41: Gathering Momentum

They arrived at the courtyard of Grimmauld Place in a burst of phoenix fire. It was the only way to "Apparate" from Hogwarts, but it was embarassingly flamboyant, and Harry was definitely in a "low-key" mood. "That's what we'll work on next, Fawkes: Apparating together. Should've done it ages ago, after you charbroiled Draco." Fawkes peered at him sharply, a clear reminder of exactly whose idea that had been.

Before any further discussion could commence, a dozen sorcerers flooded the courtyard with wands at the ready. "'S all right," boomed the voice of Mad-Eye Moody from the back of the crowd. "'S Potter. Pity people won't listen once in a while, before charging off half-cocked." Sheepish greetings issued forth from the others as they put their wands away.

Lupin was waiting for him just inside the door. "Don't even start, I'm doing everything the proper way," Harry said, displaying his trunk. "I came straight here. There's nothing left to do at Hogwarts except study for exams." Remus frowned, but Harry raised his hand for silence. "And don't start on that either, I'm not going to waste two perfectly good weeks reviewing the finer points of Advanced Conjuring. We're here to stay." Harry rumpled Fawkes's belly in a silent plea for solidarity.

The frown remained a few more seconds, then Lupin shrugged. "Dinner's on the table. You know where your room is." Only after Harry's eyes bugged out in surprise did he smile. "Welcome home, Harry."

There weren't any crews of house-elves manning the Headquarters kitchens, and Harry had eaten with the Weasley clan enough times to know that while good things might come to those who wait, second helpings generally went to those who hustled. He raced to the kitchen as soon as his trunk was put away. Tonks budged over to make room for him at the long table and Summoned him a plate of stew as she planted one of her infamous lipstick smooches on his cheek. "Wotcher, Harry?" she said cheerily.

"Been better," he admitted, dunking a roll in the broth, but did not elaborate. Fortunately there seemed to be little need, as there was a tense silence around the table. Others finished their meals and left, but when Harry scraped his spoon along the bottom of the bowl, Tonks kicked him in the shin before he could push back from the table.

She really got him, too, and he had to turn a yelp into a cough. She tipped her head at Lupin, who was conferring quietly with a couple of unknown witches in the corner, but she hardly needed to bother. Once Harry recovered from the shock of having his shinbone dented, he'd skimmed her thoughts to find out what he'd done to deserve such treatment. Lupin had something important to talk about, but not for the whole group to hear.

Mad-Eye Moody clunked his way downstairs and parked across from Harry with a knowing look, slowly peeling an orange he'd pulled from a pocket of his robes. When the last diner had patted their tummy contentedly and departed, Lupin bade the witches good luck and sent them upstairs. He sat beside Harry and even pushed Harry's dinner bowl away so he could lean in close. He gave Tonks an apologetic look, and she smiled thinly and left as well.

"For pity's sake, Reem, do you want me to just read you, so you don't have to say it out loud?"

That made Lupin snicker. "That'd be rather rude to Alastor, I think. Besides, I'd rather tell it, if it's all the same to you. Only we've found it, Harry. Voldemort's fortress."

"Mother of Merlin!"

"I know, Harry. It's not quite done--one of the scouts discovered the wards last night. Persian fellow, transforms into a camel. All three scouts are inside the wards doiong reconnaisance. They'll be reporting in a matter of hours."

Harry fought the urge to leap to his feet. "Then what?"

"The part I've been dreading. We review their findings and plan our attack. We've got several strategies laid out, but Harry! We're still short a Horcrux! Not to mention we haven't destroyed the ones we DO have." Lupin buried his face in his hands with a heavy sigh. "I've spent a year thinking about this day, and I still don't know what to do."

Moody patted Lupin on the shoulders with a gruff sort of tenderness. "You're not alone in it, lad," he reminded him. "Arthur'll be here the minute the scouts report, and we'll get Minerva down from Hogwarts."

"Ondossi, too," said Harry. "If anyone knows that terrain, it's her," he added hastily, but in truth he suddenly wanted her with him. Not to protect her--if anything, it would likely be the other way around, that she would save his neck yet again. I can do this if she's with me, he realized with a guilty pang. I can die if I have to, to save her. It wasn't a comforting thought, but it was an honest one and it warmed his chest far more deeply than the hot stew.

Though it was still mid-evening, Harry went up to his room and flopped onto his bed without even lighting a candle. He wished he could sleep. Moody'd approve of that, he smiled to himself as he watched the shadows of tree limbs whisk across the ceiling.

He had dozed off despite the early hour, when he was treated to the bellowing voice of Phineas Nigellus Black. "Potter! You're wanted in the drawing room."

Harry literally launched from the bed, then sat back on it a moment to get his bearings. "You needn't shout, you know," he groused, patting his feet around the floor to find his shoes. "I'm not deaf!"

"Oh, begging your pardon," oozed the portrait without a drop of sincerity. "I spent my evening convincing Minerva McGonagall that you were safe and sound, and not to wring your bloody neck for dashing off yet again. And now I've been sent to roust you from your beauty sleep. I don't know when I became the errand boy for a werewolf, Potter, but I'm quite certain I don't like it."

"You don't fool me," Harry snapped. "You love being right in the thick of it." The portrait's teeth gnashed shut with an audible click.

The drawing room was still layered in dust, but the fireplace had been rebuilt and Arthur Weasley was climbing out of it. Professors McGonagall and Ondossi were already there, with a tall, slender witch about Lupin's age. Her skin was so dark it looked almost blue, and her hair coiled into tiny springs all over her head. Another unknown wizard, wrapped in a blanket, huddled with Lupin over a mug of steaming tea. He had the longest eyelashes Harry had ever seen, and he knew this must be the camel fellow.

"We waited, but there was no sign of him," he was saying to Lupin. "Ogetchi flew back and scouted for him, but she's a crane, not an eagle; she can't spot from height like some birds."

