The Revenant, Chapter 6

by Geri ([email protected])

My homepage: http://www.geocities.com/geri_chans_fics/index.html

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Snape/Lupin

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

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except for Hob, who belongs to William Mayne, and Death, who belongs to Neil Gaiman; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Warning: AU; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

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

Summary: Rabastan attempts to commune with his lost loved ones; Harry visits his ancestral estate.
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Chapter 6: Communing with the Dead

After a long flight, Rabastan finally reached England, and he headed for one of the many hiding places that the Death Eaters had scattered across the countryside. He cautiously checked to make sure there were no Aurors or traps lying in wait for him, but he detected none. He was reasonably certain that this particular safe house (although it was really a cave rather than an actual house) had not been discovered because it had been known only to himself, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix. Once he was safely ensconced in the cave, he ingested some of the drugs he had smuggled with him, anxious to ease the stress of being trapped in a Muggle vehicle for several hours. (He had risked a small spell in order to prevent the drugs from being discovered by the Muggle customs agents--a reasonable risk, since a wizard was not likely to be present in an airport.)

Once he had relaxed sufficiently, Rabastan began considering what his first move should be. Here in this place which had been known only to himself, his brother, and his sister-in-law, Rabastan felt a sudden wave of nostalgia and loneliness wash over him. The three of them had been nearly inseparable since their childhood days at Hogwarts, and he missed Rodolphus and Bellatrix dreadfully, which brought about his sudden decision to attempt to communicate with their spirits.

Despite his job as a fortune-teller, Rabastan actually had no real talent for Divination magic, so he would have to use Necromancy in order to have any real chance of reaching them. It was a particularly dangerous field of magic, but Rabastan's anxiety and stress had caused him to ingest a larger dose of narcotics than he normally would have, which in turn made him reckless.

He went out and ensnared a live rabbit with the use of his magic. With a stick, he traced a circle in the dirt floor of the cave, and etched the runes required for a blood sacrifice and communion with the dead. Then he picked up the helpless rabbit, held it over the circle, and drew a knife across its throat. Its blood spilled into the circle and ran into the shallow channels and grooves Rabastan had etched in the dirt, and the former Death Eater smiled in satisfaction. A human sacrifice would have been better, of course, but this would do. He cast aside the rabbit's corpse, then nicked his palm with the knife, allowing a few drops of his own blood to fall into the circle. He needed some way to call Rodolphus and Bellatrix to him, and the bond of blood he shared with his brother should--in theory--serve as a link to draw his brother's spirit to him. Presumably Bellatrix's spirit should follow her husband's; he could not imagine them being separated even in death.

He began chanting an incantation, calling out to the world of the dead, trying to summon his brother's spirit to him. The drugs he had taken allowed him to slip deeply into trance, and he reached out with his mind, searching for some sign of Rodolphus or Bellatrix. Opening his mind that way made him vulnerable to attack from unfriendly spirits, but Rabastan did not remember the warning he had read long ago in the spell book he had learned the incantation from, and even if he had, in his current drugged state, he would not have cared.

"Come to me, Rodolphus," Rabastan whispered. "Come to me, Bella. Come to me, and together we will seek revenge on those who betrayed us, like that cowardly, double-crossing Snape..."

Rabastan searched, with increasing desperation and frustration, but found no trace of his brother or sister-in-law. He did not know it, but they were beyond his reach, as Death had long ago conducted them into the afterlife. As he continued searching, he suddenly touched a mind filled with despair and anger and a desire for revenge. It was not his brother, but it was someone familiar to him...
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In the waiting room, as James wept on the couch, he thought he heard someone whisper, as if overhearing a snippet of someone else's conversation, "...seek revenge on those who betrayed us, like that cowardly, double-crossing Snape..."

"Snape," James hissed, anger and hatred boiling over and temporarily wiping away any trace of logic or rationality in his mind. "He stole my son from me, turned my friends against me! This is all his fault, that slimy, sneaky little git!"

