Chapter 22: Grievous Consequences

Lily was doing her best to read a book, but she couldn't help but keep glancing toward the side of the room where Bellatrix was sitting in front of her vanity. On the tabletop was her deceased father's wand and ring that Professor Ashworth had apparently delivered. Lily found it curious that Ashworth had been able to provide Bellatrix those mementos so quickly-he must have been present when Minister Black had died. She did not dwell on this curiosity, however. The matter at hand was the bottle of firewhiskey sitting within easy reach of Bellatrix.

Previous experience told Lily that trying to strike up a conversation with Bellatrix while she sat in front of her mirror would be useless. Try as she might, Lily could not think of any comforting words to share with the girl who had just lost her father. Having given up on reading, Lily watched Bellatrix reach up and configure her hair in a way that would allow her to wear her favorite hair ornament. She then put the black ornament in her hair and stared at herself in the mirror some more before pouring another glass of firewhiskey.

No longer able to watch Bellatrix or read in the oppressive silence, Lily rolled off the bed and exited the room, taking the book she had been reading with her. Upon reaching the common room she found that she had several options for seating. However, Sirius Black had spotted her and was waving her over to sit with him and James Potter.

Reluctantly, Lily joined them. "Doing your homework?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Sirius even though it was pretty clear he had not touched his parchment or quill for some time. James on the other hand seemed occupied with a transfiguration textbook, though Lily observed him peeking at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

"I see," said Lily. Normally she would have tried to come up with a pithy remark, but Sirius was being polite, and he had just lost two close family members in quick succession of each other. Feeling decidedly awkward, Lily sat down with them and made like she too was going to study from her book.

It appeared, though, that Sirius wanted to talk. "So, how is Bella doing?" he asked.

"Very nearly plastered," Lily sighed. "I think she's still in shock."

"No tears yet?" James asked quietly, looking up from his own book.

"None," said Lily.

James nodded, slowly. "I wasn't ever entirely sure she was capable of tears. She has always just seemed so… hard."

"It was her father who died, though" Sirius said. "They always had a pretty close bond-at least until she started Hogwarts."

"Oh?" said Lily, expressing interest in Bellatrix's background.

"Bella and my aunt have always had strong personalities," Sirius explained. "They didn't get along. When Bella got older, she would go into work with my uncle and he would look after her so that she and my aunt would not aggravate each other more than necessary."

"What about her sisters?" James asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Andromeda has always worn a mask of apathy and has managed to stay out of trouble. That left Narcissa for my aunt to focus on. She basked in all of the extra attention. She's a little bit spoiled, though I would never say bad-natured."

"So you think she's taking it quite hard, then?" James said.

"Yeah, I think so," Sirius said, leaning back and taking a break from the homework he had not been doing anyway. He nodded thoughtfully. "Think about it. With both my father and her father dead, there is now nobody in the Black family to which she feels close. When she goes home this summer her life is going to be a living hell."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You seem to forget about Professor Ashworth. She's bosom buddies with him. There's also the fact that she's seventeen and of age in the magical world. She can always just apparate anywhere she wants during the day and avoid her mother if their relationship is really that bad."

Sirius twisted his lips. "I guess you're partially correct. She is of age, and she did inherit quite a bit of money from my father. As for Ashworth, however, he may leave England entirely and go home to Australia. She'd be pretty lonely then, even if she exercised the option of moving out of her family home."

"Why would Professor Ashworth do that?" Lily asked.

"Professor Slughorn is going to be able to return and teach soon," James pointed out, half-focused on his book. "Ashworth will be out of a job. Not only that, there is the dark lord to consider. Ashworth would be crazy to stick around England."

"Dark lord?" Lily asked, feeling like she had been punched in the stomach.

"Oops," said James, suddenly studying his book very intensely and avoiding Sirius's gaze. It was an unnecessary ploy, however. Instead of being angry, Sirius was nonchalantly looking the other way and pretending not to have heard James's slip so that he wouldn't have to be the one to clarify. Seeing that he was caught, James tried to do damage control. "Don't worry about it," he muttered.

Lily looked from one to the other. "You've spilled it. Now you have to tell me."

Sirius sighed and finally turned his focus back to the group. "Apparently my old man discovered that there's a new dark lord on the loose. That's why they campaigned to make my uncle Minister of Magic. Professor Ashworth was also doing some work for them in an attempt to sabotage the dark lord. It was the dark lord that killed Bellatrix's father. Probably killed my father, too."

"How do you know that the dark lord did it?" Lily asked, vaguely frightened, but also suspicious.

