SPOILER WARNING: This story is a retelling of Order of the Phoenix, so obviously it contains spoilers from the book. Second warning: this story is decidedly AU; I've altered many scenes, especially the ending of the book--i.e. no character death at the end. So if you're offended by a major departure from canon, you may want to avoid this story.


Phoenix Reborn

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: SS/RL

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, and Return of the Raven

Summary: A retelling of Order of the Phoenix, continuing my earlier sequence of stories where Snape and Lupin are a couple, and also focusing on the original characters of Dylan Rosier and Professor Blackmore. Snape and Lupin find their relationship is strained and tested by their duties to the Order and the fact that Lupin is living in Sirius Black's house.
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Snape helped Lupin and Blackmore move their things into Sirius Black's house--although they didn't really have much to move. Lupin, being poor, had a limited amount of possessions, and Blackmore didn't bring back much with her from the Demon Realm other than some clothing and jewelry her grandfather had given her, although she did Apparate to the ruins of Blackmore Manor to fetch a few books and other personal belongings that had not been destroyed during the battle with the Death Eaters. Snape shook his head; he was still having trouble believing that his former Professor's many-times-over great-grandfather was a Demon Prince.

He looked distastefully around at the house; since Black was the last living member of the family, the house had been empty for years and had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was filthy, filled with nasty little vermin like boggarts and doxies, and the portrait of Black's harridan of a mother harangued them every time they made too much noise or accidentally pulled the curtains back from the portrait. It was hard to believe, but Sirius Black actually seemed to be the least offensive member of the clan, judging by the portraits. If he hadn't hated Black so much, Snape might almost have felt sorry for him; the Blacks seemed to be even worse than his own family, if that were possible. And that half-mad house-elf that crept around insulting everyone didn't do anything to make the atmosphere more pleasant. On the other hand, who could blame him for going mad with that stupid portrait yapping at him all the time? Snape's relatives might be evil, cold-hearted, and cruel, but at least they had been quiet!

"Couldn't we have used your house as our headquarters instead, Professor?" Snape asked Blackmore sourly. "Even if it was wrecked during the battle, it can hardly be worse than this."

"Unfortunately, my house is not Unplottable, and the Black house is," Blackmore replied. "And I hate to admit it, but the protections on the Black house are even stronger than the ones laid on Blackmore Manor. Of course, the fact that we had the ability to summon demons may have made my family a bit complacent..."

"Believe me, Snape," Sirius said in a caustic voice, "I don't want to be here any more than you do! I don't exactly have a lot of fond memories of this place."

"It'll be all right," Lupin said in a tone of forced cheer, "once we clean up the place a bit."

"Nasty wolf-blood creature," muttered Kreacher. "What would my poor Mistress say if she knew Master had brought beasts and traitors into her house?"

Snape snarled and reached for his wand, but Lupin laid a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head. "Leave him be, Severus," Lupin said quietly.

"Don't forget demons," Blackmore cheerfully reminded Kreacher. The house-elf stared at her for a moment, then beat a hasty retreat out of the room. Her raven familiar Bane cawed mockingly after him from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder.

Sirius chuckled. "So, you strike fear into the hearts of house-elves as well as students, Branwen! Good, I'll call on you whenever Kreacher starts to get out of line."

They got settled in, each choosing bedrooms upstairs. Lupin claimed two adjoining rooms for his and Snape's use. "This is quite ideal," Lupin said happily. From the outside, the rooms appeared to be completely separate, but there was a door in the wall between them linking the two rooms together. It would allow the two lovers to enjoy each other's company while satisfying Snape's insistence that none of the other Order members learn of their relationship. Snape seemed pleased, and Lupin decided not to point out that people might still think it odd that two supposed-enemies had chosen rooms right next to each other.

Sirius scowled, but under Blackmore's watchful eye, said nothing, and stomped sullenly off to his own room. Blackmore smiled and left as well, quietly closing the door behind her. Lupin and Snape set about cleaning their rooms, chasing vermin out of the closets and dressers, and began unpacking their things.

Lupin cautiously sat on his bed; when nothing emerged from under the covers or the bed itself but a small puff of dust, he cast a cleaning spell with a quick flick of his wand, and threw his full weight back on the bed, bouncing slightly. "Hmm," he said. "Springy. Quite comfortable, really." He smiled enticingly at Snape. "Why don't you help me try it out?"

Snape immediately dropped the robes he had been hanging up in the closet onto the floor. It was nowhere near the full moon, but if Lupin's inner wolf was feeling...frisky...who was Snape to argue? Snape began feeling rather frisky himself; although he normally abhorred using magic for frivolous reasons, he Apparated himself across the room, directly on top of the bed and, not incidentally, Lupin.

"Oof!" exclaimed Lupin, when Snape landed on him a little more heavily than he had intended. But when Snape tried to roll off of him, Lupin reached up, entwined his hands in Snape's sleek, black hair, and firmly pulled his face down to be kissed. Snape found the idea of making love to Lupin beneath Black's roof to be rather titillating, in a slightly perverse sort of way, and enthusiastically returned the kiss. Kissing led to caressing, which led to undressing, and things were proceeding quite nicely when suddenly a voice screamed:

"FILTH! PERVERTS! LOVERS-OF-MEN! HOW DARE YOU PERFORM UNNATURAL ACTS BENEATH THE ROOF OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK--"

"Damn this house!" snarled Snape, reaching for his wand. He had overlooked the painting on the wall, since it had appeared to be merely a still life of a bowl of fruit sitting on a table. But now there was a sour-faced old man in it who bore a strong resemblance to the painting of Black's mother downstairs; apparently the occupant of the portrait had been visiting one of his equally nasty relatives and had just returned home to his own painting. Snape pointed his wand at the painting and a ray of red light shot out of it; the old man yelped and vanished, and the portrait exploded into a shower of frame fragments and bits of canvas. Snape set his wand back down, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He turned back to Lupin, saying, "I'll clean up that mess later, but for now why don't we get back to performing some of those unnatural acts our uninvited guest mentioned...?"

Lupin laughed, batted his eyelashes at Snape, and said in tones of admiration, "My, you handled that portrait so masterfully, Severus! Maybe you should help Sirius keep Mrs. Black under control downstairs."

Snape knew Lupin was just teasing him, but he preened a little nonetheless. "Let Black deal with his own mother," Snape said in a haughty voice. "I've got better things to do right now, don't you think?"

His hands began sliding over his lover's body, and Lupin gasped, "Yes, definitely!"

"But if you really think I need to go deal with the portrait right now..."

"Don't you dare stop, Severus!" Lupin growled, and it was Snape's turn to laugh. Lupin wrapped his arms around Snape tightly and growled softly into his ear, "It's not wise to arouse a werewolf and leave the job unfinished..."

That little growl, and the way Lupin was baring his teeth at him, half-threateningly, half-playfully, sent shivers of excitement up and down Snape's spine. "I see I have unleashed the beast in you, Lupin," he purred.

"Yes," agreed Lupin, with a hungry, feral look in his blue eyes that only increased Snape's desire. "It's all your fault. So it's up to you to pacify the beast."

Snape thought that was a bit unfair, since Lupin had started all this, not him. But he certainly didn't want to do anything that would discourage Lupin from initiating sex in the future, so he just grinned and said, "Never let it be said that I don't do my duty by the Order!" His hands continued to caress Lupin, and he murmured into his lover's ear, "You know, what we're doing is doubly unnatural, since you're not only male, but a werewolf..."

"Does that excite you, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Well, yes, actually it does," Snape replied cheerfully. "Doesn't it excite you?"

"Well...yes," Lupin admitted, blushing a little. But the wolf was too much in control right now for him to be embarrassed about it for long, and the two lovers gleefully set about performing acts that would have utterly scandalized the scions of the noble house of Black, had any of them been present to watch.
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Later, the four wizards sat down to dinner together. Blackmore and Sirius had prepared the meal, since no one trusted Kreacher not to poison them, either on purpose or by accident.

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence," Sirius said sarcastically to Snape and Lupin, who had finally emerged from their rooms after he and Blackmore had spent the past few hours cleaning up the kitchen and cooking.

Lupin took a seat at the kitchen table without replying; Sirius wasn't even sure if his friend had heard him. Lupin's face was slightly flushed, and there was a dreamy look in his blue eyes and a wide, silly-looking grin on his face--the same grin Sirius had first noticed on Lupin's face when he had received a love letter from Snape last summer. Sirius scowled.

For once, Snape did not respond in kind to Sirius's insult. Instead, he smiled in a smugly satisfied way. "I'll have you know we were quite busy cleaning your house, Black."

"Quite busy," Lupin said dreamily.

Sirius gave them a skeptical look. "Oh, I'm sure you were 'quite busy'--but not cleaning!"

"Well, there is one less portrait in the house now," Snape said in that same smug manner.

"Severus lost his temper," Lupin said with a grin.

"He was insulting us," Snape said in a tone of offended dignity.

"He called us perverts," Lupin added helpfully.

"I don't really want to know the details," Sirius said hastily, glaring at his friend. "Er...by the way, who was it?"

"How should I know, Black?" Snape snapped. "All your relatives look alike."

"There was a bowl of fruit in the picture," Lupin said.

"Oh, that's probably Uncle Perseus, then. No loss." Sirius paused, then looked at Snape again, with real interest this time. "You were really able to destroy the portrait?"

"Yes, but I think your uncle may have jumped out of it before I destroyed it," Snape replied, sounding disappointed.

"Hmm," Sirius said with a thoughtful look on his face. "I don't suppose you can do anything about my mother's portrait?"

Snape smirked. "I wouldn't want to interfere in a mother-son relationship, Black. Your mother is your problem."

Sirius scowled, but Blackmore set a pot of stew on the table and announced, "Dinner's ready," the stern look on her face forestalling any further arguments. The discussion turned towards their efforts to re-form the Order of the Phoenix. Most of the surviving old members, such as Mad-Eye Moody and the Weasleys, were eager to re-join, but recruiting new members was proving difficult, thanks to Cornelius Fudge.

"What about your grandfather?" Sirius asked Blackmore. "Can he help us?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Sirius," Lupin said, looking a little alarmed.

"Why not?" Sirius asked. "He seems pretty powerful. He took out three Death Eaters just like that!" Sirius snapped his fingers.

Snape glared at him. "Am I hearing correctly, Black? You call me evil because of my knowledge of the Dark Arts, but you're willing to unleash a Greater Demon upon the world?"