A tightness gripped Harry's throat as he realized who was missing from the scene. "You lost Sirius?" he said.

Lupin put a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Padfoot smelled something and went back toward the compound. It doesn't mean anything's wrong--he'll investigate it, then he'll catch up." Harry glared skeptically and skimmed Lupin's thoughts, but the older wizard wasn't trying to deceive him; he truly wasn't worried about Sirius. Yet.

Mr. Weasley looked unconcerned as well. "He's doing his job, Harry. He's the only one of this group who even comes close to blending in out there. Not many camels in Siberia!" He patted the shivering wizard on the back, who looked up from his tea with an abashed grin.

They Transfigured the desk into a low, flat table, and spent the next few hours sketching maps and discussing tactics, numbers, spells, and statistics, at a depth that would have made Professor Binns weep for joy. Try as he might, Harry could barely follow their arguments; for the first time he wished he'd stayed awake during History of Magic, if only for the practice. Despite his intimate study of wand-to-wand combat, he had no grasp of how an offensive was waged by large numbers of wizards.

He also found it harder to concentrate, the longer his godfather was absent from the proceedings.

Eventually Harry caught Ondossi's eye and tipped his head toward the door. She followed him down to the kitchen where they both slumped at the long table. "Man, I'm glad those guys are around to think about the 'big picture' stuff," she said. "Makes my head spin."

Harry nodded. "I don't like the way every single tactic involves people getting hurt." He gnawed the inside of his lip. Tura surprised him by offering her hand and he took it automatically. And immediately realized his mistake, for she was deep in his mind in an instant.

"Not all alone, you won't," she said flatly.

She'd seen what he was pondering: that this was his battle, his war to fight, and he'd rather creep up on Voldemort by himself than watch his friends cut a swath through the Dark Army. But Legilimency worked both ways, and their hands were still touching. Sending a pulse of magic into her arm, he read her intent as well.

"You mean to come with me."

She snatched her hand away. "Rascal," she grumbled. "Well, that is my territory, and you'll have a long walk through it. I can find food so we can travel light, and without magic--he'll be able to detect it inside the wards."

Harry didn't bother to disguise the relief and gladness in his face. "Sold. Let's do it, I'm ready."

Tura scoffed as though expecting more resistance from him. "Well! I guess you are, Mr. Sneak Off Without Saying Goodbye! Not this time, though--the Order's gotta know what we're doing. Otherwise they'll come charging after us and it'll get messy."

"They'll try to stop us in the first place if we tell them," argued Harry.

"Yep. They will," she said. "But we're part of the team now, Harry. The Seekers. We'll present our strategy, and we'll persuade them to go with it." She winked. "I think we can make them see the light."

"I'll be back in the morning," she said, rising from the table and tossing a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace. "I'll get Viktor to take over my classes, they're all review at this point anyway. Get a good night's sleep, Harry. We'll start in two days, maybe three."

She stepped into the Floo and disappeared before he could voice his surprise. Two days. Harry swallowed hard. Finding the last Horcrux first suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea.

Occupied by thoughts of setting out so soon on his final quest, Harry stared at the fire until he realized that for some time, there had been a considerable commotion upstairs. Sprinting from the kitchen, he found the drawing room crowd milling about on the landing and Lupin tromping down from the floor above with a fierce grin. "What is it?" said Harry.

"Sirius is back," said Lupin. "With a prisoner. Upstairs."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Who?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

Lupin refused to let him confront her, at least not until Sirius had a go at it. "He wants to talk to her, Harry. She's still his cousin. He thinks if she learns that Regulus turned before the end, she might recant. Or if she hears what happened to Draco."

Lupin sighed heavily and shrugged. "For what it's worth, I told him she's a lost cause, but you know how he can be. Stubborn git," he added wistfully, as if sorry in advance for his friend's imminent disappointment. In the end Harry just went to bed, knowing that there would be much to do in the morning. If Sirius extracted any news, he'd learn it soon enough.

He woke before dawn and, unsurprisingly, couldn't fall back to sleep. The house was quiet, but there was a hint of muffled conversation upstairs. Sirius must have been arguing with Bellatrix Lestrange all night. Harry went down to the kitchen and fixed a platter of toast and tea, then brought it up to the fifth floor bedroom. Even through the door, his godfather didn't sound angry, but defeated.

Sirius positively beamed as Harry came in with the breakfast tray. "Good morning, lad. I've been trying to reason with my cousin. Thought she might help us with that one missing piece of the puzzle." Harry nodded meaningfully: if anyone knew the location of the last Horcrux, it would be Bellatrix. "Sadly, she won't talk to me, but I reckon she'll answer to you."

Baring her teeth, Bellatrix spat at Harry. "Oh, that's rich, that is, you mongrel. Do you honestly think I'll sing a song for ickle Potty?"

"Oh, you'll sing, all right," Harry informed her sharply. "And the more you fight, the worse it'll be." Despite his cold words, he offered her a cup of tea, unsurprised when she batted it to the floor.

"Bring it on, filth. You don't frighten me."

Harry's smile was like a blade of ice. She might be Draco's "Aunt Bella," but he hated this woman and intended to show her the extent of his power. As he prepared to force his way into her mind, however, footsteps were pounding up the stairs. Breaking open Lestrange would leave him numb for hours, so he ground his teeth impatiently and waited for whatever news this latest messenger might bring. He had time, after all.

Ondossi burst into the bedroom and scanned all of them wildly, then, with a look of relief, bent forward to catch her breath. "Leave us," she panted. Sirius wasn't thrilled about being ordered around in his own home, but he shoved his captive into an armchair and stalked out. Tura gave him a grateful nod as he passed. "You too, Harry," she said.

"WHAT?"