He felt a touch of surprise from the unseen whisperer, as if that person had suddenly become aware of his presence. "Do you wish revenge on Snape?" the voice whispered.

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but James could not quite place it. "Yes!" he instinctively cried. "I want revenge on him! He lived while I died, and he poisoned my son's mind against me! I want him to be exposed as the evil bastard he truly is! Only then will my son be safe. Only then will Harry love me again, and then I can finally be at peace and go on to meet Lily."

"Then I will help you, James," the voice whispered, sounding extremely pleased and satisfied.
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Rabastan cackled with glee. He had not found his brother and sister-in-law, but he had found James Potter's spirit hovering between the world of the living and the world of the dead, apparently unable to move on because of its desire for revenge. A brilliant plan formed in his mind: he would bind Potter's spirit to his will and use it to destroy Snape, thereby gaining revenge on two enemies at the same time! What a delicious revenge that would be, not only to slay the traitor Snape, but to command Potter's spirit as his servant, to see the proud Gryffindor who had so vexed the Dark Lord humbled and enslaved! But first he would need some sort of physical connection to summon and control Potter, a bit of hair or blood or bone...then he smiled, as he realized he knew exactly where he could obtain such a thing, and he instantly Disapparated.

If Rabastan had been sober, he would never have even contemplated going through with such a plan. Raising a spirit was a particularly dangerous process, and even more so when the spirit was a hostile one. Attempting to raise and control the spirit of a sworn enemy, especially one who had been a powerful wizard in life, was sheer madness. But Rabastan had not been completely sober in over a year, and in his present drug-induced euphoria, he did not pause to consider the risks.
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The next morning, Harry was having breakfast with his family, grinning widely and marveling over how happy such a simple thing made him. It was completely different from his life at the Dursley house, where he had been the one cooking and serving breakfast to his aunt and uncle and cousin, and had never been welcome to sit down and eat at the table with them. The time he had spent at the Weasley house had been nice, of course, but this was different because Sirius and the Professor...Dad and Branwen...were his family in a way that the Weasleys were not.

"I just got a letter from Narcissa," Sirius announced, between bites of eggs and pancakes.

"How is she enjoying her honeymoon?" Branwen asked.

Sirius smiled. "She says that she's having a wonderful time and that Paris is a very romantic city, but she's eager to come home and have the whole family together again."

"I hope that Draco's all right on his own," Branwen said, frowning a little. "I told Narcissa that he could stay with us while she and Lukas were gone, but he was quite indignant and said that he was too old to need a baby-sitter."

"Well, he is a legal adult now, even if he doesn't always act like it," Sirius chuckled. "But he's already started his apprenticeship with Cassidy, and Cass says that Draco has been working hard and staying out of trouble. He spends most of his time at the workshop, and Cassidy's wife usually insists that he have dinner with them--she worries about a teenage boy being on his own, too, I guess. She says that she wants to make sure that he gets a decent meal and doesn't just eat junk food and takeout while his Mum is gone. So anyway, it sounds like he's doing fine."

"That's good, then," Branwen said, with a smile of relief.

"Lukas intends to open up the Diggory mansion when they get back," Sirius continued. "His grandparents had closed it up years ago, not long after his father died. Narcissa is excited about opening it up and restoring the mansion to its former glory, but Lukas is already fussing and fretting over her, not wanting her to work too hard for fear of harming the baby."

Branwen laughed. "I imagine that a werewolf would be a very protective husband and father."

Harry had been listening in silence up until now, content just to be in the presence of his family, but he was suddenly curious about something. "Siri...uh, I mean, Dad?" Harry asked hesitantly. He was glad that he could call his godfather "Dad" now, but it still felt a bit strange.

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius asked, smiling at him warmly, looking delighted to be called "Dad," which set Harry at ease.

"I was just wondering," Harry said. "This is the Black mansion, and there's a Diggory Manor and a Snape Manor and a Malfoy Manor..."

"Yes," Sirius replied, looking curious about where the conversation might be heading.

