Chapter 17- Negotiations

Rewinding the clock: July 20th, 1991, Dumbledore's Office.

The quill was never wrong; it always knew exactly where to send the letters. Nothing could block its magic. And it said that the long lost Harry Potter was in the Clock Tower. The Clock Tower. The Clock Tower. Harry was at the Mage's Association's Clock Tower. This was not just bad, this was disastrous. How on earth had he ended up there and what in the world could be done about it? Dumbledore paced around his office like a caged lion ignoring all else, even the quill that continued to write out the addresses of Hogwarts' next crop of students.

As he paced and worried, he thought, and thought hard. Dumbledore had heard the stories, of course, of how the magi were amoral monsters akin to the mad scientists that muggles were so fond of in their entertainment. That the magi would do anything to advance their craft, no matter how immoral. It seemed they would go so far as to ignore the longstanding non-intervention treaties that stood between their peoples and kept all but a few ignorant of the other group of magic users. This was the worst possible case for young Harry's general wellbeing; one he had feared might come to pass. At least he was alive- the quill only wrote the names of the living- but that didn't necessarily mean anything. For all he knew, Harry was nothing more than a lab rat, research materials for the magi's abhorrent practices.

Well, there was nothing else for it. Dumbledore had to go into the belly of the beast and confront the Mage's Association about their breaching the treaty and anything else he could throw at them to ensure Harry's safety. While his political power may have been significantly less than it had been a decade ago, Dumbledore had more than enough favors he could call upon. It may not make up for having lost track of young Harry in the first place, but perhaps he might begin making amends for that particular mistake.

Dumbledore sighed, sat down in his chair, and pulled out a pipe. As much as he wanted to charge in immediately, rash actions would help no one. Harry had survived this long in that hellish place; he'd just have to last a few days more while he prepared for the coming confrontation. Pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment and a pen, Dumbledore began to write the first of many letters.

July 25th, 1991, The Clock Tower.

This… this was not what Dumbledore had expected. His overactive mind had conjured a myriad of nightmare scenarios each more horrific than the last, and yet the truth was stranger than them all. Harry was bustling about a large and well-lit lab on the other side of a pane of glass humming. He didn't just look well, he looked happy. Dumbledore watched fascinated as he worked with an alembic creating a brilliant ruby-red solution. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Harry was performing alchemy.

Turning away from the window, Dumbledore returned his attention to the room's other occupant. She had an unassuming appearance with her white jacket and brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, seeming to be a fairly average English woman in her late 20s. However her eyes, being a deep crimson and burning with intensity few could match, shattered that illusion. This was Lorelei Barthomeloi, Queen of the Clock Tower, a veritable force of nature, and apparently Harry's master. How such a thing had come to pass, he did not know, but Harry was alive and well. She glanced up from her work at Dumbledore bemused, seemingly reading his thoughts.

"So, wizard, you have seen my apprentice and he is well. Is that all you came for?"

"No, it is not. While ensuring Harry wellbeing was part of my mission here today, I also came to give him this," Dumbledore replied taking out a letter and handing it to her.

Lorelei read the letter, and looked up sharply when she had finished. "You wish for him to attend your school?"

"Indeed. It is not only his heritage but also the wish of his parents that…"

"Out of the question."

Dumbledore gaped at her. Lorelei returned the letter. When it was clear that he had no response to her sudden proclamation, she elaborated: "This too is part of his heritage. He would never have had such potential if his family did not practice magecraft or make an effort to maintain their abilities. Besides, do you have any idea how far behind in his studies he will fall if he attends your school? No, he will remain here."

"That may be, but he needs to attend. He cannot remain ignorant of his birthright, unable to use the magic of his ancestors. Think of the friends he will make, the knowledge he will learn, the…" Lorelei's face was blank. This wasn't working. "He will never reach his full potential if he doesn't attend Hogwarts." Her expression shifted slightly. "Take a moment and imagine what it would be like if you had never been taught magecraft. If you knew you had the ability to use it, to gain the power to shape the world around you with but a thought, but it remained locked away forever out of your reach. To feel the frustration of knowing you had the ability, but lacking the means. If Harry does not attend he will never meet more than half his potential. Every good teacher wants the very best for their students; I can tell you are a great teacher."

