Chapter Fifteen
Sirius and Remus now stood side-by-side facing the metal spiral staircase, the Snatchers having landed in the overgrown front garden. Beside Sirius, Xenophilius stood frozen by the Body Bind Spell, his eyes wide. Sirius spared a glance at the older man’s haggard appearance—his unwashed, wispy white hair, the purple shadows underneath those eyes that perfectly matched his daughter’s. Where had the Death Eaters taken Luna Lovegood?
Below, on the ground floor, the door crashed open. Remus’ knuckles tightened on his wand, the scars on his fingers clear against the white skin straining.
“This nutter’s probably raving as usual,” a rough voice said, “Aren’t you, Xenophilius?”
When Xenophilius did not—could not—reply, another deeper voice muttered, “Revelio!”
The blue mist of the spell traveled quickly up the staircase, and Sirius shivered as it passed over him.
“There’s three people up there,” The deep voice murmured, and then, “Oi! Who’s with you Xenophilius? It better well be Potter or you’ll be lucky to get a piece of your daughter back to bury once she's killed!”
Heavy booted footsteps began walking up the staircase, but Remus and Sirius were moving too, and stood at the top of the stairs, their wands pointed down at the surprised faces of two well-known Snatchers, Travers and Selwyn.
“Obliviate,” Remus and Sirius said together.
The Snatchers' eyes each went vacant and glazed. Sirius flicked his wand twice more, casting the Sleeping Spell wordlessly, and the two men slouched down upon the stairs unconscious.
Remus cocked his head, staring down at the two Snatchers. He was frowning slightly, but his eyes were focused.
“I’ll take them to the woods over the hills,” Remus said softly, “They will wake there.”
“Xenophilius…” Sirius said, looking back toward the frozen man nearby.
Moony’s voice was slightly rougher as he said, “We shan’t take him to Headquarters. He’s too desperate to be trusted.”
Sirius nodded but his throat felt thick. His heart was pounding.
Sirius would have died before selling out James and Lily and Harry all those years ago, he would die today to protect Moony and Teddy, that was a given. But if they were taken…if Moony, Teddy, Harry were taken…Sirius would scorch the Earth, he would kill to find them, to save them. He would sell himself if he had to—even if it meant that there would be nothing of him left for his loved ones once they were safe.
But he would not sell out the cause. He would not sell a soul, other than his own.
A hand on his cheek, warm and strong. Sirius’ eyes met those of chocolate brown, flecked with faint green.
“Steady on,” Moony murmured, his breath sweet on Sirius’ cool face.
Sirius forced himself to take a deep breath. Moony had scented the roiling outrage that had swelled within him; Moony knew what he had been thinking.
Sirius’ heart slowed and Moony stepped back, his own face full of deepest understanding. Sirius slowly turned back to Xenophilius Lovegood.
“We know Luna,” Sirius growled to the frozen man who he knew could hear him well, “We’ve fought with Luna. And she would be ashamed for what you have done today.”
Sirius squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, “We will find her. And when we meet again, Xenophilius, you will remember that we saved your child, while you sought to betray our own.”
Moony gave a nod, “We’ll get Luna,” he said. His eyes flashed for just a moment before he turned back toward the staircase, casting Levicorpus to lift the two Snatchers into the air.
Sirius waved his wand and Xenophilius’ wand flew from his pocket; Sirius caught it deftly, and then threw it aside onto the sagging sofa where minutes before Harry, Ron and Hermione had been seated. He waved his wand again and the Body Bind Spell lifted, replaced by a Bubble Charm that trapped Xenophilius within its transparent walls.
“The Bubble Charm will fade soon enough,” Sirius growled, moving to stand beside Moony at the top of the staircase.
“How…” Xenophilius croaked, his eyes still huge in his wasted face, “How will you find her?”
Remus answered, his voice low and quiet, “We have a fairly certain idea of where she may be.”
Sirius realized with a jolt that Moony was right. They did have a fairly certain idea.
Tonks had returned from an undercover mission to Knockturn Alley only a week prior and reported news about the ‘vanishing’ of Malfoy Manor. Those who sold Dark objects in Knockturn had been seeking the Malfoy’s for months with no avail; they were accustomed to the family buying the dealers’ ancient heirlooms and Dark knickknacks for years and now found their wallets lighter than usual without their most prestigious buyer. These sellers had sought the Malfoy’s at their famous estate and found themselves quite unable to reach it. Wards, or a Secret Keeper, concealed it fully.
