Chapter 16 – Strange Bedfellows

Disclaimer: In a society wherein a large portion of the government's legitimacy is based on its ability to enforce, regulate, and respond to breaches of the Statue of Secrecy, and wherein this work comprises a massive chunk of government activity, and wherein nearly every rule and regulation is ultimately justified by said Statute, it stands to reason that anyone sufficiently versed in all things Muggle would bring significant value to society, enjoy unprecedented job security, never lack for steady and lucrative employment, and generally be sought after and respected for their advice. Right? Wait, the Weasleys are poor and generally maligned? What?! Clearly, I did not write Harry Potter.

Chaos erupted among the Blacks and the Aurors. The Unspeakables watched the unfolding drama like a Quidditch game going downhill fast.

"Wha—What just happened?"

"This's got to be an act. The elf can't have been here without them knowing."

"How did it get through the wards? They're a mile thick!"

"Kreacher! Father, what's wrong with him?!"

"Bet they dragged us through all this just to show off."

"But why?! Why would Regulus do such a thing?"

"Wake up, you damn, worthless, mad elf!"

"Alibis. Covering for other dark wizards! We'll hear about it tomorrow."

"Hang on one blasted minute—"

"What if they were helping him the whole time? The lot of them!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sparks shot from Moody's wand and hit Auror Savage in the shoulder. "Go cool off, you bunch of conspirin' ninnies! You want to start another war three weeks after the last one?! Go check the tunnel for grindylows! Shut it, Savage! I don't care what you do just do it away from here—and we might be leaving soon and quickly so CONSTANT VIGILENCE!"

The parting words echoed briefly around the cavern. The Aurors grumbled but all stepped at least two paces away from the rest of the group. The Longbottoms shared a look and parted, walking opposite sides of a perimeter several meters out from the island.

Kingsley, who was too young to have any personal history—and thereby baggage—with the Blacks, had merely watched the display with distaste. He walked even further out and began examining the ward structure they had punched through. He could still hear the conversation at the island.

"…revive him."

"Must we do it here?" Mrs. Tonks asked. "Surely we are done in this horrid place."

"Agreed," said the old sorceress. "There's nothing else here, save Regulus' body. We can come back for that, now that we know the protections."

"Yes. Let's take him back to Donerth."

"You'll get more answers at Grimmauld."

"Surely, you're not thinking to take him home with you?" The Blacks turned to regard Unspeakable Meaghana. She gave them a slightly amused look. "His testimony is part of an ongoing investigation by the Department of Mysteries, commissioned directly by the Chief Warlock and Minister of Magic and sanctioned by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Until we have the final Horcrux this investigation is under Department of Mysteries jurisdiction. As a person of interest this elf will be in Department custody until he has answered our questions and we approve his release."

Six pairs of eyes blinked at her.

"Are you MAD?!" bellowed Lord Black. "You are out of your thrice-be-damned mind, girl! I don't give a fig about your investigation. I don't give a barrel full of figs, or even a damn figgy pudding! Keep your investigation! Keep your damn Horcruxes! But this elf is property of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! What's more he is the key to learning the truth of MY GRANDSON'S MURDER! OUR elf is going home with US!" Lord Black concluded.

Unspeakable Lupin shifted a bit but the other DoM representatives did not so much as flinch in the face of Lord Black's wrath.

"I could recommend a nice cozy cell in the Ministry," Moody offered jovially. "Seeing as he is a key witness in a murder investigation, that pretty neatly falls under my purview, eh?"

"Like hell it does!" screeched Madam Black. "Since when does your lot care about Regulus? I don't remember you budging a single Auror when we demanded you search for him!"

"He was a grown man and a known member of a terrorist organization and we were in the middle of a war, if you recall!" Moody shot back. "Why his own mother—"

"I'll tell you what I recall!" shouted Cygnus Black, stepping up to Moody. "I recall you and your damned pet lion telling my cousin to bugger off when he told you to find his son! You don't get to care about it now the case is closed, you badgering, needling, heartless, old—"

Kingsley looked up suddenly. His surveillance spell brought back an unexpected result. A series of blue diagrams spread in the air in front of him; he read through the ward scheme data again and checked his readings on the cave…Tuning out the shouting he pressed a hand to the quartz floor and felt a faint tremor. The blue diagrams shivered and cracked. Kingsley jumped up and raced back towards the island.

"LIEUTENANT! The wards!" The cry broke through the crescendo and in the space of a blink eighteen wands were drawn and pointed outwards, weaving complicated revealing spells, no doubt similar to his own.

In the sudden silence low rumblings and sharp crackling could be heard from deep in the rock overhead.

"How interesting," Dumbledore said calmly. "I recommend we continue this conversation topside. Everyone, now is an excellent time to test your preferred escape method."

For a heartbeat everyone blinked at the old warlock.

"HE MEANS RUN, YOU IDIOTS!" bellowed Moody. The cavern shook and glowing cracks raced across the cavern ceiling.

The Blacks melted away, each into a different animal form, though all dark of coat or feather. Sirius paused only long enough to catch Remus' eye and get a tiny nod before transforming and loping after his family. In the chaos no one noticed Cygnus briefly crouch next to Kreacher's prone form.

