Greater Than, Lesser Be / Part Four, A
Greater Than, Lesser Be
Part Four
Previously..
**
PART FOUR
**
Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said. “One can’t believe impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
**
Jonathan walked through the doors of Gringott’s bank as if he owned it. As the youngest member of the ‘inner’ group of Harry’s employees, Jonathan was in a unique position from the moment he signed on to Cloak & Dagger. He was barely twenty and still spotty when he joined, and in the near decade that past, he was still one of the most charismatic and shrewd on the team.
He was also considered, thanks to his age, to be perfect for the role that needed to be played out.
While Camilla and her son were surrogates along with Remus, with their roles defined to aid the young Harry Potter, Jonathan’s role was that of liaison. His first contact was a current employee of Gringott’s Bank, recently back in the UK from Egypt, by the name of William Weasley.
The choice of Bill Weasley was two-fold: the first, he was a skilled curse breaker and asset to Gringott’s; the second, he was young, impressionable, and although it was uncouth of Harry Houdini and the rest of the seven to say, financially struggling.
It made Jonathan’s job slightly easier.
Bill was supposed to meet him in the main lobby of the bank and then the two would go to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. While Jonathan had some reservations about bringing a Weasley in on the plot (for obvious reasons), Harry seemed to think highly of Bill Weasley.
Jonathan wasn’t the type to doubt Harry.
The young Weasley was not difficult to spot. The young, twenty-something Pureblood was tall, with long red hair tied back into a ponytail. Gangly to the point of almost being called scrawny, Bill Weasley wore trousers, boots, and a non-magical button-up with a leather jacket. There was not a single wizards’ robe in sight. Jonathan found he liked that.
Tugging at the bottom of his blazer, Jonathan strode up to Bill Weasley with a smile on his face. “William Weasley?” he asked, as soon as he was a few feet away.
Bill nodded, looking at Jonathan from head to toe. “Mr. Randolf?”
Jonathan held out his hand, and Bill shook it. “Shall we?” asked Jonathan, indicating back outside the bank and towards lunch at the Leaky.
Along the way the two made small talk, with Jonathan asking about Bill’s family - he wanted to get a better idea of the family Harry cared for so much before their betrayal - and work in Egypt. The conversation continued even as they sat down and ordered their midday meal.
“Excuse me, Mr. Randolf, but I’m not entirely sure why you want to meet with me,” began Bill hesitantly. “Do you have an interest in curse breaking?”
Jonathan smiled as he thought back to the smells required to contain the Horcruxes. “In a manner of speaking,” he admitted, eyes twinkling.
Bill relaxed and the two chatted about curse breaking spells and manoeuvres and techniques Bill used in Egypt, as the server placed their stews on the table.
“Was there something you needed to be curse free?” Bill asked finally.
Jonathan paused. The answer was yes, but Bill was not supposed to be on their team for another few years. His job was something altogether different.
“Actually, Bill - if I may call you Bill?” at Bill’s nod, Jonathan continued. “What Cloak & Dagger would really like is for your help in another matter.”
“My help?” asked Bill, incredulous. “You’re a multimillion galleon company with several offshoots that generate one of the largest revenues in magical Britain! What could I possibly do to help you?”
Jonathan laced his fingers together and leaned back in his seat. Casually, he waved his wand and set up an advanced, adapted form of Muffilato.
“Mr. Weasley, Bill - what Cloak & Dagger wants from you is something that you can possibly procure for us,” began Jonathan carefully. “We would, of course, pay you to do this job - but in addition, should it result in the termination from your job at Gringott’s, we are more than happy to offer you unconditional employment at our headquarters in Dorset.”
Bill narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you need from me, Mr. Randolf?”
There was no way to beat around the bush anymore. Jonathan inwardly sighed and crossed his fingers under the table where Bill couldn’t see.
“Cloak & Dagger needs you to steal the blueprints to the Pureblood vaults located on the lower level of Gringott’s.”
**
Back in Dorset, Harry and Remus were in the middle of a meeting with Camilla.
“Chatter’s indicated that the Department of Magical Games and Sports is already geared up for their big meetings to begin organising the Quidditch World Cup and the TriWizard Tournament. Preliminary meetings are set to begin next Thursday, and we’ve been invited to them as well.” Here, Camilla paused. “Well, to the Quidditch meetings anyway.”