"Well, but he IS Branwen's grandfather," Sirius said defensively.

"Severus is correct," Blackmore said. She added with a wry smile, "Not very tactful--but correct. You must not make the mistake of assuming that Araqiel is benevolent to all mankind just because he is my ancestor. All demons thrive on chaos and strife, and Araqiel has no particular love for the human race, aside from Lady Regan and her descendants. He is fascinated by humanity, yes, but do you not recall how I told you that he would watch human war and conflict for entertainment? He is moved on occasion by love and nobility, but like all demons, he also delights in watching bloodshed. I love my grandfather and he loves me, but it would be very, very unwise to summon him without any putting any restrictions on him, and I do not think that any mage living now is strong enough to bind him. Possibly Dumbledore, but I wouldn't want to risk it. Why do you think I summoned Araqiel only as a last resort, when I was dying? Fortunately, he loved me enough to take me back immediately to his own realm for healing, without pausing to make mischief on the earth. But if we summon him to fight in our war without binding him to a contract, he might not simply go home when the war was over. He might want to stay and found an earthly kingdom to match the one he has in the Demon Realm."

"Even if you didn't want him to?" Sirius asked, looking a little stunned by what she had just told them.

"He loves me, Sirius," Blackmore said patiently, "and would never harm me, but that doesn't mean that he will obey me: look at how he forbade me to go home for fourteen years. He regards me as a child, and compared to him, I am; he is over a thousand years old, with powers I can only dream of. And even if he did agree to tamely go home after Voldemort was defeated, you might not like the way demons wage war. I imagine that Albus would like to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and so would I, but demons gain power from blood sacrifice. If you summon a demon to fight for you, most likely he will slaughter every enemy he can find, and possibly a few members from your own side if they happen to get in his way. And finally, we do not want to disrupt the balance of power. I am sure Voldemort knows how to summon a demon, but even he is not foolish enough to do so. But if we summon a demon of our own, Voldemort might feel forced to do the same, and if you think one demon can wreak havoc on the world, imagine two or more..."

"All right, all right, I get the picture!" said Sirius. "Forget I asked!"

Blackmore patted him on the hand sympathetically. "I must admit, I did entertain such thoughts myself, but only briefly; in the end, I believe it would do more harm than good." Then she paused and said, sounding a little annoyed, and much like the teacher she used to be, "You must learn to think before you act, Mr. Black. I would have thought that by now you would have learned to curb your impulsiveness at least a little..."

Snape snickered, and Blackmore gave him a sharp look and said pointedly, "I had hoped you BOTH would have gained some maturity over the years, but I see my hopes were in vain."

Both Snape and Sirius subsided into a sulky silence, while Lupin tried very hard not to laugh.
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Ariane Donner was delighted to have her son back home for the summer, but she was disturbed by what he had told her. As soon as they were alone together, Dylan poured out his heart to her, his words tumbling over each other so quickly that she couldn't understand him and had to get him to calm down and speak more slowly. But that was only natural--Dylan by necessity was forced to constantly be on his guard with everyone else; he could only truly relax and talk freely with his mother. He told her all about Professor Snape, how he had told Dylan stories about Evan, and how he had cautioned Dylan to be careful around Draco Malfoy--which was a little odd; it was good advice, but nearly everyone in the wizarding world thought Snape was Lucius Malfoy's lapdog. She was pleased that Dylan was perceptive enough to notice that little incongruent detail, but she was less pleased that Dylan seemed to have taken a liking to Snape. He didn't come right out and say so, but it was clear that he admired and respected the Potions Master. Severus had helped them both, and he was an honorable man--or at least as honorable as any former Death Eater was capable of being--but she didn't trust him to look after Dylan's safety if doing so conflicted with his own interests. Snape, like most Slytherins, was mainly concerned in looking after number one--in other words, himself. Guilt and honor would only motivate him up to a certain point before his self-preservation instincts kicked in, and she didn't want Dylan relying too heavily on him. She reminded Dylan of this, and he said, "Yes, Mother," but in an impatient tone, and she wasn't sure if he was really taking her seriously.

She was also concerned about his crush on the Muggle-born girl, Hermione. He was clearly conflicted, torn between his feelings for the girl and the ideals his father had died for. He raved about how smart and pretty and fiercely independent she was. "She's so talented," Dylan was saying. "She's the best wizard in her class, pureblood or not; maybe she's the exception that proves the rule?"

Ariane was thinking that although she didn't particularly want to kill Muggles and Mudbloods as Voldemort had, neither did she want one for a daughter-in-law. Then she told herself she was being silly; Dylan was only thirteen--there would be many more girls after this one. She smiled indulgently and patted her son's hand. "You're young still, Dylan. You will break a great many hearts before you graduate, but I suppose there's no harm in pursuing a friendship with this girl for now--so long as it doesn't affect your status in Slytherin House."

"But the Dark Lord--" he protested.

"Has not yet risen," Ariane said.

"But Draco says he has!"

"What?!" exclaimed Ariane.

"Didn't you hear about Cedric Diggory's death?"

"The Daily Prophet said there was some kind of accident during the Tournament--"

"Draco says the Dark Lord killed him! And Dumbledore said so too!" Excitedly, Dylan told her everything Draco had said, about Voldemort's return, that the Malfoys were in his service, how Draco had said they would be inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters in the future although they were too young for that now, and that Draco had invited him over for the summer.

Ariane's face went white. "Absolutely not!" she said. "Lucius Malfoy cannot be trusted!"

"I know, Mother," Dylan said. "So I told Draco I couldn't go, but I blamed it on Grandmother."

"Good boy," she said, but she was still inwardly shaking with fear. Joining the ranks of the Death Eaters would be the only way Ariane and Dylan would ever get revenge for Evan's death, the only way the two of them could escape a life of obscurity and exile. But the Dark Lord had promised them power the first time around, and Evan had died and Voldemort had fallen. It was only thanks to Evan's protectiveness and her own pragmatism that she had not ended up in Azkaban: Evan had taught her all of the spells Voldemort taught his Death Eaters, but she had never formally joined their ranks. He had wanted her to have "plausible deniability" in case anything happened to him, and she had agreed, although she had not really believed that Evan would die. She had not really wanted to become a Death Eater anyway, or at least she had no taste for torturing and killing Muggles and Mudbloods, but she had craved the power Voldemort offered his followers, had dreamed of she and Evan being among the ruling elite of the wizarding world; she had wanted to humble her mother and brothers for disowning her and scorning her lover. But it had all gone to hell, with the Dark Lord's followers disgraced, in prison, or in hiding.

She had prepared Dylan for the second coming of the Dark Lord, but she now realized that deep inside, she had not really expected it to happen. And she was no longer sure that the mere chance of power and revenge was worth risking her son's life for. The Dark Lord had failed her before; she would not blindly hand her son over to him now. It might be that Voldemort would prevail and they would have no choice but to join him, but she wanted some guarantee of success before she did so. But timing would be critical: throw in their lot with Voldemort too soon, and they risked death and punishment if the Dark Lord fell again, but if they waited too long and the Dark Lord did prevail, they would not be of the elite, but merely part of the rabble.

"Do nothing for now," Ariane said in a slightly shaky voice. "Try to keep on Draco's good side, but commit to nothing, and never, ever let him take you to any secret meetings without my permission, do you understand me, Dylan?"

"Yes, Mother," Dylan whispered. He too, seemed to be frightened and conflicted. "I thought this was what I wanted, Mother, but now I'm not so sure." Looking a little shamefaced, he said, "I'm afraid. I saw Diggory's dead body on the field. I--I didn't think it would happen this way."

"I know," Ariane said softly, reaching out to caress his cheek.

"And I don't want Hermione to die. And I don't want to fight Uncle Math if he decides to fight against the Dark Lord again!" Dylan looked up with a more determined expression on his face. "But I want to avenge Father's death. And I want to make Grandmother and my uncles sorry for the way they've treated you; I want to make you head of the Donner family, as you should be!"

"Oh my dear son," Ariane whispered. "That doesn't matter to me--not more than your life. I would rather spend the rest of my life in exile than lose you like I lost your father."

"But--" Dylan said in confusion.

Ariane laid a gentle finger across his lips. "Shh. We must wait and bide our time, wait and see where the chips will fall. I will not make the same mistake I did last time, of choosing the losing side. It may be that the Dark Lord is our path to power...but we will wait and see."

"Yes, Mother," Dylan said unhappily.

Ariane knew he wanted clear black-and-white, yes-or-no answers; he had expected her to tell him which path he should follow, but Ariane had no answers for him right now. Once again, he was learning a harsh lesson at an early age. She bitterly mourned the fact that he had never been able to enjoy a true childhood.

"Mother?" Dylan asked. "Do you think Professor Snape is still a Death Eater? Sometimes it seems like he's trying to steer me away from the Death Eaters, but I don't know if he really means it, if he's just being cautious because he's afraid I might tell other people that he's a Death Eater, or if he's just testing me somehow."

"I don't know," Ariane said slowly. "Perhaps he thinks you're too young to make such a choice right now. Or perhaps he doesn't really know either; he might be waiting, like us, to see if the Dark Lord will prevail or not." She stared at her son, wondering if the path Snape chose might influence Dylan's own decision; the thought was somewhat disturbing.
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A few days later, the entire Donner family sat down to dinner together. Ariane's mother and brothers had decided to grace the table with their presence; no doubt Deirdre Donner wanted to check up on her grandson after his return from Hogwarts, probably checking for signs that he was on the path to becoming a Death Eater.

"Dylan has done well at school," Mathias was saying to his sister in a pleasant, casual tone of voice, as if they had not bitterly argued over whether or not Dylan should be allowed to attend Hogwarts. "He received the highest marks of all the students of his year."

Deirdre just stared at Dylan, a cold look on her face. She was still a handsome woman, with silver-blonde hair like her daughter, although it was now much more silver than blonde. But there was no kindness, no mercy, no compassion in her face; it might as well have been carved from a block of white marble--beautiful, perfect, and utterly lacking any human warmth. "It's not his intelligence I'm worried about," she said in a voice as cold as the expression on her face, "but rather, his character."

"His Head of House, Professor Snape, says that his behavior has been impeccable," Ariane said to her mother in an equally cold voice. "His letter says that Dylan has been a model student. He even commended Dylan for volunteering for extra work during his free time, helping to brew healing potions for the Triwizard Tournament."