Lorelei leaned back, contemplative, before refocusing on Dumbledore with an intensity that made his instincts scream. It felt like he sat before a titanic predator; that if he made a single misstep he would be slaughtered in an instant. "Why Hogwarts?"

"Because Harry is English and my school is the best." The sensation of imminent death doubled, but Dumbledore could see a way out- a light at the end of the tunnel. "I have spent the last five years exhaustively rebuilding the curriculum to the exclusion of all else. I can guarantee that my school is the best in Europe by a wide margin and quite possibly is the best in the world. Only Ilvermorny in America or Mahoutokoro in Japan can compete and they are both very far from here. I fully understand your concerns about Harry falling behind in his studies of magecraft and that learning two entirely different schools of magic simultaneously will be difficult, but I am certain he's up to the task. You will choose a tutor for him from among those in this organization to ensure he maintains his studies in magecraft. I am willing to let his tutor teach a class on the subject of magecraft to those students he or she deem to have the potential to use it. Our communities have been at each other's throats for far too long and I'm willing to do what I can to foster good will between them."

"Oh? And what can you do headmaster?"

"Besides the obvious of raising the next generation, I have here," Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a scroll, "the full backing of my government to negotiate on their behalf."

Lorelei's grin was unsettling and her teeth far too sharp for comfort. Although the feeling of imminent doom abated Dumbledore still felt like he was a morsel of meat floating before a hungry shark. "Very well then Dum-ble-dore," she practically purred, clearly enunciating each syllable of his name, "let's negotiate."

Sirius Black was sitting in Dumbledore's office waiting for news when said wizard returned later that evening. His normally immaculate robes were rumpled and his hair was in disarray, sticking out at odd angles easily proving his façade of calm to be a lie. He started when Dumbledore entered, searching with almost frantic movements for a sight of his godson, Harry. Alas, it was not to be and when Sirius realized this he turned questing gaze upon the old headmaster.

Upon realizing that Dumbledore was not going to speak immediately, as the old man slowly made his way to an armchair, Sirius abruptly stood and began speaking. Questions poured forth one after another without pause almost as if a dam had burst: "Harry, how is he? Where is he? Is he ok? What is he like? Does he remember me? Are you ok? What happened? Why isn't he here? What went wrong? How'd it go wrong? Why'd it go wrong? What are they like? What's going on?" And on, and on, and on.

After a few moments Sirius had to finally stop for air which enabled Dumbledore to finally get a word in. "Harry is not here at the moment. Things were not as I had feared."

Sirius collapsed back into his chair, thoughts in disarray. He was the very image of a man who had been lost in a desert dying of thirst and when he finally found a person laden with water, they gave him a jar of peanut butter, wished him luck, and left. Dumbledore most certainly did not laugh at the absolute image of utter confusion that was before him. No, he spoke calmly and kindly like he always did and please ignore what Sirius has to say on the matter thank-you-very-much!

"The reason Harry is at the Clock Tower is because he is apprenticed to their vice director. The reason he is not here now is because she did not want to give up her apprentice and it took much negotiating to have her agree to have him study here. He is doing well. He is happy. He has a loving family, or so I've been told."

"Harry has a family?" Sirius was starting to perk up a bit, as if he was a dehydrated plant that had just been watered.

"Indeed. He's being raised by a pair of sisters who are held in high regard among the magi. They gave him their name last name which is why he's now a Brunestud. Apparently, that was against the rules some ancestor or other set down, but they didn't care."

"Did you meet them, or Harry?"

"No, I met neither of them. Harry was busy with a time-sensitive experiment and the closest I got was the other side of a window. His guardians are apparently pretty reclusive and weren't in the country."

"Well, what do you know about them?"