Harry nodded. “That was to be expected. To insinuate ourselves for the TriWizard, we need to give them something. I think a couple hundred thousand galleons would suffice as a sponsor, don’t you?”
Remus frowned. “That’s a lot of money to be throwing into the Tournament, Harry. Are you sure that won’t tip the scale into changing events?”
Harry shook his head, rubbing gently at one temple with a free hand. “I don’t think so, Remus. Essentially we just need to be there and have a high enough standing and reason to be at each task, as well as at the final task. I need those cameras and screens set for the third task.”
Here, he frowned. “What exactly are our sales figures on the MageBox?”
Camilla pulled out a second folio thick with paper and began searching through. “We launched the MageBox commercially in 1991, worldwide. Through discounted sales of our staff at Cloak & Dagger as well as Mostafa’s Quidditch Association, there were sales of over 500 units. After the Quidditch demonstration, the sales jumped from 560 units to over 1200, globally.”
Harry waved off the global figures. “Local, please.”
Camilla nodded. “After the launch of our storefront property in Diagon Alley, we sold over 3000 MageBoxes to the British wizarding community. We’re looking at one in every second home, almost.”
Remus was nodding along as Camilla read her data, while Harry was looking thoughtful. “So pretty much you either have a MageBox if you’re living in Britain, or you know someone who does.”
“Yes sir.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully and rose from his chair in front of Remus’s desk. He stood by the window for a moment, and then began pacing.
“Harry?” queried Remus gently. “What’s on your mind?”
“They’re releasing the location for the Quidditch World Cup final in a week, right?” Harry asked Camilla, turning to face her.
Camilla nodded, checking her Chatter transcripts. “Yes, this Friday.”
Harry pursed his lips and made a decision. “On Friday, I want the MageBox to have a special reduction in price and subscription. Every Briton will want one of these in their house so that they can watch the Cup if they didn’t get tickets. If it was a matter of price previously, it won’t be now. I want a huge campaign from our marketing team on this, and it needs to get done and out in five days.”
Camilla and Remus began making notes as soon as Harry began speaking, their pens flying across their paper.
“As for the meetings, Camilla, when you go to the TriWizard one, try to swing it so it looks like they’re asking for us to be a sponsor, instead of it coming from us suggesting it. I want to make it seem like they’re in our debt, so we can call some shots,” continued Harry, resuming his pacing.
“Is Ludo Bagman one of our customers?” asked Remus, his thinking cap on as he tapped the end of his pen against the tabletop.
Camilla frowned and rustled through the papers again, searching for a complete listing of their British customers with the MageBox. She finally located the ‘B’ section and skimmed a finger down the list. “He is.”
Harry snorted. “He’s a douche, but our ticket in this as well. The man was involved in both the Quidditch World Cup and the TriWizard Tournament in my previous existence. He’ll be a firm supporter us getting our screen contract at the Cup, and with his gambling problems and problems with the goblins we might be able to swing his support our way if we suggest quietly settling his debts.”
Remus pulled a face. “Isn’t that bribing him to do what we want?”
Harry shook his head. “Not if we don’t tell him what to do. A few well-placed sighs, whines from our mouths and he’ll bend backwards to stay on our good side if we’ve paid off his massive debt.”
Camilla smirked. “So we will only need to worry about Crouch, then?”
“Pretty much,” said Harry absently, as he went to sit back at his seat, facing Remus. “Only for the next year or so, anyway - until his son has got him under the Imperius.”
“I don’t like how we’re technically accessory to murder, Harry,” said Remus quietly. “We know about these deaths that will happen and we’re doing nothing.”
“We’re preserving the timeline so that when we do change it, Remus, we’ll be saving thousands of lives,” argued back Harry tiredly. Clearly, they’ve had the discussion before.
Remus tightened his lips against the weary response to his question, but if he felt any further moral necessity to share, he chose not to. At that point, a knock on his office door had everyone in the room turning to face it; Jonathan walked in.
“Whoa,” he began, his eyes taking in the tense atmosphere and scowls on his colleagues faces. “I come with good news.”