She raised a hand to silence him, but he was too shocked to continue anyway. Don't argue in front of the prisoner, she projected angrily. Just go. I'm doing the interrogation.

What? No! I'm totally ready for this, Tura, I want to--

I know you are. But not this time. PLEASE, Harry. Go! I'll explain later. Her eyes, her whole stance was painfully familiar, the same she'd held that night on her platform as she begged him to leave without her secret. His stomach seemed to fall right to the floor.

"Fine," he fumed quietly as he shuffled past her.

He nearly tripped over Sirius as he rounded the first bend in the stairs. Harry smiled and sat beside him immediately, for his godfather was playing out an Extendable Ear. "Three cheers to Fred and George," Sirius whispered, huddling close and holding the tiny end of the string between their heads. "I wouldn't be caught dead without these things anymore."

"Hello, pretty lady." It was Tura's voice, calm and even. Both wizards gaped at one another. "Do you know me?" she continued.

When Bellatrix spoke, her voice was unlike Harry had ever heard, soft and deferential, perhaps even afraid. "I don't... but your eyes..." She fell silent a moment, then gasped. "His daughter?"

Harry yanked the Extendable Ear from his godfather's hand.

"Whose daughter?" sputtered Sirius, but when he saw Harry's expression, he closed his mouth and swallowed hard. "I don't really want to know, do I?"

Harry stared at his feet, then risked a quick glance at Sirius's thoughts. He'd guessed, of course. Before Harry could turn away, he saw the comprehension in his godfather's eyes; there were no secrets between them. "Mother of Merlin!" Sirius whispered.

"Listen!" Harry pleaded, gripping the older wizard's shoulders. "How many times has she helped me? Saved me? I trust her."

"Harry," began Sirius, but simply shook his head, at a loss to continue.

Harry took advantage of the silence. "I know her, Sirius. He murdered her mother. He tried to poison her, before she was even born. She may be his child, but she's not his."

Sirius leaned back. "Then what's she doing in there with Bellatrix?" He eyed the Extendable Ear pointedly. Harry had pinched the end shut. He moistened his lips and took a quick, deep breath, then released the pressure and held it between them once again. There was nothing to hear but an occasional whimper.

"She's in her mind already," Harry sighed. "We'll have to wait til they're finished. You know she can only tell the truth afterward, when she's numb."

Sirius nodded, his jaw set firm. "Good, then. We'll have a talk."

The stairs grew hard and uncomfortable as they waited on the landing, with sounds of awakening drifting up softly from the lower floors. When the bedroom door finally creaked open, Sirius looked up, drawing his wand. At least he didn't point it up the stairs as though planning to hex Tura at first sight, but it still made Harry cringe. "Easy," he said, putting a hand on his godfather's wrist. Sirius glared at him, but held the wand down against his thigh.

Surprisingly, Ondossi managed to navigate the staircase, but she was definitely in a daze. She walked right between the two wizards without seeming to notice them until Harry tugged her hand, whereupon she plopped unconcernedly onto the landing between them.

"I thought we'd have to carry you out of there," Harry noted.

"She opened her mind willingly," Tura murmured. "Much easier."

Sirius glared pointedly. "Why would she do that, Ondossi?"

Tura let her head fall back to look up at him. "I made her feel safe."

"Trusts you, does she?" Sirius growled, raising his wand a few inches. "Why?"

"She trusts blood, Sirius Black. That she trusts mine suited my purpose."

Sirius barely concealed the hostility in his voice. "And what purpose was that?"

Harry grappled with the urge to deck his own godfather, but Tura was completely unperturbed. She held his gaze and answered him serenely. "She loves my father, Sirius. So did my mother at one time. I wanted to understand this."

Her gaze unfocused and she began slowly sinking onto the landing as though deflating. Harry put his arm behind her shoulder, staring coldly at his godfather. Sirius bowed his head, then peeked back up at Harry contritely. "I'll get her other side," he finally said, and scooted across the landing to drape Tura's arm around his neck.

Together they carried her to Harry's third-floor bedroom, where they managed to maneuver her limp form into the bed. As they untangled themselves from her soggy limbs and stood to depart, she said, "Make the announcement, Harry. We leave for Siberia tomorrow."

Shrugging, Harry picked up her feet, dangling over the edge of the bed, and placed them on top of it with the rest of her. Sirius waited until they were in the drawing room before speaking. "She wasn't joking, eh?" Harry shook his head. "Well," shrugged Sirius, "that's one way of getting out of your N.E.W.T.s."

"Making the announcement" was not a simple matter. After all her talk the night before about the two of them persuading the team, that chore was left largely to Harry. "Because it's stupid to mount a large-scale attack!" he railed to a double row of faces at the long table. "I'm 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord!' Exactly how will getting half the Order slaughtered help my mission? Seems to me sneaking in with the element of surprise will get me a lot closer to Voldemort than riding a wave of wizards throwing hexes left and right!"

Being a Legilimagus had never seemed so useful, since Harry could lightly scan each of them for their protests and form a rebuttal before they had time to speak. "I won't be alone. Tura's coming with me. No offense, but I dare say the two of us can handle the Dark Army much better than you lot." He proved his point by pulling a little stunt Tura had taught him over the spring holidays, a burst of magic across a certain tiny region of the brain, which short-circuited their consciousness. One row of the table slumped forward, sound asleep, as Harry nodded meaningfully at the slackjawed sorcerers on the opposite side. It made him go numb, but he remained standing with his arms folded, then quietly noted, "I rest my case." He left the room with a dignified stride as though he confident he'd made his point, but in truth he knew he'd go limp and start babbling if he stayed any longer.

The hard sell, however, began when Ron and Hermione showed up after lunch. "You know, for a secret society, news travels fast around here," Harry groaned as they barged into his room without knocking.

"It hardly took a genius to figure it out!" barked Hermione.

