"HP: Potterlock" AU
'The Case of the Stone'
- Night of Honour (Part II) -
A/N: I don't own squat, save for the plot.
Second half... Finally. The majority of the next chapter is already written, and should be up in a couple of days.
Albus stood in the Headmaster's Office, staring at the shelf that held all the monitoring devices that used to be keyed to Harry… Harold, he thought with a frown. While he had repaired them seven years ago, the blood ward monitor's detonation made it impossible to properly track the lad. His eyes flicked to the softly glowing crystal of the life monitor and scowled.
That little bauble cost him a bag of galleons, and all it could do was glow. It would only go dark if the boy died, but that was all it did. He counted himself lucky in having that much. When the wards fell, the shrapnel from the spinning monitor ripped through the rest of the devices.
While he was able to repair them, they were unable to do anything since they were no longer keyed to the boy. Albus did attempt to link them through the goblin crystal life monitor. However, the act of doing so severely dimmed the stone, and had broken off the attempt. No sense in losing the only device that actually worked after all.
He should have paid more attention to the letter, he thought with a frown. Unfortunately, Fawks had an early burning day, distracting him and had never gotten back to it. "Damn that boy," he muttered.
Turning, he flicked the ward that controlled the shutters on the owlery. It wouldn't do to have tonight's fiasco in the papers. "No. It wouldn't do at all."
"Problems Albus?" a voice said from behind him. The smugness coming from the tone of voice was one that had the old wizard cringing. "Far be it from me to say I told you so, but I definitely told you so." The folding tear that acted as the mouth twisted into a smirk.
Turning, Dumbledore glared at the sorting hat. "Be silent Orin!"
"Temper, temper, Headmaster," the hat chided. "The only one you have to blame about how tonight went, is that daft old wizard you see in the mirror."
Petulantly, Albus flicked a silencio at the hat. There was a moment's pause, while the tip of the hat tilted to the side a bit, incredulous. "Repeating the same action and expecting a different result is a sign of either madness or senility," the hat lectured. "I am the Voice of Hogwarts. You can neither silence, mutilate, banish, vanish, maim, nor burn me – no matter how many children threaten that last one."
Sighing heavily, the old wizard walked around his desk to take a seat. "What would you have me do, Orin? You know the prophecy." His left hand reflexively reached out and snagged a lemon drop.
"Not everyone shares your interpretation," Dippet's painting interjected. Several of the other paintings of former Headmasters nodded with him in agreement. "With that bit out of the lad, your plans are for naught."
"I won't let him go dark," Albus mumbled around the candy. He was responsible for Riddle's descent, and didn't want to make the same mistake again with Potter. The thought of those two joining forces gave him nightmares.
The hat chuckled. "That boy is more neutral than anything else. Ruthless yes, but neutral in his views. And that's all I'll say on the matter."
Slumping in his chair, the old wizard sighed. "That's even worse." With the boy's Lordship, Dumbledore lost his proxy seat for the Potter votes. They were undoubtedly in Lord Holmes hands now, which was a disaster. With them, Albus could maintain the quasi peace between the moderates, traditionalists and progressives. The Potter votes would tip the scales into the progressives' hands, as a lot of the moderates followed them.
Then there was the Black votes. Proxied by the Lady Malfoy due to the Head of the House of Black being in prison, their loss would be good for the moderates. Unfortunately, with the young Head of House Potter bringing Lord Black's situation to light, one didn't have to guess as to where those votes would be going as well.
There were times when he hated politics.
The only thing left for him now, was to become more aggressive in the Wizengamot. That was for tomorrow though. He was more than a touch exhausted from the evening's "festivities". Right now he needed a bath, then the sweet bliss of sleep.
Thankfully missing from the storm of the evening would have been either Severus' or Minerva's nearly patented screaming rants. Of course, as soon as that thought crossed his mind he'd jinxed himself. The door monitor chimed before the oaken door slammed inward.
"Ah, Severus," the Headmaster lamented. At least he could understand this one without mentally diving into the Scottish Burr. "My night is complete," he whispered. Sitting back in his chair, he resigned himself to a scathing earful… all the while pointedly ignoring the chuckles of the sorting hat.
The headquarters of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was abuzz with activity. Director Bones had pulled in the most trusted of her Aurors, and had sent six of them to Azkaban. Getting Lord Black out of that hellhole was the main focus. She didn't know if he was innocent or not, despite what Lord Potter said, but the man didn't deserve to be there without a trial.
No one did.
Finding a note from the joint litigation team of Brighton and Tonks added a bit of paperwork, but shortened her search for Lord Potter's legal counsel. A quick floo call had Theodore Tonks in her office with a stack of forms. The predatory gleam in his eyes was unusual for him, and Amelia called him on it.
"Normally, litigators and solicitors would be rather aggressive in situations like these, but I don't remember a time when I've seen that look on you Ted," she remarked.