“Oh?” asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” grinned Jonathan, who was still standing in the doorway. He reached behind, just out of sight of those within the room, and yanked a sheepish, and nervous, Bill Weasley to stand next to him. “May I please introduce Mr. William Weasley, formerly of Gringott’s Bank, London branch?”
**
Arthur Weasley was a patient, kind-hearted man with very little ambition to proceed any further than being the Department Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department in the Ministry of Magic. He liked tinkering, he liked creating, but he certainly did not enjoy the paperwork and there would be even more were he promoted to another, higher position.
His middle son, Percy, was under the impression that Arthur wasn’t ambitious and it was his love for Muggle “toys” that held him back in work; this was not true-it was Arthur’s own pleasure in remaining comfortably where he was, despite knowing that with several hungry mouths to feed and children to clothe, he would always be sacrificing something for someone.
Until his eldest, Bill, Floo’d through to the Burrow, looking pale and shaky.
His arrival occurred during the middle of dinner, before Ron’s third year and Ginny’ second. Percy was Head Boy; Molly cooked a special dinner in celebration.
When Bill walked into the kitchen, Molly stood and exclaimed, “Bill!” moving forward to embrace him. She stopped, abruptly, upon seeing his wide blue eyes.
“Son?” asked Arthur, also rising from his seat as conversation stopped at the table. “What’s happened?”
“Mum,” began Bill, blinking, “Dad…”
“Bill?” asked Arthur, gently.
“I quit Gringotts,” the eldest Weasley blurted.
There was a moment of shocked silence, before Molly tentatively asked, “Bill? Dear? Why would you do that?” Panic quickly overcame her as a suggestion popped into her mind. “You’re not going back to Egypt, are you? It’s dangerous, Bill! I thought you wanted to be close to home!”
“Uh…” stuttered Bill, glancing at his calm father, “I will be close to home, mum. Actually, I’ll be working out of Dorset.”
Molly paused, and Arthur frowned. “You’ve taken a new job, Bill? But you wanted to work for Gringotts for quite some time.”
Bill nodded, running a hand through his long hair. He walked slowly to his usual seat at the kitchen table and slowly folded his lanky body into the chair. “I know, but… I received a job offer I couldn’t refuse. At all.”
Understanding suddenly bloomed on Percy’s face, but the teenager kept silent.
Arthur glanced at his middle son before looking back at Bill. “Are you sure that’s what you want? You shouldn’t sacrifice your dreams and hopes for money, Bill.”
Bill laughed, colour slowly working back into his face. “I won’t admit that the money didn’t tempt me, but the job is interesting and I can still work with cursebreaking.”
“Where are you working?” asked Molly, settling back into her seat with a friendly tone now that she realised Billy wasn’t moving out of the country for a dangerous job. She handed her son a plate of food.
Here, Bill paused before casually stating, “Cloak & Dagger Incorporated.”
The twins’ jaws dropped, forks clattering to their plates, while Arthur asked, “What?”
Bill nodded, reaching for the plate from his mother’s hands. “Yeah, I thought so too when one of their Department Heads sent me an owl, requesting to meet me. But they needed me to do something for them and offered me employment. The salary is amazing and I can stay here in the UK.”
“That’s not what I meant,” began Arthur. “I meant that Cloak & Dagger is one of the Ministry’s largest suppliers and offers hundreds of Galleons for charity events and luncheons. Their CEO and the Minister are on first-name bases! They’re also one of the hardest companies to be hired into. Bill, son-I… congratulations.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Bill, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth.
“When do you start?” asked Percy, curiously.
“Tomorrow,” answered Bill with a shrug. “We signed confidentiality agreements so I can’t say what I’m doing but I know that it’s time sensitive.”
“And you’re important to this job?” asked Ron, bluntly, eyes wide. “What do you have to offer than someone else doesn’t?”
Ignoring his youngest brother’s poorly chosen words, Bill answered, “Cursebreaking talents. And they liked me.”
Bill flashed Ron a grin and winked at Ginny, who giggled.
Ron scowled. “So how much are you gonna make then?”
Bill shrugged, although Arthur could see how much his son was affecting his blasé attitude, if only to rile Ron. “Starting salary wage.”
