfectly understandable. But even if he is involved, it isn’t necessarily the end of the world. People’s parents drive them into making dumb decisions all the time.”
They both watched as Caelum stepped out of the Floo. His eyes swept the room, landed on Leo, slid to her, and then back to Leo.
He stormed over to them. “Brat, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too, Caelum,” Harry answered sweetly.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re literally supposed to be on a different continent right now. And you,” Caelum turned to Leo. “Is this what this is about? You’re in some conspiracy to get me to talk to Potter, here?” He looked back at Harry, “What could possibly be this important?”
“Eat dinner with me, and I’ll tell you,” Harry answered.
“I’m not eating here ,” he sneered.
“You’re such a snob. Fine, we can walk over to Aroma Alley.”
“Actually,” Leo interrupted. “If you prefer, you can take the floo.”
Harry turned to him. “You’re not coming?”
He smiled at her. “Did you want me to? I can meet you in a few hours with the portkey to take you back to school.”
Harry could see what Leo was trying to do. It would be easier to get Caelum to talk without him there. She just hadn’t realized how calming his presence was until he needed to leave.
“I can swing by the Phoenix?”
“Sure, until then.” Leo nodded once at Caelum, then left out into Diagon Alley (Harry supposed he might want to check on the children or something similar—otherwise it would’ve been easier to take the floo.)
Caelum sneered at his retreating back. “So your boyfriend finally left, then?”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Caelum,” Harry told him with some exasperation. “And you were literally right here for that conversation.”
He sneered at her, then, but otherwise didn’t answer.
They came through the public floo in Aroma Alley, and Harry dragged Caelum into Sardino’s Place. They managed to get a table in the corner of the restaurant.
Harry set up a privacy ward around the table anyway.
“Alright,” Caelum demanded. “You had better explain what all of this nonsense is about.”
He was interrupted as the waitress brought them glasses of water and collected their order.
Harry took a sip and asked, “How have you improved upon shaped imbuing?”
Caelum stared at her. “Potter, what is wrong with you? You traveled to another continent, had your boyfriend,” he sneered the word, “come accost me in the Guild telling me you are in some kind of trouble, all to ask me that?”
“Okay, how about I ask you this instead: have you been making shaped-imbued potions and giving them to other people?”
He honestly looked a bit confused (though still very affronted), “You didn’t care when you taught me what I would do with the technique. Now you’ve suddenly decided to confront me for it?”
“Fine,” Harry snapped. “What did you do with your dose of Liberespirare?”
“I sold it,” he said, but the careful tone belied the words.
“To who?” she asked.
“It’s whom , you plebian. And it’s none of your business.”
She put her elbows on the table and leaned across to stare at him. “I know you have no particular love for my cousin—who, I should note, is also your cousin—but I happen to care a great deal. Jacob Owens, as you probably know, used a dose of an incredibly rare potion that I know you had . It could be a coincidence, but if it isn’t, that is important .”
Caelum sneered. “I have no idea how the mudblood got his hands on it.” That at least rang true.
“Do you have anything else you’d like to interrogate me about?” Caelum demanded.
Harry took a deep breath. “How about this: if you promise not to speak of this conversation, I will tell you a little about what is going on, and then you can tell me you don’t know anything about it.”
“Explain, then.”
“You promise not to speak of this?” she asked.
“I won’t speak of this,” he repeated, sounding very put-upon.
“I suppose that will suffice,” she sniffed. “Fine, so two-ish years ago, Rigel killed a basilisk living in the Chamber of Secrets under Hogwarts.”
“A shining example of why your cousin is insane, yes. Continue.”
“Anyway,” she drawled out, to let him know the interruption was in no way appreciated, “There were basilisk attacks that year because someone was possessed. The possessor escaped and has been running around recruiting followers in the lower alleys, blowing stuff up, and generally killing people.”
“Killing people?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“The World Cup, Novus,” Harry said. “The terrorists who want to kill muggleborns.”
“What do they have to do with anything?” he asked.
She sighed. “Months ago, they were looking for a potioneer, and they tried to recruit me. Since then, they have been asking around the guild, trying to find someone capable of shaped imbuing. Did someone come to try to recruit you, too?”
He shook his head. “Nobody approached me through the guild.”
Harry heard what he wasn’t saying. “Your parents started asking you for potions, though, didn’t they?”
Harry could see the tightness in his jaw. “It was just a few potions.”
“The attack at Novus could’ve killed my mother,” Harry said flatly. “And the person behind it will come after my cousin for revenge. I’m going to try to stop them. If you have anything you want to say that will keep me from being killed in the endeavor, I’d appreciate it.”
Caelum just looked at her like she was crazy. “You could just not do that, and then your life would not be in danger in the first place,” he pointed out.
“No,” she said. “I’ve already been working against them, and as soon as they realize it, they’re going to try to kill me.”
“What is wrong with you?” he asked, annoyed.
“Are you going help me or not?”
He sighed, seemingly giving. “I don’t actually know anything. My parents asked me to invent some potions for them. I don’t know who all is involved or what they’re doing with them.”
“You suspected, though,” Harry said.
“Maybe I did,” he snapped defensively. “What of it?”
“You could have just told them no,” Harry pointed out.
“I couldn’t just—” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes at her. “We are so not talking about this right now.”
“Alright,” Harry said—if she had ever met someone less likely to talk about their emotions than her, it was Caelum Lestrange. “Can you tell me about the potions you’ve made for them?”
He rolled his eyes, but complied. “I have been making… I suppose essentially battle potions, but with shaped imbuing. The modifications I’ve come up with for some of the spells, for better magic-base interaction would impress even you, Potter. I don’t know if you have tried variants on this yourself, but by imbuing more complicated spell configurations into modified existing brews, you can create—”
Harry, as interested as she was, cut him off there. “I’d love to discuss the theory of it sometime,” she said, “But I don’t have the time right now. What did you make for them?”
