Slipping Away
Saturday the 4th of December 1976
Fawkes squawked loudly from his perch beside Albus’ desk, his head cocking to the side as he stared down at the tall, bearded man with almost disapproval in his black eyes as his golden tail twitched.
It was enough for Albus to put down his quill and turn to look at his companion with a heavy sigh. Thirty years they had been together, when Albus had been younger and perhaps more strived for company – and how had he been able to refuse the beauty that was Fawkes, to have someone who would never fight back and stay by his side.
Only, this phoenix seemed to take great pride in knowing when things were wrong, when he was wrong – prone to judging him as humans did.
“My friend -”
Fawkes squawked again, turning his head to the side as Albus sighed and looked back to his parchment, littered with ideas and people, and things to do – things that must be done in order to win the war they had all been thrust into.
He was aware that it all could have been stopped if he had given in, but how could he put a child, a confused one at that, at the front of a war. It would have been wrong to ask that of her, to put her in such a dangerous situation when he was sure that he could figure it out himself.
And he had tried, really tried to see what her memories had held but it was as if there was something blocking him, allowing him a slight flicker before it was hidden away behind a copious amount of magic – a dangerous amount that would be no good for any of them, if it all went wrong.
No, no, he couldn’t do that. This was down to him to finish, to end what he should have seen years ago when he first visited a young Tom Riddle.
A boy who had been unsurprised and had already done questionable things, who had been surrounded by people the moment he came to Hogwarts and yet had seemed so alone, but never lonely, content with the people who followed him around as he looked for power, and then he had gone.
Albus had always kept a close eye on him, more so when the death of the Muggle Riddles had happened, killed by an insane Morfin Gaunt; when Myrtle had died; when Tom had quit Borgin and Burkes not long after the death of Hepzibah Smith and seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth.
Only to come back looking waxy and distorted, pulled apart by something wicked, and asking for a job. It might have been easier to watch him, but it was unsafe – to put students in the way of a man who was gaining power and changing his name – and so he had declined and promised himself to keep an eye on Tom...or Voldemort.
Though things had only gone from bad to worse, and suddenly there was students under Tom’s thumb, whispering things and spreading their views while Albus could only watch, and the rest of his students remained ignorant, except a few.
The few who he would rather stayed away, the ones who could cause more havoc – a group of witches and wizards who were more skilled than he thought was normal, like their year and their house had been gifted the best of the best – and all of them were led by her, Hermione Potter, who had more knowledge and magic than anyone should.
A knock on his door brought him out of his long winded thoughts, causing him to look up and place down his quill as he called for them to come in and tried to hide his surprise as the Potter siblings walked in.
“Ah Miss and Mr Potter, how may I help you today?” Despite the difference between the pair that gave away their blood, he could see the relation more now as they stared at him with cold eyes and turned down mouths.
Their eyes met his, and he tried for what felt like the hundredth time to penetrate their minds, only finding small snippets of random moments that meant nothing, his frustration growing as he tried to remain easy.
It was almost like their minds had some sort of natural barrier against him, despite the fact that neither of them seemed to have studied occlumency, like the Potter mind could not be seen by him.
It was something he had already known, had struggled with when he had done what he did to Hermione, only able to locate the well hidden memories by following the magic in her mind, but even then he hadn’t been able to see anything – hidden behind a thick fog, only giving him confidence that if he couldn’t see them then no one else could – and now she couldn’t either.
“We need to see him.”
“See who, Mr Potter?”
“Our father – we heard about what happened -”
“Ah, rest assured your father is well and recovering at home, nothing too drastic I am told.”
“That’s not -”
“And thus, I can not permit the leave of the pair of you – especially when we are so close to the holidays.”
Hermione scoffed and muttered something under her breath before she met his eyes, cold and distant, a lack of trust and respect there as she tensed her jaw and raised her chin in defiance. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, long gone were the moments where she would follow him without question.
“We’re not asking to start our holidays early, but for a couple of hours to see our father.”
“And if I do it for you then I would have to do it for every child related to an Auror – your fathers job is dangerous, I trust you both know there might be moments where things go wrong.”
“Most people don’t have a father who also works for your Order, who is sent out on secret missions and risking his life for a man who keeps answers to himself and takes what he wants without question.”
It was clear what she was hinting at as Albus blinked at the hostility in her tone, looking to James for a second, who seemed more interested in staring at Albus blankly.