Deirdre sniffed disdainfully. "As if I would trust the word of a former Death Eater!"

"Professor Snape never stood trial!" Dylan said, jumping to his teacher's defense. "He's a respected member of the staff, and the Headmaster trusts him, so you have no right to talk about him that way!"

"Watch your tone, boy!" Gwydion Donner, Ariane's older brother snapped. He was a handsome man, with shoulder-length blond hair and an elegant goatee. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, but right now he was staring at Dylan with a look of arrogance and contempt. "You exist on charity; the house you live in, the clothes you wear, every bite you eat comes to you because of Lady Deirdre, and don't you forget it! She could cast you out on the street at any time, you worthless whelp of a Death Eater!"

Ariane's eyes blazed with rage, but before either she or Dylan could reply, Mathias's wife Goewin said coolly, "Actually, Gwydion, that is not true. The house and the land it stands on belong to Mathias, or rather to me, since he signed it over to me in our marriage contract."

Gwydion's mouth dropped open. It was an open secret among the family that he and his brother had "dishonored" Goewin when she was a girl, and Mathias had made up for their crime by marrying her and bestowing upon her all his lands and wealth. Goewin had never made an issue of it before, and Mathias had continued to run the estate as he had in the past, but technically it all belonged to his wife. Gwydion's twin Gilbert squirmed nervously in his seat; their uncle had punished them by literally turning them into beasts and forcing them to live as animals in the woods for three years. Gwydion had recovered his sanity upon resuming human form, but Gilbert had never been quite right in the head since. He had become simple-minded; he often giggled at things that weren't there, and like a small child was easily distracted from what he was saying or doing by the smallest things--a sunbeam falling through the window, or a butterfly flitting in the garden. And he was always very, very nervous around Mathias and Goewin.

"In fact," Goewin added with a smile, clearly enjoying herself, "since Math and I have no children, nor are likely to, I have decided to make Dylan my heir."

"WHAT?!" screeched Gwydion, and Deirdre's face went even more cold and rigid, which meant that she was furious. Gilbert looked nervously at his brother and mother, and began to whimper softly.

Ariane was just as shocked as her brother. She knew that Goewin was fond of Dylan and had always treated him kindly, for which she was grateful, but she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that her young "aunt" would do such a thing.

Deirdre's face remained cold, but inwardly she was raging. The Donner title and lands were passed down matrilineally, unlike most of the wizarding families, except perhaps the Blackmores. There had been a few Blackmore Lords, but mostly they had borne girls, who always kept the Blackmore name even after they married. But the Blackmores were all dead now, and good riddance; they were Dark Wizards all of them, whether they were Slytherins or not. She had been furious when her childhood friend Fiona Byrne had married Meredith Blackmore; Fiona had claimed he was a good and kind man despite his name and his House (Slytherin, of course), but he must have been entangled in something nasty because he and his wife had been killed under mysterious circumstances. And their daughter Branwen had been an arrogant bitch; she remembered how the young teacher had argued with her over her decision to disown Ariane, how she had looked at Deirdre with cold, disapproving eyes--how dare the impertinent little wench judge her? Deirdre had not been sorry when she heard Branwen had died, under even stranger and darker circumstances than her father.

But Deirdre was getting caught up in the past...she forcibly wrenched her mind back to the present. Ariane had been her heir, as the only daughter, but after Deirdre disowned her, Gwydion became her heir. She was content with that; secretly he had always been her favorite anyway, and as long as he someday had a daughter, the Donner title would pass back into the female line. For now, Deirdre controlled most of the Donner lands and wealth, but her brother Mathias had his own estate, given to him by their indulgent mother. Math had been a confirmed bachelor, and even after he married Goewin, no children resulted from that marriage. He was probably too old to sire any by now--if he shared Goewin's bed at all; Deirdre wasn't convinced that they were husband and wife in anything more than name. And since Math had no children, she had assumed that Gwydion would eventually inherit his lands. It came as a bitter shock to her--and to Gwydion as well, judging by his reaction--that he would not.

"The boy isn't even a Donner!" Deirdre said in an icy voice. It had been another bone of contention between her daughter and herself, that Ariane had insisted that her son bear his father's surname. Perhaps in time she could have accepted Dylan into the family if he had been given the Donner name and been raised as a Donner, if he could have been raised to forget his father's heritage...

Goewin said defiantly, "Even if he bears his father's name, your blood still flows through his veins, Deirdre. He is family; he is blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh."

"Tainted blood!" spat Deirdre. "And Ariane is no daughter of mine, so her son is no kin to me, either!"

"Tainted blood!" Gilbert giggled maliciously.

Dylan looked hurt and furious, and when she saw his face, Goewin grew even more angry. "Well, he is kin to me and Math! I love Dylan like a son, and I have declared that he will be my heir! There is nothing you can do about it--the papers have already been drawn up and signed! Accio!" She pulled out her wand and a roll of parchment flew into her hand. She handed it to Deirdre, who unrolled it and read it, her cold expression finally giving way to open rage. She looked as if she wanted to rip it in half, but Goewin just laughed.

"Go ahead and rip it up, Deirdre," she taunted. "I have already filed a copy with the Ministry, and it is now an official court document!"

"How can you permit this, Math?!" Deirdre shouted, waving the parchment at him.

"I'm quite in favor of it, Sister," he said quietly. "Goewin has the right to do whatever she likes, of course, since the lands belong to her, but she did ask for and receive my blessing. It is long past time you let go of your grudge, Deirdre; Dylan is not to blame for his father's crimes. But since I fear you cannot, or will not, let go your grudge, we wanted to be sure that Ariane and Dylan will be provided for should anything happen to us."

"You did this on purpose!" Gwydion shouted furiously. "You did this to get back at me!"

Goewin gave him a smile of bitter satisfaction. "You have no one but yourself to blame, 'nephew,'" she sneered. "If you had not helped your brother to rape me, then Math would never have married me, and the estate would not be mine to give away."

"We agreed never to speak of this again!" screamed Deirdre, and Gilbert began whimpering again, hugging himself and rocking back and forth in his chair. Dylan's eyes went wide with shock, then he glared at his two uncles with a look of pure hatred.

"And please note, that in the will, I have stated that even if Math and I should have children, Dylan will still be an equal co-heir along with them. Though you had better hope that we do not, Gwydion--for if I bear a girl, then she will be heir to the entire Donner estate, not you." Gwydion and Deirdre stared at Goewin in shock and horror, and she smiled sweetly at them.

"You plotted this from the beginning!" Gwydion accused. "You wanted our wealth, so you led Gilbert on, you sl--"

"SILENCE!" roared Math, rising to his feet and leveling his wand at Gwydion. "You will speak to my wife with respect when you sit at our table," he said coldly. "And do not blame an innocent girl for the crimes you and your brother committed; it is only through her compassion that the two of you did not go to prison for them."

"It wasn't compassion that motivated her," Gwydion hissed. "Her precious maidenly honor would have been besmirched if word got out."

"Mostly I took pity on Math," Goewin said quietly. "Because he loved you, I agreed to let him punish you privately so your lives would not be ruined. But yes, I was also afraid of what people might say. But I am no longer a naive teenage girl, Gwydion, and I am not ashamed, for I know I did nothing wrong. And I no longer care about my reputation--so you will make no trouble for Dylan, you will not oppose my choice of heir, or I will tell the entire wizarding world what you have done, tell them what brute animals you and your brother are!" Gwydion sat there, turning red and seething. "I think you are even worse than Gilbert," Goewin continued. "Even though you were not the one who actually raped me. Because you put the idea into his head, and you planned it, though you were always the wiser of the two and should have known better. You are an intelligent and gifted wizard, Gwydion, but you have no conscience and no compassion."

"Since I cannot insult your wife at your table," Gwydion said through clenched teeth, "I will leave that table, Uncle." He pushed back his chair, stood up, and Apparated out of the house without another word.

Deirdre also stood up, taking Gilbert by the arm and pulling him from his seat as well. "I will not forget this, Brother," she said coldly. "That you chose tainted blood over your true kin." Then she and Gilbert vanished as well.

Dylan sat at the table, trembling slightly, and Goewin smiled at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Dylan," she said softly. "I meant for it to be a happy occasion when I told you. But I let Gwydion get to me, and I lost my temper and threw it in his face. I'm sorry."

"You really mean it?" he asked softly. "You've made me your heir? Even if you have children of your own?"

"Yes, Dylan," Goewin said, leaning across the table to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. "You are my nephew. I love you, and I want to see that you and your mother are provided for. So never again let anyone speak to you of charity, and never again feel that you are in exile here, Dylan, for now this estate is truly your home."

Dylan began to weep, and Ariane pulled him close and held him as if he were a little boy again. "Thank you, Goewin," she said softly. She and Goewin had never liked each other much when they were younger. Goewin had thought Ariane was stuck-up and arrogant, and Ariane had thought Goewin was a prissy little goody-two-shoes. And then, when she had accused Ariane's brothers of rape, Ariane had not wanted to believe it, and had blamed Goewin. But deep down, she knew Uncle Math would never have punished them if it had not been true. And after Evan had died, and she had been sent into exile on Math's country estate, Goewin had not taunted or gloated at her, but had treated her with kindness. And both she and Math had loved Dylan and been kind to him as well, and for that alone Ariane would have been grateful. Somehow, over the years, they had reached an understanding of sorts, but she was truly touched now by Goewin's generosity. And greatly relieved, for now, even if Dylan didn't join Voldemort, he would have an inheritance, a position and place of his own. It might not be as grand, but perhaps it would be safer...

"You and Dylan are family, Ariane," Goewin said quietly. "We love you both."

Math smiled and walked around to the other side of the table, kissing both his niece and his great-nephew on the tops of their heads. "Enough tears now," he said gently. "Let's finish dinner."