The Order knew the Malfoy’s were locked in a dangerous embrace with Voldemort’s inner circle but now Tonks believed Voldemort was using their manor as a safe house. If she was right, Sirius realized that Malfoy Manor would be the perfect place to keep kidnapped victims.
For Sirius had been to Malfoy Manor many times as a young boy. He’d been forced to dance the waltz with his cousins and great aunts in the obsidian-floored ballroom, an obscenely huge chandelier hanging over everyone’s heads. Once, he’d snuck off with Andy to go spy on Narcissa and Lucius, who were nearing of age and had already been courting for years, the marriage essentially a given. Regulus had refused to come, had opted to stand sullenly alone by the dark green velvet curtains until their mother had shoved him out onto the dance floor. Andy had led Sirius in search of the two teenagers (hoping to prank them) and on accident they had stumbled into the dungeons beneath the Manor.
Sirius remembered the rank smell, as if a troll had died in one of the cold stone cells. He had seen chains on the walls. Andy had pulled him back up the stairs, away from the dark dungeons, and Sirius would think later of those cells while in Azkaban. He would dream of how they were warmer, and lacked Dementors.
That dungeon beneath Malfoy Manor was when Sirius had really come to understand what Narcissa was marrying into. And it was also the first time that Sirius realized how efficiently wealth and luxury could conceal from prying eyes the ugliness that lay beneath. Satin shoes danced to violins above a private prison, bureaucrats toasted champagne to those with the gold, all of them cheering to supremacy and power as their highest ideals.
“I am sorry,” Xenophilius whispered behind the Bubble Charm confining him, his lower lip trembling.
Sirius felt his whole body shake with a fury so swift it made the room spin, but Moony was there again, and reached for Sirius’ hand, towing him down the stairs, the levitated and unconscious Snatchers floating in the air in front of them. Xenophilius did not speak again as they left him.
When Moony led them all out into the garden, Sirius felt himself sag in the fresh air, his chest lightening slightly. The image of the dungeons, of Malfoy Manor, his rage at Xenophilius, the recent brush with danger for Harry…he tried now to release it into the evening air.
A few minutes later Sirius and Remus stood at the tree line overlooking the rolling green hills, having deposited the still-sleeping Obliviated Snatchers in a copse of trees. Remus had sent his Patronus with word to Harry that the Snatchers and Xenophilius had been dealt with, that there was no true harm, and that they had an idea of where Luna was and would seek out a way to save her.
“Coward,” Sirius said, staring at that cylindrical house on the top of the hill in the distance.
Remus was quiet, staring also at that same silhouette in the darkening sky. Finally, he said softly, “Perhaps. But all he has is his daughter. He does not have our skills or our resources.”
And Xenophilius could not have sought out the Order for help—they were too underground now, all who he may have turned to where being watched. How would he have arranged a meeting? How would he have sought help to find Luna? The Order did not even know she had been taken.
But Sirius thought deeper on Moony’s words.
“All we have, in the end, is each other. Xenophilius could have just lost Luna in another way if he had truly managed to sell out Harry in exchange for her.”
Moony nodded, “Yes.”
“All I have is you,” Sirius whispered, “You and Teddy and Harry.”
Moony moved so quickly that Sirius did not register it until Moony’s arms were around him, pulling Sirius tightly into his chest. Moony’s lips were on his brow, Sirius’ cheek against Moony’s chest, feeling Moony’s heartbeat, steady and sure.
“All that I am…” Remus murmured against Sirius’ brow; his voice so very gentle.
Sirius knew what Moony meant. All that they had, all that they were, was woven together.
Sirius wrapped one arm around Remus’ waist, reached his other hand to grip the front of Remus’ jumper, and pressed themselves still tighter together, as if to emphasize that knitted bond, to illustrate the fact that their very souls were interlaced, as if done so by the stars and moon themselves.
Sirius heard the soft crack and felt the constriction of the air around them as Moony Apparated them away.