"Not much. In fact, the vice director seemed to be amused about that for some reason but wouldn't elaborate about why. Maybe I'll find something about that family if I look through the archives again, but our communities have been separate for so very long that little more than a few scattered legends or tales to scare children into behaving remain."

Sirius ran his hand through his hair with a sigh in a vain attempt to return some order to the mess. "Well, I suppose that's a dead end then. Anything we could possibly find in the archives would be more than a thousand years out of date and of no use to us today. Whatever that family may have been famous for back then that we could possibly scrounge up cannot possibly apply today. Back in the day my family was renowned for our astrology-powered ritual work done in the dead of night- hence the name 'Black'. Nowadays all we have to remember those times are our silly naming conventions."

Sirius shook his head and refocused on Dumbledore, his gaze sharp and clear. No hint of the muddy confusion that had obscured his gaze during his recovery from that dreadful prison remained. He really had come a long way these past few years and grown into a fine man, a fine leader, and a finer wizard. Dumbledore met Sirius' gaze and realized that he had been asked a question.

"I'm sorry Sirius, what did you ask? You must forgive this old man for being lost in reminiscence for a time."

A brief smile flashed across Sirius' face. "Well old man, since it appears Harry is fine even if we know little about him or what he's been up to, I asked if you had managed to secure his attendance here at Hogwarts."

"Ah, I did indeed though it took some doing. Vice director Lorelei was loath to part with her apprentice."

"So you needed to use the writ I prepared for you after all."

"Indeed. And were it for any other person than our prodigal Harry I would have tossed their demands back at them and left. Obviously the vice director was aware of that and pushed hard during the negotiations," Dumbledore finished with a grimace.

"So, what's the damage?"

"Part of it I was able to deal with using my own authority as headmaster. The rest may be somewhat difficult for the Wizengamot to swallow. The Mage's Association wishes to open a dialog with our government in an attempt to normalize relations with us for the first time in who knows how many centuries."

"Well that's not too bad. The old fogies that were raised on tales of the depravities of the magi may not want to, but it shouldn't be too hard."

"That's not all. They also want trade. Specifically, they want access to magical beasts, ingredients, and components for research purposes. The vice director said, and I quote, 'they may be the lesser cousins of the phantasmal beasts that once roamed the lands, but having access to them could set forward research in some departments by decades.' They are willing to pay 5% above market price for a steady supply of materials."

"That's actually pretty good. It will be more palatable to the government if we can raise the rate they have offered a bit more, but there are several families that would jump at the chance to expand their businesses."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied serenely setting two sealed envelopes before Sirius. "In fact we can sidestep the whole magus issue here by… playing a prank on the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Oh," Sirius leaned forward. "What kind of prank?"

"Well, there is no need for them to be aware of the fact that these new proposals come from the magi. We can simply say they come from a reclusive sect of magic users and when the truth does eventually come out these agreements will have been in place for a while and some level of trust will have developed. Besides, we're not actually lying to them, just omitting a few minor details."

"Ahahahaha! Oh, that's too good! Dumbledore, we must do this. I've always wanted to prank the entire country but could never figure out how!"

"However, I am afraid their last request, which Lorelei claimed was non-negotiable, will be… difficult to accept. They want more research materials." Dumbledore's previous jovial tone was absent, alarming Sirius.

"Well that's not too bad…" He said hesitantly.

"Human research materials. Those stories about them are not entirely false and they want wizards to research for some reason."

"Oh dear. That… will be a problem. Let me think for a moment."

Sirius rose and began to pace around the office muttering to himself. After a few minutes he turned to Dumbledore: "And you are certain that if we don't do this, we won't get Harry back."

"Unfortunately. If there was any way to avoid this, I would have taken it."

He continued pacing for a time before turning back to the old headmaster. "They didn't set any limits about number or type of… materials… did they?"

"No."

Sirius stood in place and muttered under his breath. Dumbledore caught a few words: "then" "perhaps" "maybe" "possibly".

"Well," Sirius began hesitantly, "what if we gave them our condemned?"

"What?"