The Aurors were taken entirely by surprise when the Unspeakables each launched themselves at the nearest Auror. As soon as they made contact each pair was jerked away by Mysterious Way Portkeys to the Department of Mysteries. As soon as they landed the Unspeakables jumped straight to side-along apparition to return to the cliff top with the Aurors in tow. Even the Unspeakables staggered a bit after a trip like that. The Aurors all took a knee at least; Savage simply fell prone and old Proudfoot actually hurled.

A brilliant flash of fire pierced the midnight sky a few meters away as Dumbledore appeared holding a disgruntled Moody by the shoulders. Fawkes trilled triumphantly and launched from Dumbledore's arm into the night.

The Blacks, meanwhile, made it through the cavern without mishap, though it was close enough to be wildly fun. As soon as they left the main cavern they untransformed en masse. Sirius was highly amused to see the largest and most beautiful dragonfly he'd ever seen blossom into his intimidating Aunt Cassie.

"Brooms!" barked Arcturus as soon as he had proper vocal chords again.

The tunnel shook and trembled as the cavern collapsed piece by piece. The family drew their brooms and held them out. Arcturus tapped Cassie's first, then swept his wand over the others. "Mount!"

Sirius swung his leg over and the broom took off under him before he was barely settled. He howled and gripped tighter than he'd ever held a broomstick. The broom was hurtling through the tunnel faster than he would have dared to fly, except perhaps over a deserted moor! It ignored every instruction he tried to give, but eventually he realized that was probably a very good thing. Whatever was controlling his broom, it was a damn good flier—far better than he could ever hope to be, and he was pretty good to start with. He could hear the tunnel collapsing behind them and gratitude replaced the last of his worry.

Ahead his various family members were likewise gripping their brooms tightly, but none of them seemed to share his surprise or panic. Cygnus was whooping with delight!

All at once they shot from the tunnel and the brooms arched gracefully up into the night sky, curving around back to the clifftop. Looking up along the curve Sirius noticed Aunt Cassie on the lead broom. Immediately upon landing she leapt aside. Each following broom landed in exactly the same spot.

As Sirius stumbled from his broom the ground shook violently and the nearby headland, where they had begun their evening, sunk noticeably. The elder Blacks looked back over the depression with grave faces and crossed themselves.

Farewell, brother. Sirius thought solemnly. He then turned to the family and held up his broom. "Okay, what the bloody hell was that?" he asked the family at large. He received a chorus of huffs, grunts, and chuckles in reply as they turned from his brother's resting place—except for Grandad.

"Tabie alrihla," Arcturus said smugly, shoving his broom back into his belt pouch.

"Gesundheit. No seriously—"

"Seriously, Sirius, you missed a lot when you ran away," Andie said primly. She seemed to fold her broom up into smaller and smaller pieces before stowing it. "It's a tragedy for your magical education. You missed the Black Family Summer of '76!"

He rolled his eyes. "I think I lost my invitation to that one. So, tabby allright-la?"

Andie copied not just his eye roll, but his entire posture. "You are such a cretin. It's Arabic. Roughly translated, it means 'follow flight.' It mimics the flight path of the first object in a flying series."

Sirius looked slowly over at Aunt Cassie, who just barely managed not to preen. She quirked an eyebrow. "Did you know that the dragon fly has the highest successful kill rating of all natural predators?" she asked casually.

"I did not know that." Sirius said blandly.

"Well," she smiled. "Now you do."

"What…the bloody hell…was…that?!" wheezed Auror Proudfoot as he struggled upright.

The Blacks turned as one to see the—very harassed looking—Auror squad and the—eerily calm—Unspeakables a few yards away. All eyes looked to Dumbledore. He blinked innocently. "Are you referring to the cave in, dear boy?"

"Yes, the bloody cave-in! Was that some kind of trap he left behind? If Shacklebolt hadn't noticed it…"

"Indeed. Excellent work, my boy." Dumbledore gave Moody a significant look.

Moody huffed. "Don't look at me, you old codger. If you want to give him a commendation, you can do it on your own time. I've enough to do without mollycoddling the trainees."

Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "Uh, sir, I graduated the academy two years ago."

"But what was it?" The grumbling was getting quite an edge to it by now.

"Ah, yes. As it happens it was not something Mr. Riddle planned, but rather an unintended consequence of our haste to access the chamber, and, if I dare say so, of Lord Black's insistence that we enter over-the-wall, so to speak, as opposed to by-the-gate."

"Oh, Morgana's girdles! This is why I hated your class, Dumbledore. You never say one word when fifty will do, and even then you are incapable of giving a straight answer. You should retire and take up as a Sphinx," snipped Madam Black. She faced the Aurors and drew herself up haughtily. "By transfiguring the wall and dropping that section into the floor as we did, we created an instability in the ward scheme. The wards that protected the inside of the chamber were anchored to the wall inside the cavern. Part of that we transfigured away, in essence punching a hole through the ward. Part was moved, stretching the connections across the opening we made. And since the piece of wall dropped into the floor then overlapped where the wards passed through the floor, this created a Knot. Most wards that would react poorly to this arrangement do so immediately and violently, and we were prepared for any number of reactions."

