Content Harry Potter Crossovers/Multiple Fandoms Metafandom
  • Previous
  • Next

That Tuesday, four days after the full moon, Harry's room was dark blue in the morning light; Bowman was having a rainstorm in his garden for the benefit of the grass and roses while in the outside world snow was falling, piling up in heaps against the never-used front door of Fourteen Back and making the corridor down to the garden gate almost impossible to navigate. Harry, however, was rolled up on the bed in a blanket that smelled pleasantly if pungently of Padfoot and he could care less about the weather outside. He had his quill and ink and a few books, and Hermione's notebook, the one full of information on the seven horcruxes (cruces?) of Lord Voldemort open to a fresh, blank page in front of him.

He was composing a timeline of their creation, because he had suddenly realised when they recovered the cup that he was uncertain how much Voldemort could possibly know about his own soul. Clearly he didn't know that they knew about them, but he might know that the items themselves had gone missing. If he had known about either the ring or the locket last week he surely would have gone looking for the cup, wouldn't he? But since then, had Voldemort gone looking for the Peverell ring? Had he tried to find his locket or recover his cup? Dumbledore had told Harry that Voldemort had hidden the items and very rarely went back to find them, but then how would Dumbledore know that? Dumbledore's letter hadn't made it clear whether Snape knew about the horcruxes or not, and this was the sole fact that kept Harry from disbelieving Snape's loyalty completely -- even if he had turned traitor, he hadn't told Voldemort that they knew about them. Unless, of course, that was another ruse...

Harry's head hurt, thinking about Snape, so he decided to ignore the Snape factor entirely for now and concentrate on the horcruxes.

He had given the diary back to Lucius Malfoy, which meant Voldemort must have known that the diary had been destroyed by the time he made Nagini into a horcrux. Assuming Nagini was one. It was a fair if not an infallible assumption. Lucius Malfoy couldn't have lied about such a monumental destruction, and he had a full year between Voldemort's resurrection and his own imprisonment -- surely Voldemort would have asked him, at some point, Hey Malfoy, still got that diary? Huh? Manage not to lose it? Oh. Dear me.

But Nagini couldn't have been a replacement, because Malfoy wasn't aware of Voldemort's resurrection when Nagini was made.

All the deductions and causalities and predictions had begun to hurt his head, so he'd decided it behooved him to put it on paper where he could look at it without having to remember all of it at once. Like a map.

1944: Riddle Diary made completed. 1 hc complete.
1942 - 1945: Peverell Ring made. 2 hc complete.
1945: TR graduates. He goes to work for Borgin&Burke's.

Here he paused. There was another deduction to be made, but he wasn't sure of its validity. If Tom Riddle had stolen the cup and locket and gone to Moscow, he wouldn't return until he needed another artefact, would he? So he must have needed one more. Probably two, if Dumbledore was to be believed. For the transformation between Tom Riddle and the returning Lord Voldemort to take place, Harry knew that at least one horcrux had been made abroad -- so why not two?

1946 - 1955: TR travels. Slytherin Locket made. Hufflepuff Cup made. Assumed. 4 hc complete. TR assumes the name V. openly.
1955(?): V. returns to Britain. Denied Professorship at Hogwarts school.

He could check with Remus about the specific dates Remus had gotten from his 'sources'. But now....he had to depend on Dumbledore's "calculations", whatever they had been, that Voldemort had not achieved six horcruxes before that fateful Hallowe'en in 1981. Harry rather thought that if he hadn't completed things before his...first death, Voldemort would save the final horcrux, the sixth, for the death of someone more important to him than an old caretaker, but perhaps he was desperate.

1955 - 1981: One more hc made. 5 hc complete. (assumed)
1980: Regulus Black steals the locket & cup.
1981: Oct. V. "vanquished" in the attempt to make the 6th hc.
1993: June. Riddle Diary Destroyed. 4 hc now complete. V informed eventually?

Was it likely that Lucius Malfoy had at some point told Voldemort of the diary's destruction? Not if he wanted to keep his head. But if Voldemort had asked...well, he couldn't have had time to ask until he was resurrected, and Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban a year later.