Caelum sighed, and said in an uncharacteristic, serious tone, “I’ve made some battle potions for them as I said, but I’ve also been doing some research too… A potion that could create a body. A physical form for a magical consciousness. I’ve… Well, I finished it. They already have it.”
Harry groaned. “Do you think you could give me your notes on it?”
“I’m not sending my notes by owl,” Caelum insisted.
She waved a hand. “Leo can pick them up one day at the guild and then bring them to me.”
“In America?” Caelum asked, incredulous.
“International portkey?” she told him.
“You are insane,” he muttered.
“Do you know anything about the other people involved?” Harry asked.
Caelum shrugged. “Aside from my parents, I have no idea.”
Harry sighed. “Have you ever been invited to any of their meetings, or to meet Voldemort, or anything?”
“No.”
“Could you get an invitation? At least to go to their base?”
“I could,” Caelum said. “I don’t see why I would.”
“I…” Harry tried to figure out a good way to say this. “I don’t know if you would be willing to do this or not. It might be dangerous, but we have a listening device,” Harry realized abruptly that this was the first information she was giving Caelum that could well and truly ruin their plan. “If we could get it inside the base, we could listen in to their meetings.”
“You want me to plant a listening device inside the base of a known mass murderer?” Caelum said derisively.
“It would give us a chance,” Harry admitted. “Right now, we are working against them in the dark. If we knew their plans, it might mean the difference between stopping them and getting killed by them.”
He sighed again. “You owe me for this, brat.”
Deal made, Harry shifted to quizzing him about the battle potions he’d been working on.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
The initial reverse-pickpocketing had commenced at the beginning of the week. After Harry’s meeting with Lestrange, Leo had the promise of a more permanent device to look forward to in the future. Though Lestrange, of course, was unsure when he’d be able to get himself invited to the base.
As a consequence of the first initial success, they changed how they did their stakeouts. They still took turns spending hours on the neighboring rooftop, tracking who left the anchor point. They also took the output devices and an automatic transcription quill and parchment so that they could listen to the devices as they watched. It was significantly less boring than it had been previously but marginally more frustrating.
Even aside from the time he spent on stakeout, the listening devices were taking over his life. It seemed like there was always someone coming into his office with updates.
Rispah came in one day with the update, “I think number three spent the entire day shopping. The man can’t haggle to save his life.”
Marek’s contribution for the day was, “This Voldemort fellow has a temper. Needs to work on the creativity of his insults.”
The amount of information they had on the members went up drastically, even if a number of their listening devices seemed to have stopped transmitting (likely stuck in the pockets of clothes or coats not in use). The trouble was, very little of it appeared to be useful .
A little over a week into this, Aled came to interrupt Leo’s paperwork. “Highness, you’re going to want to see this.”
He pushed the pieces of paper with the transcription over to him.
“Is this a plan to modify a ward scheme?” Leo asked, reading through the first page.
“Not just any ward scheme,” Aled said, leaning over and flipping the page he was holding. “The ward scheme for the last task of the Triwizard Tournament.”
“Gods above.” Leo tried to skim the next few pages, but he ultimately wasn’t patient enough to wait. “Is there more about what they’re planning? Why the last task?”
“You can read through it all, but they didn’t say much. They mostly seemed to be referencing a prior meeting, and then the person the device was on must’ve left, because we lost audio.”
“Damn,” Leo muttered. If Voldemort was planning for the last task, what were the chances it wasn’t about Harry? Not to mention that the task in question was less than a month away. It was no longer a matter of not leaving the problem too long but one of real, concrete urgency. They were on a deadline.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Once again, Fred and George were waiting for her in the Entrance Hall as she slipped out of the castle. They walked through the passage to the Shrieking Shack, finding Leo and Bill already waiting for them.
Leo seemed noticeably grimmer than usual. As the meeting began, it became clear why.
“We’ve gotten some intel from the first batch of listening devices,” he said gravely. “And we know that Voldemort has plans to modify the ward scheme for the last task. We don’t know how or why.”
“I’ve looked over the transcription of the meeting,” Bill added. “It looks like they are trying to incorporate an extra ward into the schema. I haven’t seen the kind before, but from their conversation, it’s designed to be taken down from the inside by one person quickly, without sacrificing the impenetrability aspect. They plan to tie it directly into Hogwarts’ wards so that it will be impossible to take down from the outside without removing all of the castle’s wards at the same time.”
The longer Bill talked, the more on edge Harry was. What he was describing sounded suspiciously like the ward scheme Blaise had been working on for his mother.
“Do you have the transcript with you?” Harry asked.
Bill handed her a sheaf of papers, and she quickly hunted through them for any information that would prove that wasn’t the case.
After a minute, Harry looked up at Bill. “Do we know how they got this ward scheme?”
It was Leo that answered, “We do not. Though, of course, Regulus Black has been in charge of the wards for the tournament.”
“It’s just,” Harry admitted, “I’ve seen these wards before. They were designed by one of my friend’s parents.”
“While I do want to know how exactly Voldemort got a hold of them,” Leo said. “It isn’t really about the wards so much as it is everything else. The real question is what they’re planning to do with them. I fear it puts you, specifically, in danger.”
Harry could hear Archie mutter from the mirror, “Merlin, not again.”
“On the positive side,” Leo said. “We should have a permanent device planted in the base as of Wednesday. If they discuss their plans past that point, we have a much better chance of getting a clearer picture.”
“So they work?” Fred asked.
“They do,” Leo told him. “Your assistance was invaluable.”
“Anything for our murder club,” George answered, but it didn’t come off as light as it might’ve usually. He was affected by the solemnity, or maybe the imminent threat to her life.
“We have something, too,” Archie said. “So, Rigel called to tell me earlier this week that Voldemort has a potion designed to give him a body. Hermione thinks she’s found a way to seal him in it, to cut off any way he’d have to project his consciousness. And I’ve been looking into rituals that Voldemort could attempt to do using Rigel’s blood.”