She paused and eyed her audience. "Well," she gestured at her family, "we were. But, no reaction occurred. To predict the complete destabilization of the wards and the physical anchors thereof would have required the same exhaustive analysis to dismantle them entirely. As it is, or was, the frayed ward reacted badly with the overlapping wards protecting the entrance and the lake. As the wards began to crack, they took the stone with them."

"Indeed," Dumbledore twinkled. "A fate that could easily be avoided had we merely—"

"Don't even think it, Dumbledore," grumbled Lord Arcturus. "Playing the bastard's game might not have triggered a cave in, true, but the alternative was far worse."

"A few drops less would have cost me nothing, Arcturus."

"Nothing?! You're thrice more a fool than I ever thought you, Dumbledore!" Arcturus spat. "To give your blood into the hands of your enemies? Tis an insult to your magic! An insult to all magic! I'm hardly a religious man, Dumbledore, but you speak blasphemy."

"I have no fear of such things, Arcturus. Anyone may have my blood if it should help my cause. This is the difference between our paths. Blood holds no power over me unless I, and I alone, will it to do so."

The Blacks stared at him, speechless, every one.

"A-HEM!" The Blacks turned to see a very angry Alice Longbottom glaring at the lot of them—Dumbledore included. "Where is the elf?" she growled.

"Elf?" Arcturus blinked, innocently. "Oh, you mean my elf?"

"What?" growled Pollux. "He's my damned elf you thieving conniving fool!"

"Whoever's elf he is, he isn't here," said Cassie, ostentatiously scanning the clifftop and managing to look a tad bit lost. No one was fooled, and Sirius had to focus so hard on not laughing he forgot to react in any other way either.

"Gone!" wailed Cygnus. "Crushed to dust in the thrice be-cursed cavern with those demons!"

"There, there, Uncle," said Andie gently. "He's with Regulus. He'll be happy, at least."

"Our last link to my nephew! Lost in the stony depths!"

Sirius just barely managed to catch his guffaw and turn it into a violent hacking cough. He bent nearly double trying to straighten out his confused airways. By the time he caught his breath his eyes were watering and his sides ached.

"Something in your throat, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

"My eye actually, sir, but thank you."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm not your Headmaster any longer, dear boy."

"What?" Sirius blinked up at him, noticing through his scant tears that Dumbledore was highly amused at the goings on. His eyes twinkled like a Christmas tree.

"No need to call me 'sir,' Sirius."

"Oh. Right then."

"Dumbledore!" snapped Alice. "Are you going to let them get away with this?!"

"With what, my dear?"

"They know where the elf is! We need to interrogate it to close the investigation!"

"Actually," a melodious voice interrupted. Heads turned as Meaghana stepped forwards. "The Auror Office is under our jurisdiction in this case; it is we who will be questioning the elf." She stepped past Alice's open jaw and faced the Black family. "Where is the elf Kreacher? It is imperative that we speak with him immediately, and at great length."

"He's not here. Must not have made it out of the cave. Poor blighter," Pollux said stiffly.

Meaghana gave him a long suffering look. "We all know that is a lie, lord warlock, and a poor one. Call him now, or send him to our office tom—"

"I will not be sending him anywhere, you upstart hussy!"

"How dare you presume to order a senior member of the House of Black!" Arcturus' voice roared over the grasslands and he seemed to swell in size.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait one minute here, all of you!" Sirius shouted, stepping into the middle of the action. He spun around, piercing them all with a dismissive and disappointed look that—had he only known—would have made McGonagall proud. "Don't anyone get your knickers in a twist! Merlin's baggy bollocks, I can't believe I'm the sensible one here."

He looked at them all again, more fiercely. "We all seem to be forgetting the most important member of this discussion." Sirius sent a summoning charm over Alice's shoulder. A second later, she had to jump aside as Remus hurtled past, pulled by the chain holding his DoM badge. He landed roughly and Sirius clapped an arm around his shoulders, both holding him upright and throwing him off balance at the same time.

"Gerroff, you mutt!" Remus grumbled.

Gesturing grandly like a circus ring leader, Sirius spun them both about. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Amazing and Unspeakably Helpful Unspeakable, Remus Lupin! As no one is fooled, yes, Kreacher is safe. We members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will visit him shortly—some more eagerly than others—and commence our own investigation into the missing Horcrux and the demise of my blood brother, Regulus. As an honorary member of the House of Black due to his position as my last living brother, Remus will join us. He will observe and assist as necessary. When all is resolved, he can bring a report back to the Department, fulfilling their role in the investigation. After all, Unspeakable Lupin is unspeakably reliable and convenient, wouldn't you agree?" He raised a brow towards the nonplussed Meaghana.

There was a heavy and ponderous silence as the various parties considered the proposition. Remus elbowed Sirius in the side and glared at him.

"What?" Sirius asked quietly, faking total innocence.

"You used that pun twice."

Sirius grinned and shrugged. "Just reinforcing Andie's opinion that I am a hopeless case."

Remus shook his head. "If she only knew."

Ignatius Prewett watched Moody disappear with his Aurors in tow. Dumbledore winked at him and vanished as well. His own people were looking back and forth between each other, clearly unsure how to handle the surprising turn of events.

"Well…" Meaghana began, but she did not continue.

"That was…" River tried.

"Unexpected," finished Tiberius.