1994: Summer Nagini made. 5 hc now complete. V. assumes 6 hc now complete.
1996: Before Sept. Peverell Ring Destroyed. 4 hc now complete.
1997: Aug/Sept. Locket&Cup recovered. Assuming destruction, 2 hc remaining.

Assuming destruction. Harry chewed on his thumbnail. They were no closer to understanding how Dumbledore had destroyed that portion of the Peverell ring than they were to finding the crucial sixth horcrux. Harry dropped his head in disgust and let it rest on the blanket.

How, for God's sake, had Tom Riddle even learned what a horcrux was? It wasn't in any of the books anywhere. Had he simply guessed that such a thing must exist and then gone in search of it? Hermione had been ripping through books on wizarding spirituality (what little there was of it) in search of a discussion of the soul, for lack of a better idea.

Sometimes it was so easy for wizards. You could prove the existence of the soul -- it was what went into a horcrux, and a horcrux could be made. You could see through someone else's eyes -- with a pensieve. You could even talk to the dead -- in paintings.

Hadn't Harry had Sirius here in this bed two nights before, Sirius who had died two years ago?

He smiled to himself, the same secret smile that Sirius had greeted him with on Saturday morning after the full moon. Everything was normal and yet nothing was -- every time he looked at Sirius now a frission of excitement went up his spine, as if he were waiting for a package in the post. He kept feeling as though he were anticipating something, and he'd stop and ask himself what he was looking forward to -- and the answer was Sirius.

All day Saturday they'd been very well-behaved and hadn't done anything that would upset Remus, but when Harry had gone up to bed and Sirius had followed there had been a single hour...

Harry didn't know much about how blokes had sex, and Sirius didn't seem to care about it -- they had just stood there in the middle of the floor and kissed each other and Sirius had hitched his hips up against Harry and it was the most amazing thing. Less even than he'd done with Ginny, what they'd done, but the smooth slide of Sirius' biceps under his fingers and the rougher, stubbled skin on his jaw...Harry could still taste him on his lips, Sirius' skin, taut and expectant.

And still, after they'd finally stopped to catch their breath, it had been Padfoot who'd curled up next to Harry, not Sirius -- Padfoot who had lapped at Harry's hand and fallen asleep while Harry scratched behind his ears. Harry wondered if Ellis Graveworthy had ever tried to understand the divide between Sirius and Padfoot -- if the brilliant young author had felt as confused over it as Harry did. He supposed it was because dogs were practically built to love people and be loyal. Considering where Sirius had come from, the dark and dusty house on Grimmauld Place, perhaps Sirius imagined he was only allowed to care for another person when he was a dog. Perhaps that was why Graveworthy had written Animagus Winter. Sirius made a man want to study him.

Harry shook his head slightly and returned to the problem at hand. The war came first. That was the agreement.

At least other things were ticking along nicely. Fred and George had managed to make enough explosive powdered-laughter to kill as many Dementors as Voldemort could throw at them, and Remus had gotten an absolutely devilish look in his eye when Harry finally informed him what the twins are up to.

"Don't worry," he'd told Harry, "Just let me play a trick or two."

Harry, who had never seen Remus look so much like Sirius -- Sirius on the scent of trouble -- grinned a little. Yes, things were ticking over very nicely indeed.

If only he could find the sixth horcrux.

He picked up the pocket watchdog, now his constant if rarely-consulted companion, and shook it. He wasn't sure why he shook it, since it didn't really do anything to help the charm along, but years of playing with Dudley's second-hand Magic Eight Ball had conditioned him. He flicked open the divination side and examined it.

Bring sweets.

Oh, thanks a lot.


They ended up meeting for dinner, two hot bowls of soup in the St. Mungo's canteen. Remus looked tired and pale, Augustus exhausted; he'd just come off a long and frustrating shift.

"I'm surprised you wanted to meet in public," Augustus said, over their soup. "It can't be too daunting if you're willing to talk about it where anyone could overhear."

"I'm carrying wards," Remus answered. "Kingsley Shacklebolt lent them to me. We can't be overheard."

"Never say never. There are always open ears in a hospital."

"I'll take my chances -- for all anyone else knows, I'm here for a medical consultation, and I'd like it to stay that way."