"Ashworth told me," Sirius retorted. "While he was waiting for Bella, I asked if the dark lord was there when Cygnus died. He said yes."

"Thus," James interjected, "Ashworth would be crazy to loiter in England once Slughorn returns and puts him out of a job. From what you said earlier, Ashworth acted like the only reason he's alive is because Romulus Malfoy sacrificed himself. It's only a matter of time before the dark lord tries to hunt down Ashworth. You know, to tie up the loose ends."

"I see," said Lily, her mouth feeling rather dry. "Who else might this dark lord want to kill?"

Sirius looked at Lily, his young face strangely grim. "Most probably muggleborns and muggles."

It was nearly a couple of hours after midnight before Harry surrendered and admitted that he had no chance of falling asleep. The death of Romulus and Cygnus still weighed heavily on his mind. Even heavier was the responsibility that was now firmly his alone. Without the Blacks and Malfoy, what could he now do that would be profitable in the fight against Voldemort? Woefully awake and alert, he climbed out of bed and got dressed slowly, pondering his options.

Harry wandered out into his sitting room, slumped onto a couch, and leaned against one of its armrests. He began to make an inventory of his assets. He had Bella for an ally, money to cover expenses, and knowledge about Voldemort and the future that was quickly losing value. It didn't sound so good, but on the other hand, the Ministry would be dead set against Voldemort, and Dumbledore had been forewarned. Perhaps the headmaster had even founded the Order of the Phoenix. Moody had let it slip that he knew about the dark lord's existence, so it was plausible to believe that Dumbledore had passed the information on to a few people.

Allowing himself to slouch a bit more, Harry closed his eyes. The key was to kill Voldemort, to cut the head off of the snake. Would the Order and the Ministry understand that? Regardless, he would need to find a way to get more information to Dumbledore. The elderly wizard was the one who stood the best chance at keeping Voldemort at bay long enough for Harry to find a way to fulfill the prophecy and kill the dark lord.

Harry was still slouched on his couch mulling over the situation when he heard the door open and then close. He cracked open his eyes so that he could detect the identity of his visitor. It was Bellatrix. He felt too emotionally spent to show much of a reaction, but his desire to be extra nice to the now fatherless Bellatrix prompted him to sit up on the couch and play the sympathetic host. "You can't sleep, either?" he asked, looking at her closely. She was dressed in a dark bathrobe, her arms crossed over her chest as she hugged herself tightly. He wondered if maybe he should order something from the kitchens-that is, if the house elves could do something this late in the night.

Rather than responding to Harry's question, Bellatrix stared at him, her eyes looking rather glazed. Noticing this oddity, Harry frowned and waved his hand in front of her face. Her eyes followed but something seemed off. "Bellatrix? Are you all right?" he asked.

"I can't sleep," she slurred, still staring at Harry with her violet eyes. Her arms dropped down and she took a few staggering steps toward the couch, but stopped and continued her study of Harry.

Immediately, Harry realized that she was drunk. He sighed softly. "We'd better get you back to bed," he said. "If we're lucky, we'll find a sleeping potion on the way. A night's rest and some hangover potion will leave you feeling much better."

This apparently was not quite the reaction Bellatrix was looking for. She set her jaw and looked away from Harry, giving him a view of the profile of her delicate, pale-skinned jaw.

Harry suppressed a sigh and did his best to sound comforting. "What do you want, Bella?"

She turned her gaze back to him. Slowly, she reached up, untied her bathrobe, and then shrugged out of it, leaving herself clad only in her underclothes. Unable to help himself, Harry stared, taking in her soft curves. This seemingly being the desired reaction, Bellatrix lurched forward and then fell onto Harry's lap. He was too startled to react. In an instant she was grabbing at him as she awkwardly placed her lips onto his for a kiss.

It was a very wet kiss and was strongly accentuated by the odor of firewhiskey. This, combined with the realization that she was a seventeen-year-old student led Harry to stiffen like a board. Bellatrix instantly sensed Harry's reaction and interpreted it as a sign of revulsion and rejection. She broke the kiss, placed her head on Harry's chest, and began to sob uncontrollably. Harry hugged her and tried to comfort her, but it was to no avail. She continued to cry.

Still holding Bellatrix and occasionally patting her on the back, Harry tried to analyze the situation. Had she really intended to come down and seduce him? Or had it been a spur of the moment action brought on by alcohol? He shook his head in wonderment as he tried to decide whether he should let her stay on his lap or whether he should go and try to find something for her to eat or drink.