Ignatius chuckled. They all looked at him, still facing mostly towards the spot the Black family and Aurors had recently vacated. "A crowning success, I'd say."

"You can't be serious," Meaghana bit off.

"Why not?" Ignatius shrugged. "The Blacks will find the locket and they will destroy it. Lupin will inform us when it was done. That is the extent of our purview, unless I'm mistaken. Our task was to find out how Lord Voldemort survived death. And we did. Destroying the Horcruxes is actually beyond the extent of our agenda. We can be content knowing it will be done."

"How can you be so sure they will destroy it?" asked River, mildly. "The Black family is…"

"Notorious?" Ignatius supplied. "You forget that Lord Black is my father-in-law." Indeed, they had forgotten. He saw their eyes widen, though not as much as most people's would. Unspeakables didn't care enough about such things to actually be surprised about them. "I am quite familiar with the family. I think you fail to realize how close they came to dissolution in this war, and just how far they are willing to go to recover. Fear not! They will destroy the Horcrux. I am curious to know how they will do it. I'd love to be a fly on the wall during that debate."

River turned fully towards him, leaning slightly, but not actually stepping closer. He spoke lowly. "Sir, do you trust Lupin? Sirius Black claimed him as a brother. Could he not be playing us?"

Ignatius gave a short laugh, not terribly unlike Sirius' famous bark. "Of course he is playing us! As much as he is playing anyone. Lupin wants one thing in life, the same thing most of us want: he wants to belong. But very few people are able to belong entirely to one thing. Even you belonged to us and to your family at first, and then to your revenge. You are most fortunate to have found both in the same place. Lupin belongs both to us and to Sirius Black. Yes! Just to Sirius, I believe. He has no loyalty to any of them beyond his adopted brother. For all I know, he may spend the rest of his life pulled between the two of us. What of it? He swore the same oaths you all did. He has the same type of divided loyalties: friendships, family, interests outside of the Department. None of you live there either, you know.

"No, Master Sayre. Don't let's go down that path. You will all do what needs to be done. Now! Enough talk. I am going home to my family. Report to Carmichael in the morning. Be ready. I feel that our role in this may be nearing an end. But perhaps I am wrong. It does happen every now and again. Good night!"

Saturday, November 21, 1:00 am

12 Grimmauld Place

Druella Black did not flop into the winged armchair—barely. Flopping was unladylike and revealed both a lack of self-discipline and discontentment, both nigh capital offenses in the home of her youth. Nevertheless, she sat abruptly and sank back as far as the stiff cushions allowed. Walburga was finally—finally—asleep.

Druella had never been brave enough to hate her life. Or she'd never been imaginative enough to envision how it could be better or what she might be missing. Well, she was getting very, very close to hating it now. That is, she might if she had the energy; she had never had the drive or the passion that seemed such a standard trait among her in-laws.

Druella had two joys in her life, only two: fine wines and embroidery, preferably at the same time. Had she ever heard of a sommelier she would have become one, betrothal be damned, and Cyngus' wine cellar and half those of the restaurants of London would be better for it. In another world she might have joined forces with her talented and unorthodox middle daughter and they would have revolutionized witches fashion a dozen times over. But Druella remained just a tad too comfortable and a tad too timid, so by and large she kept both of these passions to herself. She left Cygnus' cellar alone, but kept her own private, very small, cupboard. And when she had time to herself she got out her hoop and thread and did a cushion, or a handkerchief, but never when they entertained.

Walburga hated embroidery. Walburga loved wine. Any wine. Walburga was not allowed wine. With the current cocktail of potions that kept her from murdering anyone in sight, the addition of wine would be decidedly not in her best interests. And so Druella was denied both her guilty pleasures.

But now, at long last, the wretch was asleep. So as late as it was, Druella lifted the charm that hid her crafting box from view and began to unpack her hoop.

"Kreacher," she called, intending to send him for a glass of her 1862 Goblin frühburgunder. Threading her needle, Druella made an entire row of tiny, uniform, glossy stitches before realizing the elf had yet to appear.

Frowning she called again. "Kreacher!"

Tutting and tapping her foot she waited. Well, he was quite old. Perhaps he'd died in his little hidey hole behind the boiler room. She started to rise—

Pop!

Druella jumped and spun, clutching her embroidery. The elf had finally appeared but before she could scold it, it swayed and nearly toppled over.

"Kreacher?! Morgana's tits, you gave me a fright! What in Albion have—you—what—Kreacher?"

The elf had fallen to its knees and was hugging itself, rocking back and forth, shaking and sobbing. Druella set her hoop on the chair.

"Kreacher! Tell me what has happened!"

"No no no no! Kreacher can't tell! Kreacher promised! He promised his Master!"

Another pop! caused Druella to jump and spin again. Five more pops followed in quick succession and quite suddenly the Grimmauld Place drawing room was packed.

"Aaah! Arcturus! Cygnus—Andromeda? What has —SIRIUS!"

"Good evening, Aunty Ella!" Sirius crowed, shoving a scruffy looking man off his shoulders. "How's mum? Don't answer that! I really don't care. Anyone see Kreacher?"