Dylan wiped his eyes on his sleeve but did not pick up his fork. He was staring at his beautiful young great-aunt. "Did my uncles...did they really...?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Yes," Goewin answered quietly. "I had intended to spare you the details since I thought it was all in the past, but I suppose you have a right to know the truth now. I left Hogwarts at an early age to study with your Uncle Math because I have--or rather, had--a very rare form of Divination magic. I was what is called an Oracle; I had the power to see into the future, but this power is linked to, well, virginity. My Sight would last only so long as I remained chaste. It was not a great burden for me, for I was a scholarly sort, and not the type who giggled about boys and worried about my looks. And anyway, there was more at stake than my physical desires--Voldemort was on the rise, and Math hoped my powers might help them defeat the Dark Lord. But Gilbert became infatuated with me, tried to lure me into his bed, and when I refused, he even proposed marriage to me. But I told him the work I was doing with Math was too important; I'm afraid I was a bit abrupt with him--I told him it was selfish of him to put his personal feelings ahead of our duties as wizards. Gilbert was hurt and despondent, and Gwydion, who was always overprotective of his siblings, was furious. He told Gilbert that he would see to it that his desires were satisfied whether I willed it or not. He arranged to lure Math away from the house on a pretext, then disarmed and bound me magically--he was a stronger mage than I, at least in the combative magics. He stood guard outside my room while Gilbert raped me; all the house-elves and human servants were too afraid of him to interfere." Goewin smiled bitterly. "Gilbert did not find the experience as satisfying as he thought it would be; I screamed and fought the entire time even though I knew it was futile. But I would never let it be said that I willingly gave up my power and my virtue to him; I screamed loud enough for the entire house to hear. Gwydion told me if I knew what was good for me, I would keep my mouth shut and tell no one what had happened, that I would be useless to Math without my Sight, and no man of rank would marry a despoiled maiden. 'Don't you think Math will notice that I can no longer See?' I asked him. He just laughed and said, 'Surely you can make up a few visions; fortune-tellers do it all the time.' I was so angry; not just because of the rape, but because he would have had me feed false information to those fighting the war against Voldemort, risking their lives and possibly the outcome of the war itself.

"So when Math came home, I told him what they had done, and the servants testified on my behalf. Deirdre, who always spoiled her children, begged me to not bring charges against them, offered me money and property to keep quiet. Math insisted they must be punished for their crimes, but he was worried that my reputation would be sullied; Gwydion was probably right when he said people would see me as defiled, unfair though that might be. So Math punished his nephews privately. He told them that since they had behaved no better than brute animals, that was how they would live for the next three years. He transfigured them into beasts--deer for the first year, wild pigs for the second, and wolves for the third. And he married me, and signed over all his lands and wealth to me, although I told him that was not necessary."

Math sighed wearily. "I hoped they would learn humility and compassion once they knew what it was like to be helpless, to be at the mercy of predators and the elements. I hoped they would learn to think and to value their humanity, once they had been subject to mindless, overpowering instincts of beasts. But Gilbert's mind was damaged by the experience, and it seems Gwydion has learned nothing."

Dylan was furious; he adored Goewin, who was one of the few people who had shown him any kindness and affection while he was growing up. He clenched his fists and shouted, "Three years as beasts is not enough! I'll kill them for what they did to you!"

"No!" shouted Goewin, before Math or Ariane had time to react. "They are not worth it, Dylan! I would not have you stain your hands with blood and become a murderer for their sake; they are small-minded, petty men, and they are not worth it." She reached across the table to cradle his face in her hands. "You are the one who is important, you are the one who matters to me. Do not throw your life away for them."

"Goewin is right, my son," Ariane murmured.

"But--" Dylan protested.

Goewin smiled. "I am not afraid of them any longer, Dylan. Rather, I would say they are afraid of me! And I am happy, Dylan. I know the servants gossip and pity the young woman tied to an elderly husband, but I love your Uncle Math. I always have, since I first became his apprentice, though I viewed him more as a father figure than a potential husband. But I regret nothing; I value Math's wisdom and kindness far more than any callow youth, however handsome he might be. Your uncles taught me that a pretty face means nothing; true beauty comes from within. And Math has a truly beautiful soul."

The old wizard chuckled. "You make me blush, wife!" he said, and he and Goewin laughed, gazing fondly at each other, and Dylan began to relax a little. "Do not worry about Gwydion and Gilbert," Math said to his great-nephew in a more serious tone. "They know I will not be so merciful a second time if they try to harm Goewin, or you and your mother." His expression suddenly turned fierce and implacable, and Dylan could well believe that he had fought in the war against Voldemort. Then Math sighed, looking more weary than angry. "I will ban them from the estate from now on; you will no longer have to listen to their insults, Dylan. I know they have treated you badly, and I should not have let it go on for so long, but I had still hoped for a reconciliation; I hoped with time they might relent and accept you and your mother back into the family."

"That will never happen," Ariane said.

"I fear that is true, my dear, though it breaks my heart," Math said sadly.

"I don't care," Dylan said. "You and Mother and Aunt Goewin are all the family I need!" It was true; he felt even happier now than the day he had been admitted to Hogwarts. He was truly part of a family now, and not just a charity case to be pitied.

The three adults smiled at him, and dinner resumed, with talk turning towards lighter subjects, and for a time, Ariane and Dylan were able to forget about the Dark Lord and the choices they would have to make.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry heard noises, and quietly picked up his wand and headed downstairs, expecting to confront burglars, but instead found his house full of witches and wizards. "Professor Moody?" he asked uncertainly, recognizing one figure. But having spent nearly an entire school year being taught by an impostor Moody, he wasn't sure what to believe.

"I don't know so much about 'Professor,'" Moody growled. "Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

"It's all right, Harry," said another familiar voice. "We've come to take you away."

Harry's heart leapt. "P-Professor Lupin? Is that you?"

"Why are we standing in the dark?" asked a woman's voice. "Lumos."

Light filled the room, and Harry could see that it was indeed Lupin. He looked tired, and his robes were shabbier than ever, but he didn't look as ill and gaunt as he often had during the year he had taught at Hogwarts. He smiled broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back through his shock.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft; she was young and pretty, and had short, spiky violet hair. "Wotcher Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus!" said a bald black wizard who wore a gold hoop in one ear. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," wheezed a silver-haired wizard. "Lily's eyes."

"Oh, shut up!" said a woman in a cold, commanding tone of voice. She was very beautiful, with waist-length black hair, ivory skin, and piercing green eyes. She wore green robes, and a huge raven was perched on her shoulder. She looked to be fairly young, somewhere in her late twenties or very early thirties, but there was an intimidating air about her, and the other witches and wizards fell silent as she looked around the room with a steely gaze in her eyes. That gaze was remarkably similar to the one Professor Snape used to quell unruly students.

"It's rude to talk about Mr. Potter as if he weren't even here," she said sternly, and her comrades looked a little ashamed, except for Moody, who looked impatient, and Lupin, who looked amused. "He is a person, not a story in the Daily Prophet!" Her expression softened as she turned to Harry and gave him a kindly smile. "Hello, Mr. Potter. I am Branwen Blackmore, and this is my familiar, Bane." The raven cawed in greeting. She would have continued introducing the other wizards, but Moody interrupted her, demanding proof that Harry was really himself, and not some Death Eater in disguise.

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag," Harry said nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Lupin, and Moody seemed satisfied with that. Lupin finished introducing Harry to the other witches and wizards, and explained that they were taking him to a safe place--he couldn't say where, because Moody claimed it "wasn't safe" to discuss it here. But Harry figured anywhere had to be better than Privet Drive.

They took Harry to an old, derelict mansion that looked as if it belonged to the Darkest of wizards. Mrs. Weasley was there to greet him, but neither she nor any of the other adults bothered to explain anything to him; they were apparently in a big rush to get to some important meeting. He was overjoyed to see his friends Ron and Hermione, but furious with them at the same time for not writing to him and telling him what was going on. They tried to explain that Dumbledore had forbade them to contact him, but all Harry's pent up resentment and frustration came pouring out, and he found himself screaming angrily at his two best friends until Hermione was close to tears. He knew he wasn't really being fair to them, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. Finally he calmed down long enough for them to explain about the Order of the Phoenix. Despite his anger, Harry was intrigued--especially when he found out that Snape was a member of the Order, and was in fact here right now giving a "top secret" report.

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children peered out over the bannister from the second-story landing, and saw the hallway below packed with witches and wizards whispering excitedly together. In the center of the group was Harry's least favorite teacher, greasy-haired Professor Snape. Fred and George started to lower an Extendable Ear, hoping to catch some of the conversation, but the crowd seemed to be dispersing. Bane looked up at them from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder and cawed. Fred hastily reeled up the Ear as the witch turned her steely green gaze in their direction. Her eyes lingered on the children for a moment, her expression unreadable, and then she looked away.

"Will you stay for dinner, Severus?" Lupin was asking Professor Snape, to Harry's horror. Harry wondered why Lupin sounded so hopeful, as if he wanted Snape to say "yes"; after all, Snape was the one who had forced Lupin to resign his position at Hogwarts.

Snape hesitated, then his eyes flickered towards the children, who hastily backed out of sight. "No," he said curtly. "I'm afraid I have business to attend to." The children cautiously emerged and peered back down from the bannister again.

Lupin looked oddly disappointed, and Blackmore looked both amused and annoyed at the same time. "Don't be a stranger, Severus," she said. "I look forward to catching up with my old students."

Snape shot her a look that was resentful and and slightly cowed at the same time. Strange; Harry had never seen Snape intimidated by anyone, except perhaps Moody (though of course that hadn't been the real Moody, but an impostor). "Another time, Professor," he said, a little stiffly.

Blackmore smiled and said, "It's no longer Professor, Severus, but Branwen."

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable, and said, "Another time, then, Branwen," and turned and walked down the hallway, out of Harry's sight. He heard the front door open and then close.

Ron sighed in relief. "Snape hardly ever eats here. Thank God! C'mon."

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Who's this Branwen Blackmore and why'd Snape call her 'Professor'? She's way too young to have been his teacher--"

"It's sort of confusing," Hermione said. "I'm not sure I understand it myself. But we've got to go to dinner now; maybe Professor Lupin can explain it to you later..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Make sure you keep your voice down in the hall."

Harry was about to protest that he didn't want to wait till later for an explanation, but was interrupted by a loud CRASH--Tonks had tripped over an umbrella stand. Moth-eaten velvet curtains on the wall flew apart, revealing a portrait of an old woman in a black cap, who started screaming, causing all the other portraits in the hall to scream as well.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers--"

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" roared a man with long black hair, hauling on the curtain and trying to draw it closed.

It was Sirius Black. Harry's mouth dropped open.

Sirius and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed while Sirius and the woman in the portrait continued to scream insults at each other the entire time. Once the curtains closed, the screams died down into silence.