“Basically,” Hermione reported. “I think I’ve found a way to create a barrier that prevents magic from getting through. I originally intended to use it in my research on the fade—I should be sending you my notes within the week, Rigel, if you’re interested. Anyway, I think there is a way it could be adapted to prevent, well, to essentially contain a magical manifestation of consciousness. In other words, to seal the construct inside the body.”
“And you can tell us how to do this?” Leo questioned.
“Give me a week to work out all the modifications and what would be necessary to cast it, but I’m confident it can be done.”
“That’s amazing, Hermione,” Harry said, meaning it. The very idea of such a barrier had to be incredibly complex (did she have to create it from scratch, or was there some version she had been able to work off of?).
“As for me,” Archie began, “There are lots of rituals that Voldemort could do with your blood, Rigel. But, I was thinking about it, and the construct originally tried to possess you because you are powerful. The potion would give him a body, but not a magical core. So, what if the blood were for a line transference ritual, to pass magical gifts to… well the ritual was originally designed to pass a pureblood’s magic to someone of ‘lesser’ blood.”
Harry did not want to even think of the implications of that. “You think he wants to steal my magic?”
“Well, either that or boil your blood in your veins. But it seems like a lot of work to go to just to torture someone to death.” Archie said it casually, as if he had managed to think of it as an academic problem rather than a possible threat.
“Okay,” she said, attempting to do the same. “Okay. So, if this ritual is going to happen, we have to assume it is being planned for the last task. They add an extra ward, and what? Trap me inside and try to steal my magic? Why not just try to kidnap me and run?”
“Hubris?” Leo suggested.
“Possible,” she said, “but still, that seems like a large risk for them to take. We need to know more; we need to know for sure.”
“Our contact,” Leo said, meaning Lestrange, “Should have the listening device planted by Wednesday. We might well know more by then.” He was repeating himself, clearly trying to be reassuring.
“We will see,” she said grimly. “But the final task is in two weeks. We don’t have time to wait. What do we do?”
“Plan,” Hermione said from the mirror, projecting confidence. “I will have a possible path to killing the construct soon. We know what he is trying to do. We need to plan for ways to ensure that they fail in trapping you in their ritual while making it possible to seal the construct to its body.”
“We also need to tip off the Aurors,” Harry said, “At least about some parts of this. If we can get a least some plan to counter Voldemort in place, it’s probably best to keep them from raiding their base until after the task. But we don’t know their plans—they could be intending an attack on the spectators at the same time. We should warn them.”
“I can talk to Tonks,” Bill offered, somewhat surprisingly.
“Talk to Rispah first,” Leo said, “She had been in charge of dealing with the ministry so far.”
“Noted,” he said.
“We can try to warn the students,” Fred said.
“But we don’t want to cause a panic,” George added. “We’ll have to come up with a way to make sure everyone is prepared without coming out and saying there will be an attack.”
“Barrier buttons,” Harry suggested. “I can—” she stopped herself before she could say something incriminating, “I can get more protection potion. Harry can send it, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Archie said.
“Whatever you can make or create that might protect people in a pinch. And then you have to distribute it all, and…”
“Don’t worry, Puppy—”
“We’ve got this.”
“Okay,” Harry said, taking another deep breath. “I need to talk to Blaise about the ward. It should be easy to tear down from the inside, but maybe we can strategize weaknesses…”
“Actually,” Leo offered, “If we know there is going to be a ward that isn’t supposed to be there ahead of time, we can try to keep it from ever being there in the first place.”
“Could you say that any more confusingly?” Archie asked from the mirror.
Leo huffed. “I can go talk to Regulus Black and tell him to look for the ward when they’re setting up. Hopefully, he can catch it and prevent it from being put up in the first place.”
“That inevitably warns Riddle, though,” Harry said. “Do we want to do that?”
“It’s safer,” Leo pointed out. “Avoids the problem before it becomes one.”
“It might also stop Voldemort’s plan before he is lured out, and then where will we be?”
“Luring implies a certain element of planning to what we’re doing,” Leo commented drily.
“That’s why we’re planning now. If we let them set up the wards and then stop them from completing the ritual, I can try to destroy Voldemort or at least seal him. If we could coordinate with the Aurors to raid their base simultaneously, or at least soon after, then I think we stand a good chance of taking them out for good.”
“And you stand a good chance of dying,” Leo pointed out.
“We need to do this,” Harry insisted. She realized everyone else was watching their argument with varying degrees of grimness and fascination.
Leo threw up his hands. “Fine, just fine. But we’re doing this right. I am still going to talk to your uncle and see if there is any way to build a failsafe into the ward without them noticing. If you don’t want Riddle to know, I will make sure he keeps his mouth shut. But I will not see you trapped behind a ward without any recourse should you get overwhelmed.”
“That’s a good idea,” Harry admitted. It wasn’t exactly like she was thrilled about the ward aspect of this plan, either.
Leo was startled into a smile by that, though it quickly dimmed. “We can meet again in a week once we’ve tried to get all of the pieces together so that we can see what the actual plan will look like.”
Everyone, slowly, started to agree. The meeting wrapped up with a series of farewells, though they weren’t nearly as lighthearted as they had been in the past. No, every person there wore a determined expression. This was the endgame, and everything they had been working on came together or fell apart here.
Bill hugged his brothers and whispered something to them before leaving, but he didn’t stay for another private conference. The twins cleared out without her asking, too, leaving her alone with Leo.
It occurred to Harry that this wasn’t just the culmination of the plotting and counterplotting between them and the construct, but the end of the tournament as well. “Do you think,” she asked, “Aside from the whole Voldemort thing, that if I win as a pureblood, the SOW party will win too? Have I played into their hands?”
“No,” Leo said. “You’ve tried your best, and that’s all you can do. If this boosts their support—which there is no guarantee of—at the very least, you’ve hamstrung their leader on the way out.”
She shook her head. “If I were Rigel Black, that might be true. There wouldn’t be anything else I could do. But I’m not, am I?”
“You’ve decided you want to end the ruse?” he asked.