He was so very glad of it; glad they were going home. Sirius would hold Moony tight in their bed tonight, and Sirius would speak of the Manor and what they may find there if they did succeed in breaking through the enchantments to find Luna. And Sirius would feel the dark memories seep out of him like tainted smoke, drifting up into the night air, replaced by that pure light which swelled within him as Moony whispered in his ear, “It’s alright, I am here. And together we will see the new age.”
Harry fell panting, onto grass, and scrambled up at once. He, Ron, and Hermione had landed in the corner of a field around dusk. Hermione immediately stood and began casting the usual wards and spells they used whenever they camped in a new spot.
“That treacherous old breeder!” Ron panted, “Reckon Remus and Sirius’ll get out of there alright?”
“Yes,” Harry said, trusting in his guardians’ abilities, “What about Luna?”
“Reckon she’s in Azkaban?” Ron asked.
Hermione swallowed, finished with her spell casting, “Azkaban?”
“She’s tough,” Harry said at once, “She’s tougher than you think. If she’s in there, she’s probably teaching the other inmates about Nargles and Wrackspurts.”
They’d put up the tent and retreated inside it, Ron making tea, as Remus’ Patronus arrived. The glowing Padfoot Patronus relayed Remus’ message and Harry, Ron, and Hermione found some relief in the idea that Luna was at Malfoy Manor rather than Azkaban. But still…it was a safe house for Death Eaters…
But they had another worry pressing on their minds. Had the visit to Xenophilius even been worth it?
“The Deathly Hallows can’t exist,” Hermione insisted.
“The Elder Wand could exist,” Harry said, “And the Cloak we know exists. I think Xenophilius sort of had a point…who’s to say the Stone doesn’t exist?”
“No magic can raise the dead!” Hermione snapped.
“When my wand connected with You-Know-Who’s in the graveyard, it made my mum and dad appear…and Cedric…” Harry said.
“Those were just…pale imitations. That’s not the same as bringing someone back to life,” she countered.
“Well, what about the Peverell’s?” Ron interjected, “That bloke who’s buried in Godric’s Hollow? What do we know about him?”
Hermione shook her head, “He’s not mentioned in A History of Magic…”
Harry shot up out of his chair, “Marvolo Gaunt!”
“Sorry?” Ron and Hermione said together.
“Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who’s grandfather! In the Pensieve with Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverell’s! The ring—the ring that became a Horcrus—Marvolo said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry’s face!”
“The Peverell coat of arms…” Hermione mused, “Did you see what it looked like?”
Harry tried to remember, “Not really. There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see, just a few scratches. I only ever saw it close up after it had been cracked open.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, and Ron looked quickly between her and Harry, “Blimey…you reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows?”
Harry said excitedly, “Marvolo was an ignorant old git, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. He’d have loved to think the scratches on the ring’s stone were a coat of arms because as far as he was concerned having ‘pure blood’ made you practically royal.”
“But Harry…” Hermione said cautiously, “if you’re thinking what I think you’re think—”
“Well, why not?” Harry pressed, “It was a stone, wasn’t it? What if it was the Resurrection Stone?”
“There’s no such thing as a Resurrection Stone!” Hermione had now leapt to her feet too, “I know you wish that there was—”
But Harry did not hear her, his mind was racing ahead. Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death….
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death…
And Harry saw himself as possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match…Neither can live while the other survives…
Was this the answer? Horcruxes versus Hallows? Was there a way, after all, to ensure that he was the one who triumphed? And who one day would greet Death as an old friend?
“Harry?”
But Harry was now looking at the Invisibility Cloak, and as he stared at its fine fabric, he reached for his own pouch—where he kept the two-way mirror when it wasn’t in his pocket—and pulled out the Snitch.
“It’s in here,” Harry whispered, “Dumbledore left me the ring inside the Snitch!”
Ron looked taken back, “D’you…d’you reckon?”
Hermione was saying in a would-be calm voice, “Let’s ask Sirius and Remus, Harry. Let’s talk to them—”
But Harry felt such clarity. He was certain the Cloak, his father’s Cloak, was the third Hallow…and if it was his father’s…then Harry was a descendent of the youngest Peverell brother! Now all he needed was to figure out how to open the Snitch, and then he needed the Elder wand—
It was like a stone fell into the pit of Harry’s stomach.