"Have to be daft to miss it," Ron agreed. "We've sneaked off with you too many times not to know the signs, mate."

Sighing, Harry sat back on his bed and indicated they should do the same. "All right, you caught me. And I'm glad, because I wouldn't want to leave without saying goodbye." The words gummed up his throat as his eyes welled with unexpected tears.

Ron shook his head. "No goodbyes here. We're in this together." His voice was firm and confident, but he glanced anxiously at Hermione, who was teary-eyed as well. She held out her hands and Harry took them.

"Remember that troll in the bathroom first year?" Hermione began. Each of them chuckled at the memory. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she said in a fair imitation of Ron's terrified squeak that Halloween night seven years earlier. "And Godric's Hollow? Professor Moody said we'd make great Aurors." She paused and looked him firmly in the eye. "We've always been a team, Harry. How can we let you go off alone now?"

Harry shook his head firmly. "I can't believe I even have to answer this. Hello! I'm the marked one. Not 'one of the three.' Come on, I just told the entire Order I'd be going without them. There's no way I'd let you two tag along!"

For a disconcerting moment, Harry was quite sure Hermione was going to slap him, but she took a deep breath and her features calmed again. "If you think you can drive us away with insulting words, you really don't know much about friendship, Harry James Potter," she said coolly.

"Ouch," he said aloud, then sighed. "Okay, that was a cheap shot. But the point remains, I'm going alone. With Tura," he amended somewhat shyly, making Ron break into a broad smirk. Harry folded his arms stubbornly. "Even Remus agrees it's foolish to send anyone else; I'll either make it or I won't, no matter how many people come along for the ride."

"That's all fine and good once you reach the keep, but what happens if you get captured before then?" snapped Ron. "Or you could get eaten by a bloody bear in your sleep or something, for the love of Merlin!"

"Oh, please," Harry grumbled. "The whole point of going in is that we want to end up in front of Voldemort. As for the other, well, either me or Tura can make any bear change its mind about how tasty we look."

Ron opened his mouth for another argument, but Hermione silenced him with a wave of her hand. "So that's it, then? You don't need us anymore, Harry?" she asked calmly.

That really stung. Harry stared at her blankly for a moment, but Hermione wouldn't blink. "You of all people know better than that," he finally said. "Of course I need you. I need you not to get killed." His voice was growing thick, so he stopped to clear his throat. "Do you understand? I need you to make it. I already know I won't. I have two choices: broken or dead. But I can save you. You and everybody else I care about. That's why you can't come with me. I need to know that you'll be all right."

Hermione burst into tears. Ron slumped at last into a chair with a look of dazed resignation, patting Hermione on the back. "That's... that was... pretty noble, Harry. I mean..." He met Harry's gaze while shaking his head gently, clearly at a loss for words.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Harry chided softly, a bit surprised by his own outburst. "It's just the way things are." They both sat quietly on either side of Hermione, draping their arms across her shoulders. Finally Harry rested his chin against the side of her head. "I know," he piped up. "I still have that cell phone. I can take it with me--it's not magic."

Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. They don't work in the wilderness. They have to be near a transmission tower." She gave his knee a little squeeze. "It was a good thought, though, Harry."

"I have those now and then," he agreed with a wan smile.

Lupin did a double-take upon walking into the bedroom. "There you are! Have you been in here all afternoon?"

Harry nodded without looking up. He lay prone upon his bed, sandwiching his pillow between his feet as he browsed the pages of the ancient red book he'd found in Godric's Hollow. The words meant nothing to him, though some of them teased the edges of his mind as though they wanted to be read. But there were also maps that intrigued him, and drawings of marvelous weapons and scenery. He'd never really had a chance to take a good look at it, and he was all too aware he might never get another chance.

Lupin came over to see what was occupying him so intently, then sat on the edge of the bed. "The mystery book, then?" Again Harry nodded without taking his eyes from the page. "Beautiful runes," Lupin commented. Harry flipped the pages back to a spot he'd found earlier, a drawing of an elegant sword styled like a long leaf, with runes inscribed along the blade. Lupin hummed in appreciation.

"Arthur wants Sirius to personally deliver Bellatrix Lestrange into Auror custody," he said presently, as though announcing the post had arrived.

That got Harry's attention! He rose immediately to his knees and nearly grabbed the older wizard by the shoulders. "What?"

Lupin chuckled. "It's true; he just owled us with the request. Sirius will look so much the better for capturing a Death Eater. Alice Longbottom insists she's well enough to attend; she's still an Auror, technically speaking, and wants to make the official arrest."

"When? I'm going too," said Harry, slamming the book shut and stuffing it absently into a deep pocket of his robes.

"I thought you might want to. But the prevailing mood is that it would be better for Siri to go it alone. I've been told to skip it, too, you see. Arthur wants him to come in out of the wilderness with this prisoner in tow, so it doesn't look like the Order's been secretly harboring him all this time. Which of course we have, but we've also been claiming he was dead. Which he was, but not in the absolute sense. It's rather tricky, isn't it?"

Harry snorted. "I get it, Reem. Whatever it takes to keep the Prophet from accusing the Order of conspiring to hide an innocent fugitive."

"Precisely," Lupin sighed. "But I thought you might like to join us in the drawing room, because Sirius left twenty minutes ago to 'dirty up' a bit before he parades into the Ministry. Adora and I are going to listen to the wireless."

Harry's eyes bugged out, and with a huge grin he bounded out of bed and raced Remus down the stairs.

"Nothing yet," said Tonks, sitting next to the wooden case and fiddling with the tuner. "It's all music right now, no news. But one of them's bound to interrupt the program sooner or later." She continued to twist the dial impatiently between stations, scowling harder and harder until she gave up with a scoff and took out her wand. "I don't know why they make these things so you can only hear one station at a time," she growled, slouching back in her chair and adjusting the dial magically. Harry furrowed his brow, about to point out that listening to ten different songs at once was hardly anyone's idea of entertainment, but a small, urgent wave from Lupin made him hold his tongue. He understood. Even for a Legilimagus, the female mind was still largely incomprehensible, and best left unprovoked.