Molly nodded. “A few hundred galleons then,” she said knowledgably.
Bill shook his head. “No, mum-their starting salary wage is forty thousand British pounds… or over a thousand Galleons per year.”
Ron was practically green with envy while the twins-here, Arthur narrowed his eyes-well, they admired to company’s creativity enough to understand how much talent each hire had. They were nothing but pleased as punch for their elder brother, if not scheming a way to get a tour of the Cloak & Dagger facilities.
Percy’s fork fell to the floor as Ron wailed, “So unfair!”
With a gleam in the middle son’s eyes, Arthur saw Percy’s ambitions changed from working at the Ministry to getting a job at Cloak & Dagger.
Well, at least he won’t be a Ministry stooge anymore, thought Arthur, with a mental shrug.
**
23 December, 1993. Gringott’s Bank.
“Enter stranger and take heed,” muttered Piers darkly, standing in a very dark vault in Gringott’s Bank.
“Oh, shut up,” muttered Jonathan, snappish. “It’s not like you’re the one on a pulley!”
“Can both of you keep quiet?” snarled Yui, as she turned away from her hydraulic tool and lifted the protective mask with her gloved hand. “I’m trying to concentrate here!”
Harry patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “Just keep working on it, Yui, I’ll keep them quiet.” And he did with a well-placed eye glare.
Three hours ago, they had successfully snuck into Gringott’s bank in Diagon Alley as, throughout the hour, they entered under the reason of visiting their business account vault, which, given the size of the gold in it, was located fairly deep in the underground labyrinth.
Over the course of several months, they spent numerous hours within their locked vault whenever Harry or his Department Heads visited Gringott’s, setting up an established and legitimate request for needing several hours in their vault to overlook accounts and payroll. While they did not subcontract out to Gringott’s, Harry ensured that Cloak & Dagger invested in enough “risky” businesses that the goblins-greedy bastards that they were-always took a hefty percentage for transaction use. It kept the goblins happy and it kept Cloak & Dagger happy.
Bill Weasley had certainly come through for the team, producing the Gringott’s floor plans and vault access designs. Remus and Bill were able to locate the Cloak & Dagger vault and once Remus was fairly confident in reading the Gobblegook goblin language and decipher the strange keynote symbols the goblins used, they planned their break in.
Unfortunately, they were pushing their time limit. Currently, Harry, Piers, Jonathan, Yui and Justine were in the vault above the Lestrange ancestral vault. Luckily, when Harry acquired Grunnings Drill Company years ago, he had no idea that they were branching out to various quarries and oilrigs throughout the world-making Grunnings a very profitable and enterprising company. Helpful, too, Harry decided, as he “acquired” several hydraulic rock hammers and drills for this exact purpose.
Yui used a special precision rock splitter that was portable and durable, but also easy to use in small areas… like loaded vaults. Currently, Harry and his friends had punched small, crawl-only holes in the vaults they passed through on their way to the Lestrange vault. The holes were also full and small enough of galleons and heirlooms that Piers was able to “rearrange” the furniture to hide their holes.
It wouldn’t last forever, Harry knew, but he wasn’t worried about being discovered. The treaty the goblins signed with the wizarding world stated that unless invited into the vault, goblins could not enter… and most wizards did little to look around their vaults other than grab money, and no house elf would displease their master by telling them about a hole in their vault!
“Yui, you’ve got about 5 more minutes to break through this if we’re going to stay on schedule,” said Harry, glancing at his wind-up wristwatch.
The young woman scowled behind her protective mask but remained silent. Harry watched from a distance as Yui made a final, small circular hole. Several holes of the same size made the same pattern, creating a dotted outline the size of a sewage hole. Using a hydraulic saw, Yui would then cut through the stone, playing connect the dots until the piece fell into the vault below.
With a loud hisssss the hydraulics shut off and Yui removed her mask, looking up at Harry with lines on her face from where the straps bit into her skin.
As she grinned widely at her boss, as the stone piece fell from the vault floor they were in and landed with a large crunch.
“Ready Johnny?” grinned Piers, as he and Harry griped the ropes for the pulley system Jonathan was strapped into.