"I mean, as bad as it is, it can't possibly be worse than a life term in Azkaban or being Kissed. What if, after being certain of the criminal's guilt and the severity of their crimes, instead of sentencing them to Azkaban we send them to the Mage's Association? I've been meaning to find a method to do away with the use of dementors, bloody awful creatures that they are, and perhaps we could… make the best of this opportunity no matter how distasteful it may be."

Dumbledore grimaced. "I… do not like the thought of that. They are still living breathing humans, and to subject them to the magi?"

"But what choice do we have? We must give them something. Why not those who have proven themselves a clear and present danger to the community and have rejected any and all chances to change for the better? It will require a lot of reforms to be passed, but I've been meaning to do so for some time now. We must be absolutely certain of their guilt and their inability to be reformed and it will take some doing to pass the measures necessary to do so, especially if we want to keep them ignorant of the fact that we are dealing with magi, but it can be done."

"But still…"

"I'm well aware of your opinions Dumbledore. I don't entirely agree with them, there are those who are willfully evil and will never change their ways. Those people are the ones we would be subjecting to this agreement."

"But how can we know they will never change? There are powerful forces that can change even the most hardened of hearts to good."

"That may be, but we cannot give them infinite chances. Justice must be served. If we do not take a hard stance on the worst among us, they will simply take advantage of our naivety; they will abuse our trust and compassion and continue to perpetuate their crimes."

"Justice must be served, yes, but who is it to say that we have the right to decide what is just and enforce a decision that would result in something as permanent as death- or perhaps worse in this case? Blind justice without mercy and compassion is far too close to tyranny for my liking."

"You must remember the current system is pretty ruthless as it is and needs to be fixed. I agree with you that our punishments should be softened and a level of mercy brought into the justice system, but as I said there must be limits. What if Grindewald had been released following a stern talking to after your duel? He would have gone right back to raising his army and conquering Europe. I'm sure he had plenty of chances to turn away from his evil path, but he chose to remain upon it and therefore had to be dealt with permanently. The fact that he still lives, if imprisoned and stripped of magic, is compassion enough."

"But they are not Grindewald," Dumbledore began weakly, eyes downcast.

"No, they are not. But for those who willfully follow his path and refuse to turn to that which is right and good, we have no choice but to deal with them permanently." Seeing Dumbledore's despondent expression, Sirius sighed and relented. "We will give them one more chance. If they waste it, then we deal with them in a permanent manner. If that means that we must turn them over to the magi, then so be it."

"This second chance," Dumbledore said slowly, looking up. "How will we give it to them? And how will we ensure that none of our convictions are false as they were in your case?"

Sirius sat for several minutes thinking hard. Eventually he responded: "We must make sure that the trials are as complete and fair as can be. That there is no chance the misdeeds of another are pinned upon the defendant. We must find the truth, the whole truth, by any means necessary. Whether that is by using veritaserum and a pensive or by some other magical method, we must be sure that those accused of the worst crimes are in fact those who committed them."

Standing up and beginning to pace, a frown on his face, Sirius continued. "As for the second chances, we leave those found guilty in prison for a time, a year or two perhaps, to ruminate on their actions. Then we have a hearing to see if they have had a change of heart, if they are remorseful about their actions. If they are, they will have still committed a terrible crime and deserve time in prison, but their sentence could be reduced or perhaps they could be released on probation to do community service and carefully watched to make sure they have indeed repented of their evil ways and it isn't simply a trick. Is that enough to satisfy you?"

Dumbledore pulled out his pipe with a sigh, feeling the creaking of his old joints as he sat back in his chair acutely feeling his great age. "Very well, if you feel this is what must be done I'll follow your leadership," he intoned solemnly. Opening a hidden (and magically expanded) compartment in his desk, Dumbledore pulled out a pair of glasses and poured them both a stout drink.

"For Harry," they both said, gravely downing the much needed shot of liquid courage. There was no humor to be found in the room at that time. Not even Fawkes' song could lift the somber mood.