Tonks continued skipping about from station to station with a scowl, until she dialed past an obviously urgent voice. Harry and Lupin both hunched forward with squawks of "Stop!" and "That was it!" to which Tonks responded with a surly "Shhh!" as she turned the dial back. "... reporting live from the Ministry of Magic. What's happening, Rita?"

"Scoggins, right now I'm in the Atrium, where a shocked crowd has gathered to watch the utterly unexpected return of none other than Sirius Black!"

Harry rolled his eyes as soon as he recognized the voice of Rita Skeeter. He groaned aloud and reached for the tuner, but Tonks swatted his hand away. "Oh, come on, ANY other station!" he pleaded in a hushed voice, but Tonks would have none of it, brandishing her wand meaningfully over the dial. He slouched back into his seat with a disgruntled huff as the report continued.

"Black seems to be the Wizarding World's luckiest man. Not only was he recently pardoned for the crimes that put him in Azkaban, but he was allegedly dead, and seems to have wriggled his way out of that as well! Eye witnesses throughout the Atrium report that Black strolled into the Ministry through the Visitor's Entrance, very much alive and leading a prisoner! Yes, Scoggins, if witnesses are to be believed, Black has somehow captured his cousin, the notorious Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, and returned her to Ministry custody. Of course, this roving reporter has yet to see either of them, as they were immediately rushed to the Auror Offices on Level Two, but I'll be waiting right here to confirm these unbelievable stories, all night if that's what it takes!"

"Thank you, Rita," said the announcer Scoggins in a rushed tone of forced politeness. He was obviously familiar with Skeeter's tendency to blather on for the sheer pleasure of hearing herself talk. There was a tiny snippet of her voice starting up and being rapidly cut off before Scoggins spoke again. "There you have it, sorcerers: Sirius Black has been spotted in the Ministry Atrium, leading Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange to her arrest. Stay tuned for further developments on this stunning story--" The voice clamped off as Harry flicked his wand at the wireless and wordlessly turned it off.

"Hey!" screeched Tonks.

"What?" grunted Harry. "That's it. I can't believe she got to it first." He glared at Lupin. "Did you hear her? 'Pardoned?' He was found innocent, not pardoned! She made it sound like he still did something wrong, to deserve to be put in Azkaban!" He clenched his fists and stomped over to the window.

Tonks glared after him and flipped the wireless back on, but turned the volume down as she resumed searching for more reports. Lupin gave her a weary shrug then came up behind Harry and began kneading the younger man's shoulders. "I know, Harry. But that's only one report, and it wasn't even on the WWN. They'll be much more... objective. And besides, Sirius can hold his own against the likes of her once he comes down for the interview, not to mention Arthur will--"

Lupin stopped so abruptly that Harry tried to whirl around to see what was the matter, but the hands on his shoulders held firm. "Don't move," Lupin hissed urgently. From across the room, Tonks suddenly gasped and leaped to her feet, abandoning the wireless.

"What?" said Harry, in a much squeakier voice than he would have liked. Twisting his head around to appraise the other wizard, he followed Lupin's gaze down to the middle of his robe. He gasped as well. Faint but definitely visible, a glowing green Dark Mark was forming in the air beside his right thigh.

Harry stared at it a moment, slackjawed, then instinctively tried to bat it away. His hand passed through it without altering it in the slightest. "Remus, what's going on?" he squeaked again, though he could tell by the look on Lupin's face that he was equally baffled.

"The hutch! Look!" said Tonks from behind them. Both wizards turned as one to the fireplace, where the small cabinet sat on the mantelpiece. Long, wispy tendrils of light or magic or some sort of green energy streamed lazily from the edge of the mantel in a gentle slope toward Harry, before spreading out and twisting back upon themselves to shape the Mark.

Harry realized that there was a similar strand coming from inside his robe. More affronted than afraid, he yanked the robe off. Holding it at arms' length, he could feel the weight of the mysterious red book, right in the pocket where the green glow was originating.

He looked sharply up at Lupin, then took a few steps toward the fireplace. The floating Mark followed along a bit clumsily, but re-formed even more brightly when it finally settled in the new position. Harry pulled his arm back in, and the robe stretched in the air for a few seconds before it obeyed the call of gravity. The Mark slid reluctantly back toward the robe, dimming slightly.

Harry very nearly asked Lupin, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" but with one glance into his eyes, there was no need. They both knew what was in the hutch, and they both guessed what was in the robe pocket.

"Get Alastor," Lupin said hoarsely to Tonks, who immediately sent off her Patronus. It launched through the floor toward the kitchen, and soon the step-thump of Mad-Eye Moody's hobbled gait sounded on the stairs. The old man threw open the door to the drawing room without hesitating, his scarred face twisting into what passed for a grin seconds later.

"How long'd you plan to keep the last Horcrux in yer pocket, Potter?" the old man smirked.

They took the locket and the gold cup out of the hutch and set them on the drawing room table with the red book. A bright Dark Mark formed over the center of the three objects, supported by a tripod of wispy green light. They all stared in fascination for a brief moment, then Moody picked up the cup and started across the room. "Best keep 'em separated," he grunted, setting it atop a wooden file cabinet in the corner. "Weren't meant to be together, an' they shouldn't be talking amongst themselves."

Lupin headed to a corner with the locket as soon as Moody's statement sunk in. Harry took up the red book and stood just inside the drawing room door. The magical tendrils flowing from the Horcruxes diffused across the distance between them, and the floating Mark finally faded and vanished.

"This is the last one," said Harry, his heart pounding. "He still thinks I'm the sixth. We have them all."