“No,” mumbled Jonathan. He sighed and sat on the floor next to the hole, and stuck his legs through. Wearing an all-black nylon suit, Jonathan looked like the cat burglar he was: several pouches along his hip belt contained flashlights and other necessities, just as dung bombs and smoke screens. A small backpack contained a flat-packed iron container that would they hold the Horcrux to minimize its impact.
With a nod at Harry and Piers, he pushed off and slipped through the hole, holding his breath and praying the pulley system would hold his weight.
Jonathan was slowly lowered into the large vault, apprehension causing him to sweat and licked his dry lips. It would be the first time he would be allowed to retrieve a Horcrux without Harry’s presence.
One Jonathan felt his feet touch the solid stone beneath, he tugged on the pulley string to signal slack. He heard the soft sound of the rope hitting the stone floor around him as he was given slack. Jonathan began patting his hips, knowing that Piers strapped a magically infused flashlight in one of the belt pockets. He fumbled a moment or two before retrieving the flashlight and twisting the bottom handle.
A thin stream of light emitted from the flashlight and illuminated a ferocious-looking stuffed hellhound. Jonathan shrieked, the girly sound pitching high and echoing around the vault.
“Jonathan?” called Harry, sounding very far away. “Are you alright?”
“Fine!” called Jonathan, staring at the glowing red eyes of the hellhound. He did not want to tell anyone he freaked out over a stuffed dog.
Twisting his mouth in a grimace, Jonathan began searching for the Horcrux. It did not take long before he felt a pull towards one part of the vault, behind a large stack of coins.
Drink from me, Jonathan, a voice soothed. I will fill your parched throat and tongue with sweet nectar…
The Horcrux was on a small rise, which Jonathan discovered as an overturned gold bedpan. The voice continued to mock, plead and beg Jonathan to touch it, but the young wizard knew better. Forewarned, after all, was forearmed…
Jonathan pulled out the iron container from the backpack and began snapping the pieces together in a makeshift puzzle, locking each one in place. Once the pieces were assembled, he opened the lid and carefully slid the container over the Horcrux/Cup of Hufflepuff, ensuring that it did not touch the sides of the iron container.
With a trembling hand, Jonathan took a deep breath and in a single motion scooped the iron container and snapped the lid shut, listening to the dull and muffled bangs as the Cup rattled against the sides of the container.
Jonathan cradled the container as he walked back to where his slack rope coiled underneath the sewer-sized hole. There was too much rope dragged along the floor to where he found the Cup, so the young wizard used his free hand to start tugging the extended rope back towards him. Once he was satisfied there were only a few feet of rope extended beyond the broken tiles and pieces of rock from the vault ceiling, Jonathan tugged firmly on the still hanging rope.
The slack began to lessen and slowly Jonathan was lifted from the Lestrange vault back into the vault above. Piers was pale, Yui was tense but Harry… the wizard looked pleased.
Piers and Harry grabbed an arm each and hauled Jonathan away from the hole, and Yui moved behind him, beginning to unclip the harness and rope from him.
“Got it?” asked Harry, unnecessarily.
Jonathan nodded and passed over the container, feeling a weight off his shoulders as he did so. He never even noticed that weight had been there in the first place.
Harry smiled thinly in triumph, cradling the container. Another Horcrux down, and only three more to go.
**
Early June, 1994: Near Little Hangleton
Remus and Harry were in their posh company Bentley, enjoying their smooth trip to Little Hangleton’s town hall, where they would be meeting with a town employee. Having made the appointment several months ago, Harry and Remus were hoping to please the townsfolk by purchasing the old Riddle mansion and gain the floor plans for their final attack on Voldemort.
The ride was quiet as Remus enjoyed watching the scenery and Harry caught up on some memos and reports from Piers, Justine and Jonathan.
“Harry’s been sending me some owls lately,” commented Remus suddenly, looking from out the tinted window to Harry, beside him in the back seat.
“Oh?” questioned the time traveller, glancing up briefly. “About what?”
“It seems Sirius Black was spotted near Hogsmeade a few weeks ago,” answered Remus. “He’s heading for Hogwarts.”