"Here, Sirius!" Andromeda levitated the elf to the couch. The magic brought him out of his sobbing reverie and he looked up at them one by one. He didn't seem to know if he should be honored, insulted, or terrified. Druella found herself shunted aside as the newcomers crowded over the frightened elf.

"Kreacher," said Arcturus. "For the next little while you are going to answer every question given you by anyone in this room, and you shall answer fully, truthfully, and immediately."

"B-b-b-but-but, Kreacher promised Master—"

"I am the Master of this family!" Arcturus snapped.

"Kreacher," Andromeda interjected, sliding past Arcturus and crouching in front of the elf. "Which master did you promise?"

Kreacher blinked at her kind face and then up at the faces of the Lords of Black. "M-m-master Regulus. Kreacher promised him. Kreacher wouldn't tell anyone! But-but-Kreacher FAILED!" Again the elf burst into tears and pulled his lion cloth up to wipe his eyes. Andie quickly pulled it back down and handed him her handkerchief.

"It's not clothes, Kreacher, calm down!" she said quickly. "It's just a handkerchief. I want you to wash it for me, but you may use it first." She winked at him. He nodded, solemnly, then blew his nose loudly!

Pollux pushed his way through. "Kreacher. You served my grandson well, as you did his father. But I am your first and your true master. You will obey Lord Black's instructions and answer our questions. Regulus is dead. Do you hear?"

Kreacher bowed his head. "Yes, Masters."

"Good!" barked Arcturus. "Now, tell us everything about the cave and Regulus."

Druella listened with fascination and growing horror to a tale of intrigue, treachery, bravery, and doom. At some point she resumed her seat, clumsily brushing her embroidery to the floor.

Within the hour the family were clustered around a shining locket, emblazoned with a stylized 'S'. Though it gleamed as if newly polished, it made the room feel dirty and dim. No wonder the elf was driving her mad! It had been obsessing over the most evil object ever created. Its poor mind was being eaten away by the locket's influence. Come to think of it…Walburga spent almost all of her time in this room and the elf had pulled it from the cabinet in the corner, the one right behind Walburga's favorite chair…

Arcturus told the elf to leave it with them, that they would see it destroyed, and ordered him to stop thinking of it. Then he promptly ordered tea for them all. Kreacher blinked at him for a moment, then gave a little shake, bowed stiffly and popped away.

Druella retreated to a corner just out of sight and quietly summoned Kreacher back.

"Mistress Druella summons Kreacher?" He said with a bow. Druella noted that through the exhaustion (which she'd never before seen on an elf), he seemed less high strung than she'd ever seen him.

"Master Arcturus ordered tea. We will also need coffee, biscuits, sandwiches, and cognac. Pop over to the Lodge, tell Bippi I asked for the Burgundy set. She'll give you what you need."

Kreacher frowned. "Kreacher does not need to go. Kreacher has all these things here."

Druella gave her head a little shake and suppressed a shudder. "No. Tonight we have all had a shock. We need the best. These are from my private store. They are…expensive." She just hoped no one realized just how expensive. Cygnus would never understand.

Kreacher was still staring at her. "Just do it!" she barked and returned to the family.

The Burrow — 9 am

Arthur Weasley automatically renewed the sticking charm on his mug of coffee as he dove out of his chair to tackle Fred—or was it George?—before the twin barreled into the toddlers, who had just crawled out from under the table and unwittingly put themselves dead center in the path of the twins morning race. At some point every morning between 8:30 and 9:30 the twins would, at least once, run laps around the breakfast table for a full 20 minutes.

As he rolled into the tackle, tickling Fred (or George), the other twin barreled into them.

"Me too, Dad! Me too! Tickw me! Tickw me!" he shouted. Arthur managed to sit up with one on each knee. They spasmed and twisted, laughing like hyenas, and Arthur had to do a great deal of twisting himself to keep from knocking his head on the furniture.

"Oof!" he grunted as another impact hit him from behind.

"Too! Too!" said a tiny voice, still sweet and barely intelligible. Arthur carefully flopped back and Ron fell into the pile.

Not long after the door opened and Percy stepped in, followed closely by two tall figures in robes. The three—wait, four? Yes, four little boys froze for a split second. Two yelled loudly, "'Anny! 'Ampa! 'Anny & 'Ampa!" Three little bodies flung themselves from Arthur and attached themselves to the new comers.

Arthur sat up, brushing hair from his eyes and smiling at Harry, who stayed with him, staring uncertainly at the newcomers. "Morning, Pops. Mum. Nice to see you! What're you doing here?" he huffed, winded. They both were completely absorbed in the three younger grandsons and didn't hear him. Arthur rolled his eyes. He turned to his third son. "Thank you, Percy. Mum's got some biscuits in the blue tin. Can you find it and put it on the table?"

Percy glanced towards the kitchen, then looked at the hubbub of voices clamoring over his grandparents. "Then can I go read?"

"Yes. You can even take some biscuits with you." Arthur winked.

Percy's eyes widened, and glanced about uncertainly. "In the parlor?" he said hopefully.

Arthur nodded. "Use a napkin, and don't tell your mother."

Percy nodded eagerly and vanished. Arthur laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "All right, Harry? Good. Let's go say hello."