"Should'a seen it before," Moody muttered in self reproach. "Relic that old, comin' from Godric's Hollow... A' course it's an Horcrux--if that wasn't owned by Gryffindor, I'll eat my pointy hat!" He thunked his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Goin' daft, I reckon," he added.

Harry stared at the book in his hand as though it had suddenly turned into a dead, rotten fish. "And I was just reading it!" he said, grimacing with the memory of Riddle's diary.

"Except Voldemort didn't write this one," said Lupin, hanging the locket high on the wall with a Sticking Charm. He came over and took the book from Harry, studying the cover reverently. "Even Gryffindor didn't write it, he just owned it for a while."

Lupin glanced at Moody, who cocked his head noncommitally. "Terrible shame to destroy it," the old Auror said. "Course, that book's imbued with some right ancient magic; who knows? Be nice if the power that kept it safe this long can see it through Riddle's tampering."

Harry returned the book to his bedroom, tucking it uneasily into the top drawer of his nightstand. It had been living in his trunk at the foot of the bed for the entire school year and shown no aggressive tendencies--not even, he realized, when he'd put the undiscovered locket into the trunk and shipped both Horcruxes to Headquarters for the Yule holidays. The cup and locket had resided in the hutch together for months and never revealed themselves as anything but ordinary magical objects, either.

Must've taken three of them together to set off the reaction, Harry pondered as he moved the book to the wardrobe by the door. It made sense, in a way. Voldemort wouldn't want his Horcruxes casually revealing themselves if they chanced to be brought together; once you found the first one, you could use it to locate the others. But if three or more came together, Voldemort would certainly want to know they were being collected...

Harry gulped and took the book up to the attic, then, after a quick word with Lupin, stashed the golden cup in Kreacher's old den under the pantry in the basement. He sat at the kitchen table and fidgeted with a cheap fork, magically contorting the tines, until the fireplace flared green and Ondossi popped out. She was carrying a huge parcel wrapped in brown paper, which looked like a very large owl cage. "What's up, pup?" she chirped.

"We've had some perfect timing," Harry began, eyeing her luggage curiously. "Turns out we have all the Horcruxes now--I've been carrying the last one since last summer."

Tura looked like she might drop the parcel. "You funnin' me?"

Harry scoffed. "If I felt like joking, I'd pick a topic that was actually amusing."

Nodding pensively, Tura slid into the chair across from Harry. "Well. So we really are meant to start this now. Or end this now, depending on how you look at it." Both of them stared intently at the warped fork, lost in thought.

"Voldemort still thinks I'm the sixth one, right?" Harry finally asked.

Tura shrugged. "I think. I never got a good clean shot at exactly what they were, that one time I got in his head. Only that there were six."

"Didn't Bellatrix Lestrange know?" Harry said, surprised that Tura was so uncertain.

Now it was Ondossi's turn to scoff. "She knew he had 'A Horcrux' that brought him back, and that was it. Come on, Harry, give the guy more credit than that, even he's not crazy enough to trust that nut job."

"So all that time you spent in her mind--you didn't learn anything useful?"

Her eyes turned cold and she stabbed the fork into the tabletop. "Amazingly, there are things having nothing to do with you and your big quest, that are still useful." She scraped the chair back from the table, snatched up her parcel, and stomped off.

Harry swallowed hard and pulled the fork out of the wood, wordlessly sealing the little punctures it left. A year ago, he would have bristled defensively at her words, but he knew now what they really meant. She was afraid. "I'm sorry, Tura," he whispered to the empty room.

He lurked a bit longer by the kitchen hearth in hopes that Sirius would come home, but it was uncomfortably quiet downstairs. He'd grown used to Headquarters being a bustling, noisy place, but a heavy silence had descended on the house. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the "old days" of the Order, when Sirius and Remus were trapped here alone for weeks on end. Tura was the only one who came through the Floo all afternoon, and there was no sign of a would-be chef preparing to cook dinner. When the shadows on the lawn grew long and the sunlight had turned warm and golden, Harry began pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and set about fixing a meal.

Tonks came downstairs so quietly she nearly startled him into dropping a bowl full of batter. "Aren't you sweet?" she said. "Only it was my night to cook." She took a closer look at the countertop. "Uh, waffles?"

"Wasn't much else," Harry grunted, opening the top of a Muggle-style wafflemaker and levitating its crispy contents onto a stack in the warm oven. "Strawberries, butter, and flour. What exactly were you going to make?"

"There's great take-away curry two streets over, if you must know," she smirked. "But the little market's even closer; I can go get some bacon and a bit of cream, perhaps." Harry nodded, grinning, as he poured more batter on the waffle iron.

Sirius Flooed home just as the handful of guests around the table were finishing their supper. "Was this once full of strawberries?" he growled cheerfully, examining the thin pink juice and tiny seeds at the bottom of the bowl. Harry had one remaining on his plate and immediately offered it to his godfather, but Sirius waved him away with a grin. "No worries," he said as he bit the corner off the last waffle. "I went to the Weasleys' first--Arthur had a little reception after work. He didn't want anyone trying to trace me through the Floo and end up here. Besides, I had to drink a toast to Percy Ignatius, the chap who cleared my good name." With that, Sirius raised the nearest drink (Lupin's mug of tea) and Percy's name echoed warmly amongst the clinking of cups and glasses.

When the table had settled down a bit, Sirius regaled them with tales of the "pageant" he'd put on for the Ministry and the Daily Prophet. "I think Fleur should go into show business after this," he confided with a bark of laughter. "It was like clockwork, you know. The security guard didn't know I was coming, apparently--they wanted to get a genuine reaction down in the Atrium. I just held my head high and announced I'd captured a renegade Death Eater, and would he call the Aurors? Poor fellow looked like he'd seen a Basilisk! I finally had to tap my ID badge to get him to focus--it was a classic, it said 'Sirius Black, Scion of Justice' or something like that. I think one of the reporters snagged it from my robe."