"Well, from what I've heard, the Potters were an old pureblood family, right?" Harry asked. "And they seemed to be wealthy--I mean, there's a lot of money in my Gringotts account." Sirius nodded and Harry continued, "So is there a Potter Manor or a Potter estate?" He hastily added, "Not that I want to own a mansion or anything like that, but I was just wondering where my parents lived before they went to Godric's Hollow, if there was a family home that would have more pictures and things that belonged to them, or maybe some kind of family history. Hermione says that Dylan told her that Theodore has been studying all the diaries and records kept by the previous Snape Lords. I was just wondering if my family had something like that."

Sirius and Branwen exchanged a solemn look. "Voldemort wiped out the entire Potter clan except for you, Harry," Sirius said sadly. "Most of their properties were eventually sold, and the money put into trust for you, but the main Potter estate, where your ancestral home stood, was never sold. But..."

His voice trailed off, and Branwen finished in a gentle voice, "But Voldemort leveled the mansion in the attack that killed your father's parents. The land it stood on is still there, but there is nothing left of the mansion but rubble. I'm sorry, Harry."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling disappointed. But Sirius and Branwen looked worried, so he said, "That's okay. At least I have the wedding pictures that Hagrid gave me. And all the stories that Sir..that Dad and Remus have told me about my mum and dad."

"Perhaps," Branwen said hesitantly, "we could take you to visit your parents' graves?"

"They have graves?" Harry asked, startled. "I mean--I guess they must, but I never thought about it. No one ever mentioned it to me. I thought maybe...maybe there was nothing left of them to bury..."

"Your parents are buried on the Potter lands," Branwen said gently. "There is a small cemetary there, just for the family. Most of the old, wealthy pureblood families have a family crypt, but the Potters preferred to be buried under the open sky."

"James wouldn't have liked been locked up in a cold, stone crypt," Sirius said quietly.

"Graves and funerals are for the living, not the dead," Branwen replied kindly, reaching out to lay her hand over her husband's. "James's and Lily's spirits do not lie in a crypt or beneath the earth. A grave is a means by which we may show honor to the loved ones we have lost, and find some comfort in having a connection to them."

"I never really got a chance to say goodbye to them," Sirius sighed. "I was in Azkaban when the funeral was held."

"We should have offered to take you there before," Branwen said apologetically to Harry. "It wasn't really safe for you to travel before, while the war was still going on, but now..."

"It's okay," Harry assured her. "But I would like to go there now." He smiled at Sirius. "We can both say goodbye to them properly, Dad, and let them know that we're doing okay now."

Sirius smiled tenderly at him. "Yes, I would like that, too. The grounds on the Potter lands are very nice, as I recall from my visits. We could pick some wildflowers and lay them on James's and Lily's graves. And I can show you some of the places where James and I used to play when we were boys."

"I'd like that," Harry said.

Sirius's expression brightened. "Yes, let's do that, then. Maybe we could pack a picnic lunch..."

Hob appeared out of nowhere and eagerly announced, "Hob will prepare a lunch right away!" And then he vanished again, presumably to the kitchen to prepare the food.

Harry smiled and finished his breakfast. Perhaps it was a little odd to be taking a picnic on a trip to a graveyard, but somehow it didn't seem disrespectful, and he didn't think that his parents would mind. It didn't seem so much like a morbid visit to a grave, but rather like he was visiting family. And Sirius was smiling nostalgically, so it seemed like he thought so, too. Harry was filled with love for his godfather then, and for Branwen too, for understanding him so well--for being willing to be parents to him, while still understanding that he needed to feel close to his biological parents, too. He understood now what Dylan had meant when he said that he thought of Snape and Lupin as his parents, while still loving his mother and father as much as he always had. And Harry thought to himself that maybe Snape wasn't so bad after all, if he could make someone feel so loved. Then Harry silently chuckled to himself and thought, {Man, I'm really getting mushy if I'm getting all sentimental over Snape!}

So after breakfast was over, Hob handed them a picnic basket, and they set off to visit the Potter estate. Harry had his Apparation license, but he couldn't Apparate to a place he had never seen before, and there was no Floo to connect to since the mansion had been destroyed. But they weren't in a hurry, so Branwen suggested that they take the scenic route. Buckbeak needed some exercise, so Harry and Sirius rode the Hippogriff together, while Branwen rode a broomstick, since she said that she didn't want to overload poor Buckbeak.