There was no indication that he knew, not that Albus would have been able to dig it out of his head, not without causing the boy pain and indication that something was going on. But the worry was there that she had told her friends, her family, what should have been kept between the pair of them, what should be hidden deep inside her head.
Though he wasn’t a stupid man, he was aware that there were moments, answers that she was searching for even as she tried to do her best to follow what he had asked. That she was as stubborn as a Hippogriff, and soon she might get what she wanted – but he needed to buy time until then, prepare her for that moment. For when she could be of use to him.
“And I can promise, your father wasn’t injured in any Order but on a matter of work.” Albus spoke back, keeping the ice off his tongue and his eyes wide. “I also suggest that you keep your comments and opinions to yourself.”
No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t keep the anger out of his words. Though it seemed almost amusing to Hermione as her lips twitched and her eyebrows raised slightly, while James furrowed his own and tensed his jaw, hand clutched at his sides and feet twitching as those they wished to step forward.
How wonderful it must be to have a sibling who would protect you from even the wisest of men.
“Now, is there anything else that I can help you with?” He asked after a second as both siblings returned to staring at him blankly.
“No.” Hermione spoke first before James could open his mouth, returning for the sleeve of his robe and tugging on it. Whatever the boy wanted to say was clearly not to be shared with Albus. “No, though thank you as always, for your enlightening help.”
And with that she turned, pulling her brother along and out of his office, leaving him to stare after them, feeling rather unsettled. The next mover would be down to her, and despite the fact that he knew more than most about what happened in the castle, he would be wise to admit that she spent more time than most surprising him.
Sighing, he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and looked back down at his parchment.
“You should have known by now that neither Black’s nor Potter’s are the type of people to be ordered around, to leave things as you see fit.”
“People learn that sometimes they don’t know best.” Albus answered softly as he looked over his list, feeling the weight of the day settling on his shoulders.
“As my dear Granddaughter has been showing you for years.” He turned them, looking at the portrait of the man, his sharp features slightly softer than usual and his eyes on the door where Hermione and James had left from.
“You almost sound proud, Phineas.”
Phineas turned to look at him as Albus waited, expecting a slur of insults or anger, but instead the man simply smiled, the expression looking odd on his face. “Her last name and beliefs may be Potter, but she fights like a Black.”
Calculated and ruled by vengeance, with an intelligence that would make Rowena Ravenclaw look dim – she wasn’t someone Albus could afford to go against, nor it seemed, someone he could keep by his side.
…
The Order mingled in the living room of the of their safe house, protected by the many enchantments Alastor had place in order to keep them safe and unknown.
“Good evening, Professor.” He turned, a smile ready on his face as Zachary Townsend, Alice Prewett and Frank Longbottom made their way into the room, cloaks shed and smiles on their faces as he nodded towards them.
He would have though them all too young, but Frank had been one of the best Aurors since he finished his training, impressing even Alastor – and Alice was just as promising in her training, eager and ready to fight – he had known the pair of them would want to join since Minerva had told him what they wanted to do and their impressive O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts.
But it had been Zachary that had surprised him, the boy more skilled in other areas, though not the most talented fighter and someone who hadn’t seemed that eager in fighting during his time at school.
Yet Albus had seen him during his last year with Hermione, a sweet relationship that seemed to mean a lot to the pair of them, who seemed more aware than he let on and had a habit of picking up information that others might overlook.
It was why Albus had invited him to join, given him small roles of defence at Hogsmeade and told him to keep his head down at work, to listen and report – something which Zachary had done with eagerness and had kept himself unknown.
That and the boy had given him more than a peek into his mind, glimpses of conversations around those who meant to keep him out. Nothing of too much interest, but enough to see the cracks through the facade the Potter’s might put on.
“Ah, hello, how are we all this evening?”
The three nodded their heads, assuring him of their good health before Alice and Frank moved away, towards her cousins, their hands gripped tightly and their eyes only for each other. A sweet and pure love so different from the one Albus had had himself.
“Sir, I was wondering if -”
“No time for that now Townsend.” Alastor limped into view, clapping the boy on his back with far too much force as Albus gave him a soft smile. “The Potter’s are here and we need to get started.” Zachary’s head turned, watching as Euphemia led a limping Fleamont into the room, moving him to sit beside Augusta Longbottom, who instantly went to fluff pillows and give him enough space.