“That’s what he’s after,” Harry breathed, “You-Know-Who’s after the Elder Wand.”
Voldemort was seeking an old wand. That is why he had kidnapped Ollivander and sought Gregorovitch and now Grindelwald…
But Voldemort was raised in a Muggle orphanage. He would never have heard The Tale of the Three Brothers. If he had known of the Hallows, wouldn’t he have sought them rather than make Horcruxes? The very fact that he had turned the stone, the ring, into a Horcrux must demonstrate that he did not know of the Hallows, but rather sought the Elder Wand without realizing its full power…
“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice stronger this time, “If the Hallows do exist, and if they do indeed make the person that possessed them the master of Death, why wouldn’t he have told you? Why?”
“Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself,” Harry said.
“This isn’t a game!” Hermione cried, “This isn’t practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: Find and destroy the Horcruxes!”
“Why give you the book then?” Harry asked her, “What could be in the Snitch if not the Stone?”
Ron fidgeted, “I dunno, Harry…but I think we’re supposed to get rid of the Horcruxes. That’s what Dumbledore told you to do.”
That night, Harry stared at the Snitch while lying in his bunk. I open at the close. Remus had thought it meant the end of Harry’s journey with Voldemort…the final confrontation…
Harry did not know why a shiver passed down his spine as he considered the words over and over: I open at the close. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death.
They persisted through the weeks, camping in sodden landscapes drenched by pouring rain and Harry’s mind was almost wholly occupied by the Hallows.
Remus and Sirius were working to break through the wards and enchantments that veiled Malfoy Manor, but had found no way in. The January 16th Full Moon came and went, and then the February 17th Full Moon, and still Remus’ pack did not find Greyback.
Progress evaded them all. Harry felt as if they all were in stasis; waiting for something….living on scraps of hope…
Ron kept insisting that they repeat the locations the Horcruxes may be. Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania. Ron was persistently chipper, a contrast to his behavior the first few months. He kept saying they should journey to ever more unlikely places, “You never know,” he would say, “Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might’ve wanted to live there. Let’s go and have a poke around.”
It was March when Sirius called on the two-way mirror with a bit of news, “Turn on your radio at eight tonight, Harry!” Sirius said excitedly, his dark eyes bright in the mirror, “Channel 1300—the password is ‘Mad-Eye’!”
“What’s on the radio?” Harry asked.
“Potterwatch!” Sirius said excitedly, “Just started up! It’s now the only program that tells the truth about what’s going on! Have a listen tonight!”
And so they did. Ron toyed with the radio and right after eight, the radio began issuing a very familiar voice—
“Had to relocate again from our first episode last week,” Lee Jordan was saying, “due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters. But we now find ourselves in a secure location—thanks again to our new contributors for setting this up. Evening you boys!”
“Evening, River.”
Harry’s face broke into a massive grin. The voice of his godfather Sirius Black was deep and gratified.
“They must be using code names…” Hermione murmured.
Lee continued, “But before we hear from our contributors Cressida, Romulus, and Hephaestion, we must take a moment to report the news that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and the Daily Prophet don’t think is important enough to mention. In Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing the deaths to a gas leak but members of the Order of the Phoenix assure me that it was the Killing Curse. Listeners, I’d like to invite you now to join us in a minute’s silence in memory of those murdered by Death Eaters.”
Silence fell for a full minute and then Lee said, “Thank you. And now we turn to our contributor Cressida for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world.”
“Thanks, River,” said the voice of Andromeda Tonks, “Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering. I have been in touch recently with a loved one on the run who informs me of such matters from the ground. While Muggles remain unaware of the true cause, we continued to hear truly inspirational stories of Wizards and Witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all listeners to follow their example—casting a protective spell over Muggle dwellings and the like. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures were taken.”
“And what would you say, Cressida, to those listeners who would reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ‘Wizard’s first’?”
Andromeda made a scoffing noise, “I’d say that is utter bollocks. I’ll repeat our friend Royal’s constant refrain: that it’s one short step from ‘Wizard’s first’ to ‘Pureblood’s first’ and then to ‘Death Eaters’. Every life is worth saving.”