"You don't weigh that much, but that fat raven of yours might be a little too much for Buckbeak to carry," Sirius joked, and Bane cawed indignantly and snapped at him, hard enough to have taken a good-sized chunk out of Sirius's ear if he hadn't moved away in time.

When they reached the Potter estate, they turned Buckbeak loose to let him roam around, and he happily ran off chasing some rabbits. No one had tended the estate since James and Lily had gone into hiding, so it was overgrown with weeds and tall grass and wildflowers. In a way, that was a blessing, since it hid the ruins of the Potter mansion, the tall grass all but obscuring the the rubble of the stone foundation, which was all that remained of the house, except for a few pieces of weathered and rotting lumber here and there.

Sirius wept a little, and Branwen slipped an arm around his waist, and he put his arm around her, drawing her closer. Even Bane, who seemed to view Sirius as a rival for his mistress's affection, regarded Sirius with a sympathetic look, and made no move to snap or peck at him as he normally would have. Harry felt a little sad to see how little remained of his family's ancestral home, but he had never lived here and felt no real connection to the place, and he felt more badly for Sirius than he did for himself. He reached out to place a hand on his godfather's shoulder.

Sirius smiled and brushed the tears from his eyes. "I'm okay, Harry," he said. "It's just hard to see the place like this. I spent so much time with the Potters that it was almost like a second home to me--certainly more of a home than my parents' house." He slipped his free arm around Harry and gave him a little hug, holding both his wife and his godson close to him for a moment. "At least until you guys came to live with me. It seems much more homey now." They continued walking across the grounds, and Sirius smiled a little wistfully, but looked much less melancholy. "It's kind of pretty, actually, in a wild, untamed sort of way," Sirius said, gesturing at the patches of wildflowers growing amid the remains of the mansion. "It's not a bad tribute to a fallen friend. It suits James's personality more than mowed lawns and neatly arranged flower beds."

"Why don't we gather some of these flowers, then, to lay on your parents' graves?" Branwen suggested gently to Harry. He and Sirius nodded, so they slowly walked together across the grounds, and as they picked the flowers, Sirius pointed out spots where he and James used to play.

"We used to climb that tree," Sirius said. "James fell out of it and broke his arm when we were twelve. His mum had hysterics, but that didn't stop him from climbing it again as soon as his arm was healed." Sirius grinned. "Poor Mrs. Potter; he gave his mum so much grief. He set their Christmas tree on fire when he was six years old. I didn't know him back then, so I'm still not exactly sure how he managed it, but from then on the Potters used electric lights on the tree instead of candles. Oh, and that rock over there--" Sirius pointed at a small boulder. "James and I used to play at being Merlin and King Arthur, and pretend that was the stone that held Excalibur. We used to fight over who got to be Arthur. Most wizard children would rather be Merlin, but we thought it was more fun to fight with a sword, although 'Excalibur' was just a wooden sword that Mr. Potter made for us. It did look very nice, though--the 'blade' was painted silver and the hilt gold."

"It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun," Harry said with a smile.

"Oh, we did!" Sirius agreed. "We had some great times here." Then he patted Harry on the shoulder and laughed, "Guess it must run in the family; you've turned out to be a fine swordsman yourself!"

"I liked the swordfighting lessons in Physical Defense class," Harry said, then admitted honestly, "but Dietrich is better than I am. He's been taking private lessons ever since he was a kid, though."

"Ah, but you got to wield Godric Gryffindor's sword," Sirius said proudly. "Not many people can say that!"

"Your father would be very proud of you, dear," Branwen said, smiling affectionately at Harry.