Arthur stood and picked Harry up. His parents were now seated at the large table. A shiny blue tin stood in the middle, top off. Fred and George immediately disengaged from their grandparents, grabbed fistfuls of ginger biscuits and started to scamper away. "Boys!" Arthur called sharply. They skid to a halt and looked back guiltily. "The near garden only, yeah?" They nodded and fled, sharing grins as if they'd gotten away with murder.

Arthur sat heavily and cast a warming and refilling charm on his coffee. "Morning, Mum, Dad."

"Good morning, Arthu—" his mom stopped short, nearly gagging. "Who— Arthur! Is this—?" she was gapping at Harry.

"Mum, this is Harry. He's a friend of Ron's," Arthur said calmly. "He stayed with us last night. His godfather will be here soon to collect him. Harry. Would you like a biscuit? Molly makes them. They're absolutely brilliant! Here." He reached out and grabbed one from the tin.

He noticed Ron fiddling with something while sitting on his grandpa's lap on the other side of the table. "What's that you got, Ronnie?"

Ron held it up. It was a wooden chess knight, although three times the size of a normal chess piece. Arthur's father smiled proudly. Arthur raised an eye brow. "Starting him a little early, aren't you?" His dad shrugged.

"Perhaps. Percy will need a challenger someday," he said.

"Were you waiting long?" Arthur asked. "I can't hear the door chime down here, especially not with Fred and George."

His mother waved away his concern, her eyes still on Harry. "Felly let us in. Have you improved your wards? They seem different."

Arthur nodded, "Just last night. Apparently Molly and Ginny made a new friend when Harry was dropped off and she gave Molly some tips."

He made a grab for his coffee but too late forgot about the sticking charm. Coffee sloshed over the rim and Harry started as Arthur jerked unexpectedly, but the mug refused to budge from the table top. "Bugger!" Two flicks of his wand and the mess was cleaned up and the mug freed. "What brings you over this morning?"

"Arthur," his mother began with mock sternness, "It's the third Saturday. Remember? We used to do this every month until things became so unsettled. Now things are settled, we thought we'd start it up again."

"Oh!" said Arthur. "Well, jolly good! Do we all get presents or just Ron?" Ron climbed down and toddled with his new knight over to the nearby den. Harry slid down to follow.

Arthur's father chuckled, "The children do. You are too old, my boy."

His mother shook her head and then frowned, glancing over at the Harry. "Arthur, why is Harry Potter here?" she asked quietly. "And where is Molly."

"Molly is nesting with little Ginny," Arthur answered a bit dreamily. "She is loving having a girl. Ginny settles sweeter than any of the boys did. Great little feeder, that one! I try to give Molly a bit of a break Saturday mornings. Just the baby to snuggle, you know. Course, I love roughing it with the boys. Except Percy. He doesn't have much use for his dad now he had read for himself." Arthur frowned to himself.

His father cleared his throat. "Arthur. Are you deliberately avoiding the subject?"

Arthur gave a small smile in reply. Sirius' family had gone to great lengths to keep Harry and his whereabouts from being generally known—no doubt a move to prove their suitability and attentiveness in the wardship case. But a brief survey of the political landscape made the whole situation painfully obvious. His mother was trying to niggle him about connections with the notorious Black family, and he was not going take the bait! Not without backup and another cup of coffee.

Just then the door opened and a house elf skittered around the table, its ears barely peeking above the table top until it came to stop in front of Arthur. "Master Sirius Black has come to fetch Master Harry Potter home, sir. Shall Felly show him down?"

"No, no, Felly, thank you. We'll come up—"

"No need," said a loud but tired voice. Felly squeaked in surprise and affront. Sirius stepped into the breakfast room, looking barely awake and frazzled. "Sorry, Arthur. I know I'm being rude but I can't wait. Especially after last night. Come 'ere, Pup!"

Harry came hurtling in from the den. Sirius crouched down, arms open. "Pa's! Pa's!" the boy yelled.

"Hallo, Pup. Did you have a nice time?" Harry nodded vigorously. "What did you do?" Harry launched into a string of half words and cycled through nearly every emotion known to man.

"Well, that's the most animated he's been since he got here," Arthur commented.

Sirius nodded, eyes still on Harry. "A ha. I see. Fascinating. That's some adventure you had! Did Ron survive?" He glanced around, finding Ron peeking around the door to the den. Only then did Sirius look around further and see the strange witch and wizard. He nodded a greeting but didn't speak to them yet. "I see he did survive. Well done, Harry!" He scooped Harry up and settled him on a hip.

"I can't stay long. I need to get home and get some sleep. None of us got any last night and I am whacked."

Arthur nodded meaningfully, eying Sirius up and down. Sirius glanced down and around, catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. He laughed. "Yes, well, it was a rather eventful night." He took a deep breath, settling himself. "I can't tell you even half of it. I don't have the energy of a quarter of it. But—" he suddenly stopped and looked at Harry. "You are getting heavier. Are you growing? What has Molly been feeding you?" he glanced around and spotted the biscuits and gasped. "You've been eating Molly's famous ginger biscuits!? You lucky ba—dog! Here, have another. And take one to Ron. He looks peaky." Sirius leaned over, toddler and all, and grabbed a handful of biscuits. Setting Harry down, he drew his wand, conjured a napkin, and gave Harry a nudge towards Ron. Then he flopped backwards. A flick of Arthur's wand made sure he flopped into a chair and not onto the floor.