“No,” she answered. The very thought of it terrified her. “But shouldn’t I?”
“Harry, I can’t tell you what you should do.”
“Think about it,” she insisted. “If Riddle could both no longer introduce legislation because of the Vow, and a halfblood won the tournament, it would… it could destroy his party.”
“And you,” Leo added softly. “Riddle wouldn’t let such a thing go. And you would’ve committed a crime punishable by the dementor’s kiss.”
“Plan B.”
“Will it work?” he asked. “I don’t know all the details. You have your apartment in the alleys, which presumably you, Harry Potter, have been living at,” he said, puzzling through her plan, “So you can say you never attended Hogwarts at all, and Archie will show himself to have been at AIM in your place.”
“And the mysterious male halfblood ‘Rigel’ vanishes,” she said, with a slight smirk. “I’ve been taking correspondence classes so that I can claim I’ve been homeschooling myself. Do you think it would work?”
“Well,” he said, “It would’ve been a lot more bulletproof if you’d told me why you wanted the apartment in the first place. But yeah, I think it’d work.”
“So how do we stage a reveal demonstrating that I am a halfblood—without revealing my identity—that also gives me time to escape before Riddle or Voldemort catches me?”
“Lass, I don’t think I say this enough, but you are a beautiful, terrifying sight to behold.” He was looking at her oddly again.
She realized it didn’t make her uncomfortable like it might’ve in the past—when she had thought he had feelings for her that she couldn’t reciprocate. Now, it made her feel warm inside.
“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you,” she told him, and it was true. Without Leo, she wouldn’t have had the resources, but more importantly, the courage to take this on. Not without his dogged determination, or obnoxious plans, or their late-night discussions. But, perhaps, most importantly, she wouldn’t have made it without his seemingly unshakeable faith in her.
Leo interrupted her thoughts. “If you want to do this, we need to plan it.”
She didn’t make it back into her bed until much too late.
Ten
Leo had a complicated relationship with Regulus Black. On the one hand, Master Black had helped him—had set up the wards on the Dancing Dragon—back when he was fifteen and struggling to get people to take him seriously. On the other hand, Leo still had no idea how Regulus Black had ever gotten involved in the alleys in the first place. It was strange and suspicious (and the man was still involved with the SOW Party and Leo had no idea what to do with that).
Essentially, Leo was very aware that Regulus Black was not trustworthy, which meant, depending on how much the man was willing to do for his nephew of his own accord, the day might well end with Leo burning bridges he couldn’t afford to lose.
It didn’t matter. Master Black’s cooperation was essential for carrying out their plan without serious risk to Harry. If Leo had to keep word from reaching Riddle by force, he would.
Master Black had an office in Craftsman Alley. Thursday found Leo walking into the building and going to talk to the receptionist (rather than climbing through a window directly into Black’s office, which had admittedly been his first instinct).
The receptionist was quickly making him regret this choice, saying, “I’m sorry, but if you don’t have an appointment, you cannot see Master Black today. You can make an appointment for next week, or…”
“Is Master Black currently meeting with somebody?” Leo asked pleasantly.
“No, but that hardly means—”
“And he’s currently in the office?” Leo continued.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Excellent,” Leo said, and he strode past the desk and up the stairs to Black’s second-story office.
When he pushed open the door, Regulus Black was sitting at his desk, working on what appeared to be a rune diagram.
“Yes, what is it?” Black asked without looking up.
“We need to talk,” Leo said in the same pleasant tone he had used on the receptionist.
His head snapped up. “What are you doing here?” he asked, with a truly impressive aristocratic accent.
“You know,” Leo began, casually strolling into the office, “I used to think you prided yourself on absolute discretion. Then I found one of your ward schemes—a new, never-seen-before ward scheme—in the hands of terrorists. I asked myself how that could’ve happened, but I must admit that I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
Black just sighed. “What on earth are you talking about, boy?”
Leo took the armchair in front of his desk. “The wards for the tournament? Voldemort? None of this is ringing any bells for you?” Leo didn’t particularly think Regulus Black was in league with the construct, but he needed to be sure.
“Voldemort?” Black asked, sounding sincerely confused.
Leo sighed for effect. “Alright, let me spell this out for you. Terrorists are hiding out in the alleys— my alleys. The same terrorists that attacked the World Cup, and Novus, and that muggleborn outreach center. These same terrorists are in possession of your ward scheme for the tournament and have plans to hide a ward beneath the rest of your arrays that can be activated at the proper time. The whole purpose of which is—as far as I can tell—to trap your nephew and ritually drain his magic.”
Black paled (an impressive feat considering how pale the man was naturally). Still, he said confidently, “That’s not possible. Do you really think anyone could possibly prepare and hide a ward, and I wouldn’t notice?”
“Not if they add the ward after you finish the others.”
“The wards are only going up a day early. There wouldn’t be time.”
“That seems like plenty of time to me,” Leo told him.
“Because you aren’t a wardsmith,” Master Black snarled. “What is this ward you think someone is going to try to hide from me?”
“One of yours, I believe,” Leo said. “Four casters, but with only one person needed to take them down. Sounds like quite the innovation.”
Black growled, pulled out some of his papers, and began flipping through them. Eventually, he found the one he was looking for. “Even if it was just prepped and not cast, it should be easy to notice, if I’m looking. Assuming you are correct in your information, I can disable it before the tournament begins. I assume you’ve told the Aurors?”
“You misunderstand me,” Leo said. “I don’t want you to disable it. I want you to build a failsafe into it before they can cast it so that it can be taken down from the outside. They’re planning to tie it to Hogwarts itself, so you’ll have to take that into consideration.”
Black looked at him incredulously. “You mean to tell me that even though you’ve claimed someone intends to use this ward to trap my nephew and steal his magic, you want me to leave it up?”
“Rigel Black,” Leo informed him, “has made a lot of enemies. This is one of them. If they’re not caught now, they’ll just try again. Which means they must be assured of their plan’s success until it is too late for them to escape. So yes, I expect you to do this.”