Brow raised, he explained his countenance with a simple statement. "You've forgotten to whom I'm married, Director."
It took her two seconds to make the connection. "Ah. Yes, of course," she nodded. "Well, I think Andromeda would have a stake in this."
"I've been getting earfuls almost nightly since being handed the casework a month ago," Ted explained with a touch of lament in his voice. "Might be more involved after Dowager Longbottom catches wind of things, though."
That comment brought her up short. "Alice?"
Nodding, Ted was offhanded with his remark. "Interesting how both godparents of Lord Potter were rendered incapable, don't you think?"
There was a bit of a pause while that thought sank in, which was broken by the green flash of an incoming floo call. Seeing who it was made Amelia conclude that the DMLE stock of pepper up would take a severe hit this evening.
A sharp crack resonated in Hogsmeade, heralding the arrival of one rather tired and pissed off lycanthrope. His repetitious apparition from the southern peninsula to Scotland scaled back his rage to a dull simmering. Had he been thinking more clearly, he would've gone to Cardiff to floo to London, then Hogsmeade. Regardless, wearing himself out like he did enabled him to focus.
By the time he took a room at the Three Broomsticks, he talked himself out of biting Albus. That didn't mean there wouldn't be hexings going on, though. That old wanker left Padfoot to rot, while Wormtail got a posthumous Order of Merlin, for pity's sake. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he was damned if this was going to be left alone. His pack was annihilated and his cub threatened. Someone was going to be a chew toy!
Okay, he was still considering nibbling on the grizzled old bastard. Sighing, he fell back onto the rented bed and attempted sleep as his joints were killing him. Had he known about the coming confrontation in the castle, things would've been even more difficult.
After a solid thirty minutes of verbal abuse towards his boss, to which there was hardly a response, Severus flooed to the family manor from his access in his own quarters. His aggravation had been temporarily sated from the scathing words that caused most of the paintings to vacate their frames, but he was far from happy.
Honestly, he was rather thankful and proud of himself that he hadn't pulled his wand on the senile old man. Dumbledore might be old, but his wand hand was still surprisingly fast.
Coming into the main sitting room, his deep navy blue robes flowing behind his rapid gate, his earlier estimates over the control of his emotions fell rapidly. Mycroft was sitting with Sherlock over a glass of bourbon. That part wasn't what had his hackles up, though. What did, was when his little brother saw him; stood; then smirked that insufferable 'I know more than you' look of his.
The next thing Sherlock knew, he was spun flat on his back and rubbing his chin with his left hand. It was fortuitous that he'd set down his drink, because none of it was wasted. Blinking rapidly, he looked up at his brother and nodded. "That was a good one, Sven."
"Ten Years!" Severus roared, half bent over to glare at him. "Ten years of not knowing what happened, and seven of which you told me nothing! Did you honestly think I didn't want to know what happened to Lily's and James' child?"
Frowning even though it was hilarious, Mycroft clunked his tumbler on the side table rather loudly. "Sit down Severus," he ordered.
"Fuck you, Mycroft. You can go straight to Hell with Nick in your boot," Severus seethed.
Sitting up, Sherlock commented on the byplay. "And there's the Spinners' Accent we tried so hard to eradicate from you." The rather rapid wand tip between his eyes silenced his follow-up barb, which included his brother's propensity for cheap scotch.
"Oh, do put that away and let Sherlock have his chair back," Mycroft scolded as he summoned another glass. Facing Severus' harsh glare himself caused Mycroft to look down his nose at him, before he wandlessly shoved their irate brother onto the settee.
Only after he put his wand away, and had one and a half glasses of rather smooth bourbon that slid down effortlessly, did Severus finally ask the question. "I want you two to explain yourselves thoroughly, or I'll have myself arrested for turning the both of you inside out."
Sherlock's inelegant snort didn't alleviate the situation. Mycroft gave him a chastising look before turning to their brother. "And I want you to calm down and think rationally for a moment. At the time, none of us had a claim on Harold's Guardianship."
"You think I wouldn't have been able to keep a secret?" Severus asked rather loudly, incredulous over either of them thinking such a thing.
"While I have no doubt that you can keep a closed mouth on certain things," Sherlock said in a low voice, "what do you think you would have done, had you known the state of Harold's treatment by the remainders of the Evans family?"
Pausing at that, Severus rubbed his hand through his short hair and reviewed the list of curses he would have liked to have used on that horse-faced bitch… then there was Albus. "You may have a point," he drawled.
"The likelihood that you would have done nothing is far too remote to have even considered including you in the deception," Mycroft said gently. "As it is, at most we'll get a fine for not filing the proper paperwork, as well as having to deal with the MCS."
"Magical Child Services?" Severus asked. Getting two nods, he rolled his eyes. "They are probably tripping over themselves, trying to outmanoeuvre each other into who doesn't have to make the interviews."