Harry smiled, pleased at the idea of his father being proud of him. Although they had come to visit his parents' graves, he felt happy and content rather than sad. He finally felt as if he and Sirius and Branwen were a real family, and at the same time, walking through the estate and listening to Sirius's stories made Harry feel close to James. He could almost picture the two mischievous boys climbing trees and playing with a wooden sword, and he was suddenly filled with love for both his real parents and his new family. And the pain and uneasiness he had felt ever since seeing Snape's memory of James in the Pensieve finally receded. He felt as if he were seeing the better, kinder side of James through Sirius's eyes. He still didn't condone what his father had done, of course, but it helped to balance things out a little in his mind. He felt able to love his father wholeheartedly again, while at the same time resolving not to make the same mistakes that James had.

They strolled leisurely, picking flowers and listening to Sirius reminisce, until they reached the family cemetary. Like everything else, it was overgrown with tall grass, so at first they didn't notice anything amiss. "Maybe we ought to cut the grass and tidy up the place a bit while we're here," Sirius murmured. There was a picket fence surrounding the cemetary that had been white at one time, although most of the paint had peeled off over the years, and was in a state of disrepair. "It's okay for the rest of the grounds to be overgrown, but it seems disrespectful to let weeds grow over the Potters' graves."

"The purpose of a cemetary and other such monuments are more to give comfort to the living," Branwen reminded him gently. "But yes, we can tend their graves."

"That would give me some comfort," Sirius said quietly.

"Where are my parents' graves?" Harry asked.

"I didn't attend the funeral, either," Branwen said. "I was already...ah...in hiding at the time, after the Death Eaters tried to kill me. But judging by the dates on these headstones, it seems like they've been put up in chronological order. So if the older graves are here, the more recent ones should be over this way...oh!"

She cried out in horror, and Harry wondered what could so unnerve his formidable Professor and stepmother. He glanced over to where she was looking, and saw a pile of dirt and a gaping hole in front of a headstone, and next to it, an open coffin...

"Don't look, Harry!" Sirius cried, grabbing Harry and hugging him tightly, firmly pressing Harry's head against his chest and holding him in place.

"Sirius!" Harry protested, struggling in his godfather's embrace. "What's happened? Has someone dug up my parents' graves?!"

"Don't!" Sirius sobbed, keeping a firm grip on Harry and refusing to release him. "Don't, Harry! You don't want to see your father like that!" And then Harry stopped struggling, because he could feel Sirius's body shaking as he wept, and he held Sirius tightly, trying to comfort his godfather even as Sirius was trying to protect him.

"Stay back, you two," Branwen ordered in a voice that trembled just slightly, and Harry heard more than saw her move forward. Harry and Sirius obeyed, still clinging to each other, both of them in too much shock to argue. Not that Harry wanted to look into that coffin, but it didn't seem right to let Branwen do it alone. His mind kept conjuring up visions of his father's decomposing body that were probably more horrible than the reality. However, after a few minutes, Branwen came over, looking remarkably calm under the circumstances, and put her arms around them and gently ushered them away from the grave.

"Come away from here," she murmured. "There's nothing you can do right now." And they let her lead them away, back to the entrance of the cemetary.

"Wh...what happened?" Harry stammered, as he and Sirius tried to regain control of themselves.

"Someone has dug up James's grave," Branwen said grimly. "Although Lily's grave seems to be intact."

Sirius was still trembling, but now his eyes were filled with fury as well as sorrow and horror. "Someone has desecrated James's grave--a Death Eater? But Lestrange is the only one still at large--why come out of hiding and risk capture now? Maybe it was a Death Eater sympathizer?"

"I'm not sure who did it or why," Branwen replied, "although it seems logical that whoever is responsible probably has some kind of tie to the Death Eaters. We'll have to call in the Aurors."

"Well, of course!" Sirius said. "We've got to track down the person who did this!"

Branwen gave him a grave and worried look. "I think this is more than petty revenge by some Death Eater sympathizer brooding over the Dark Lord's fall. Black magic might be involved."

"The body?" Sirius whispered, a look of dread and horror in his eyes.

"There is a finger missing from James's left hand," Branwen replied.