“What did you do?” Augusta loud voice carried across the room, stern and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Fleamont. “I hope it wasn’t during duty.” Her eyes flashed to Albus before looking to Frank.
“No, no – we had a raid, it didn’t quite go as planned, but no worries, I will be as right as rain in a few days.” Fleamont spoke, an easy smile on his face but his eyes were hard as he settled into the cushions, reaching out to squeeze his wife’s hand.
“Better be, Proudfoot has been doing a shit job at trying to lead your rookies.” Alastor growled out, though he seemed amused as Fleamont rolled his eyes and let out a small scoff.
“I can imagine, he seems shit at most things he does.”
Albus chuckled lowly before clapping his hands together as the room turned silent, all eyes on him. “As we know, Voldemort has been recruiting more and more allies, and it has become more pressing and urgent for us to find out as much information as we can -”
“I think that protecting those he seeks to attack is more dire than finding out useless information.” Augusta snapped as she dragged the coffee table closer, placing a pillow on top and nudging Fleamont with her arm. “Put it on there boy, you’ll be much more comfortable.” She added as Fleamont blushed and Euphemia chuckled.
“It’s hard to know when his next attack will take place if we aren’t paying attention.” Albus explained softly, as though talking to one of his younger students.
“There has been no rhyme nor reason to his attacks...just unlucky people – thus it makes it hard to know where he will strike next.” Alastor growled out as he limped forward with a glare at the older woman, who didn’t back down but jutted out her chin.
Albus nodded in agreement. “Which is why we will be continuing with our planned stakeouts, keeping tabs on those closest to Voldemort – perhaps then we may find some way to save those from harm.” He looked towards Augusta who rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.”But for the moment, I ask that we remain pushing through, that we remain together – now your assignments are to be discussed with Alastor, and after that I welcome you all to stay and have a drink before the long cold days are upon us.”
He smiled as he clapped his hands, stepping back so Alastor could take the floor, the smile slowly dropping from his face as he caught the glances thrown his way.
…
“...and remember...CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Alastor shouted as he raised his arm and a few sniggers were heard around the room. “Now away with you all, we haven’t got time to be pissing about.” He growled as he limped away, towards the back of the house.
A few seemed to take his word, slipping out of the house with waves, a few lingering as they finished their discussions, but Albus remained focused on the Potter’s as they bid goodbye to Augusta with whispered words.
He watched as Euphemia helped Fleamont stand up, gripping his hand and giving him a gentle smile as she tried to usher him into the hall, past him without even a glance.
“Euphemia, Fleamont – I was hoping I could speak to you on some matters.” The pair stopped, turning to look at him with blank faces that their children had mastered. The stern Potter look.
“What can we help you with, Albus?” It was Fleamont who spoke first, swaying slightly, a tense smile on his face that didn’t match the flash of distrust in his wife’s. And he could see it so clearly, could see the moment she lost that trust for him, the moment she allowed him to try and help her daughter after causing her to break in the way she had.
Perhaps if Fleamont had been there as well, then his strange eyes might have been mingled with distrust.
“I received a rather interesting visit earlier today – from your children.” The pair looked at him as though they didn’t understand why he was bringing it up. He smiled sadly, gesturing back towards the living room but they didn’t move, just remained staring at him. “They asked me to grant them leave to be able to visit you.”
“Oh.”
“As much as I understand, I obviously can not allow -”
“I doubt a few hours on a weekend would cause problems, Albus.” Euphemia spoke dryly, her hazel eyes all but rolling back into her head.
It was easy to see, despite the lack of actual relation between the two, where Hermione got her no nonsense attitude and blatant disregard for those she grew tired of. It was infuriating, to try and reason with people who refused to see what it was he was actually doing, like he needed to spell it out for them.
“I can not just allow children out of school for mild reasons.” Albus spoke back, his smile falling further as Euphemia raised a single eyebrow in slight protest. “A point I tried to explain to your children, to their displeasure.”
“I imagine not being able to see your injured father would be rather upsetting.” Euphemia hit back with a mild glare as she wrapped an arm around Fleamont’s waist.
“That I do understand, but alas, I was more concerned with a few things Hermione had to say.” Not to add the way she had looked at him, the things she had threatened. The deeper meaning behind their distance that no one would ever know.
“What did -”
“Have either of you shared with your children or their friends that you are both in the Order?” Albus asked finally as both parents frowned, Fleamont’s lips pursing and his eyes refusing to meet his own. Perhaps to hide what he might have told.