Augustus nodded. "You look ruddy awful, Lupin."

"I know. It'll pass. I need you to do some communications work for the Order, and it has to be you -- you're our only contact inside of St. Mungo's."

Augustus stirred his soup, thoughtfully. "What do you need?"

"A letter has surfaced, recently. From Albus Dumbledore," Remus said. "It says that Severus Snape is acting as our agent, deep inside the Death Eaters."

"But didn't he...wasn't he the one who...?"

Remus nodded.

"Do you trust this source?"

"I do, for reasons I don't need to go into here. I've always trusted Dumbledore -- he's never given me a reason to doubt. I know the letter is genuine. I suspect Draco Malfoy may be working with Severus. He delivered it."

Augustus gave a low whistle. "This is too deep for me, Lupin. What can I do?"

"Dumbledore named a neutral point of contact as a way to get in touch with Snape. I can't talk to her -- it would arouse too much suspicion. And she definitely can't come to me. But you can -- she works here."


"Abigail Francisco. Dumbledore says she's Head of the -- "

" -- Spell Damage unit, sure," Augustus agreed. "I know her to speak to, nothing more."

"Well, you need to speak to her and arrange a meeting with Severus. She can't discuss this openly, so all you need to do is tell her a time and place that you and Severus can meet in her office. I want you to conduct the meeting, and all you have to do is give him a code phrase."

Augustus looked grave. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Quite sure. Are you willing to do it?"

"Of course. Anything I can do. What's the code phrase?"

"Tell him, Remus Lupin wants to know what you know about Dumbledore's hand."

"And what is he going to say?"

Remus frowned. "I'm not sure. If he says he doesn't know anything, tell him we need to meet with him and arrange a time; if he says he has information for me, tell him to leave it with Nigenae."

"And he'll know what that means?"

"He should."

"How utterly cloak and dagger it all is," Augustus said amusedly, sitting back and placing his spoon in his now-empty soup bowl.

"You have no idea," Remus answered. "And I ought to go. Remember -- as soon as you can. Remus Lupin wants to know what you know about Dumbledore's hand."

Augustus nodded agreeably and shook hands with Remus as he stood; after the other man had gone he finished his drink and made his way to the atrium of the big hospital, stepping out into Muggle London and heading towards home. He lived in a little flat not far from the hospital; most of the younger Healers had rooms in the cheap side of Diagon, but Augustus felt that it did him good to mingle with Muggles, given that he was studying their own brand of medicine.

He let himself into his flat, thinking that a nice warm bath would do him the world of good, locking the door behind him. He never even saw the knockout coming.

Kingsley Shacklebolt caught Augustus effortlessly as he collapsed, and Remus took his legs to help shift him onto the sofa.

"Ta, Shacklebolt," Remus said, as they settled him comfortably. "I'm not used to doing this sort of thing at all, let alone singlehandedly."

"Mmh," Shacklebolt replied, regarding Augustus critically. "It's not going to be easy. Can I have my wards back, by the by, before we forget?"

"Of course." Remus reached into his pocket and took out two gold studs. Shacklebolt fitted them into one ear before he continued.

"This is going to take some time. The most important is the actual revelation of Black's existence, because that's going to stand out in his memory, but his knowledge will taint every single memory he has which is related to the Order, to Potter, or to Black. Each memory will have to have portions removed seamlessly. Sirius Black and Nigel Padfoot will cease to exist, for him."

"You're certain it won't leave a trace?"

"That I can assure you of. I did a stint with the Obliviation squad when I was a trainee. You will inform him, of course, when the mission is over?"

"Of course," Remus agreed. "If there were any other way..."

"Snape's a legilimens. It's only wise to protect an asset like Black." Kingsley carelessly straddled Augustus' unconscious form, kneeling over his chest, and put one hand on his forehead. He pointed his wand with his other hand and looked up at Lupin, who was watching with concerned eyes. "It won't hurt him."

"I know," Remus said. "It's just..."

"Every step forward is one step closer to being the enemy yourself?" Kingsley asked, one eyebrow raised. "Sometimes we walk along the edge, Lupin. Nobody knows that better than I do, or I wouldn't be here today."