Harry felt sick, and had to fight back a surge of bile rising in his throat. "Cut off?" he whispered. "Like Wormtail?"

Branwen nodded. "Only James could not have cut it off himself, obviously."

"What would someone want with my father's finger?" Harry asked, but then he recalled the spell that Voldemort had used to regain his body. One of the ingredients had been a bone from his father. Harry still wasn't sure exactly what use James's finger might be put to, but he knew that it couldn't possibly be anything good.

"I don't know," Branwen replied quietly. "But there are many evil spells that can make use of the blood or bone or flesh of a victim. James is beyond harm, of course, but someone might be trying to create some sort of spell or potion to use against you, Harry. It's called sympathetic magic; a voodoo doll is a crude example of that. There is a blood connection between you and your father, so it is possible for a Dark Wizard to use your father's flesh and bone to invoke some sort of harmful spell against you. It would be very difficult, but it can be done if the wizard is skilled and powerful enough."

Sirius turned pale and said, "Take Harry back to Grimmauld Place, Bran! Call the Aurors from there; I'll wait for them here with Buckbeak."

"No!" Harry protested. "You can't stay here alone! What if whoever did this is still around?"

"I think they most likely left after they got what they came for," Branwen said. "But the grave does not seem to have been open for long; the dirt still looks freshly-turned. I think it must have happened no more than a day or two ago, at most."

"I don't care," Sirius said sharply. "I want you to get Harry someplace safe until we know what's going on!"

"But what about you?" Harry demanded. "If it's not safe for me to stay here, it's not safe for you, either!"

"I'll be fine; I can take care of myself," Sirius said. "Buckbeak is too large for me to Apparate with, so I'll have to go home the long way. Besides, I want to watch over things until the Aurors come, and make sure no one tampers with the grave further. There's a slight possibility that we interrupted the culprit and that he might come back."

"But--" Harry started to argue.

"Bran, just get him out of here!" Sirius said impatiently, and took out his wand, his face stubborn and determined. "I'll Stupefy you if I have to, Harry."

"Bane, stay with Sirius and watch over him," Branwen said, and the bird immediately flew over to land on Sirius's shoulder without a single squawk of protest. "Harry, let's Apparate back home." As he opened his mouth to argue further, she said quietly, "To ease your father's mind. Both of your fathers would want you to be safe. And besides, I need a Floo or communication mirror to contact the Aurors. The sooner we go home, the sooner I can get the Aurors out here so that Sirius won't be alone."

So Harry reluctantly agreed to go home with her, if only so that they could bring back reinforcements. Branwen immediately contacted the Ministry, and they sent a team of Aurors, including Tonks and Kingsley, over to the Potter estate. Branwen refused to let Harry join them, though, despite his protests that he was soon to become an Auror-in-training himself.

"Not until we know what we are facing," she said implacably. She remained at the house with Harry, "In case of trouble," she said, but Harry thought that she was probably making sure he didn't sneak back to the estate as much as she was staying to protect him. He resented being treated like a child in need of protection when he had already fought and defeated Voldemort--and he had just graduated; it wasn't as if he were still a kid! Then he smiled ruefully to himself; he had wanted Sirius and Branwen to regard him as a son, after all, so he supposed that he couldn't really blame them for acting like overprotective parents!

"It isn't that I think you are incapable of defending yourself, Harry," Branwen said patiently as Harry paced back and forth across the drawing room. "You have proven yourself to be quite adept at Defensive magic. But as you are most likely the target of powerful Dark Magic, it would be foolish to expose yourself to risk until we know more about what we are dealing with. If we can get a more specific idea of what the grave robber intends to do with the finger, then we can decide what measures we need to take to protect you--the way you learned Occlumency to protect you from Voldemort's Legilimency, for example. There are also certain protective charms and shield spells that might be helpful against Dark Magic. But to rush into danger, unarmed and unprepared, might well get you killed." She glared at him sternly. "Such as the time you and your friends decided to confront the Death Eaters at the Ministry by yourselves at the end of your fifth year. If you wish to become an Auror, Mr. Potter, you must learn to act before you think."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry mumbled, flushing as he recalled how he had put himself and his friends in danger, and nearly gotten Sirius killed, because he had rushed into Voldemort's trap. "I'm sorry, Prof...Branwen," Harry said contritely. "I thought that you guys were just treating me like a kid, but what you say makes sense. I need to be prepared, instead of just rushing out to look for the guy who desecrated my father's grave. To be honest, I'm not really sure where I would look, besides the estate grounds."