“And Weasley’s rat, I’m sure,” replied Harry with a grimace and twitch of his nose. “I’m surprised it took him this long. I’m sure he made it into Hogwarts earlier in the previous timeline. Slashed the Fat Lady’s portrait.”
“Things can change. Our Harry’s not going to look for him.”
Harry barked a laugh. “Are you saying that I did the first time around? All I knew was that Sirius Black was a murderer who escaped the Az. I didn’t even know he was my godfather until I overheard Fudge with McGonagall and Flitwick during the Christmas holidays.”
Remus shrugged, reaching into his pocket for a pocket watch; he clicked the bronze lid off, checked the time, and replaced it. “Well, Harry was asking about him. Wanted to know more about why he was so dangerous.”
“Did you reply?”
Remus glanced back out the window. Almost guiltily, he stated, “Yes, but I didn’t answer him.”
Harry frowned. “If you did that to me, back when I was thirteen, I wouldn’t be pleased. So I doubt he is, too.”
“We’ll be arriving soon, Mr. Houdini, sir,” called the driver as a privacy barrier lowered briefly. “Five minutes, top.”
“Thank you, Clarkson,” replied Harry with an easy-going smile.
The car eased up next to a semi-ramshackle building, one that emitted the feeling of neglect and old-world grandeur that had long since faded. The old mining town was half-rotted and falling into disrepair as its citizens left for greener pastures.
An elderly man was waiting on the steps leading into the town hall, an eighteenth-century, one-storey building with a glass and copper dome that was smudged brown and green from dirt and ozone.
Remus exited the car first, followed by Harry on the other side. The elderly man began down the steps, pausing as Remus stepped up two to meet him.
“Mr. Lupin?” the man questioned, bushy white eyebrow rising.
Remus smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Ravenbrook. Thank you for meeting Mr. Houdini and myself.”
Ravenbrook, the elderly towns worker, nodded at Remus and then turned to Harry. He looked the young CEO up and down before politely gesturing towards the heavy entrance doors. “Shall we?”
The two Cloak & Dagger men joined Ravenbrook up the steps and into the oppressive building. They did not stop to comment on the filtered light from the dome, or the dirty polished marble flooring with chips and dents in it. Instead, they walked down a small corridor off the entrance foyer and through a heavy-looking dark pine door.
Ravenbrook motioned at two faded red wingback chairs that stood before his desk. The furniture in the room matched, creating a heavy, dark feel with red velvet curtains drawn at a single window; a large leather-upholstered swivel chair behind the desk and a wall filled with green-bound books. A stern-looking man in waistcoat frowned down at Remus and Harry from a heavily gilded gold frame high above and behind Ravenbrook’s desk.
“I must admit, when the town repossessed the old Riddle mansion in the 50s, we thought it would have sold quickly,” began Ravenbrook quietly, as he reached for a folder he had set aside previously on his desk. “But when no one decided to purchase after the first decade or so, the town and bank were not too worried. Mr. Bryce, the groundskeeper, has remained on retainer, continuing his maintenance of the ground despite his… dubious background.”
“We are well aware of the unfortunate circumstances that surround the Riddle mansion,” stated Remus calmly. “We also understand that the town would be grateful to have a money-sucker such as the Riddle mansion out of its possession. Mr. Houdini and myself don’t mind a short sale.”
“After all,” added Harry quietly, as he laced his fingers together in his lap, crossing his right ankle over his left knee, “I’m sure there aren’t any other buyers.”
Ravenbrook pursed his lips, eerily reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall, but did not rise to Harry’s bait. He cleared his throat. “That being said, the town and bank are happy to accept your purchase offer of £1.5 million, including the closing costs.”
Both Harry and Remus knew that the mansion was worthless, rotted in places and missing foundation and support beams, but they also wanted the building. If the town and bank thought they were planning on flipping the mansion, regaining the value, or using it as a private residence, then they would be sadly mistaken.
Neither Remus, nor Harry, had any desire to fix the old building. The government overlooked the building, never giving it a historical grade and therefore leaving it vulnerable for demolition. One day, Harry was sure, once everything was over with Voldemort, he would have the mansion torn apart, brick by brick.
“Included in the deeds to the property, are the building plans as you requested, and all the copies of the keys we could find from our backroom,” continued Ravenbrook. “Of course, there is the matter of Mr. Bryce…?”