“Excellently put, Cressida. And do tell our friend Royal that he has my vote for Minister of Magic after we get out of this mess. And now, to Romulus and Hephaestion for our new segment ‘Pals of Potter’.”
“Thanks, River,” said another familiar voice, light with mirth, “I do like to consider myself Potter’s pal.”
Harry was grinning again—widely.
“Now, Romulus, can you assure us that Harry Potter is alive?”
“I can,” Remus Lupin, Harry’s other godfather, replied, “Harry is alive and fighting, and he remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting.”
Love welled up inside of Harry, so powerful it made his eyes prick with water. It had been many months…so long…since Harry had gotten to speak at length with Remus. Their conversations on the mirror as of late had been rushed and minimal. Harry now realized how much he missed their talks, Remus’ calming and thoughtful presence…what he shared with Harry, and what Harry shared with him in turn.
“And what would you say to Harry if he were listening, Romulus?”
“I’d remind him we are all with him in spirit, of course,” Remus said, “and I’d tell him something I have long needed to. To follow his instincts. To trust himself.”
“And what would you say, Hephaestion?”
Sirius’ voice was slightly gruff, “That we trust him completely.”
Lee continued, “Hephaestion, can you give us an update on those friends of Harry’s suffering for their allegiance?”
“Xenophilius Lovegood, an outspoken supporter of Harry, was imprisoned two months ago,” Sirius said, “and we have just heard a few hours ago that Rubeus Hagrid, well-known gamekeeper of Hogwarts, narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a ‘Support Harry Potter’ party in his house. Hagrid is now on the run, and the Order is seeking to find him and aid him.”
“I wish the Order the best of luck in doing so,” Lee said, “And now I turn to another new correspondent, just now joining us, to discuss his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating our quote-en-quote ‘Chief Death Eater’. May I introduce ‘Rapier’.”
“Thanks, River,” said another familiar voice.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione cried out, “Fred!” “No—is it George?” “It’s Fred I think!”
“Rapier,” Lee was saying, “could you please give your take on the various stories we’ve been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?”
“As our listeners must know—unless they’ve taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar—You-Know-Who’s strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice climate of panic.”
“The air of mystery suits him,” Remus said, “it’s creating more panic than actually showing himself.”
“Too right,” Sirius chimed in.
“So people,” Fred said, “let’s try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That’s a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: check whether the thing attacking you has got legs. If it has, it’s safe to look in its eyes. Although if it really is You-Know-Who, then that’s still likely to be the last thing you ever do.”
For the first time in ages, Harry was laughing.
“And a question to any contributor, the rumors that You-Know-Who’s been sighted abroad?” Lee asked.
Sirius answered, “Rumors only, River.”
“Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t,” Fred said, “but the point is that he can move faster than Severus Snape when confronted with shampoo when he wants to—” and in the background Sirius barked with laughter and Remus and Andromeda chuckled—"so don’t count on him being away if you’re planning on taking any risks. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but safety first!”
“Thank you indeed for those wise words, Rapier,” Lee said, “And thank you to our contributors Cressida, Romulus, and Hephaestion for helping us set up this program of Potterwatch in a safe location. The next password will be ‘Cedric’. Keep faith and good night.”
The radio’s dial twirled and then went out. Harry was beaming from ear-to-ear.
“Brilliant,” Ron said.
“Brilliant,” Hermione agreed.
“But did you hear what Fred said?” Harry said excitedly, “Remus and Sirius must not know for certain but I think I do—he’s abroad! I haven’t gotten proper visions of him for ages…”
“Harry—”
“He’s looking for the Wand, I know it! That’s what he’s doing!”
“Harry!”
“Oh, come on, Hermione! Why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—”
“HARRY, NO!”
“—demort’s after the Elder Wand!”
“The Taboo!” Ron cried, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent, and then the Sneakoscope on the table lit up and began to spin and they could hear voices outside, coming nearer and nearer; rough, excited voices. Ron pulled out the Deluminiator and clicked it—the lamps went out.
“Come out, come out,” a rasping, snarling, barking voice came through the darkness outside the tent.
Harry’s very blood became lead. And he barely had time to grab Ron’s wand from his hand and mutter "Expecto Patronum!" and then the message—"Greyback. He’s here!"—before a spell of blinding white light hit him directly in the face.