Black eyed him shrewdly. “If you were able to discover their plans, I am sure you can find a way to take care of them permanently , without using the Heir of House Black as bait .”
Leo was beginning to find more and more amusement in the relationship between Harry-as-Rigel and Regulus Black (had the man even met his actual nephew?). “Where do you think this plan came from? Rigel suggested it.”
Black’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever that girl he calls his cousin might get up to, my nephew does not know nearly enough about the alleys to have any sort of longstanding acquaintance with you. And if you think I will allow Potter’s Heiress to put him up to this—”
Leo could not hide his amusement. “We know the same Rigel, right? Because I’m going to be honest, I find it interesting that you think this is the work of Harriett and not Rigel himself.”
Black looked like he was ready to eviscerate Leo. “And why—even if this was the choice of my nephew—should I not just disable the ward anyway?” the man asked in a surprisingly even tone. “Clearly—if this is his plan, the boy does not know what is best for himself.”
“Surely, if you add a failsafe to the ward, the boy’s safety is assured anyway?”
The glare intensified. “There is always a risk—”
“Look,” Leo cut him off. “The plan doesn’t even involve taking down the ward from the outside. This is Plan B.”
“If any harm comes to Rigel Black, I will hold you personally responsible.” The way he said it made it clear that in such an instance, the man would have no compunctions against reviving the Black family legacy.
Leo waved a hand. “So, we’re agreed, then.”
“I suppose we are.”
“One other thing. Let’s keep this between us, shall we? That way, we won’t have any unexpected elements complicating our plans.”
Black eyed him. “It might be better if more people knew about the threat; that way, people are prepared should your plan fail.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on this,” Leo told him. “I don’t care if you inform Riddle that you’ve heard rumors of a possible attack. What I object to is telling him about the plan in question, as interference could very well prove deadly for Rigel.”
“You ask for more than you comprehend.”
“If your nephew’s safety not worth it to you?” Leo asked silkily.
Black scowled. “It is more that I do not perceive the necessity of such a measure.”
“Do you not?” Leo could think of dozens of ways that Riddle knowing of their plans could turn deadly. The political backlash of someone stealing a pureblood’s magic was reason enough alone for Riddle to wish the attackers to be successful.
“Very well,” Black capitulated, the same thought likely occurring to him. “The details will stay between us.”
“Excellent,” Leo said, standing up. He was happy that Master Black had been made to see reason more easily. It would be near impossible to keep enough tabs on him that a warning to Riddle could be prevented, but Leo was fairly confident that the man was sincere. He had considered asking for an oath to ensure silence, but Leo doubted Black could be pushed that far. Especially not since the ward Master would believe himself to be more closely connected to the matter than Leo was. Reasonable confidence would have to do.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Rigel cornered Blaise when he was in the common room working on one of his rune puzzles away from the other fourth years.
Blaise looked up as she claimed the chair next to his. “Rigel,” he asked, “What can I do for you?”
She scowled a little at the implication that she only ever sought out her friends when she needed something. Unfortunately, this time it was true. “The ward you showed me, the one from your mother…”
“What about it?”
“I need you to help me find weak points in it. Hypothetically, imagine I was trapped inside, restrained, and for whatever reason unable to use magic. Let’s say that the wards were set up and anchored to a much larger ward—like the Hogwarts wards. How would you break it?”
“From the outside or inside?” he asked, frowning.
“Either, both,” Rigel answered. “Preferably both, though I doubt there is a way to tear down wards without access to magic.”
“I feel compelled to point out that as hypothetical situations go, this one is pretty specific. Should I be worried?”
“I’ve got it under control,” she told him.
He raised an eyebrow. “You tend to say that, but it’s rarely true.”
“Look, help, or don’t,” she snapped.
“Of course I’ll help you,” he said mildly. “It would just be nice to know why it’s necessary sometimes.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just complicated. I think that someone is going to try to trap me, specifically with your mother’s ward. Presumably, they would find some way to keep me from using magic while the ward itself is used to prevent rescue. It sounds a bit crazy without an explanation of why I think this is a threat, but I’m not sure I even know how to explain that.”
Blaise looked skeptical at this explanation. “It still seems incredibly unlikely, but since I suppose you are always up to incredibly unlikely things, I will have to assume there is a not-insignificant chance it will occur. As to your question—I don’t know. Let me go retrieve my notes, and we can try to work through it.”
Rigel waited while he returned with the sheaf of parchment he had used for the earlier problem. He set it down on the table he’d been using.
“I think you’re right about not being able to do it from the inside without magic,” he said, slipping into academic mode. “Theoretically, you wouldn’t need it if you could find some object or device that would destabilize the wards on its own—perhaps like your cousin’s ward breaking potion but on a larger scale. The trouble is, you would have to be very certain of the layers of the ward, unless you want the destabilization to cause an explosion. The outside is trickier. If you tied a ward like this to Hogwarts itself, it would likely be impossible to break without taking down the Hogwarts wards. Of course, I suppose if you knew this was going to happen ahead of time, you could try to use a device to partially destabilize the ward from the inside, which could allow someone on the outside enough time to unravel the entire thing.”
“Okay,” Rigel said, “Let’s work on finding a good way to do that.”
Blaise nodded thoughtfully. “It still runs the risk of explosion, but if we look at different ward interactions for the original scheme and any layers somewhat might add, we might be able to find something reasonably safe to try.”
They spent three hours examining different ward interactions, Blaise’s previous work forgotten.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said when she apologized for interrupting. “It’s for my mother, again, and this is just as interesting.”
After they checked the last layer they felt could be reasonably included in the array, Blaise said, “So, I think the ward breaking potion wouldn’t cause an explosion. It’s only powerful enough to cause a partial disruption, but if someone times it exactly right on the outside, they could use it to get past and unravel the wards.”
“Tricky,” Rigel said. “But better than nothing.”
“I do think it’s your best bet,” he agreed.
