Chapter 32
Lucius Malfoy had also been having an eventful day. The Prophet headlines had not made enjoyable breakfast reading for him. It was never pleasant to see somebody taken up by the DMLE for carrying the same mark that he himself bore on his arm; his own Imperius defence had been solid, and he had the full, legal writs of exoneration to prove it, but he didn't exactly care to be reminded of the Wizarding War and its immediate aftermath. Not that he had any sympathy for Pettigrew personally: their paths in the Dark Lord's service had never crossed, and he only had the vaguest memories of him from Hogwarts, as one of that little gang of Gryffindor blood-traitors who bullied Slytherins every chance they could get, especially Snape for some reason. Sirius Black, James Potter, and a couple of insignificant, impoverished half-bloods named Pettigrew and... Lupin. Yes. Not that it mattered. He dutifully saw his son and heir to the Hogwarts Express, idly watching the crowds as he did so. The patterns they moved in weren't quite normal. Someone was deliberately spreading some information among the heads of older Wizarding families, moving from fairly Neutral houses to Darker ones. Any moment now... yes. Jeremiah Bulstrode wanted to discuss the Sirius Black situation with him. The Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House, thrown into Azkaban on the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence, including the simple fact that his family was Dark. Not a good precedent.
"He wasn't the Lord at the time, and it was questionable whether he was still the heir, after his parents disowned him," Lucius replied airily, as if the matter could not concern him less. "Why, we had reason to believe my own Draco was in line to become Lord before him." He wasn't actually going to mention that they'd tried the ritual in the summer, and it had failed, thankfully with no significant backlash.
"Still," Bulstrode persevered, "that a bunch of jumped-up ministry clerks could do that to a member of the old nobility! It makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Lucius made noncommital noises, and made small-talk about Bulstrode's granddaughter's Hogwarts grades and chosen electives, and Draco's, and those of the other children in their extended kinship and social networks, until eventually Bulstrode took his leave. Malfoy went to check in with his various Ministry contacts, only to find a large contingent of retired aurors seemed to have moved into the DMLE, and not only were they bear-leading some extremely youthful-looking Auror Trainees, they also seemed to be guarding the holding cells very strenuously, checking everything and everyone who went in or out. He didn't even try to get to see Pettigrew; Mad-Eye Moody seemed to be running the show, and Moody made no secret of his absolute loathing for Lucius. He did manage to have a stealthy word with one or two of his contacts: Mercutio MacMillan, of Fawley, MacMillan, Tonks and Associates, was apparently making his presence felt, but it seemed to be more Rodelinda Fawley pulling strings behind the scenes. Most of the Aurors seemed to believe what the paper had only hinted at: that Sirius Black was innocent, or almost entirely so.
Lucius Malfoy made his way to Fudge's office. Cornelius wouldn't have noticed the nefarious goings-on that were afoot; but he would be terribly grateful if Lucius set him straight. Perhaps he could take him for lunch at Summerisle's; that would soften him up. Yes. Lucius hadn't forgotten, after all, who the third partner of Fawley, MacMillan, Tonks and Associates was, and who he was married to. It wouldn't take much persuasion for Cornelius to authorise a raid on their law offices, and perhaps the Tonks residence also. And it was surely improper for the Tonks daughter to be trailing after Moody, in the heart of the DMLE, when her parents were suspected of harbouring criminals. Yes. And Harry Potter, too. Lucius hadn't forgiven him for that stunt with the house-elf. Even if Dobby was a useless excuse for an elf, it was the principle of the matter. Nobody stole from a Malfoy. Nobody tricked a Malfoy. And Potter had tipped his hand a bit much there. For the Prophet to declare that Sirius Black had shown up on a Gringotts test as Harry Potter's sworn godfather, his oath still unbroken as of June of this very year; well, that meant it had been Potter to take the inheritance test, and to share the results with the Prophet. Magic knows the goblins wouldn't have told. Potter was keen enough to stick up for his godfather; he might well have been colluding with him, or harbouring him. It was grounds for suspicion; Lucius was sure Cornelius would play along, once it was explained to him in suitably small words, with the requisite amount of flattery.
The Tonks family were having a less than stellar day. Nymphadora Tonks did not appreciate being suspended, even if Moody did tell her he'd still be mentoring her on the sly, since it wasn't as if the Ministry had been paying him in the first place; still less did she appreciate her growing suspicions that her parents had, in fact, been up to something involving Sirius Black over the summer, and had chosen to keep her in the dark. Andromeda Tonks did not appreciate having aurors interrupt her at her place of work to interrogate her about Sirius, and whether she had been in contact with him at all. And the management of St Mungo's were even less keen on the Dementor that accompanied the aurors; the few Senior Healers capable of the Patronus Charm were pressed into service trying to keep its aura from harming vulnerable patients, and they weren't exactly thrilled to be pulled from their regular duties for some extremely exhausting spellcasting. Ted Tonks did not appreciate having to play twenty questions with the Aurors at his place of work, having to tell them firmly what paperwork of his they were and were not allowed to view under the terms of the warrant (almost none of it); and having to keep the Dementor from terrorising the firm's secretary and half of Horizont Alley into the bargain. It made him glad he'd already filed injunctions regarding the Dementors, really it did. And then his half of the Protean-charmed wax tablet Harry had given him started flashing; and when he took it and read it, his blood ran cold. It wasn't Harry's handwriting. And it said: "Mr Tonks, there are Dementors attacking the Hogwarts Express. Harry has already passed out, as have others. Please send help urgently. Hermione Granger."