"Hello, Harry," said Sirius grimly. "I see you've met my mother."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry learned that the house they were staying in, the house the Order was using as their Headquarters, belonged to Sirius. He was happy to see his godfather again, although Sirius seemed restless and unhappy about being cooped up in the house; as a fugitive, he could not leave without risking being caught by the Ministry. After dinner, Mrs. Weasley and Sirius started arguing over whether Harry should be told about the Order or not. Lupin watched Sirius with a strange look in his eyes, then finally intervened, saying Harry should be told the facts--or at least some of them. Mrs. Weasley was not happy, but gave in, and the adults began explaining about the Order, and the need to keep it secret because of Cornelius Fudge's attempts to discredit Dumbledore. Although most people refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, the Order had managed to recruit some members, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, the black wizard with the earring, and Tonks, the young witch with the spiky hair.

"And of course, Branwen," Sirius added. "Well, she was actually a member the first time around..."

Harry stared at the beautiful young witch, who had remained quiet during dinner and the argument between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. She was feeding scraps left over from dinner to her raven as her eyes flickered back and forth between Sirius and Harry. Her green eyes were expressionless as glass, though, and Harry had no idea what she was thinking.

"Er...excuse me...Miss...um...Ms. Blackmore," Harry said hesitantly.

Blackmore smiled at him slightly and said, "You may call me Branwen, Harry." Then seeing the doubtful look on his face--he was having trouble imagining himself calling that intimidating woman by her first name, she added, "Or if you are not comfortable with that, you may call me Professor Blackmore, although technically I am no longer a teacher. But Severus, Remus, and Sirius still tend to address me by my old title, so you may as well, too."

That seemed like a perfect opening. "You were a teacher?" Harry asked. "At Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she said calmly, feeding Bane another tidbit. "I taught Sirius and the others. Your father, too, actually."

"B-b-but," Harry stammered, "you're too young to have taught Sirius!"

Mrs. Weasley was glaring at Blackmore. "I think this falls under the category of things Harry doesn't need to know, Branwen!"

"Eventually he's going to hear talk about the old days, Molly," Blackmore said patiently. "And he's going to hear that Branwen Blackmore was supposedly killed by Death Eaters fourteen years ago."

"I don't understand," Harry said helplessly.

Blackmore turned to look at him, her expression grave. "I taught at Hogwarts for several years, until your father's class graduated, Harry. Then I gave up my position and became an Auror, because the Ministry desperately needed people to fight against Voldemort. I captured many Death Eaters, and had to kill a few, and the Dark Lord came to see me as a threat. He sent three Death Eaters to my house to kill me, and they nearly succeeded. But I was able to summon help." She slightly stressed the word "summon".

"I don't understand," Harry said again.

"That's right," Blackmore said. "I almost forgot. Hogwarts no longer teaches Incantations and Summonings. My specialty of magic is Summonings, Harry. I can summon certain creatures and spirits, such as elementals, to aid me and do my bidding."

"Branwen!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, looking very upset.

Blackmore and Lupin exchanged significant looks. She turned back to Harry and said, "I summoned an ally to help me, who killed the Death Eaters and took me back to his realm to heal. But time passes differently in the...er...spirit realm than it does in our world, so when I returned, fourteen years had passed in this world, but I had not aged."

"Spirit realm?" Harry said in a puzzled tone. "I still don't understand. And how come Hogwarts doesn't teach Summonings anymore?"

Lupin and Blackmore exchanged another look. "A Summonings spell can be used to summon creatures of the Dark as well as of the Light," Lupin said quietly. "After Prof--I mean, Branwen--disappeared, the school governors removed it from the curriculum because they believed it was a form of the Dark Arts, or could be used as such."

"The spells themselves are neither good nor evil," Blackmore told Harry and the other children, who were staring at her wide-eyed. "They are merely a tool that can be used for good or for ill. Like a knife, for instance--a scalpel can be used by a surgeon to save a life, while the same instrument in the wrong hands could be used as a weapon to take a life."

"Can you teach us Summonings spells?" George asked eagerly.

"NO!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. George and Fred looked crestfallen.

"In any case," Blackmore said, "I am back, and now a member of the Order. But Dumbledore doesn't want Voldemort to know that I'm alive, so I'm laying low and staying undercover."

"So how come YOU get to leave the house?" Sirius muttered under his breath.

"I don't often leave the house," Blackmore explained to Harry, pointedly ignoring Sirius. "But occasionally I do go out on errands for the Headmaster. Since I have been presumed dead for fourteen years, no one is actively looking for me, as they would, for say, a wanted criminal with a price on his head. A slight glamor to disguise my features is all that's required. Even if someone saw me undisguised, they would probably think I just bore a startling resemblance to Branwen Blackmore, but they wouldn't think it was me. I am dead, after all," she said in a dry voice. "And if I were alive, I should be in my forties, so I am clearly too young to be myself."

Sirius didn't care to challenge that, and the conversation turned back to what Voldemort was doing.

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged a fleeting look. "Stuff he can only get by stealth," Sirius said. "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra--?"

"That's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, looking furious. Harry and Fred began to protest, but she remained adamant.

"I think Molly's right, Sirius," Lupin said quietly. "We've said enough." Blackmore nodded in agreement, and Sirius shrugged but did not argue. Recognizing defeat, Harry and the other children rose from their seats and headed off to bed.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

After seeing the house, Harry was not surprised to learn that his godfather's family had been practitioners of the Dark Arts, although they had not been Death Eaters (except for Sirius's younger brother). He was shocked to learn that Sirius was related to Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, though. But Sirius clearly didn't care to talk about his relatives. Harry and his friends worked hard helping Sirius clean the house and rid it of unwanted occupants and items. Snape flitted in and out of the house. He and Lupin seemed to be working on some sort of secret project together, because he would show up and tell Lupin in an imperious tone of voice that he needed to share some information with him; then he and Lupin would disappear upstairs and confer for a couple of hours. Sirius always looked grumpy whenever Snape came around, but Blackmore always seemed to be pleased, though Harry couldn't imagine why. Snape rarely stayed for meals--to Harry's relief--but occasionally he did, mostly at Blackmore's insistence, and on those rare occasions he usually slept over. Apparently he had a room reserved for his use upstairs, but almost never used it. He was usually gone by the time the children woke up the next morning.

Snape was descending the staircase one evening, when Blackmore smiled and said, "Won't you stay for dinner, Severus?"

"I've put on a big roast," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "There's plenty for everyone."

"Don't encourage him, Mum," Ron groaned softly as he and Harry watched from a safe distance.

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy--" Snape began.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to keep you from your 'important' work," sneered Sirius.

Snape just gave him a condescending smile and said, "And how is the cleaning coming along, Black? Got the place all spic and span, have you?"

"And how did your little conference with Remus go today, Sevie?" Sirius asked in a snide tone of voice and Snape's face turned red. His hand started to reach inside his robes, as if to grab his wand...

"SEVERUS! SIRIUS!" Blackmore shouted in clear, ringing tones and Sirius and Snape both froze in place. Ron and Harry found themselves snapping to attention even though she wasn't talking to them. She glared at both of her former students, the steely gaze of her green eyes as sharp as daggers, it seemed, for it cut both men down to size. They cringed and hunched their shoulders slightly, seeming to shrink in size; they were suddenly transformed from two formidable wizards into two schoolboys being scolded by their teacher.

"Damn, but she's good," whispered Ron. "I'm glad she's not teaching at Hogwarts anymore."

"I think Snape picked up some of his techniques from her," Harry whispered back.

"Yeah, but she is a lot prettier than Snape, though!"

Meanwhile, Blackmore was delivering a stinging lecture to her two errant students. "I'm very disappointed in both of you! You're behaving more immaturely than any of the children in this house! How do you expect to set an example for your students, Severus, or for your godson, Sirius, if you can't behave like adults? We are all on the same side, gentlemen, and I think defeating Voldemort is just a little more important than your petty squabbles! Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two men mumbled in chorus.

"Sirius," Blackmore continued, "behave yourself. Severus is a member of the Order, and should be allowed to take meals with fellow members without being subjected to your snide comments. And Severus, stop baiting Sirius. You know perfectly well why he can't leave the house. And the work he is doing here IS important; the Order would not be able to function without a headquarters."

"Yes, ma'am," Snape and Sirius said again.

"Now, Severus, you WILL stay for dinner." Snape opened his mouth to protest, but Blackmore cut him off. "I know for a fact that Dumbledore has no tasks lined up for you for at least the next few days, and I would enjoy your company this evening, although right at this moment, I can't for the life of me remember why. And besides, the full moon is a week away, and I could use your help with the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Blackmore's been making the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin?" Harry asked, startled.

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Fred and George overheard them talking; Snape's too busy to make the potion, so he showed Blackmore how."

"I thought it was supposed to be really hard to make."

"Yeah, well, apparently she's a whiz at Potions as well as Summonings. Good enough to make the Wolfsbane Potion, anyway."

Lupin was coming down the staircase now. Snape looked up and said accusingly, "You didn't tell me the full moon was near!"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Lupin asked mildly, and for some reason, Snape blushed.

"Very well," Snape said in a rather huffy tone. "I'll stay for a few days and help you with the potion, Branwen. Just to keep Lupin from mauling the children, of course."

"Of course," Blackmore said, an amused smile on her face. Lupin chuckled, apparently unoffended by Snape's comment.

Snape caught sight of Ron and Harry and added dourly, "Although I could do with a few less students in my class..."

Dinner that night was an odd affair. Sirius sulked throughout the meal, clearly not happy that Snape was there. Snape kept making rude comments to Lupin, but curiously, Blackmore didn't scold him, perhaps because Lupin smiled cheerfully at Snape no matter what he said, which seemed to irritate Snape even more. Finally, he gave up trying to insult Lupin, and had a reasonably civilized conversation with Blackmore about some rare book on potions he had been reading. Mrs. Weasley actually seemed grateful for Snape's presence, because her children were always more subdued and better behaved when Snape dined with them.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked, a little timidly.

Lupin said gently, "I'm not your teacher anymore, so you may call me Remus or Lupin if you wish."

Hermione didn't feel comfortable calling him by either name, so she just said, "Yes, well, I was wondering...the full moon is near, but you don't seem to be as sick as you were when you were at Hogwarts..."