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
The meeting was the most business-like Leo had ever seen the group of them. Even the twins (supposedly notorious tricksters) had grim visages.
“I’ve created the sealing mechanism,” Hermione announced without preamble as soon as the mirrors connected. “I sent the notes yesterday, so we can only hope they arrive quickly enough for you to study them before you have to use them. I tried to do it as a spell, but it ended up partially runic. I think the runes can be anchored to a device and then released at the right time. I already created the device and sent that, too, so that all you need to do is learn the release spell.”
“Excellent,” Harry said. “That’s one thing going to plan. Leo, did Regulus agree? Blaise and I think we’ve come up with a way to take down the ward if necessary. It’d require someone on the outside, though.”
“Bill, will you be coming to the task?” Leo asked. It was likely something he should’ve already talked to the curse breaker about, but he had been busy.
“Yes,” Will said. He turned to Harry. “I can go over it with you when we’re done to make sure I can help.”
“Your uncle did agree, by the way,” he told Harry. “But I do appreciate having a Plan C as well. In other news, our informant came through, and we’ve had a listening device in their base all week. They’re planning on using a magical attractant to prevent you from using magic, Rigel. As well as making the Triwizard Cup a portkey to bring you inside the wards in the first place.”
“Okay,” she said. “A magical attractant seems easy enough to counter.”
“Oh, definitely,” Fred said.
“You just need a magical bomb—”
“And it’ll be no trouble at all for us to make one for you.”
“We also know more about the ritual, now,” Leo added. “It’s designed to transfer magic from a pureblood to a halfblood. So we need to plan ways to make sure there is no possibility it succeeds.”
“We’ve pulled the Aurors in,” Will said. “We’ve clued them in on the attack, even if not to the particular focus on Rigel. They’re planning a raid on the base directly after. That way, anyone who returns there after escaping the tournament will be there to be captured.”
The conversation quickly turned to details. They argued over contingencies and how best to coordinate for over an hour. It was only around half past two that the meeting finally began to wind down.
“I have something else to tell you all,” Harry said suddenly. “It’s no secret that I have secrets. I think the biggest one is going to come to light during this ordeal. I can’t let Voldemort get away with his plans, but I can’t let Riddle get away with using this tournament as propaganda either. I won’t tell you what my secret is—you’ll want plausible deniability—but I guess I just wanted to say sorry in advance.”
Fred and George looked stricken, unsure what to do with the confession.
Archie just asked, “Are you sure?”
Leo raised his eyebrows at that. Had Harry not had the opportunity yet to talk to her cousin about this?
“Do you object?” Harry asked.
“No,” Archie said. “I assume you have a plan?”
“Of course I have a plan,” Harry answered steadily.
“It’s just going to be risky—for you,” Archie persisted.
“Plan B will hold,” Harry informed him. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Just so long as you’re sure.”
“I am.”
George looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Leo sympathized. How do you comfort someone about a secret you haven’t been read into?
Fred just changed the subject. “Well, I suppose I have no idea what the plan for defeating Riddle is, but I think the plan for Voldemort is pretty kick-ass myself.”
“We ought to celebrate,” George added.
“We ought to sleep ,” Harry countered.
Archie, with mock-solemnity, said, “To the Down With Voldemort Club, let us celebrate in heart though we can’t in truth, the fact that our victory is assured. Let us meet again once we have triumphed over our enemies and ground their innards into the earth.”
“To Rigel Black,” Fred followed suit, “May he be the baitiest bait that ever was and trick our enemies into believing they are destroying him instead.”
“Though,” George added, “Let him not let fantasy become reality and be destroyed in truth.”
Leo kept his amusement from his face. “To my comrades-in-arms,” he said, “The lovely club members who either came to meet past midnight in a dilapidated shack, or picked up an enchanted mirror at some reasonable hour, may your contributions not be forgotten when Rigel inevitably gets most of the glory. Let the bonds of friendship forged in the planning of murder not wither, but remain strong forever.”
There was a moment of silence while everyone else debated adding anything. In the end, Harry said, “I do genuinely appreciate your help. And I do hope you can forgive me.”
“None of that now, Puppy,” Fred said, slinging his arm over Harry’s shoulder. “Didn’t anyone tell you this is a party?”
“Great,” Harry said without inflection. “Can the party be over now? I need to talk to Leo about the Riddle plan.”
George sighed. “Gred, I just don’t know where we went wrong.”
“I know, Forge. Our Puppy’s got no sense of humor.”
“We’ll have to change that—”
“Though I suppose not tonight—”
“Or, rather, this morning.”
“Still,” Fred said in a serious tone. “Whatever mysterious secrets you have—”
“You’ll always be our Puppy.”
Leo thought Harry looked touched, but unsure how to properly respond. The twins saved her from having to, by ruffling her hair and departing in a flurry of goodbyes and good-lucks. Will followed soon after. Leo expected Hermione and Archie to shut down the mirror connection as well, but instead, Archie convinced Hermione to leave.
“So,” Archie said determinedly, “What’s the Riddle plan?”
“Mostly what I’ve said,” Harry admitted. “I used your blood in the fifth task, not mine. It won’t work. What we need to happen is for everyone to realize that it’s not just that it isn’t my blood but that I’m not a pureblood at all.”
“Because of the ritual they’re going to use,” Leo added, “This shouldn’t be that hard. It’s a pureblood to halfblood transfer. It wouldn’t work even with your blood.”
“I think I’ve read the ritual you’re discussing. It’s possible they could make it work at least partially with blood unwillingly taken.”
“So,” Harry said, “They’ll try to use the blood they have, realize it isn’t mine, and then they’ll try to take mine. The ritual won’t work because I’m a halfblood, and I’ll make sure everyone realizes that.”
“Then you just have to fight your way out through a bunch of enraged terrorists and the Aurors,” Leo added. “That’s what we need to focus on.”
Harry nodded. “Alright, let’s walk through it, then.”
This went significantly faster than the earlier planning, partially because several contingencies were already accounted for, but also because there was less to do. No plan they made for this was going to survive contact with the enemy.