The days passed quickly and before he knew it, it was the start of a new term. In what seemed a mere blink of an eye summer with its whirlwind of negotiations and preparation was over and the old wizard was sitting at the center of the staff table watching the new first year students troop in. The Hat sang its customary song, and then the fun began.

There was, as always, a teacher betting pool about which student would end up in which house or how many students would end in each house of each gender. The teacher who had the most correct predictions would gain a favor from each of the other teachers- generally used to pawn off a few late-night patrols to someone else so they could take a quiet evening for themselves. He remembered how ecstatic Severus had been two years ago when he had been the one to win (not that he would admit to it, of course) giving him more time to work on research.

It started normally enough with no real surprises, and then it was Harry's turn. Dumbledore had pegged him as a Ravenclaw, with the possibility of being a Slytherin (depending on how badly the magi he stayed with affected him). Because of this he was, like everyone else, surprised when Harry was announced as a Hufflepuff after a rather long time under the hat. Surprising or not, it was a good sign. It appeared his impression that Harry had done well for himself was correct if he joined the house of hard work, loyalty, and (though little known outside of the house) family.

Once all the students were sorted, he stood up saying a few meaningless words to confuse the thinkers and conspiracy theorists in his audience, and sat down to eat. The conversation centered on the results of the little competition and how they thought the new students might do that year. Soon enough the feast was over and he gave a short speech including a warning about Fluffy, fully knowing that the most curious and adventurous among the students would work hard to figure out what the danger was. It would (hopefully) keep them out of trouble for a few weeks and none would end up injured- the Cerberus might look dangerous but had been trained not to hurt a child. Then it was back to his room with a bottle of firewhiskey and a night to relax before the hectic year began.

1 Week Later

Dumbledore stood in his office looking out the window as the sun began to set. As always it had been a tumultuous first week of the year, though fortunately one without any major incidents. There were, as usual, a few pranks played on naïve first years, but nothing ever came of them. There was a knock on his door.

"Come in."

Sirius Black entered wearing formal robes. He had just come from a rather taxing session about managing the British Isles' grindylow population and whether to completely eradicate them from a few lakes down south so that they could be used for swimming. There were, as happens with these things, arguments for and against doing so which felt rather inane and weren't being argued out of the goodness of anyone's hearts but because of various interests people had in exploiting the situation. Eventually, after days of squabbling which delayed a rather more important trade bill, the problem was resolved to most people's satisfaction. Sirius sat heavily in a chair.

"The Wizengamot is being its usual bothersome self I see."

"You'd think it would be easy to come to some sort of compromise and just move on, but when both of the major political blocs are dead set on getting their way…"

"The joys of politics. So how can I help you this fine afternoon?"

"I wanted to ask about Harry and whether it would be possible to meet him soon."

"Ah, Harry. I've heard quite a lot about him this week; the professors are quite impressed by his talents. I suspect his previous training has a lot to do with that along with his admirable work ethic."

"How long do you think it will be before I can meet my godson?"

"Give it a couple of weeks. He's just started settling in and while accepting of his peers may not be particularly trusting of his teachers."

"Why not?"

"Well, this is just speculation on my part, but most of the adults he knows are probably magi and a healthy dose of suspicion around them is probably a good thing. I don't know if he does hold that view or if it has transferred over to the teachers here, but it's best to be cautious. Having me call him to my office out of the blue is likely to start the meeting on the wrong foot."

"So, when would be a good time for me to meet the young pup?"

"How about the end of the month? Do be careful, however," Dumbledore said sternly, "not to come on too strongly or in any way insinuate something bad about his family. Harry is, by all reports, very loyal to them even if we know next to nothing other than their last name."

"So you had no luck looking them up?"

"Unfortunately no. There was little to be found in the records about magi, barring several accounts blaming them for starting the medieval witch hunts and causing the Great Fire. I did find some… unsettling accounts in unexpected places however. Tell me, do you know the Tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"Know it? I grew up with it! We all did. What was it Lily used to call it again…? Ah yes, the Wizard's Brothers' Grim. What of it?"