Lupin smiled warmly at her. "Yes, it's because of the Wolfsbane Potion." Snape looked up, breaking off his conversation with Blackmore, and seemed to be a little alarmed. Lupin grinned at him, then continued, "The inventor of the potion has made some improvements to it. I don't get as sick as I used to during the week leading up to the full moon, and the transformation itself is much easier and less painful." Hermione looked interested, and Lupin added, a mischievous little twinkle in his eyes, "Perhaps Severus could discuss it with you if you're interested, Hermione."

"Perhaps Severus has more important things to do with his time, Lupin," Snape retorted.

Hermione looked disappointed. Harry thought she was nuts; why on earth would anyone want to take extra lessons--and from Snape, of all people!--during summer vacation?

"Such as?" Lupin asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What are these important things you will be doing, Severus?" Lupin asked patiently, his eyes still twinkling.

"Ah...well..." Snape seemed to be frantically trying to come up with something. "I will be helping Branwen brew your potion, for one thing--"

"Perfect," Lupin said cheerfully. "Hermione can watch. I'm sure she won't get in the way."

"Oh no, Professor," Hermione said earnestly. "I won't get in the way, and I'd love to watch you make the potion, if you don't mind."

"Hermione's an excellent student," Lupin said. "Didn't she get the top mark in your third-year Potions class, Severus? I think it would be quite an educational experience for her."

Snape was scowling at him furiously, but Blackmore said, "I think that's a wonderful idea! It's important to instill a love for learning in one's students, don't you think, Severus?"

Snape glared at her for a moment, then sighed wearily and said in a resigned tone, "Yes, Professor Blackmore." He left the table as soon as he finished his dinner, not bothering to stay for dessert, and headed back upstairs. Harry thought he heard Snape mutter under his breath, "It's going to be a long summer..."

Snape stayed for a few days, but remained in his room almost the entire time, except when he was working on the Wolfsbane Potion with Blackmore and Hermione. Hermione, of course, was thrilled to be able to learn about making the potion, even if it meant she had to put up with Snape. And she reported that Professor Blackmore had been quite nice, and explained to Hermione step-by-step what they were doing. Even Snape himself had been reasonably polite, under Blackmore's watchful eye.

Although Lupin had claimed that the potion had been improved, he still seemed to feel some ill effects, because he spent most of his time in his room resting. The children hardly saw either Lupin or Snape except when they came down for meals, during which Snape would snipe at Lupin, who would cheerfully ignore him. Snape left for a couple of days on some important business, which as usual, was "top secret," but he returned on the day of the full moon.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape brushed by the children, ignoring their curious looks, and went upstairs to his room. He locked the door, then opened the door that linked his room to Lupin's and walked in.

Lupin had been lying on the bed, but jumped up as soon as Snape walked in. "Severus!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around his lover. Before Snape could reply, Lupin sealed his mouth with a fervent kiss.

"Well," said Snape, a long moment later, gasping for breath. "It seems you missed me." He gave Lupin a sly smile. "Or should I say, the wolf missed me?"

"We both missed you," Lupin said, grabbing the front of Snape's robes and pulling him close for another hungry kiss.

"Hmm," said Snape; Lupin's sudden show of aggression was unusual, but not unwelcome. Snape found it quite exciting, actually. "Enforced celibacy during the week leading up to the full moon seems to make the wolf more aggressive," he said, as Lupin impatiently fumbled with the fastenings on his robes and the shirt beneath them. "Perhaps I should write to Kamiyama and tell him--"

"Severus, shut up and make love to me," Lupin ordered.

Snape grinned. "Make me," he said.

Lupin kissed him hard and shoved him down on the bed in response. {If he's like this after only a couple of days, I wonder what he'd be like if I stayed away for the whole week?} Snape wondered. Lupin growled in his ear, and Snape shivered with pleasure. Maybe it would be better not to find out; the wolf might get desperate enough to jump Black--a truly horrifying thought! Snape resolved to make sure he made time to stop by whenever the full moon drew near, in spite of his undercover job and the discomfort the other residents of the house--particularly the children--caused him. But now the wolf was demanding his full attention, and Snape gave up thinking in favor of satisfying his and Lupin's desires.

He spent an exhausting--but very pleasant--afternoon engaging in some truly amazing and athletic sex with his lover. The closeness of the full moon seemed to make Lupin insatiable, but eventually even the wolf was satisfied, and Lupin dozed off. Snape bathed, dressed, and crawled down to the kitchen to fetch some dinner for himself and for Lupin, who would no doubt be hungry after his transformation.

He was filling two bowls with stew and setting them on a tray, when Mrs. Weasley walked in and said, "Won't you be joining us at the dinner table, Severus?"

"No," Snape said curtly. "I want to...ah...monitor Lupin; he's not feeling well, and I may want to make some adjustments to the potion."

"That's very kind of you, Severus," Mrs. Weasley said, and Snape flushed and scowled at her. He heard a choking noise and saw Ron Weasley standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Ron!" scolded Mrs. Weasley. "That's what happens when you stuff your mouth full of food like that! Now go sit down and eat at the table!" She shooed her son back into the dining room.

Snape sighed with relief and picked up the tray. He started to head back upstairs when he ran into Blackmore. She smiled and said innocently, "Are you feeling all right, Severus? You look quite tired...would you like some help with that tray?"

Snape felt his face flush again. This was why he hated coming back to the house! "No thank you, Branwen," he replied coldly. "I can manage perfectly well on my own."

"Very well," his former teacher said. As Snape started to turn away, she called out, "Severus?"

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm glad you came back," Blackmore said, her voice quiet and serious now. "For Remus's sake. He misses you, you know. He needs your support during his transformations. Not just because of the physical side-effects--" She smiled slightly. "He needs your emotional support as well."

"I know," Snape said gruffly. He knew Lupin wished he would stay at the house more often, and he felt guilty that he didn't. But he didn't feel comfortable carrying on an affair under the same roof as his students. "I'll...I'll try to stop by more often, particularly when the moon is waxing."

"Good," said Blackmore, smiling at him approvingly. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape grunted and headed back upstairs. He was thrilled, really he was, that his favorite teacher was not dead after all, but by Merlin's beard, he wished she would stop interfering in his love life! Fourteen years of being unable to interact with the human world except by watching it in her grandfather's magical scrying pool had turned her into a bit of a voyeur, despite her protests to the contrary. Why couldn't she just remain cold, strict Professor Blackmore? Why did she have to turn out to be a real person, a woman with a strong sense of compassion and a wicked sense of humor...?
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"The Dark Lord is getting impatient with me, Albus," Snape said nervously. When Voldemort had been banished and bodiless, Snape had been brave enough to speak his name aloud, but now that he was resurrected, Snape found himself behaving with what the Headmaster referred to as "superstitious fear". Voldemort had implied to his followers that he could hear when someone spoke his name. Although such power was commonly found in old legends and tales, Snape knew that for the most part it was a myth. The problem was that Voldemort was not most wizards; no one, not even Dumbledore, knew exactly what the Dark Lord could and could not do. And Dumbledore had never been on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse cast by Voldemort, while Snape had. So, although he was ashamed of himself for doing so, since returning to the Death Eaters, Snape had been careful not to speak his Master's name out loud.

"He's not satisfied with the tidbits of information we've been feeding him, then?" Dumbledore asked, looking at his Potions Master with concern in his eyes. He knew Snape was under a lot of pressure--being a double agent was more than most people would be able to handle, and on top of that, Dumbledore knew that being parted from Lupin was causing him additional stress. And it probably didn't help that Lupin was now living at Sirius Black's house, along with other members of the Order. The couple was now able to only steal a few moments alone together here and there. Dumbledore would have liked to have given them some time off, but that was simply impossible; Snape was the only member of the Order who could get close to Voldemort, and there were vital tasks for Lupin to perform as well.

"No," Snape replied. "He still doesn't trust me. He wants me to prove myself."

"How?"

"He wants to put an agent of the Ministry on the staff. You know they passed that decree about the Ministry appointing a teacher if you can't find one. And you still haven't filled the DADA position, have you?"

"No," said Dumbledore reluctantly. "Branwen was willing to take it, but I want to keep her presence concealed from Voldemort for now."

"Of course, you could always give it to me," Snape suggested hopefully.

"But then we would still be one position short, and qualified Potions Masters are hard to come by as well, Severus."

Snape sulked. "I've served you faithfully all these years, haven't I?" he asked resentfully. "Why do you trust Black and not me?"

"If you'll notice, Severus," Dumbledore said dryly, "I haven't given Sirius the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, either. It's not a matter of trust!" He patted Snape on the shoulder and said in a kinder tone, "Of course I trust you, my boy. But isn't it safer if it appears to the outside world that I do not?"

"Oh," said Snape in a small voice, feeling rather stupid. He cleared his throat. "Ahem, well then, about the position..."

Dumbledore sighed. "I hate to give the Ministry a foothold in the school, but even if I can stop them here, they will find another way in eventually. At least this way we'll have some control over it. And I am concerned about your safety, Severus. Very well; I'll inform the Ministry I can't find anyone to fill the position, and you can tell Voldemort that he's outfoxed the old man..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ariane was walking on the estate grounds gathering wildflowers for the dinner table. Math and Goewin had taken Dylan shopping for school supplies, and when they returned, there would be a "surprise" birthday party waiting for him, although she was quite sure that Dylan would not be very surprised. She did have a gift that she hoped would be a pleasant surprise for him, though: his father's ring, which Evan had worn as heir to the now fallen house of Rosier. It was a heavy, ornate silver ring, carved with an intricate design of thorny vines, and set with a red crystal cut to resemble a rose in bloom. Professor Blackmore had sent it back to her after Evan's death, all that was left of him after he killed himself fighting the Aurors; there had not even been a body left to bury, nothing but ashes...and the ring. She had received the ring, along with a letter that explained the circumstances of Evan's death, and curiously, expressed sorrow over it, from Blackmore shortly before her own mysterious disappearance. Ariane hated Alastor Moody for his part in her lover's death, but strangely enough, she believed that her former teacher had been sincerely remorseful about Evan. Professor Blackmore had kept in touch with her after graduation--although Ariane hadn't told Evan that--and tried to steer her away from Voldemort. But even when it became clear that her arguments were falling on deaf ears, she had still treated Ariane kindly. So Ariane could never really bring herself to hate Blackmore. No point in it anyway, since she was dead... She sighed and looked down at the ring on her finger, a more delicate, feminine version of Evan's ring; it had been his gift to her, an engagement ring. But they had never had the chance to marry; perhaps they should have listened to Professor Blackmore after all...