Branwen smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Well, I must admit, there is a little protectiveness involved, too. No parent likes to see his or her child being put in harm's way, even if that child is an adult, and no longer really a child. I think that Sirius will argue vehmently about you getting involved with this investigation."

"But I can't just sit back and do nothing!" Harry argued. "Not when someone dug up my father's grave and...and...cut a piece off his body!" He still wanted to throw up when he thought about it.

"I understand," Branwen said. "But if you wish to be treated as an adult, you can no longer act like an impulsive schoolboy, Harry. I promise to keep you informed on the progress of the investigation, and I will speak to Tonks and Kingsley about the possibility of you taking on a more active role, providing that you will be sufficiently protected. But any role you take in the investigation will be under the supervision of the Aurors, and you will follow their orders--including, if necessary, their decision to pull you out if the danger becomes too great. There will be no sneaking around, no going off on your own as you have done in the past. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied. He wanted to argue that most of the times he had gone off on his own were because the adults in charge had refused to listen to him, but he decided that it would sound too much like he was making excuses. And he had to admit that he had done some really dumb and foolish things--like going off to the Ministry on his own, for example. He wanted to prove to Branwen that he could behave responsibly, and it sounded like people were actually going to listen to what he had to say and let him know what was going on, instead of just brushing him off and keeping him in the dark for his own safety.

"Is there something we can do to prepare now?" Harry asked. "I know that I can't leave the house, but I don't want to just sit around and do nothing while we wait."

"That's a good idea, Harry," Branwen said approvingly. They spent some time going over the defensive spells and counter-curses that Harry had already learned, and Branwen began teaching him a few more advanced spells that they had never covered in class.

"You're doing well, Harry," Branwen said. "However, I think that we need something more than spell-casting. Most of these spells require a conscious effort to invoke and maintain, which won't help you if you're attacked before you have time to cast a counter-curse, and you won't be able to maintain them while you're sleeping. What we need to do is enspell an item that you wear or carry with you."

"A protective charm?" Harry asked, his interest piqued, despite his worry and anger over the desecration of his father's grave. "Like the bracelets we wove in Professor Chizuru's class?"

"Yes, something like that," Branwen replied with a smile. "But something a little more powerful than the simple charms Chizuru taught you to make. Permanently enchanting an item can be a long and complicated procedure. Sometimes the item must be steeped in a special potion, or made of a special type of material. Certain types of stones and metals are more conducive to holding certain enchantments than others. And as Chizuru taught you, spells can even be woven into cloth, although I do not have that particular talent myself. But for now...perhaps simple would be best, after all."

She had a small casket of gemstones that she used in Summoning spells, and she fetched a piece of topaz from it. "We don't know exactly what type of magic we're facing, and topaz is commonly used in protective charms against hostile magic." Harry watched, fascinated, as she etched a rune of protection into the surface of the gem, cast several protective spells on it, then cast a final spell to bind the previous spells into the topaz and hold them there. Then she attached it to a silver chain and hung it around Harry's neck.

"Here," she said. "Keep this on at all times, even when you bathe and sleep. It will act as a general sort of protective charm, but it isn't all-powerful. It will deflect most curses and hexes, but a strong enough spell will break the enchantment and cause it to shatter. Still, it should at least buy you some time to cast a defensive spell of your own."

"Thank you, Branwen," Harry said, feeling both grateful and nervous as he reached up to touch the topaz pendant hanging from his neck. "Do you really think it's necessary?"