"Well, most myths and legends, no matter how fanciful, have a kernel of truth within them. While the tales of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table have been greatly embellished over the years, he did exist and was a mighty king who wielded a magic sword gifted by the fae. As for Beedle, well I have evidence that the Tale of Three Brothers is not entirely fanciful- the parts with death almost certainly are- but the story itself is grounded in the truth. And if that story is correct, then what about the others?"

"No, wait, go back. What do you mean evidence?"

Dumbledore sighed, walked over to the cupboard in the back of his room next to the shelf filled with all manner of odd silver instruments, opened it up, and pulled out a silvery cloth with a flourish.

"Wait. That was James' cloak! Why do you have it?" Sirius' expression was hard and cold.

Returning to his desk with another sigh, Dumbledore spoke. "It is to my eternal sorrow that the Potters did not have this cloak that night. If they had, then perhaps they might have survived the attack. Alas, in my foolish confidence in their safety I decided it was a good time to study James' cloak and attempt to unravel its secrets. If I were able to do so it could have given us a major advantage against the death eaters. But it was not to be," Dumbledore pulled out his pipe and took a long draw. The smoke he exhaled smelled of lemons and sunshine. "What I did eventually discover is that this cloak is much more than a mere invisibility cloak. It is the invisibility cloak. The first one. The prototype. The cloak which all future cloaks were based upon. Its enchantments have only grown more complex and powerful over the ages; I suspect the fae may have had a hand in its creation as well. But its magics are far too complex and subtle to ever attempt to unweave so another can be constructed, though I can manage a passable imitation given enough time and effort. Whatever the case may be, this is the cloak from that story. And if that is the case…"

"Then what about the rest of them," Sirius finished for him.

"Indeed. One story in particular caught my attention: The Crimson Moon's Downfall."

"Oh I remember that one," Sirius shuddered. "It was my mothers' favorite. She began reading it to us at bedtime when I was five- I had nightmares for years."

Dumbledore took another long draw on his pipe to quell the rage that had flared within him. Damn that monster of a woman and all in her family that supported her! It was a miracle that Sirius turned out as well as he had. Still, as bad as mentally scarring young children with terrifying (and potentially true) fairy tales was, it was nothing to how bad she (and in some ways his own mother) could be if Sirius' accounts were true. Taking a second draw from his pipe, he quashed his anger and returned his focus to Sirius.

"Sorry," he said, "that unexpectedly brought back some unpleasant memories of the woman, a thoroughly unpleasant individual and one who entirely missed the point of the story if it was her favorite."

Sirius snorted. "I'm pretty sure she was rooting for the evil guy to win every time she read it. She went as far as to change the ending so I didn't find out that he ended up losing due to his own hubris until years later."

"An evil woman, through and through."

"And quite possibly an insane one as well," Sirius interjected with a grin that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Anyway, the reason I brought it up was, do you remember that business with Eclipse back near the end of the war?"

"Eclipse… Hmmmm… Vaguely. That was that serial killer that went after His Moldiness' supporters right?"

"Yes. Rereading the Tales, that one in particular, brought the account of those attacks back to my mind. They are eerily similar."

"You… you don't think that the monster in the story is still alive do you?" Sirius asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"No, Downfall was written close to a thousand years ago," Dumbledore reassured him with a confidence he didn't really feel. "But something tells me that it is connected in some way. Call it intuition. Anyway, with two of the stories being true, or partially true, makes me think that the rest probably are too. Several of them are distinctly not things that exist within the wizarding world such as the Dragon King's Horde. We may be able to glean some details about the moonlit world from them."

"But nothing specifically about his adoptive family."

"There are some things to be found about the Barthomeloi family in the archive, it seems even long ago they were quite prominent. There is also an epic poem in the collection about a family of renowned alchemists…"

"Heaven's Folly was the name of that particular story, wasn't it?" Sirius interjected.

"Indeed. It seems that family still exists today, although much diminished from the way they were depicted at the start of the epic, apparently they live somewhere in Germany. It's quite possible that the Brunestud family emerged after the stories were written or were simply not important enough to appear in these ancient works."