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been part of the act, as had Arthur Weasley and Alice Longbottom. Fleur had scripted their roles carefully, from Kingsley's outraged disbelief and angry demand that Sirius prove his identity, to Mr. Weasley's heartfelt debriefing of the Atrium crowd, an astounded Percy at his side. "Arthur told them I'd tampered with something in the Department of Mysteries which spat me out in another dimension," explained Sirius, to rounds of appreciative laughter. "That I'd been fighting for my life to get back to this world ever since, linked here only by my would-be murderer, my lovely cousin. So when I finally came back, I landed right on top of her and brought her in. Good story, what?"

"Brilliant!" agreed Harry and Remus at the same time. "Tonks came up with that last bit, you know," added Lupin, squeezing his future wife by the shoulders as she Metamorphed her face into a flat, blank pane. "It's true!" he insisted, picking up her chin and giving it a little shake until her normal visage popped back out, blushing shyly but grinning too. "Adora saw Sirius get hit at the battle and reckoned that was the perfect connection." He glowed with pride, which only made Tonks turn a brighter pink, until she nearly matched her hair.

The mood sombered after that, as Lupin explained that the last Horcrux had been found. "It's upstairs, Siri. Ondossi and Harry are getting ready to set out for Siberia. She wants your help with something later, not sure what. But it's all coming together at once; we need a plan for these Horcruxes."

Moody had sat in silence at the end of the table for the whole meal, but he cleared his throat gruffly. "We've shown our hand," he said. "Voldemort's got to respond to his lady friend being paraded into custody. Had it easy up till now, what with him trying to whip his army back into shape." He paused, giving them a stern look with his human eye. "You know that's why he's been targeting Hong Kong and Johannesburg of late. Giving them some practice before they go after the real thing."

"London," murmured Harry.

Moody scowled at him. "Hogwarts, boy! That's the dream, innit? He didn't even attack Hogwarts that day he stormed the Ministry. Savin' it for his best army--because he don't want it ruined, he wants it intact. 'Cept for the staff and students, of course."

"Then we'll make our stand at Hogwarts," said Sirius calmly. "You and Tura will need what, five days to reach the keep? Once you're in position, I'll take the Horcruxes up to Hogwarts and destroy them. Strike him and them at the same time--he'll have to divide his defenses."

Lupin stared long and hard at his best friend. "You mean to destroy them?" he asked incredulously.

Sirius shrugged. "I'm still part of the Sisterhood," he smirked. "If Molly will help, I'm game to try again. It went pretty well the first time," he added, tousling Harry's hair over his scar.

Lupin shook his head, a dazed expression on his face. "All this time I've reckoned I'd have to do it, or die trying... Siri, are you sure?"

Gray eyes sparkled with courage and charm. "Oh, yes, Reem, I'm serious." Everyone at the table rolled their eyes and groaned.

Terrible puns have a knack for ending an oppressive mood, and this one was no exception. People pushed back from the table in a relaxed manner, slowly scattering to their individual agendas for the evening. Harry followed his godfather up the stairs hoping they might spend some time together, but Tura waved at them from the old formal dining room on the ground floor. The parcel she'd brought from Hogwarts was unwrapped in the center of the big table, amidst many scrolls and maps. It was the golden perch from Dumbledore's office, the one Fawkes used to sit on.

Harry paused in the arched entryway and studied it a moment. "No," he finally said thoughtfully, "it just doesn't work there. Maybe in the corner?"

His (albeit weak) effort at humor earned him a Hairy Eyeball from Tura, but Sirius poked him playfully in the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah," she sneered. "Just get in here. We got something important to do."

"Is it serious?" said Sirius, making both wizards chortle like schoolboys as Tura scowled even harder.

"Great," she grumbled. "Comedians, now. Don't quit the day job." She spared them a single exasperated smile then set her jaw. "I just had a little chit chat with Albus Dumbledore's portrait," she continued grimly.

"And?" said Harry, all mischief forgotten.

She sighed. "And we have a job to do. Not a pleasant one."

Harry glanced back and forth between her, the perch, and his godfather. He didn't know what to say, but he was quite sure he didn't like this turn of events. Especially after Sirius stared long and hard at Tura and began to nod. They didn't seem to be using Legilimency either. "Siri..." he said urgently.

"You're walking straight into danger, Harry," said the wizard. "Fawkes won't take that very well; you know that. And his magic might as well be a homing beacon for the Dark Army."

Harry's stomach lurched as he glanced again at the perch. "Hold on, you two, just hold on." He had a notion of what they were up to, but couldn't even bear to put it in words.

"He has to stay here, Harry," said Tura gently. "We won't get ten feet inside the wards without being spotted."

Harry backed up until he ran into the wall. "No. He can't... I won't let you separate us." His forehead and palms broke out in a clammy sweat.

Sirius suddenly pulled him tightly against his chest. "Harry, she's right. You've got to get hold of yourself. This isn't your reaction, it's Fawkes's. Concentrate! Don't panic. You've got to use your head."

Strong arms clasped him, kept him from struggling, even as Tura's small hands smoothed his hair comfortingly. "He's really Bonded, isn't he?" Harry heard Sirius whisper over his head, as he fought to master the abject terror urging him to throw both of them off and run for his life.

"Just think, Harry," urged Tura gently, stroking his face and forehead. "You can do this. It needs to be done."

Closing his eyes and burying his face in his godfather's shoulder, Harry forced himself to slow his breathing and overcome the sense of dread that had suddenly overtaken him. "Okay. It's okay," he repeated under his breath. When his head was more or less clear, he squeezed Sirius's waist to let him know it was safe to let go. Sirius's grip slackened enough to let him lean back. Both were looking at him with such sympathy they seemed ready to cry.