"I worry that every step forward is one step deeper," Remus said. "That we're already in the shadow."

Kingsley looked down at Augustus. "I should get started. You may leave, if you please."

"No. I'll stay."

"Suit yourself."


It wasn't really fair, Sirius thought, that his one night off a week he should be forced to spend sitting out in the arse-freezing cold with a centaur looking at stars. He could be curled up in his own room with (Harry) a nice book and something hot to drink, but Firenze was relentless and Sirius knew better than to argue with a centaur. He was learning, after all, and it meant he didn't have to spend his midnights with Sinistra's classes anymore.

He'd cleared a ledge overlooking the lake, blowing the snow off with a blast from his wand, and now he sat looking upwards at his namesake star and its weirdly bright twin while he waited for Firenze to speak. Finally he spoke instead.

"Do you ever use telescopes?" he asked. "Or do you do it all by sight?"

He heard one hoof scrape the earth, idly.

"My people invented the telescope," Firenze said finally. "When we were a single tribe."

"When was that?"

"Before the time of human dominion. Centaurs were the pre-eminent glassworkers and metalsmiths of the world; humans learned these arts from imitating us, and sometimes from centaur teachers."

"They don't teach us that in the history books," Sirius replied.

"There are many things humans do not teach one another," Firenze rumbled.

"That's the truth."

"Of course it is."

"So centaurs and humans must have got on better once, if centaurs taught humans." Sirius looked at Firenze, daringly, but the centaur merely bowed his head.

"In the past it has been told that it was once an honour to be the student of a centaur, and once it was an honour to teach humans. When I teach you, I represent all my people, even those who have ignored and banished me. Only the greatest and wisest teachers were sent to the humans, so that it would be understood what a great and wise race we are. Only the greatest and cleverest humans were sent to the centaurs, so that it would be understood what good students you wished to be." He paused. "It is not now an honour to mingle with humans."

Sirius looked up at the Nile star and its twin again.

"All that hunting mythology," he said, studying Lepus and Orion nearby, the hare and the hunter. "Canis major and Canis minor baying at Orion's heels. If you look just below the horizon you get -- " he laughed. "A centaur, guarding a cross."

"Centaurus and Crux," Firenze said. "Indeed. Come, Nigel Padfoot; there will be no lesson tonight."

Sirius looked at him. "What?"

"It is an inauspicious night to read the stars."

Sirius stood and dusted his trousers off, angrily. "You couldn't have told me any sooner?"

"Sometimes it does not begin inauspiciously," Firenze said. "The stars have patiently awaited us; we can but be patient with them in return."

Sirius bit down on a sharp retort. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Nigel. You said something right."

"What, then?"

"You will know, in time," Firenze said. "I advise you to purchase a telescope. When you have procured such a device, we will continue."

Sirius gaped after him, but didn't bother to run and catch up; Firenze was already trotting along at a fair clip, and he had no desire to argue with a centaur as he ran. Instead he stopped and twisted his body around, looking back at his namesake star cautiously before he, too, made his way back to the warm safety of Hogwarts. There was still time to stop by the kitchens and get himself that warm drink, plus a small cup of melted tallow for Glastonbury.


Severus Snape removed his black hood, unbuckled the cape that hung wet and dark around his shoulders, and laid the offending garment over the back of a chair.

"Good day," he said warily. Behind him, Draco pulled his hood back but did not remove his cape. They both wore severe black robes, Draco's too loose across the shoulders -- he was wearing Snape's hand-me-downs.

"Severus," Remus answered. "Hello, Draco."

"Lupin," his former student muttered in greeting.

"Please, sit down," Remus said. Snape settled himself in the chair next to the one that his cape was now making damp. Draco came to stand behind him. "Thank you for coming."

Snape took in the empty office of Abigail Francisco: photographs of family on the desk, several deeply upholstered chairs, portraits of famous witches -- exclusively witches -- on the walls. He sniffed.

"I think we may dispense with the niceties, Lupin," he said snidely. "Surely you have more important matters to attend to on a Friday evening. You need to know what I know; very well. Ask."

Remus glanced at Draco.

"I think you need to know what I know, more," he said slowly. "Let me tell you what's happened since your...abrupt departure."