"Now that Harold has claimed his inheritance, he can live wherever he damn well pleases," Sherlock said with a grin. "How's that anger coming?"
"Simmering," Severus hissed.
Mycroft nodded. "Point it at Dumbledore. If he's lucky, he'll either still be headmaster by this time tomorrow or will have been quietly retired."
Brow up, Severus was honestly curious. "And if not?"
"Then he'll be spending his retirement with the Dementors for Medi-Witches," Sherlock said with a predatory look.
"Hopefully in Sirius' old cell," Mycroft commented with a grin.
Sherlock nodded. "Excellent point."
Lucius had gone home to discover that his wife had heard everything on the wireless. Apparently, she had a floo call from her ostracised sister, alerting her to it. He would have been surprised by their even talking to each other, but the night had enough alarming things happen that it slid off him.
Later, as they were retiring for the evening, he noticed his wife fumbling with the buttons on her nightdress. "How are the joints?" he asked softly as he helped her with it.
"Sore as normal," she said with a touch of resignation.
"You made sure that there's enough of a batch for tomorrow, yes?" he asked for what had to be the hundredth time. It had been so long, that this was as much a ritual as anything else these days.
Narcissa nodded. "Yes dear, and I promise that I haven't played with the recipe, no matter how much a newer version is needed."
"I'd rather go with what works," Lucius said as he helped her into the bed.
She smiled sadly and palmed his face. Their kiss was gentle before he went to the other side of the bed. After they were both settled, she tried very hard to not think about the next evening.
She so hated the full moon.
Led into the Gryffindor Common Room, (they had met Filius on his way to his quarters) the two Heads of House were alarmed at the bedlam they discovered. There was a full on Weasley Row between four of the redheads, at a volume that would do their mother proud. Interestingly enough, the twins didn't do their usual bouncing style of speech. They were too busy speaking at once the entire time instead.
And, it had started rather quiet too. That is, until Ron's temper exploded. Percy had been playing it rather cool until then. That was the point when the rest of the house was roused by four young men screaming at each other. None of them had thought of silencing the stairwells.
For their part, the twins were biding their time until McGonagall arrived. Insults flew from their lips from Ron's eating habits and greed, to Percy's backside's status as a wand holster. For everyone that was watching them, this was the first time they'd ever seen the twins truly pissed off.
Percy was shouting out detentions when their head of house arrived – which is when the wands came out.
George shouted, "Accio Scabbers!"
While the rat was in the air, it was hit by Fred's "Stupify."
George finished his part by deftly catching the rat like an errant snitch in his left hand, then summarily stunned his rushing and enraged younger brother, while Fred ensconced Percy with ropes and hit him with a "silencio."
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" McGonagall shouted at the top of her lungs.
Surprisingly, neither twin flinched. Looking at their Head of House, they restarted their back and forth form of speech.
"Do you remember-"
"-how you gave us detention-"
"-for us calling you 'Miss Kitty'?"
Scowling at them, Minerva nodded stiffly.
"May we introduce-"
"-your most feline self-"
"-to 'Mr. Rat'," they intoned together while George held up said mammal.
"Do you know-"
"-of a way to reverse-"
"-an Animagus?" they ended together.
Blinking, Minerva's eyes widened. "Put it on the floor and step back." After they did so, she incanted a detection spell that caused the rat to glow. Outraged, she nearly hissed out the animagus reversal. The body they were left with caused both Heads of House to swear; one in Gaelic, the other in Goblin. Filius was quicker than Minerva, and restunned the newly revealed Peter Pettigrew, then petrified and incarcerated him with ropes.
The mutterings from either stairwell caused Minerva to glare left and right. "Everyone back to bed!" Seeing the twins move, she added a bit kinder. "No, Messrs Weasley. You two remain here."
Leaving Ron stunned and Percy bound, McGonagall retrieved a small pouch of floo powder from her robes. Dusting the small fire in the hearth, she called out, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Director's Office!"
Blinking at Minerva McGonagall's face in the floo, Amelia was a touch in shock. "I'm sorry, Minerva, could you repeat that?"
Calming herself, Minerva tried to reign in her brogue. "As I said, Hogwarts requires a team of investigators. The Messrs Weasley, the matching pair that is, apprehended Peter Pettigrew."
Amelia looked at Ted, who was just as flabbergasted, before turning back to the floo. "Forgive me. That was what I thought you said. I'll have my two best Aurors accompany me. We should be there in half an hour."
"Be sure to bring shackles that inhibit an animagus transformation," Minerva interjected before ending the call. "It would appear that Mr. Pettigrew is an Unregistered 'Rat' Animagus."
"How appropriate," Ted deadpanned.
A/N2: Point of note, September 2nd of 2001 was a full moon. I'm rather surprised that it fit in with the story so well. And yes, you should be concerned about Remus.