"Hello, Ariane," said a smooth, silky voice.

Ariane jumped a little, and looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing in front of her. "Lucius! What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to welcome an old friend?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, Lucius," Ariane lied, " but my uncle has just begun to trust me again, and all the years I have worked to regain that trust will be wasted if he finds you here on his property! So whatever you have to say, be quick about it."

"Very well," Lucius said. "I will get straight to the point. The Dark Lord has returned, Ariane, and he is gathering his old followers to him once more. Of course," he added, pointedly staring at her arm, "you never took the Mark, so you would not have heard his call."

"That was at Evan's insistence," she said coolly. "And a good thing too, or I and my unborn child would have been sent to Azkaban." She had not forgotten that Lucius had not lifted a finger to help her.

"I knew your family would not allow you to be sent to prison," Lucius said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Otherwise, I would of course have intervened."

"Of course," Ariane said, still in that cool voice.

"But for Evan's sake, will you join us now?"

"I cannot leave the estate without my uncle's permission, and he is too powerful a mage for me to defy," Ariane said, trying to put him off without offending him too much. This was all happening too fast, she wasn't ready for this...

"When the Dark Lord takes his rightful place, you will be a prisoner no longer," Lucius said. "And you will no longer be enslaved to that foolish old man. Providing, of course, that you prove your loyalty."

"My betrothed sacrificed his life for the Dark Lord's cause; is that not proof enough?" Ariane asked, being careful to keep up a haughty demeanor and prevent any of the fear she felt from showing on her face.

"The Dark Lord remembers those who were loyal, and fell in his service," Lucius said with a smile that was not one bit reassuring. "He is eager to reward Evan's son for his father's loyalty."

Ariane felt the cold chill of fear flow like ice through her veins. "Dylan is too young to become a Death Eater!" she said in a shrill voice.

"Not now," Lucius said calmly. "But soon. I accept that you cannot leave the estate...for now. But it can be arranged for Dylan to slip away from Hogwarts when it becomes necessary. Draco was very disappointed that his friend could not come to visit this summer."

"My mother," Ariane said desperately, "she would not allow it. And she is the head of the Donner family--"

"But your Uncle Mathias has taken over Dylan's care, has he not? Or rather, your lovely young Aunt Goewin has. She has just filed the official documents naming Dylan her heir with the Ministry." He laughed at the expression on Ariane's face. "Really, Ariane, did you think I would not find out? I work there, you know. Not in the clerical department, of course, but I hear things... It's all very nice for Dylan, of course, but he can rule so much more than a small country estate in Wales if he chooses the right master..."

"Evan died!" Ariane snapped. "And Dylan and I have spent the last fourteen years in exile! I will not risk my freedom and my son's life without some guarantee that things will turn out better this time than they did the last!"

"Ever the fence-sitter, Ariane," Lucius sneered. "Just like Snape's family. Be careful you don't wait too long before you pick which side to join, or it may be too late."

Ariane wanted to ask Lucius if Snape had returned to the fold, but she wasn't sure she could believe anything he said, so she didn't bother. She fought to remain calm, and smiled at Lucius in a conciliatory fashion. "Dylan is still a boy now; later, perhaps, when he is ready to take on a man's responsibility..."

"There are things Draco could teach him, things I could teach him, to prepare him for that day," Lucius said in a silky voice.

"I am no mean mage myself," Ariane said coolly. "I have tutored him quite...extensively. You will not find his education lacking in any area."

Lucius smiled approvingly. "I'm glad to see you have not completely neglected your duties, Ariane."

Ariane stared back at him coldly. "Tell me, Lucius, are you so eager to hand your own son over to the Dark Lord? When will you let Draco take the Mark?"

"Soon, Ariane," Lucius said, just as coldly. "Draco will do his duty as a Malfoy, and accept the risks that go along with it."

For once, Ariane believed him; there was no fear, no fatherly concern in Lucius Malfoy's cold face. She believed that he really would hand his own son over to the Dark Lord without a second thought, and for a moment she pitied the boy, foolish and arrogant though Dylan claimed he was. But she had her own son to protect, and could not spare any of her time or energy to worry about someone else's. "I will keep your words in mind, Lucius. But you had better go now; Math will be back soon."

Lucius bowed in a courtly, if ironic, manner and said, "Think very carefully about what I said, Ariane."

"I will, Lucius," she replied, and he Disapparated, leaving her alone once more. She returned to the house, shaking with fear. If she told Math what had happened, he could use his powers to protect Dylan...but what if Lucius was right? If the Dark Lord did triumph in the end, she did not want to burn all her bridges behind her. Severus was in a better position to protect Dylan and delay his entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters, if she could find a way to ensure his cooperation. She had an idea of how to go about it, but it would take some investigation and careful planning on her part...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Ariane Donner is proving to be more reluctant than I would have thought, my Lord," Lucius said, in a private meeting with Voldemort. "Motherly love has made her soft; I think she fears Dylan's life will be endangered if he joins us."

"Disappointing," Voldemort said. "She would have been an asset, and I had hopes for Evan's son..."

"I think she may yet be reasoned with, my Lord."

"Perhaps. Severus says the son is talented, but guarded, not giving any indication one way or the other whether he wishes to follow in his father's footsteps."

"The mother's influence, no doubt; she is one of those who sits on the fence, waiting to see which side will come out ahead. But Draco thinks he can bring Dylan over to our side."

"I hope our two wayward sheep will come back to the fold, Lucius, but I have a contingency plan in mind in case they do not. But I will need Severus's help to put it into motion. I still do not completely trust him, and it will give him a chance to further prove himself..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I am pleased with you, Severus," said Voldemort. "Dumbledore has agreed to accept our choice of candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. It will put us in an excellent position to gain control of the school."

Snape bowed low. "I am always eager to serve you, my Lord."

"Good," Voldemort said. "Because I have another task for you. I want you to brew a Mind Restoration Potion."

Snape was startled. "B-but my Lord, that potion has only a temporary effect, and some of the ingredients are very rare and difficult to obtain--"

Voldemort glared at him. "Did I ask you to tell me what I already know?" he asked in a cold voice.

"No, Master," Snape whispered, falling to his knees.

The Dark Lord seemed mollified by his show of humility. "I will provide you with all you need, Severus." He made a beckoning gesture with one hand, and Wormtail crept forward with a small casket. He set it on the ground in front of Snape and lifted the lid. Inside were the rare ingredients the potion required--enough to make about six doses, as well as a number of gold Galleons, presumably to purchase the remaining ingredients, which were less rare, but still expensive.

"Thank you, Master," Snape said, bowing to the Dark Lord again. "I will not fail you."

He wanted to ask Voldemort what he wanted the potion for, but decided that probably would not be a good idea. And he was very glad he had not asked, because a moment later, Wormtail asked eagerly, "What is the potion for, Master?"

"When I want you to know something, Wormtail," Voldemort said angrily, "I will tell you!" He lifted his wand, and Wormtail fell to the ground screaming in pain.

"Mercy, Master! I'm sorry, please forgive me, mercy!" Wormtail screamed as he groveled at Voldemort's feet.

"I have no mercy, and only fools and weaklings expect any!" Voldemort snarled, and let Wormtail writhe in pain for a few minutes more, just to prove his point. Finally, he ended the spell and asked his assembled Death Eaters, "Does anyone else have any questions?"

They all uttered hasty and fervent demurrals, and Voldemort dismissed them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape was telling his fellow Order members of Voldemort's latest request. "What's a Mind Restoration Potion?" Tonks asked curiously.

"It is a healing potion," Snape explained, "that can undo magical damage inflicted upon the mind--for example, restore the mind of someone whose wits have been addled after being hit with one too many Memory Charm spells."

"Like Bertha Jorkins?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a musing tone. "Or Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "However, the effects are only temporary--it cannot permanently heal the patient's mind. Also, most of the ingredients required to make it are extremely rare and expensive, and on top of that, it is very difficult to make and takes over a month to brew. Thus, it is hardly ever used, since the expense and effort of making it usually outweigh the benefits."

"But you're able to make this potion?" Tonks asked.

"Of course," Snape said haughtily, sounding offended that she would even ask.

Lupin frowned, looking worried. "Do you know what--or perhaps I should say who--he wants this potion for, Severus?"

"No, I do not."

"Didn't you ask?" Sirius said, scowling. "Isn't that your job, Snape, to find out what old Voldie's up to?"

"I know better than to ask the Dark Lord for information that he does not want to share, Black," Snape replied in a condescending tone that clearly said he thought Black was an imbecile. "Your old friend Pettigrew did ask the Dark Lord that very same question, though, and was punished for his impertinence with a Cruciatus Curse."

"The information you have brought us is still very valuable," Blackmore interjected, giving both Snape and Sirius a quelling look.

"And of course we wouldn't want you to put your life at risk, Severus," Lupin added.

"My life is already at risk, Lupin," Snape pointed out in that same patronizing tone he had used with Sirius, but flushed a little at the wounded look in Lupin's eyes. He cleared his throat and hastily changed the subject. "Of course, I can only speculate as to what the Dark Lord wants the potion for, but it seems possible that he might be intending to break some of his imprisoned Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Their minds will likely be damaged after so many years of close contact with the Dementors." His black eyes flickered over to give Sirius a significant look; Sirius glared at him. "Perhaps he wants the potion to aid in their recovery," Snape continued, "or at least make them sane long enough to carry out some task for him. The potion cannot, however, restore even temporarily the mind of someone who has undergone the Dementor's Kiss."

Sirius was still glaring at Snape. "Is it really wise for you to brew this potion for your Dark Lord if he intends to use it set more Death Eaters loose on the world?"

"As I said, we don't know for sure that's what he intends, Black," Snape retorted. "But no doubt, even if it isn't, he has some equally nefarious plan in mind. However, I have no choice but to brew the potion; if I refuse, he will surely kill me." He gave Black a humorless smile and said sarcastically, "And it is, as you pointed out, my job to gather information from 'old Voldie'. I can hardly gather any information if I'm dead."

Shacklebolt sighed wearily; the constant sniping between Black and Snape was getting rather old; he didn't know how Remus and Branwen put up with it on a regular basis. "The information does help," he said aloud. "As an Auror, I can make some quiet inquiries and check on the security at Azkaban. Perhaps I can arrange for some precautions to be taken."