Eventually, they called it quits. Archie signed off the mirror, and Harry was battling yawns while half asleep. Leo realized this would be the last time he’d see Harry before the task.
He debated on whether or not to say anything. Finally, he said, “Please be safe, lass.”
Her voice contained quiet determination. “We’ll make it through this, Leo.”
“I hope so, lass. I hope so.”
-0
[LhLhLh]
-0
Leo wasn’t sure how he felt about so many of his people being somewhere that might shortly be subjected to a terrorist attack. To be fair, he felt the danger of another World-Cup-esque incident was fairly low. That didn’t mean it was safe, and his people were all outfitted accordingly.
He spotted Harry as she walked by with her friends. He casually ran into her while walking in the other direction. She pressed her trunk, shrunken down to the size of a coin, into his palm. It should contain the last items in the castle that had her essence—the rest presumably vanished. She’d planned to replace anything that would be obviously missing with conjured items so that her friends would not realize before she’d given the game away.
As the task started, Leo went to sit in the stands. He chose a spot very near where Regulus Black was watching the task’s wards. The man looked as on-edge as Leo felt. Master Black had spotted Leo in the crowd earlier and given him a single deliberate nod—which should indicate that the failsafe had been successfully added.
As good as that was for Harry’s safety, it meant Leo would be well occupied trying to keep the Ward Master from interrupting the proceedings too soon.
The task began. Leo watched as Harry fought her way through the dangers in the maze with his heart in his throat. The worst was yet to come.
Harry finally— finally —made it to the center of the maze (though Leo couldn’t deny how proud he’d been watching her take down a full-fledged Auror). She grabbed the cup and vanished in the light of the portkey.
She appeared in the middle of the podium. The wards rose around her, and sheer pandemonium broke across the stadium.
Master Black was on his feet, wand in hand. Leo leapt over a row of seats and made it to the man in under five seconds.
“Wait,” Leo hissed at him.
The man turned to look at him furiously. “This has gone on long enough. I will not let my nephew die for this stupid—”
Harry’s voice rang across the lawn, “Gavril. What are you…”
Leo turned to look. Harry was not going to win a physical fight with a vampire. (A possessed vampire?).
She didn’t have to, he reminded himself. They had a plan.
Black had used Leo’s distraction to start casting.
“Stop!” Leo yelled in his ear. Leo didn’t wait to see if that worked, instead physically wrestling the man’s wand from his hand to stop him from tearing down the wards.”
“Leo,” he hissed. “How dare you? I do not know what you think—”
Leo’s response was calm. “We have a plan. You only need to break down the wards should that plan go badly. It hasn’t yet.”
The man sneered at him. “What do you consider this then?” He gestured towards the screen, which was still transmitting from Harry’s headband. It looked as though she was being forcibly restrained.
“The plan,” Leo said calmly.
The runes wrote themselves across the platform, and Voldemort brought out the vials of blood.
Regulus lunged for his wand. “My nephew—”
“Is going to be fine. That’s not his blood.”
Black looked at Leo like he was crazy. “What?”
“The fifth task. He used someone else’s blood.”
Regulus relaxed slightly but still looked incredibly suspicious. “You realize that at this point, I won’t be able to take down the wards in time to help should he need it?”
“That has occurred to me. But we prepared for this. You must trust that your nephew can handle the situation.”
The ritual failed. It occurred to Regulus what was going to happen a beat before it did. “Give me my wand! They’re going to take his blood.”
“The ritual isn’t going to work,” Leo said reassuringly. “We’ve already made sure of it.” Leo wasn’t sure he was believed.
Lee Jordan took Harry’s blood. The ritual failed twice, and Jordan made it clear to everyone that Harry was not a pureblood. She made it clear she wasn’t Arcturus Black.
After a moment of shocked silence, Black grabbed Leo by his shoulders. “Where is my nephew?”
“I don’t know,” Leo said unconvincingly. He didn’t actually want to convince the man; he just needed plausible deniability.
Regulus looked like he was going to throttle Leo.
He was distracted by the explosion on the stage as Harry escaped her bonds and exploded the magical attractant. She held her ground better than the others, having expected the explosion, but even she looked off-balance.
The sound coming through the speakers phased in and out after the bomb. Yet, the yelled, “Kill him. Kill. Him ,” came through loud and clear.
Leo watched as Harry dodged a killing curse and took down her attacker. He struggled to breathe. That had been too close. “Take down the wards,” he told Regulus.
“Why should I?” The man hissed.
“You want to find your nephew?” Leo asked. “You’re not going to find out anything if that ‘Rigel’ on the stage dies.”
“Fine,” Black hissed. “I’d rather kill him myself.”
Leo rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t say that Regulus Black had much in common with Archie, but it was impossible to deny that they both had a flair for the dramatic.
On the platform, Harry looked to have taken out at least two of the four attackers. He watched as she dodged a spell and then, instead of returning fire, threw Hermione’s device at Voldemort’s prone form (when had that happened?). She followed with a pulse of light, and Leo could see on the screen as the magic wound around Voldemort’s body.
The wards fell, Black unraveling the one around Harry just moments before the Hogwarts wards fell—apparently, that had been how Dumbledore intended rescue. Harry spotted the Aurors (and Sirius Black) rushing towards her and apparated away.
Leo breathed a sigh of relief. The escape plans had been the messiest part—invisibility cloaks, brooms, disappearing into the crowd and donning disguises—none of them had been particularly good. But they hadn’t wanted to rely on the possibility that the Hogwarts wards would come down.
Black grabbed his arm before Leo could vanish, himself. “What is going on?” he demanded. “Where is my nephew?”
Leo shook his head. “I don’t know, but if I wanted to find Arcturus Black, I would talk to Harriett Potter.”
Regulus’s grip slackened, and Leo tore himself out of it.
Leo paused before he left. “I appreciate your help,” he told him. “I owe you one.” Then, he apparated away.