"Ah well, it was worth a shot. Anyway there's a bottle of wine with my name on it waiting for me at home, so I really should get going."

"Very well, I hope you enjoy a quiet evening. I'll see you at the end of the month."

Saturday September 28, 1991

Sirius Black fidgeted in his chair anxiously awaiting the upcoming reunion with his godson. The meeting was taking place in Dumbledore's office, but the man intended to do no more (barring introductions) than simply sit back at his desk and puff on his pipe. If necessary he could intervene, but it was best, he thought, to let them sort it out on their own. Soon there was a knock on the door and Harry entered with Pomona Sprout- a fine witch who got along with just about everyone and was beloved by her house.

Sirius turned towards the newcomers, stood up, and hesitated. There was a stiffness in his movements that betrayed the storm within his mind. There was a hurt there too- Harry was looking upon him with suspicion. Dumbledore doubted that Harry had caught it, or even Pomona, but he had worked closely with Sirius for many years now and was quite adept at reading him.

After a brief pause, just long enough to be awkward, he moved forward carefully controlling himself. Extending a hand to Harry, they shook, but before he could speak up, Harry did so.

"I hear you have been looking to meet me Warlock Black. For what reason?"

"I'm not here in that capacity today, after all why should I not wish to meet my own godson?" He responded. Surprise flashed across Harry's face. "Do come in and sit down, our discussion may take some time."

"I'll stand, thanks," Harry replied.

"Suit yourself," said Sirius with a shrug sitting in a chair, seeming nonchalant but inwardly was anything but. "Now, where to begin…"

Silence reclaimed the room, and began to stretch out uncomfortably.

"Perhaps at the beginning. I always find that a fine place to start," Dumbledore said, breaking through his musings.

"Very well. I first met your father, James, on my first day of school- on the train. We were inseparable," he paused, studying Harry's face as if searching for clues. "You look very much like he did at your age, black hair that refuses to maintain any sense of order and all," Harry fidgeted, obviously somewhat uncomfortable. Pomona put a hand on his shoulder and he calmed. "You have your father's face," Sirius continued. "Your father's face but your mother's eyes. And perhaps her cheekbones and nose as well. I wish they were still among us every day, but one cannot go back and change such things." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I don't suppose you'd care for me to tell you about them…" There was no answer.

"Very well, how about you tell me of yourself?"

"Such as?" Harry's response was clipped and guarded.

"Well, we know you were raised by magi but basically nothing beyond that. We've been unable to find any trace of your family in our archives," there was a flash of something on Harry's face. Dumbledore couldn't quite tell what it was or why. Surprise that they looked? Hostility because they looked? Surprise that they found nothing? Anger that they found nothing? Sirius continued, either not noticing or not caring about it: "But that's really no surprise, our records regarding magi are a mess best labeled as 'a few random myths and legends'. Could you tell me about them?"

Stony silence met his question, Harry's face carefully blank. 'What had his childhood been like to result in this?' Dumbledore wondered.

"Okay then… what about your master, Lorelei Barthomeloi?"

Again, no answer.

"This is getting nowhere," Sirius muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Dumbledore to hear.

The silence quickly passed the point of awkward and was reaching the point of painful when Pomona Sprout broke it: "Sirius, if I recall you were quite a troublemaker back in the day."

Sirius snorted, "Now that's an understatement. We, me and my friends, were the troublemakers back in the day. Called ourselves the marauders and got into all sorts of trouble, some of which we later regretted. I hear that you've a pair of copy cats in school right now, ones aiming to uphold our legacy. Why?"

"Well, Harry here had a run in with them a few weeks ago… and things have begun escalating."

"Really? I wonder what brought that on?" Sirius' full attention was back in the here and now.

"We couldn't just let their atrocious behavior go, they must pay for their sins!" Harry finally spoke up, passion coloring his words. "Besides, there's only room for one Prank Master in this castle!"

"Ooh, a wannabe prankster are you?" Sirius was grinning now.