"Merlin, boy, you are tired. Please don't tell me you apparated here like this?" Arthur chided.

Sirius quirked a brow at him. "Like what? How else would I get here? Between your wards and mine Floo's are practically useless. Nice modifications, by the way. Andie's idea?"

Arthur nodded. "Felly," he called. The elf popped next to Arthur, looking anxiously at Sirius. "Please bring Master Black a coffee."

Sirius lifted a finger. "Latte. Triple shot, vanilla, with foam and nutmeg."

Arthur frowned at him, but Felly beamed and popped away. "Right away, Master Sirius Black, sir!"

Sirius shrugged. "Jordi at the castle told me there was a house elf convention about five years ago or something about these fancy coffee drinks Muggles have been making." Sirius sniggered. "Most elves think they're fun, but most purebloods families don't know enough to ask. I've been getting an education in coffee."

"Among many other things."

"Mmm," Sirius grunted. "Sorry," he glanced at the other two, who has until now been watching their exchange with wary amusement. "I didn't mean to interrupt your visit. I can go hide with the boys if I'm a bother?"

"No, no!" said Arthur, smiling. "Please, stay! Sirius, please meet my parents. My father, Septimus Weasley." Septimus stood and held out a hand. Sirius leapt to his feet, grasping Septimus' hand with vigor. "And my mother, Cedrella Weasley, née Black," Arthur finished with barely concealed relish.

Sirius had reached for Cedrella's hand, which she had not held out, but he froze at the name Black. She turned and glared at Arthur.

Sirius' eyes grew wide. "Black? Wait…Cedrella?" He closed his eyes hard. "Daughter of Arcturus and Lysandra, That means we are…first cousins twice removed. Arthur, you are my second cousin, once removed! How in the name of Merlin did we not know this?"

Arthur laughed. "Well, you may not have known it—"

"You knew! Why didn't you say anything?!" Sirius was beaming at Arthur like a long lost brother.

"Ahem!" all mirth was cut short. Cedrella's eyes flashed angrily between them. "He didn't say anything because I haven't spoken of my maiden name or that family since I was disowned for marrying a good man. I would have preferred to have kept it that way. Arthur, I am furious and insulted that you arranged this confrontation!"

Sirius stepped back and eyed her up and down, tilting his head this way and that. "I never would have guessed it. Do you know if the papers were signed?"

"What?" she said, nonplussed.

"The disownment papers. I was 'disowned' at 16 when I ran away to the Potter's. Mum blasted me off the tapestry and everything. But apparently no one ever filed the paperwork so I was never actually disowned. Now!" he gestured grandly. "I'm back. And so is Andie, by the way." When Cedrella blinked he elaborated. "Andromeda? My cousin? She was disowned when she married a Muggleborn. Wonderful man! Their daughter is a metamorphmagus, but she insists on calling me 'uncle', which I abhor. But now we're back. I wonder how many Blacks there are, really? Merlin's balls, I am so tired I'm rambling. Where is that latte?" he took a sip from the oversized mug in his hand. "Oh, there it is! Arthur, did you know that your elf can magic cups straight to people's hands? That's incredible!"

Arthur shook his head. Sirius' emotions were bouncing around faster than a muggle pin ball. "Sit down, Sirius, before you fall over." Arthur pulled the mug slowly over and down to the table with magic and Sirius followed until he was sitting again in the chair. "There."

Sirius took another long swig, then set down the cup and buried his head in his hands. Arthur motioned for his parents to sit again. They did so slowly, clearly not entirely sure what to make of the young man in their midst. At first he had been merely exhausted and disheveled, then nearly raving, and now he was deflating like a balloon.

For several long moments they sat there, watching Sirius breathe over his latte. Arthur fully intended to explore this muggle coffee fad later today. Aside from the toddler boys in the next room, no one spoke. Finally Sirius' shoulders sagged and hitched, just once.

"Sirius," said Arthur, in his best father voice, gentle but entirely firm. "What happened last night? You aren't staying just for the coffee. You stayed to tell me something. You prompted introductions to see if you could speak in front of my parents. I know you wear your emotions on your sleeve but this is still far beyond your usual lack of self-control. What happened?"

Sirius dropped his hands and leaned back looking up at the ceiling. "We found Regulus."

There was another moment of silence. "Good God," said a deep voice. Sirius glanced at Septimus, then back up at the ceiling. Arthur knew his father had tracked enough of the war, and this conversation, to know Sirius had just found his brother's body. Sirius took a deep breath. "He —it's a long story. He betrayed Riddle. He was killed by inferi. Now he's buried under a mile of limestone and marble."

Again Sirius pressed his hands to his eyes. "Two years. It's been two years and I never really cared before." He flopped forward, putting his head in his hands, elbows on the table again. Dropping one hand he looked Arthur in the eye. "Arthur, did I not care before because he was on the other side? Do I suddenly care now because he was on our side after all? Am I that shallow that I didn't care about my own brother because we weren't on the same side?!"

After a moment Septimus tapped a hand on the table, "I think I'll go see if those lads want to play in the garden, eh? The twins have surely escaped the near one by now."