-0
[HpHpHp]
-0
Harry’s series of apparitions left her in Diagon Alley an hour or two before dawn. It had taken her longer than she strictly expected as, at several points, she had walked a mile in a different direction before apparating again.
She had to go to Gringotts before meeting Leo. Avoiding the risk of looking like Rigel was worth the discrepancy in their stories that would arise from her not being under Polyjuice when they found her.
The goblins did not seem to appreciate being asked to take her down to her family vault only to turn around, but it did the job.
Appearance restored, she walked the alleys to her apartment on Dogwood lane. She opened the door to find Leo inside, sitting on the sofa. A potion was brewing in the corner of the living room, and the kitchen looked slightly messy. He’d been in charge of buying food for her cupboards—to sell the fact that she had been living on her own. There was also a stack of new clothes on the table.
Leo looked about as tired as she felt. “Why don’t you shower and change, and then we can worry about the rest of it?” he suggested.
She agreed. She was sweaty and bloody, and being clean sounded heavenly. Sleep even more so, though she suspected they had more they needed to do before she could rest.
Once she had showered and dressed, she came and sat on the couch next to Leo. “I vanished my boots,” she said suddenly.
His voice was reassuring, if tired, “We can get you more.”
“Do you think they’ll go through with the raid on Voldemort’s headquarters?” she asked.
“If they don’t, I will have serious questions about the priorities of the DMLE,” he replied. “So, frankly, I have no idea.”
“Yeah, me either.”
“Still,” he said, “We won.”
Harry was too tired to care what Leo might think about her using him as a pillow. She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. “Then why does it feel like losing?” she whispered.
“Because we, you particularly, are losing too. You sacrificed Rigel for this victory—as brave as that is—it’s going to hurt a little.”
Leo enveloped her in a hug as she dissolved into tears.
After a few minutes of wrenching sobs, she slowly came back to herself. “I’m sorry,” she told Leo, sniveling, as she leaned out of the hug.
He looked at her curiously. “What for?”
“I got your shoulder wet.”
He laughed, not a huffed whisper-laugh or a quiet chuckle, but a startled, full-bodied laugh. When he caught his breath, he said, “Lass, it’s nothing a simple drying charm won’t fix.”
“Oh.” She felt stupid. The lack of sleep meant her mind felt like it was moving through molasses. If only her emotions weren’t running full-speed…
Leo looked away. “I should probably go soon,” he said. “You need to sleep, and I’d imagine your father will be here within the day.”
She waved her hand, “It will be ages before anyone remembers me,” she thought about it, “I mean Archie? Archie as me? Whatever, you know what I mean.”
Leo shook his head. “If Rigel is an imposter, then Archie is missing. They’ll go to you to find him.”
She sighed. “I imagine I’m going to get grounded for this.”
“Then I guess this might be the last time I see you for a while.”
The thought made Harry unbearably sad. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment, but at some point, she had come to rely on Leo. “You broke into my house once,” she pointed out, “You could do it again.”
He smiled. “I dunno. Sounds risky. What if your dad caught me?”
“I’d save you,” she promised.
“Yeah?”
She smiled in spite of herself. “I’d hardly abandon you to the Aurors.”
“Not something to promise lightly,” he teased.
Her smile died a little. “I didn’t. You know that I mean it, right?”
His own smile softened. “You know that there is little I wouldn’t do for you, lass. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I can hardly expect you to; I don’t mind.”
The words made Harry a little angry, though she was having trouble figuring out exactly why . Did Leo really think that she wouldn’t do the same? Had she not been trying to help him already? “I mind,” she snapped. “Because that’s stupid. Why would you be willing to do so much for anyone that wouldn’t do the same? You’re saying that if I was like: hey, Leo, I need you to give up half your life for me, but if you ever need help, please don’t come to me—you’d just accept that? That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.”
Leo didn’t even have the decency to look abashed. Instead, he grinned irrepressibly at her. “You think that’s a situation likely to come up? Should I be worried, Harry?”
“You’re incorrigible,” she huffed. She put her head back on his shoulder; she was tired.
“Lass, he said again, softly. “I really should go.”
“Don’t,” she told him.
“It’s not that I want to leave,” he insisted, “But I have been up all night, and I need sleep, too.”
“Just stay here.”
“Look, lass, I love you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said lightly, “Seeing as your father’ll be here before long, and you not wanting to be grounded the whole summer and all.”
Her brain stalled out on the first bit. “You love me?”
He huffed out a laugh. “I’ve told you so before.”
“True,” Harry said. She added slowly, “I think, now, I might love you too.”
Leo went still.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Just… unexpected is all.”
“Well.” What was she supposed to say to that?
Leo looked at her mournfully. “You only think you love me?”
“Well,” she said reasonably, “I’ve never been in love before. How am I supposed to know what it feels like?”
“I suppose that’s fair,” he said slowly, with feigned reluctance.
She grinned, but it was immediately overtaken by a yawn. “You know that it is.”
Leo yawned too. “I really do need to go. I’m sure your father won’t lock you up forever.”
She sighed. “Write to me?”
“Sure, lass. Though I should mention that you’re a pretty poor correspondent.”
“I still read letters even if I’m not very good about answering them.”
“If you say so,” he said around another yawn. He hesitated. “Can I kiss you?”
Harry, suddenly nervous, gave a small nod.
It wasn’t like her kiss with Draco had been—when she’d been terrified and confused and more than a bit curious. She wasn’t confused now. Leo already knew her secrets and accepted them, so there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. (Besides, being around Leo always made her feel safe, somehow). She also liked Leo a lot. The teasing glint in his eyes, and his comfortable grin, and…
The kiss was short, soft, and nice. More a promise than anything—that this wasn’t over, that she’d see him again.
“I’m going to go now,” he said softly. “Come by the alleys when you can, and send word if you need anything. I…” he trailed off, saying instead, “Good luck.”
“I hope I can see you soon.”
“Until then.”
When she woke, Leo was gone, her door was wide open, and her father was standing in her living room demanding answers.