"There's no 'wannabe' about it! I've just got to figure out how to show those plebeians their place." He responded, his voice hot with indignation.

"So, what did they do that warrants a total war response?"

"They sent us there. That Room. It haunts my dreams at night. They will pay!"

"Oh? You can't mean That Room can you?" Sirius said with an exaggerated shiver.

"Indeed. That Room is an abomination that deserves to burn."

"I totally agree. Why Peter created it, I'll never know. Then again, even back then he was the pettiest among us. When he completed that monstrosity, we vowed to never use it even against our worst enemies. However, as they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions and all the good intentions in the world didn't stop the entirety of the Slytherin house from visiting it at least once. In fact," he leaned in conspiratorially and began to whisper, "I think the real reason most clothes worn are so drab and dark is because so many carry the scars of that experience upon their souls."

Harry laughed, and Sirius sat back with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Tell me," Harry said a minute later, "do you remember how that room was created?"

"Remember? I helped put it together! We all did. Just because it was the rat's idea doesn't mean he did it all alone. But you know, reusing a prank is a major violation to the Code. You have to… change it up else it become stale. For starters pink," they both gave an overdramatic shudder at the cursed word, "is so last decade. How do you feel about lime green and phlox?"

"Phlox?"

"Also called psychedelic purple, a very bright purple color."

"Tell me more."

The matching grins they wore were… disturbing.

Sirius and Harry had left after making their plans and decided to meet again after a few weeks. While the meeting had begun rather badly, thanks to Pomona (the lovely woman) they had managed to find some common ground in the end. Sirius had bemoaned not learning anything much about the kid, but was pleased he had managed to make a connection. Besides, a new and interesting room to add to the castle and its impressive legend was always a plus in Dumbledore's opinion.

Now however, it was time to get back to work. He was aware, from his numerous instruments and safeguards in the form of odd-looking silver instruments and knick-knacks, that Voldemort- Tom- had been gaining strength and was active once more. While Dumbledore did not know exactly how Tom had managed to cheat death (there were a number of possibilities he still had to investigate), he had been aware the entire time that he had not been fully vanquished. It was a reprieve, a welcome one, but not a permanent one. And now the disembodied spirit of his old foe- or whatever he was at the moment- was in the area, all according to plan.

While he would have preferred to avoid any potential risk to his students, this was the way it had to be done in order to avoid any possible panic and quietly finish off old Tom. Besides, it was too late to have second thoughts now. The trap was set, baited with his good friend's stone, all he had to do was give it some proper teeth. Much like one of those clever Chinese finger traps the easy part would be reaching the prize, however escaping with it would be nigh on impossible. Trapped and powerless with no way to escape he would finally be rid of the shadow of his second greatest failure and could enjoy his twilight years in peace.

Pulling out several rolls of parchment covered in complex arithmantic calculations, the ancient wizard got to work.

-End Chapter 17-

Author's Note:

Funnily, the most likely place to find information about the Brunestuds would be in the Black library, but Sirius didn't even think to look there (he's also far too busy to spend a lot of time trawling through old dark and potentially cursed books). A lot of information from the time of joint magical communities was intentionally forgotten or destroyed such that only a few of the older families have any real records at all.

Also this chapter has completely thrown off my plans for book 3. I was going to have a Prisoner-Of-Azkaban type situation (except they were actually evil a.k.a the Lestranges), but that will not happen since they will all be turned into research materials…. Damn magi and their unending greed! Lorelei didn't actually expect that demand to make it through- she had simply been pushing to see how much she could attain and received more than she had anticipated. I do have some interesting ideas for when I get that far in the story (someday I hope), so it's really no big loss.

Lastly, I did mean to release this chapter a while ago, but between school, a new cat, and traveling out of town several times I just didn't get around to finishing my proofread until today (Feb. 15). Next chapter will probably not be before Spring Break (in about a month). Also, with the posting of this chapter the story has finally reached 100,000 words! Huzzah! Now if only I could make myself write a bit faster...