Remus and Harry shared a glance. Harry knew that Frank Bryce would die in a few months time, when Pettigrew and Voldemort would return to the mansion and use it as their base. However, Remus’ plea to save at least one person tugged at Harry. Was Frank’s death necessary? What did he prove other than to die by Voldemort’s hand, unsuspecting of who the intruder was?
And better yet, what if Harry received the vision again before the World Cup invite and lingered over it? Worrying about Voldemort and his agent at Hogwarts? …even the first time around, Harry remembered the vision but didn’t think it serious enough to warrant immediate concern to his wellbeing, even after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire.
“I would appreciate it if you offer him an attractive pension and severance pay from our purchase deal,” began Harry cautiously, not looking at Remus. “Please make him aware that it is his choice if he would like to retire from being the Riddle groundskeeper or not.”
Ravenbrook nodded and Remus inhaled sharply. Harry reasoned it was the best he could do. Voldemort wouldn’t care about a muggle either way, but at least the offer for Frank Bryce to leave was on the table. He wasn’t changing or deviating from the original timeline too much.
Ravenbrook shook hands with Harry and Remus, handed them the folder and the rusty ring with several different sized keys on it. The man ushered the two out of the office and out of the building quickly, the door to the town hall shutting behind them firmly.
“How nice,” muttered Harry, glancing back once before starting down the steps and towards the Bentley.
“Harry…”
Sighing, Harry turned at faced Remus, looking up at the werewolf. “Don’t say it Remus. Don’t. I’ve done what I could for Frank Bryce and if he’s a smart man, he’ll take the money and live comfortably for the rest of his life. No matter what, the people of this town will think him a murderer. With some money, he might be able to live a quiet life away from this Godforsaken town.”
Remus tightened his lips but gave a sharp nod; he was taking orders from the man who was holding tightly onto the cards he needed to ensure a winning hand. However much Remus disagreed, he knew what they were playing with. Someone was bound to lose their life somewhere along the way… Remus just hoped it wasn’t his friend.
The werewolf sighed again and joined Harry in the car. They eased away from the town hall and then onto the motorway, back towards southern England, the two settled in for their long drive.
When it was only an hour into the drive, with Harry snoring softly beside Remus, Remus felt his Chatter system mirror vibrate. Frowning, he tapped the incoming symbol on the bottom of the mirror, activating the connection.
A panicked, younger version of the man sitting next to him filled the screen. “Uncle Remus!”
“Harry?” asked Remus, sitting up straight in his seat, the seatbelt biting into his chest as he did so. Beside him, Harry snorted and woke up, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I don’t know where to start,” began the younger Harry, glancing behind. Remus and Harry could hear some strange noises in the background, shouts and scuffles. “I was out with Hermione and Neville for Buckbeak’s execution - you remember me telling you about it, how Hagrid’s lost the appeal?”
Remus nodded, Harry listening attentively next to him.
“Well, we went out to see Hagrid and offer him some words of support,” continued Harry, quickly and almost babbling. “Hermione’s idea, you know? We’ve been helping her look up laws… anyway, while we were there, Fudge and Dumbledore and this other guy showed up and Hagrid shoved us out his back door with the cookie jar. When Neville went to open it, we found Ron Weasley’s pet rat! Neville wanted to return it to him-he’s been a right prat about Hermione’s kneazle, Crookshanks, eating him-but the damn rat bit Neville’s hand and took off towards the Whomping Willow!”
The younger Harry took a deep breath while the Harry next to Remus had an uneasy feeling as to what happened next.
“Neville and I chased after it; Neville had it in his hand when this massive black dog came out of nowhere, snapped up Neville and the rat! Bit hard into Nev’s arm, Hermione and I heard this terrible crunching noise…” the teen paled.
“Harry,” began Remus patiently, although Harry-the-time-traveller could see the tension in him. “Where are you now?”
“Hermione says we’re in the Shrieking Shack! The dog wasn’t a dog, Uncle Remus! He turned into Black!” stated the panicked teen. “He’s been going on and on about how he wants Weasley’s rat! What is going on?”