Arthur snorted. "Not bloody likely. Molly did the age line herself."

Septimus raised an eyebrow at his son. "You'd be surprised." Cedrella started to rise, but Septimus laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "Stay, love," he said quietly.

For many long moments they say at the table. Arthur and Sirius looking at each other, Cedrella looking back and forth uncertainly. Finally Arthur refilled his coffee. "In my aged wisdom," he began, winking at Sirius, "I would say you never had the chance to actually face Regulus' death at all before now. You heard about it long afterwards, and in a newspaper clipping, if I recall?" Sirius nodded. Arthur continued. "You were not even 20, fighting a war, completely invested in a different life, different people. This, in many ways, is the first time you have had to face his death at all."

Sirius scrunched his face.

"Grief has its own timing," Cedrella said softly. She gave Sirius an appraising look, which he met quizzically. "It comes in waves. There can be months, years, even decades, when it is so quiet, so still, that you don't think of it at all. As if the loss had never happened. Then there will come a day, even a moment, when it is as fresh as morning dew, and as painful as the day—." She stopped suddenly, collecting herself. "Well. My point is that it doesn't help to judge your past self based on how much you did or did not grieve for someone. Young people change so much every year you can't really judge your past selves at all at your age. You are hardly worth speaking to before you're thirty."

Sirius frowned at her. "Then why are so many old families trying to marry us off right out of Hogwarts?"

She gave him a superior smirk and he was struck with the resemblance to Aunt Cassie. "To distract you from the more important matters, obviously." She stood. "If you will excuse me. I want to see what Percy is reading these days. He at least usually has something insightful to say." She paused before she left. "I am glad to have met you, Sirius. You have given me much to think on."

Sirius grunted noncommittally, then suddenly lurched to his feet. "Wait!"

She turned back.

"Are you a Black?" Sirius asked, seriously.

Cedrella frowned, confused.

"Do you still think of yourself as a Black? In your heart, are you one of us?"

She blinked. "I…I don't really know."

Sirius bit his lip and tapped his hand against his thigh. He sighted and ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up very much like James' had often done. "Look, I don't know what is going to happen. But Grandad— I mean, Arcturus, the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House, etc etc. There's…something big is coming. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, I'm not sure. But he's going to call a Council."

She blinked again, "Okay."

"No," Sirius said clearly not satisfied with her response. "I mean, a Council, like, old world, feudal family style Noble House council. At least, he was talking about it very positively when I left this morning. Every person who considers themselves a Black will have to attend. If you still call yourself a Black, in your heart, you will be summoned. You could come back. Help us—help me!—steer us back to sanity! Anyone who doesn't come will be cut off. And I mean, feudal family, old world style cut off from the family magic type of cut off!"

She blanched. "I will have to think on it. It may depend on the manner of Cousin Arcturus' invitation." She sneered again at the name, but then smoothed her expression and nodded thanks to Sirius and swept from the room.

Sirius sighed and dropped back to his chair.

Arthur slapped his hands down. "Well! It has been an interesting morning and no mistake. I'm going to check on Molly and see if she can open the Floo back up. You are not apparating in that condition. And I'm going to try one of these latte thingies." He picked up Sirius empty mug and examined the foam clinging to the sides of the mug. "Fascinating! The things these Muggles come up with."

A/N: Finally, an update! Thank you, lovelies, for your infinite patience. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I have had so much fun writing it and re working it. I hope you don't have to wait so long for the next one. PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS! I'm not even joking when I say reviews directly impact my motivation to write more and get this out and finished. If you can, please share this story and encourage others to review as well!

Thoughts on this chapter:

One of my pet peeves, even confusions, about the wizarding world for a while has been why money matters. You don't need money to have nice clothes; you charm and transfigure them! You don't need month to buy a big house; you magic extra space whenever you need it. Your linen cupboard can become a ballroom! So what creates wealth or status in a more logical wizarding world? Magical power, first and foremost. Then, specialized knowledge or skills. These bring value to society; they bring respect, allies, and most importantly, favors. Obviously you need money for some things, like books and cauldrons and brooms and such, but it seems that getting it would happen very differently and it would be used very differently, and it wouldn't mean nearly as much.

The Weasleys are a powerful family, magically! There are so many of them, and they are ALL gifted wizards and witches. As an old pureblood family, they would have inherited and traditional powers as well. Kind of how the first generation in a family two have stable enough income to not worry about where their next meal comes from starts to accumulate blessings for the next generation. It builds more and more each generation (unless squandered). So, add to that Arthur's passion for all things Muggle, and you have a very nice set up for success in this world! Before you panic, yes, they have a house elf, and yes they still live in the Burrow. The Burrow is still haphazard becuase that's how they like it! They are not competing with the Black's or the Malfoys for cubic vault space. But they also aren't buying things second hand and worrying about if they can afford text books.

Also! What do you know! The Blacks do not know everything and they are not infallible. Rash actions have consequences, and there are magics even they don't know about.

**Bonus scene idea** It really didn't fit here even though I tried. But in case you were wondering, Remus totally figured out how special Druella's cache is. He's been around on the continent and played spy just enough to have tried a few very special things in the last few years. Plus, werewolf senses and all. Someday he's going to out her. That will be so fun!