In the end, Harry was just too tired to do much of anything. Eventually, her sobs became weaker and he let himself slip into drowsing for about twenty minutes. When he regained his senses, she had stopped crying completely, though she had not removed herself from her position on Harry's lap. Noticing that some of his limbs had fallen asleep, Harry tried to shift a little bit to allow his blood to circulate. The movement alerted Bellatrix that he was awake and she moved her head so that she could look Harry in the eyes. The closer proximity of her face to his was decidedly uncomfortable for Harry-that and the fact that her eyes still seemed off somehow.

"Feel better?" Harry asked.

"A little bit," Bellatrix admitted after a moment. She was still clearly under the influence of the drink, but seemed to have slightly regained her senses-perhaps because she was no longer under the influence of having bottled up her grief.

Harry nodded. "I think I have some candy stashed in this room somewhere. If you get off me for a bit, I can dig it out. It might make you feel better."

Bellatrix looked down at herself and blushed. "Of course," she said, moving quickly, though clumsily, to let Harry free. Still blushing, she retrieved her robe and put it on her. "Worst seduction ever," she confessed, her voice bordering on the edge of coming out slurred. "The least I could have done would have been to wear more sophisticated lingerie-or nothing at all."

Harry couldn't help but smile. Bellatrix in all of her forwardness was back, albeit still drunk. "You look great in anything," he said, retrieving a chocolate frog and handing it over to her. "This should help you out."

She accepted the chocolate frog and also a chair next to the coffee table on which she perched, her legs crossed beneath her. He'd never seen her sit that way before. He credited it to her drunken state. Harry returned to his couch and watched her nibble delicately on the chocolate. Harry found the sight adorable. Despite his fascination with her appearance however, the tiredness that had motivated him to drowse in the first place was returning. Harry reckoned that this was a sign that he might yet still get some good sleep before the night ended.

"Harry?"

"Yes," he mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Now that my father is dead, and my uncle too, I am left without certain options. At least, I don't have very many good options."

"Uh-huh."

"When school gets out, would you mind if I went home with you?" Bellatrix asked softly.

Harry shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Every since he had arrived in the past, he and Bellatrix had gotten on fine, and he practically viewed her as being as close to him, if not closer, than Ron and Hermione ever had been. However, there was the romantic element to be considered. He wasn't quite ready to jump feet-first into a relationship, at least not to the degree on which he sensed Bellatrix was planning. "I don't really have a house."

"You've got plenty of gold to buy one," Bellatrix reminded him, her voice slow and quiet, even serious. "Further, you have enough to rent a room at a pub or hotel while you look."

"This is true," Harry admitted, his thoughts vaguely turning to the Black and Malfoy gold he now controlled. It occurred to him that he should mention the Malfoy gold to her, but now was hardly the time.

"So? Is it okay? Harry, please. It would be a mistake for me to go home to my mother and aunt, now. Besides, now that this war is in full tilt, we'll need to work closely together. I promise that I won't… ah… come onto you like I just did." Bellatrix said, a small red tinge appearing in her cheeks. "Unless, of course-"

"All right," Harry agreed, deliberately cutting her off. He realized that it was pretty much the only decent option for her. The terms also sounded good. He could hold her to the promise of not invading his comfort zone, though he strongly suspected she would continue to press her proposition of marriage or find other ways of teasing him.

"Thank you, Harry," Bellatrix said, sounding dead serious and utterly sincere.

Harry nodded. "Well, there's still some time for us to sleep, tonight. If you don't mind, I'm going to turn in."

"All right," Bellatrix said, looking very worn out, but satisfied. "See you tomorrow."

The next morning, Harry stumbled into the Great Hall eagerly looking forward to breakfast. Gauging from the platters on the student tables and the number of students gathered, Harry deduced that the elves had only just barely served the food. This was good because it would give him plenty of time to hastily prepare for his first class of the morning.

Upon arriving at his spot on the professors' table, he discovered two letters awaiting him. Harry ignored them and shoveled generous helpings of eggs, potatoes, and bacon onto his plate. A little syrup to sweeten it up, and Harry was in heaven. He sipped some pumpkin juice and then turned his attention to the mail.

The first letter proved to be from Alastor Moody. The body of the letter was terse. In it, Moody requested that Harry meet with him at the earliest possible juncture regarding the death of Minister Black. Harry was to suggest a time and place. If the time Harry chose wasn't soon enough, Moody would be glad to offer an escort to the place of his own choosing.