While Ted would ordinarily consider his communications with his clients privileged, and would extend that privilege to indirect contact via third parties whenever possible, in this particular instance he felt he was justified in shoving the tablet under Senior Auror Scrimgeour's nose, and strongly advising him that he act on its contents forthwith. And to give Scrimgeour credit, he only took the time to warn Ted he'd be back to continue the interrogation later, before marshalling his forces for action. Scarcely two minutes after receiving the message, he was able to scrawl 'DMLE on the way. Am notifying Hogwarts. May floo through. Keep me posted. Chin up.' He even got an (alarmingly wobbly) 'thank you'. And to give Albus Dumbledore his credit, the man did seem genuinely horrified and angry that Dementors had been menacing his students. Even Severus Snape, who burst into Dumbledore's office with the same news while Ted was on the floo, seemed legitimately up in arms; goodness knows Ted had always thought the man was a nasty piece of work, but he seemed to have a genuine concern for at least his Slytherin students.
Before Ted knew where he was, he had stepped through the Floo, and was being escorted out of the Headmaster's Office by Snape. Headmaster Dumbledore had apparated away, apparently planning to locate Filius Flitwick and Minerva McGonagall, and then Side-Along both of them through the Hogwarts wards and onto what was presumably a moving train, precise location unknown. You certainly couldn't deny the man was powerful. Snape sniffed at Ted, and suggested he make his way to the Infirmary, "while I locate the other Head of House remaining in Hogwarts. I am sure you remember the way." If that wasn't a jibe at the number of times Ted had been attacked for his blood status while still a student, Ted would be very much surprised.
"Oh, it's not that long since we were both students here," he replied cheerily, "and I've visited my daughter in the Infirmary once or twice, as well. I'm sure you remember teaching her."
"Miss Tonks did not exactly fade into the background," Snape sniffed, and strode off. Hah. His Dora had got an E at NEWT-level, despite Snape initially refusing to let her in his class regardless of her Outstanding OWL, stating her clumsiness made her a danger to the other students. Ted was sure Snape did remember her. Especially since she'd also received more than one detention for 'disrespecting a professor' by mimicking their features to do comedic impressions of them, and Snape had been her most popular subject.
Remus Lupin had been having a horrifying day. He had awoken, naked and injured, in his basement cage; patched himself together and stumbled upstairs for breakfast, only to discover the Daily Prophet, with Peter caught mid-transformation on the front page. He would have recognised him even without the headline. Poring over the papers avidly, he was already getting close to missing the Hogwarts Express when the aurors came to bring him in for a statement, and an additional confirmation of Peter's identity "as his closest surviving friend." It took hours for him to finish at the Ministry, especially when some nosy so-and-so went after all his paperwork and dug up his old file from the Werewolf Registry. They treated him with increasing suspicion after that, and while he would normally have burned at the indignity, this time he was too dazed to care, too hurt by Peter's betrayal, too busy feeling guilty over having believed Sirius to be the traitor, never having checked up on him, having left him to languish in Azkaban all these years. He stood for a long time outside Fawley, MacMillan, Tonks and Associates, wanting to go in, wanting to ask if they had any contact with Sirius, if they might consider passing a message along. But in the end, he couldn't. He didn't deserve to. Three Aurors went in with a dementor; one Auror left with it. Somebody at the Ministry had probably spotted the same thing Remus had. Remus ought not to make matters worse.
He was in no fit state to apparate; he had missed the Hogwarts Express. The last coins in his pocket went on Floo powder, enough to go back home for his poor battered trunk, and to floo from there to the Three Broomsticks. The walk from there to the Hogwarts gates seemed dauntingly long; he was really very tired. He had planned to nap on the train. Perhaps, if he made it to Hogsmeade Station, he would be able to nap on the platform, waiting for the train to come in, and then catch one of the 'horseless' carriages, right past the gates and up to the castle itself. He dragged himself through the picturesque-as-ever streets of Hogsmeade, only to find some of the carriages already drawn up and waiting, though the train wasn't due in for another hour. The last few drew up, and Hagrid stepped out of one. Remus stepped forward to greet him, and what he heard made the rest of his day seem like nothing. Dementors had attacked the Hogwarts Express. Some of the students had been badly affected, including Harry. Madam Pomfrey was waiting to do triage when the train got in.
Remus let the kindly matron fuss over him, let her settle him down in one of the carriages, listened to her fret over the dementors, and the effect they had on people who were already delicate. The happy baby Remus had doted on was now a teenager who wouldn't know him; a teenager whom Remus was contractually obliged not to seek out for discussions of non-school-related material. And he had been hurt. Remus had listened to Dumbledore's safety concerns; had believed his assurances that Harry was safe and well; had dutifully stayed away so that he couldn't be followed by others who might pose threats to Harry. He had done his part. But he ached, now, to see Harry with his own eyes, to know that he was well. Even if Remus had no right to such reassurances.