Draco snorted at the turn of phrase.

"Perhaps the less I know, the better all round," Snape said.

"No...I do not think that is so," Remus replied. "I'd like to outline a few things for you. You can be of great help to us, with a little more information. Redirecting raids, protecting our weak points, confusing Voldemort. It won't take long; it's nothing that needs writing down."

"Do tell," Snape drawled, under his breath.

"We've removed ourselves and any potentially dangerous artefacts from Grimmauld Place. If a raid is proposed, you could send them there. Harry is living with old family friends in a secure location -- guarded in shifts. He goes nowhere alone."

"He does travel?"

"Occasionally, but always under heavy guard and in disguise. I'm more worried that you divert attention from other members of the Order, less well-protected ones. Alastor Moody -- " Remus bit his lip, suddenly.

"What is it?"

"His madness has turned into a certain degree of senility. The Order protects him because he's a menace to our secrecy, but he's no longer able to protect himself." Remus sighed. "Kinsgley Shacklebolt has begun to act independently, in addition, and he is at high risk for attack."

"I see."

"And I would like to ask that you do your utmost to protect Nymphadora Tonks from harm. Consider it a personal favour," Remus said quietly. "She's pregnant."

Snape coughed. "I beg your pardon?"

"Was I unclear, Severus?"

Draco smirked. Remus continued. "The rest of the Order is reasonably well-protected. Except..."

Snape waited expectantly; Draco was pale and keen behind him.

"The children at Hogwarts," Remus said finally. "We have Ron and Hermione poised to lead a large number of them against Voldemort's forces, but they've not finished their training yet and without Dumbledore, Hogwarts is vulnerable. I don't need to tell you that if -- the Dark Lord turned his eyes to Hogwarts now, we would be in great danger indeed. I've had assurances that the Death Eaters couldn't possibly penetrate the Forbidden Forest...but we're not only talking about Death Eaters, are we? If a first wave of Dementors were sent in to establish a stronghold, it would be over in a matter of hours. Hogwarts can easily fall. I need you to prevent that."

"I can promise no more than a warning," Snape said.

"Warning would be more than we'd have now. What signal should I look for?"

Snape crossed his legs and settled his robes, almost fussily. "I am," he said, "raised high in the estimation of the Dark Lord. I murdered Albus Dumbledore."

He paused to gauge Remus' reaction; to hear it put so bluntly was certainly difficult, but Remus tried to remain composed.

"I am his lieutenant, one might almost say his advisor. In any such invasion I would no doubt be expected to supervise and command. Set a watch on Hogsmeade village; if there is to be an attack, I will kindle a signal fire on the roof of the Hog's Head."

"This rooftop, the palace of the sons of Atreus," Remus murmured to himself. "Very well. That's all the information I have; now I need yours." He glanced at Draco. "Alone."

"He stays where I am," Snape said firmly.

"This is business, not a lesson," Remus replied. "It's not a time to indulge petulant children."

"You would know something about that," Snape said.

"Do you see Harry Potter here?" Remus asked. "Think he's hiding behind a painting? Send the boy away, Severus. It's not his concern."

Severus looked up over his shoulder at the pale, foxlike face. He gave Draco a curt nod, and took a small object out of his pocket. It looked like a thick piece of wood, short and cylindrical, with a carved ivory ball delicately attached to one end -- as if it were the head of a walking-stick. He held it carefully by the wooden part and offered it to Draco, who gripped the ivory ball with his whole palm. Immediately, both Draco and the portkey disappeared.

"Thank you," Remus said.

"Business, Lupin," Snape reminded him. Remus spread his hands.

"I need to know what you do about how Dumbledore injured his hand. I have...information that tells me it may be important."

"From Potter?"

Remus regarded him impassively.

"Has he informed you of the importance of Dumbledore's ring?" Snape asked.

"Allusions have been made."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Let's put all this cryptic nonsense aside. Do you, or do you not, know what a horcrux is?"

"I do," Remus allowed.

"As do I, and I am aware that there is more than one. As for what information I possess, you may tell Mr. Potter that, as usual, someone else is doing his home-work for him," Snape said.

"You've discovered something?"