“Of course not.” Fleamont spoke after a second, face once again blank as he looked at the older man. “But it’s not like it’s not hard to figure out, they are aware of what opinions we hold and we have raised them in the same regard – if they have figured it out then it is because they are smarter than you give them credit, Albus.” He added, his tone softer than his wife’s but there was still a bite there.
“I am aware of how smart your children are – though I am worried about the lack of respect they seem to have for certain people.” He spoke softly, raising his eyebrows. Most would bow their heads and promise to speak to their children or perhaps even apologise on behalf of them, but not the Potter’s.
“Our children give respect to those they believe have earned it, or those who show them respect.”
“Euphemia -”
“You did whatever you did, Albus, and we won’t ask about whatever secrets you and Hermione are hiding, though we are aware it’s something important – and we are also aware that whatever you did has not only had some sort of lasting effect on our daughter but on the rest of our family too.” Euphemia spat out. “So forgive us if we seem a bit distant and unsure of where we stand with you, but our family comes first.” A mild threat, he was sure.
“I understand, however -”
“We are also not the sort of people who listen to excuses – now if you have something important to say, regarding the Order, then please go ahead, but if not I would like to get my husband and myself home.” She spoke before he could say anything else, not looking interested in the slightest of what he might have to say.
“Of course not, have a good evening.” He sighed out as he watched them go, feeling oddly deflated and with a need to tread carefully around them.
…
Godric’s Hollow was almost a sacred place, a small village in the west country that had once been purely magical, but now the only magical thing that stood out about it was how quaint and ancient the town looked.
He had lived here once, back when he was young and his family needed to run away from the past their father had made. And he had found it oddly comforting in a way, to walk through the streets and tall but rather small houses, to see the Muggles and perhaps a few Wizards meet.
He had let his feet take him everywhere, to find every area – to find every clue of Gryffindor that he could and ended up on the outskirts of town, the forest and lake not far ahead but his eyes had remained on the manors that stood on the hill, barely inside the village, full of people who clearly had money and cared for their houses.
A deep rich envy had filled him as he turned his head to look back at the distant village, trying to locate the house his mother had moved them to. Why couldn’t it have been one of these?
He had been young and inexperienced with life, full of wanting and needing things that others had. Years later he would learn that he had been looking at the manor belonging to the Potter’s, built out of the way of society in the 1700’s and made for family.
But at that time, it had just been a house belonging to another rich person, showing off their money and flaunting their way of living – out of touch with the truth of life, because what problems did they have when their vaults were full to the brim.
He had moved on with his life, met someone who he had thought he could love forever, lost his mother because of his sister, and lost his sister because of a rogue spell – he had ended one war and made a name for himself, had discovered what power might truly feel like and turned his back on it for an easier and perhaps less power inclined job.
A job where he could care for children, and have enough power and influence to last him a lifetime.
But another war started and he knew he needed backing. Wars can not be survived without someone offering pay – it was something that Tom had always known as he wormed his way into the pockets of his followers, taking what he thought was his and supporting a war he had started.
And thus, Albus, had needed someone too. Had needed some influence, and he had tried with the Potter’s, their vaults endlessly filled with more money than anyone needed, enough to support a hundred lifetimes and more. They had investments, and work, and a knack for earning more without doing much. And they didn’t support Voldemort.
That should have been enough, it would have been if Dumbledore hadn’t pushed Hermione the way he had – and now he had no idea if they would back out – if one wrong word from himself or a carefully placed sentence for Hermione would have them shutting Albus out all together.
Albus had never worried about being out manoeuvred, not from his Order, but he should have been the moment he realised that the Potter’s were something else. Loyal only to their own, their son and adopted daughter, but not only them but their children’s friends also.
One wrong move and it would be all over.
Like his sister, like his mother.
Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also
It had been a quote that had meant something in his young age, his promise to give up his search for the Deathly Hallows – to ignore the mark on the grave not far from him now, to say goodbye to everything he and Grindelwald had tried to work for.
But there was a yearning now as he ran long fingers over their names, his wand in his hand, the Elder Wand – something he had promised to keep hidden until he died. Yet the urge to find the other two, the stone more than the cloak, was just as powerful now as it had been before.
“Perhaps one day we will see each other again and you will be able to forgive me for all my wrongs.” He whispered at the stone, his head bowed as the wind howled around them.
Once the war was finished, he would come back, he would search again and he would see his sister and mother once more.