"I'm all right," he said. "I mean, I was all right the whole time... That was the weirdest thing."

Sirius nodded, releasing him. "I imagine so. It'll be even worse when we actually secure the poor fellow, Harry. He's really not going to like this, but you understand, we have to make him do it."

"Why can't Fawkes just come with me?" he countered.

"Ah!" squawked Tura, pointing right in his face. "Stay in control, Harry! You know why. We're walking into a trap here, and he can't help but protect you. If he rebirths behind those wards... It'll be worse than the Cruciatus, watching him starve. The Dark Lord might even be able to kill him for good! Merlin only knows what nasty Dark magic he's come up with by now--especially with that feather from Fawkes in his wand."

Harry had to breathe rapidly through his nose again to calm himself down, but he knew they were right. It was never even in question, really, but his emotional response was clearly coming straight from his beloved familiar. Fawkes, for all his vast knowledge, was still a creature, an animal, driven by instinct rather than rationality. He didn't care that Harry had to face this danger, or that he walked into it of his own will. He knew only that he must protect his Bonded wizard; it wasn't just his duty, it was the core of him, his bread-and-butter, the reason he lived.

Harry groaned and collapsed against his godfather again. "I can't do it," he said. "You're going to have to. I don't even know how, but if I did, I couldn't." He looked up long enough to seek out that troll-leg umbrella stand in the hall, certain he was going to throw up any minute.

"It's okay," Ondossi said soothingly. "That's why I talked to Albus. I know the spell we need. You don't have to do it, Harry. In fact, I think Black should do it. Once he's bound, only the binder can release him... well, that and your death," she added reluctantly.

"That's what happened the night Dumbledore was killed, you know," she continued. "Albus bound Fawkes to the perch himself, so Feathers wouldn't stop him from getting the Horcrux. Fawkes would never have let him drink that potion in the cave--he'd have destroyed it, or taken Albus right outta there. And then Lord Voldemort would know Albus had caught onto his secrets, and the whole game would be up."

Harry had wondered now and then, in the back of his mind, how Snape had even managed to murder Dumbledore that night, for Fawkes should have prevented it. But it all made sense now. Dumbledore had bound the phoenix to his perch to keep him from interfering--but this also kept him from rushing to Dumbledore's aid after they'd returned safely from the cave. Poor Fawkes had been forced to sit still as Dumbledore was murdered a few storeys above his head. Only afterward could he break free of the binding spell to sing his mournful song.

Harry wrenched away from Sirius with the warning, "Gonna be sick," and made it just in time to the umbrella stand. I'm so glad Reem didn't get rid of this thing, he noted once he could think straight again. The troll leg annoyed Tonks so much that Lupin had kept it just to be ornery, but it had certainly earned its keep.

In the end, Harry had set Fawkes on the golden perch with shaking hands, then fled to the attic to avoid the binding ritual. He would have bolted right out the front door, but the waves of anguish and rage from Fawkes were enough to double him over, and he didn't want to collapse out on a Muggle sidewalk. Fawkes let out one enormous screech that rang through the house, but then all went quiet. A few minutes later, he heard familiar footsteps on the attic stairs.

"We're done," said Sirius. "You all right?"

Harry shuddered. "Little shaky. How, ah, how's he taking it?"

Sirius sat on the top step and leaned back against the door jamb. "He was pretty mad at first," he admitted. "But he's not struggling anymore, at least. I was worried he'd fight too hard, maybe even hurt himself. But the spell calmed him down. Looks a bit dazed at the mo, almost like he's been hypnotized."

"You knew we'd have to lock him up," Harry noted dully.

Sirius ducked his head guiltily. "I sat the N.E.W.T. in Magical Creatures, you know. I knew he couldn't go with you, not past those wards. I thought we'd have to wait until he burned up--maybe even make him." He winced at the murderous look that suddenly crossed Harry's face. "Yeah, well, none of us wanted that, either. I'm glad Ondossi thought to get the spell from Dumbledore's portrait."

Harry nodded, embarassed by his runaway emotions. "Me too. I really couldn't have... forced him to burn. We'd have had to wait until he was ready."

Sirius nodded, and both of them sighed heavily. It had been a long and eventful day. There were no windows in the attic, and it was now rather dark, lit only by stray beams of lamplight from the main stairwell. Neither of them made any show of lighting a candle, or even their wands.

"Promise me something, Sirius," Harry said quietly, after a long silence.

"Anything."

"If I don't make it, you'll take care of Tura."

Sirius blinked several times. For a moment it seemed he might avoid the subject by blustering about the need to think positive, but his godfather didn't play such games. "Ah, Harry, I think she can provide for herself," he finally mumbled.

"I don't mean food and shelter. I mean... I don't know what I mean. If Voldemort survives, she'll have to run, Siri. She may never be able to stop."

"Hmm. And running is certainly one of my specialities," his godfather noted ruefully.

"Don't knock it! You're good at staying one step ahead! She's always been part of her people, her nation. She... doesn't do very well by herself. I just... I want to know that if I fall, she won't have to run alone."

"She won't want to run," Sirius said plainly. "She'll want to fight, especially if... she loses you."

Harry shook his head violently. "She can't fight! I'm the only one with any chance of beating him! Besides, he's her father. Killing him would plunge her into Darkness--it would be repeating Tom Riddle's own history! She skirts the line enough as it is, just having his genes. She'll have to run," he repeated gently. "Everyone will. Promise me you'll run with her."

A lump fought its way down Sirius's throat. "I don't know she'd let me, Harry, to be honest."

Harry closed his eyes momentarily to strengthen his patience. "She will if you make it a promise to me. She's keen on keeping promises."

Sirius stretched out his hand into the darkness and Harry took it in a firm grip. Sirius held on for a moment, then tugged him closer and kissed him on the forehead. "You have my word," he said softly.