"I hope not, dear," she replied. "But I would prefer to be safe rather than sorry."

Harry sighed. He knew that she was right, but he wondered if he was ever truly going to feel safe. He had thought that all his problems would have ended with Voldemort's death, but the R.A. and the Auror Williamson and Amos Diggory been stirring up fear and discord both among the Hogwarts students and the wizarding world at large all year. And now that they had been exposed and things were finally beginning to return to normal, this had to come up. Harry was tired of living in fear and always having to be cautious. He didn't want to spend another summer imprisoned in Grimmauld Place for his own safety.

Sirius and Buckbeak returned shortly after Branwen had finished enchanting the topaz charm. "We thoroughly searched the grounds, but the culprit was long gone," Sirius said, looking worried and unhappy. "The Aurors found no traces of Dark Magic near the grave or anywhere else on the grounds, but people don't generally rob graves and steal body parts for benevolent purposes. I'm sure that they intend to use James's finger for some sort of Dark spell or ritual."

"You didn't find out anything more specific?" Branwen asked, looking dismayed.

Sirius shook his head. "Whoever it was didn't leave any clues behind. Since it's likely that Lestrange or a Death Eater sympathizer might be involved, the Aurors will start checking the Death Eaters' old haunts, and they'll also check the potion shops in Knockturn Alley. If the culprit is performing some sort of Dark ritual, it's likely that they'll need other ingredients that can't be bought legally without a license. I think it's a good thing now that Dumbledore and I never released the Fidelius Charm on this place. There was really no reason to keep it in place after Voldemort died, but on the other hand, all the people that we trusted already had permission to come and go as they pleased, so I didn't see any harm in leaving things as they were. Maybe I inherited a little of my old man's paranoia, but I guess that was a good thing. I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm afraid that you're housebound for now."

"But I want to be involved with the investigation," Harry said.

"I told Harry that we would keep him informed, and that we will consider allowing him to become more actively involved, providing that the danger is not too great," Branwen said. "On the condition that he behaves responsibly and follows the orders of the Aurors in charge."

Sirius nodded, a little reluctantly. "That's reasonable. I think some of the problems that arose in the past stemmed from Harry being kept in the dark. I told Dumbledore that was a bad idea, but my opinion didn't rate too high with him at the time, and I suppose I can't completely blame him. I was behaving pretty irresponsibly back then."

"Being cooped up in this house would drive anyone a little crazy," Harry said loyally.

"That's still no excuse," Sirius said, but he smiled at his godson. "But this time, I promise that you'll be kept informed. Tonks and Kingsley have been put in charge of the investigation, and they'll report to us as soon as they find out something. As for being involved with the investigation...I want you to stay put for now, Harry, at least until we learn a little more about the situation. There's no point in jumping into things blindly, and right now, Tonks and Kingsley can handle the investigation more efficiently on their own without our help. We can decide what to do next when they report back to us." He sighed, running his hand through his hair in a distracted manner. "Your deciding to become an Auror sounded like a great idea at the time, but I can see that it's going to give me a lot of gray hairs in the future. Keeping you locked up in the house is beginning to sound like a good idea." Harry opened his mouth to protest, and Sirius smiled and added, "Still, I suppose I'd better get used to it. But let's not take any unnecessary risks, shall we?"

"Yes, Siri--yes, Dad," Harry replied. He didn't want to be locked up in the house all summer, but he did find Sirius's concern for him touching. It made him feel like they really were father and son. "But I'm scheduled to begin Auror training in a couple of weeks. What will we do if they haven't caught the culprit by then?"

Sirius sighed again. "Well, we'll talk it over with Kingsley and Tonks later. Maybe they can keep you working in the Ministry office for awhile..." He smiled at the look on Harry's face and said, "And yes, I know that you don't want to be stuck working behind a desk in an office, but every job has its share of paperwork, as I know all too well. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. It's possible that the Aurors will be able to wrap up this case quickly."

Harry nodded in reluctant agreement, but somehow he had the feeling that things wouldn't be that simple...

Chapter 7

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