"Very good," Blackmore said approvingly. "Does anyone have any further questions, or any new business to report?" No one did, so the meeting was adjourned.

The wizards rose from their seats and began to disperse. Snape called out in his usual overbearing manner, "One moment, Lupin! I need to speak with you in private."

"As you wish, Severus," Lupin said meekly. "Shall we go upstairs, then?"

The two wizards left the room together, and Shacklebolt looked after them curiously. "I wonder what project Dumbledore has them working on, that's so top-secret that they can't discuss it with the rest of us?"

Sirius scowled, and Blackmore suddenly had a coughing fit. "Are you all right, Branwen?" Shacklebolt asked solicitously, as he thumped her on the back. "Ouch!" he exclaimed as Bane pecked his hand sharply. "What was that for?" he asked the raven indignantly.

Tonks giggled. "I think Bane thinks you're getting fresh with Branwen!"

Shacklebolt was very glad that his dark skin prevented his sudden blush from showing on his face. "Of course I wasn't 'getting fresh,' I was only trying to help her--" he spluttered.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was handing Blackmore a glass of water. The witch gratefully took the glass and gulped it down. "Ah, thank you, Molly; that really helped." She left the room, chuckling to herself, and Bane shot Shacklebolt one last suspicious look from his perch on his mistress's shoulder. Sirius followed her, looking rather peevish.

"So do you have any idea what Remus and Snape are working on, Sirius?" Tonks asked.

"Believe me," Sirius said darkly, "you don't want to know!"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape stayed for dinner after the Order meeting and his private conference with Lupin, much to Harry's dismay. But it made Professor Blackmore happy; she seemed fond of him for some reason that Harry couldn't comprehend. Hermione believed that it was because Snape, along with Lupin and Sirius, provided a link to her past, whatever that meant. But perhaps Hermione was right, because she did seem to get a bit nostalgic that evening over dinner. And Snape, while he was never really nice to her, treated his former teacher with more respect than Harry had ever seen him show anyone else. He seemed to be almost in a good mood that evening, perhaps because he and Blackmore were comparing detention punishments.

"Yes, bedpan-scrubbing is quite an effective punishment," Blackmore was saying.

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "Forcing the students to use a toothbrush was a nice touch." There was an admiring tone to his voice, and Ron scowled, because Snape had once inflicted that very punishment on him.

"Very nice," Blackmore said with a wicked grin, looking almost as scary as Snape, despite the fact that she was considerably prettier than the sallow-faced, greasy-haired Potions Master. "Do you remember the time Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe decided to summon a water elemental as a prank?"

Harry was startled, thinking for a moment that she was talking about his classmates, then realized she must be talking about their fathers.

"Oh yes," Snape said, leaning back in his chair with a smile. "As I seem to recall, they were planning to flood Gryffindor Tower. But they got the water-elemental summoning spell mixed up with the spell to summon an earth elemental--"

"And summoned up instead a creature made of mud," Blackmore finished.

"And of course those two idiots were unable to control it," Snape continued. "There was mud splattered all over the dungeon! Professor De Lacy was furious."

"So furious that he agreed to turn the miscreants over to me." Blackmore smiled in a positively evil way. "I made them scrub the dungeon clean with toothbrushes. Very handy thing, toothbrushes; they went through several pairs before they were done. After that, it was back to scrubbing bedpans for a month. I don't think either of them ever wanted to see a toothbrush again after their detention was finally over!"

"That would explain Crabbe's bad breath," Sirius muttered to himself.

Snape ignored him, saying, "Although I am rather fond of disemboweling horned toads as a punishment..."

"Mm, yes, but what about stewing slugs...?"

Ron groaned softly, "As if he wasn't bad enough on his own, she's got to go and give him more ideas..."

Snape left directly after dinner, to the children's relief, and things returned to normal. But later that night, Harry felt restless for some reason, and couldn't sleep even after Ron and Hermione had gone to bed. He wandered downstairs, thinking maybe he might go to the kitchen for a snack. He saw a light on in the drawing room and peeked through the open door. Branwen Blackmore was sitting on the sofa; there was a chess set laid out on the coffee table in front of her. There was no one on the opposite side of the chess board except for Bane, who was perched on the table. Blackmore moved a piece, and Harry watched in fascination as Bane cocked his head to one side, as if pondering the situation, then nudged a pawn forward with his beak.

"Can he really play chess?" Harry asked.

Blackmore looked up and smiled at him. "Yes, he's very clever."

"Does he ever win?"

"Not usually; it would be rather humiliating to lose to a bird, wouldn't it?" She laughed as Bane made an indignant croaking noise, then reached over to scratch his head affectionately. He hunkered down to accept her caress, but still looked a bit sulky.

There was something Harry had been wanting to ask her, but he had been too intimidated to approach her, and anyway she always seemed to be busy with Order business. But she was alone, smiling at him in a friendly way, and apparently had nothing better to do than play chess with her familiar. "Professor Blackmore? You said you taught my father when he was at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"Yes, Harry," she replied, looking more serious.

"What was he like?" Harry asked eagerly.

Blackmore looked a little uncomfortable. "Well...he was a very clever lad, but very mischievous as well. He and Sirius and Peter Pettigrew were always getting into trouble together. Remus was better behaved, but often they would drag him into their escapades, which I admit made me rather cross at times. I was fond of Remus, and didn't like seeing him get into trouble because of his friends. I gave your father detention many times, and I'm afraid he didn't like me very much. But that wasn't really unusual; most of my students were terrified of me, much as you and your friends now seem to be a little afraid of Professor Snape." She smiled again, looking a little mischievous herself. "I suppose I must take some of the blame for that; I seem to have been more of an influence on Severus than I originally thought..."

Harry didn't want to hear about Snape; he wanted to hear about his father. "Um, yes," he said, trying not to sound too impatient, "but about my father...?"

"I didn't really know him very well outside of class," Blackmore said, somewhat evasively. "I'm sure Remus or Sirius could tell you more. But I do know that he was head over heels in love with your mother, almost from the time they both entered Hogwarts. One of the many detentions I gave him was for passing a note to her during class. Lily was a lovely girl--kind, smart, independent--not unlike Hermione, come to think of it." She laughed at the startled expression on Harry's face. "Everyone says you look like your father, Harry, but I see a great deal of Lily in you, too--your eyes are very like her. And you are a great deal like her in spirit as well."

Harry listened raptly as Blackmore praised his mother, describing how well she had adjusted to life at Hogwarts despite coming from a Muggle background; not only had she done well academically and socially, but she had dealt with the usual anti-Muggle prejudice and managed to keep both her dignity and her temper. But finally she said, "It's getting late, Harry. Perhaps you should go to bed; Bane and I will be retiring soon as well."

Harry reluctantly stood and bid her goodnight as she packed away the chess set. It was only after he got to his bedroom that he realized she had very neatly steered the conversation away from his father. She seemed to know a great deal about his mother, Sirius, and Lupin, so Harry didn't quite believe that she knew as little about his father as she claimed. Was there something about his father that she felt Harry shouldn't know? Or did she just dislike him? After all, she clearly liked Snape, who had hated Harry's father. But on the other hand, she liked Lupin and Sirius, whom Snape also hated. Professor Blackmore was such a mysterious woman--perhaps this was just one more mystery that would never be solved, such as where she had disappeared to for fourteen years; her brief explanation at dinner when Harry had first arrived at Grimmauld Place had raised more questions than it had answered...
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Soon it was time to go back to school. Sirius insisted on accompanying Harry to the train station in his dog form. Both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione clearly thought that was a bad idea, but the only people Sirius might have listened to were gone: Lupin had gone ahead with Fred, George, and Ginny, and Professor Blackmore had disappeared on some mysterious errand the night before. So 'Snuffles' joined them on their walk to King's Cross, and Harry laughed as Sirius acted very dog-like, barking happily as he snapped at pigeons and chased his own tail; he had been trapped inside that grim old house too long.

But Harry had second thoughts when he encountered Draco Malfoy on the train. "Well, watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line," the blond-haired boy said maliciously.

Harry exchanged a nervous look with Hermione. Was it just his imagination, or had Malfoy slightly stressed the word "dogging"? Had Draco's father seen Sirius on the platform and guessed the truth? Which would mean that not only was he aware that Sirius was in London, but that the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody knew where he was hiding? Had Sirius not only just gotten himself in trouble, but his friends as well? Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all...
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Snape was beginning to question the wisdom of allowing a Ministry agent to join the staff, despite the fact that it had been done at his urging. The Umbridge woman looked like a toad--a fluffy pink toad in that ridiculous cardigan--and he knew that she was the one who had been behind the anti-werewolf legislation that made it almost impossible for Lupin to get work. Professor Kamiyama gotten him some translation jobs from overseas, and of course Snape would never have let his lover starve, but he was still angry. And despite the fact that Snape gave him new robes every Christmas and birthday, Lupin insisted on wearing his shabby, patched robes in public. He said he didn't want people to wonder why he was suddenly so well-off; it would make them suspicious. But Lupin shouldn't have to wear rags in public; he should be wearing robes as handsome and glorious as he himself was...

But Snape's thoughts were interrupted by the Sorting Hat's song. This year, the song was different; the Hat sang about the four founders of Hogwarts, and the discord that had driven Salazar Slytherin away. It sang of what Branwen Blackmore had said she always feared, that the division between the Houses would lead to Hogwarts', and perhaps the entire wizarding world's, downfall:

...Listen closely to my song
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfill my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you...
Let the Sorting now begin.

Snape felt a chill run down his spine. Was the Hat right? Had Branwen been right all along? {Maybe she had the right idea, with her exercise in inter-House cooperation,} Snape thought. But that experiment had failed miserably, thanks to Black's cruelty and Snape's stubbornness, and thanks to the Donner family's prejudice and Lucius Malfoy's manipulation of Evan and Ariane...

Snape's misgivings about Umbridge were increased tenfold when she interrupted the Headmaster's opening speech. No one--NO ONE--ever interrupted Dumbledore! Most of the students' eyes glazed over as Umbridge droned on, and they paid no attention to her speech, but Snape noticed that both Dylan Rosier and Hermione Granger looked thoughtful and concerned. It figured that his two star pupils would be able to discern the deeper meaning behind Umbridge's seemingly innocuous speech. Snape sighed to himself; this was going to be a long school year...
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