Harry, beside Remus, raised an eyebrow lazily. “I’m guessing you’re regretting not telling him everything when he asked in his owl, are you?”
Remus shot a glare at Harry, before turning back to the mirror. “Harry, where’s Sirius now?”
Harry paused in the mirror, frowning slightly before tilting his head slightly and angling the mirror. Remus could see a dirty and ravaged-looking Sirius Black standing at the other end of the upstairs room in the Shrieking Shack, eyes staring at the rat in Neville’s hand. Hermione stood off to Neville’s side, her wand aloft.
Remus was certain that Snape would arrive soon, create some havoc, and then Pettigrew would escape. However, Remus owed Harry an explanation now, given his sticky situation.
Sighing, Remus instructed, “Harry, hand the mirror to Sirius. He won’t hurt you.”
“He hurt Neville!”
“He didn’t mean it. He’s not all there in his head, but he would never hurt Neville, or you and Hermione, intentionally. Please.”
Harry swallowed but followed his uncle’s instructions; the boy was in awe of the werewolf, the one who told him of his parents’ legacy and took him from the Dursley’s to the Potter ancestral home in Wales. He would trust him explicitly.
The mirror was handed cautiously to Sirius Black, who reached for it with a tentative hand. Once he glanced into the frame, though, he nearly dropped the mirror in response.
“Moony!”
Remus nodded. “Padfoot.”
“You look the same as when you visited me in Azkaban. How long ago has that been now?” asked Sirius slowly, his grey eyes raking over Remus’s haircut and the edge of his designer suit jacket. The lush interior of the car completed the image.
“About two years now, Padfoot,” answered Remus carefully. “You found Peter then?”
“Yes,” hissed Sirius, his face contorting from pleasantly surprised to rage-filled. “He’s been here at Hogwarts the entire time! Why didn’t you get him, Moony? Why didn’t you see him?”
“I am no longer welcomed at Hogwarts,” answered Remus darkly. “Dumbledore and I have had a… disagreement.”
Sirius’s face turned from rage to confusion; Harry worried about the state of his mental health and if it was that bad the first time around. Why hadn’t he noticed?
“Moony, what is going on?” asked Sirius, the angry tone changing to pitiful worry by the end of the plea.
Remus sighed. “Padfoot - Harry doesn’t know about you. Get Pettigrew, keep him alive and get the fuck out of there. As soon as you can. Hand the mirror back to Harry and I’ll make sure he doesn’t argue.”
Sirius’s face twisted into confusion and disobedience, but he was a dog animagus for a reason; he obeyed better than gave orders. Pack was important.
The mirror went back to Harry, who overheard the conversation. “When I get back to the mansion, Remus, you’d better have a good reason for this,” the teenager cautioned.
Remus nodded, but inwardly shivered. That stern, dead-eyed look was one he was scarily familiar with; in fact, when the conversation of Frank Bryce occurred not more than an hour ago, he saw it in Harry “Houdini’s” eyes.
“I know, Harry,” replied Remus, thickly swallowing. “We’ll talk soon. Get Neville to the hospital wing and call me later tonight. Give Sirius the rat. It’ll all work out.”
The two said goodbye and the call ended.
Beside him, Harry was casually checking his nailbeds. “It won’t work out.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Of course I do; Snape will show up, he and Sirius will snark at each other, Harry and his friends will blast Snape for insulting Sirius who now bears your mark of approval and Pettigrew will escape,” answered Harry, as though he was talking about the weather. “That’s the way it’ll go. Sirius will remain on the run until we catch Pettigrew next year. It was going to happen this way.”
“It hasn’t happened yet!” bit back Remus, glaring at his friend. “You’re changing the timeline! What makes you think this won’t change?”
Harry’s eyes darkened. “Experience.”
Later that evening, an exhausted Remus came to see Harry past midnight in his Welsh home, only stopping in the Floo long enough to tell him Harry sent an owl, detailing that Pettigrew escaped and Sirius was on the run. Hermione and Harry used her time-turner to help Sirius escape, giving him Harry’s Chatter mirror to call Remus with later.
Harry nodded, and closed the Floo connection. He didn’t have the heart to tear Remus down any further by telling him “I told you so.”
**
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