Snape looked put out. "Not yet. I will send a message through the usual channels when I have. It isn't a matter of twenty questions, you know. He guards them closely and if he were to discover that one is missing -- "

"Four," Remus said quietly.


"Four. The ring has been destroyed. The diary which almost killed Ginny Weasley was one. Regulus Black stole two others before he died. We have recovered them. There are six total. The snake..."

"I see." Snape digested this information quickly, and Remus could see the addition going on in his head. "What is the sixth?"

"I don't know," Remus lied.

"You're lying."

Remus sighed. "I have suspicions, nothing more. Nothing substantiated by fact. And more importantly, Severus, nothing I'm willing to share with you."

Snape's fingers clenched on the arms of the chair, and then he stood and picked up his cloak. The last of the dampness steamed itself out as he settled it around his shoulders and pulled the hood up.

"I'll report back," he said.

"Severus," Remus said quietly.


"Why did you do it?"

Snape looked at him, tilting his head to one side slightly.

"I made a promise. I keep my promises," he replied, and with a crack, he had Disapparated. Remus felt his hands clench into fists. He took two deep breaths, and then walked to the door.

Outside, Fred and George were sitting on hospital chairs, engaged in a furious thumbwar. When the door open they leapt to their feet and stood at attention.

"Reporting for duty," they said in unison. Remus gave them a grin.

"Fred, set off the owls to Kingsley and Tonks, and tell Moody to set the traps on his home. George, take the bombs to the Forest. Make sure you set them up on the Hogsmeade side -- I doubt they'll pass through Hogsmeade itself, that would give too much away. I'm off to the school. Fred, when you're done, join George."

"Will it be tonight?" George asked excitedly.

"I don't know. Got your camping gear?"

Fred held up a backpack from which dangled a sleeping bag on one side and a frying pan on the other.

"Good lads. Don't venture too far in and remember to watch in shifts. Tonks will send you reinforcements as soon as she has your owl."

Fred and George grinned at each other. George pressed a cardboard carton, a little smaller than a shoe-box, into his hands, and they both ran off down the hallway. Remus, perplexed, walked back into the office. He left a note of thanks on Francisco's desk, unsigned, and then tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. He emerged into his office at Hogwarts even as the sun was setting; there was precious little time to waste. It would take at least some time for Snape to rally the Dementors, if he was a traitor.

Remus was betting that he was. He had no mercy for Severus Snape, not anymore. He tried to find it in himself to understand that a good man might have done murder because he had no choice, but he would be damned if he'd give that bastard the benefit of the doubt. Sirius was right; Snape's eyes were dead. Remus felt no guilt for lying to him, not for a single second. Not even about Tonks. He regretted, more, telling him the truth about the horcruxes, but then clearly Snape knew about them and knew that Harry knew about them already, so there was little he could do there. Perhaps the knowledge would make Voldemort desperate and stupid. One could hope.

In the little time to spare, he stopped at his desk and set the box down, flipping the lid off quickly. Fred and George's voices emerged.

We've decided we rather like you, Lupin.

Yes, we think you're a decent bloke.

And one of our heroes, of course.

You really don't know how much we owe you.

So we thought we'd give you a little present.

Don't worry, we tried it out ourselves first.


Remus lifted the small black object out of the box, cautiously. It looked for all the world like a pocket-knife -- the vicious, long-bladed folding sort that hunters carried. The blade was hidden inside the black handle; cautiously, keeping it as far away from himself as he could, he grasped the bare half-inch of steel visible at the tip and unfolded it.

A white glow lit up his hands and he let go of the blade, passing the handle from his left to his right. The blade seemed to be made of opaque white light, as if it were illuminated pearl.

He looked into the box and found a scrap of paper on the bottom, which read:

Weasley's Wizarding Weapons (Arms for the Discerning Prankster)
Prototype: "Lupin" Model - Patronus-Blade Dagger
Suitable for slaying evil and opening tinned dinners.

Remus touched the sharp side of the knife to his palm. The metal was warm.

He folded it with an efficient snap and shoved it in his pocket, then left his office and made with all due haste for the office of the Headmistress, to inform her that the Forbidden Forest was being declared a battle zone even as night fell.

  • Previous
  • Next