Harry rolled his eyes. Moody or Prewitt or both probably thought he was guilty of killing Black and Malfoy. A truth potion or a magical oath could solve that. There wasn't anything that had happened that night, except for Malfoy bequeathing his gold to Harry, that Harry was not prepared to share with the Ministry. They might even be impressed as discovering I quite nearly became and undersecretary, Harry smirked. What would Umbridge think then? Vaguely, Harry wondered if the odious witch had yet begun her employment with the Ministry.

The next letter was both unexpected and puzzling. It was from Professor Dumbledore. Harry's presence in the headmaster's office was requested immediately after the conclusion of Harry's breakfast.

Harry lingered over his food longer than normal as he pondered what Dumbledore might want with him and what he would say. It could very well be that Dumbledore wanted details about the dark lord killing Cygnus Black. Harry could provide that. He had already decided to stick with and broadly disclose most of the events as they had happened. Would Dumbledore want more? Harry supposed he could drop a few tidbits. Perhaps he could even play it so that he became a primary source of information for Dumbledore and eventually the Order. At the very least, it would make him more cognizant of the Order's movements.

Realizing that the stop at Dumbledore's office would make him late to class if he didn't hurry, Harry quickly finished up his meal and exited the Great Hall. A few minutes later, he was ascending the moving staircase and knocking on the headmaster's door.

"Come in," Dumbledore called.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him. Dumbledore tiredly motioned for Harry to take a seat across the desk from him. Clearly, the headmaster was tired. His movements were slow and his blue eyes were quite dull. Harry was unnerved not only by seeing Dumbledore so tired, but by the fact that Dumbledore's dull eyes were now focused intently on him. Eventually, the headmaster reached for his bowl of lemon drops and offered it to Harry. "Lemon drop?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry said, accepting the lemon drop in an attempt to be very polite.

"The loss of Minister Black is a tragedy," Dumbledore said, returning the lemon drop bowl to his desk without taking one himself. "Perhaps more of a tragedy than anyone realizes," he added.

Harry nodded in agreement, though he didn't feel like saying anything-not even anything just to fill the void of silence.

"I understand that you were there when it happened," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Yes," admitted Harry. "It was pretty bad. I was lucky to escape with my life."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, his eyes now pointed toward one of the various portraits on the wall, though he didn't seem to be looking at it. "I'm sure the Ministry will want you to tell them everything you know. I hope you will cooperate. Not only do you have information about what happened last night, you also undoubtedly have information on what you, the Blacks, and the late Mr. Malfoy did to combat this dark lord."

"Of course," said Harry. "I've already been contacted. I'll make myself available."

"Good," said Dumbledore. He paused for a little bit and then pressed on. "You, the Blacks, and Mr. Malfoy accomplished more than you may realize. The Ministry has been prepared for conflict and put in the right mindset. I can assure you, Harry, that the former Director Foxe would have been a very poor leader in the upcoming difficulties. Then, there was Minister Thornton." Dumbledore frowned at Harry. "I'm not entirely sure her removal from office was as legitimate as Orion Black led us to believe. I will admit, though, having her in command now would have been inconvenient."

Harry shrugged modestly. "I can't really say that I was directly involved in that political maneuver."

"No, I didn't think so," Dumbledore said. He smiled briefly. "Had you been more involved in the political negotiations made by the Black family, you would have spent the night rallying their allies. As it is, Davian Prewitt did that. It would appear he has become the heir of the alliances the Black family forged. I think it is safe to say that he will be our next Minister of Magic, Harry."

"I see," said Harry, wondering if maybe he could have actually had an effect on who would have become Minister. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, he mused. I could have never become Minister myself, and I can't think of anyone else that would be more competent than Prewitt .

Dumbledore nodded, leaning back in his seat and staring off into space. Eventually, he put a serious expression on his face and addressed Harry. "I have another purpose for having summoned you here this morning, Harry."

"Oh?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "It is a delicate matter. I have no wish to cause you embarrassment or shame, nor do I wish you to think that I am your enemy. However, I fear that I have no choice in the matter."

Suddenly, Harry was very concerned. "What is it, headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed quietly. "Please let me explain the facts and my reasoning before you interrupt me. I assure you that I will give you a chance to respond."

Feeling very confused, Harry nodded, having no choice.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "as you know, prefects are assigned to patrol the school corridors at night. Last night, Bellatrix Black was observed departing from your living quarters."

Harry winced and leaned forward to explain, but Dumbledore held up his hand, reminding Harry that he wanted to get to the end before being interrupted.

"It is not appropriate for relationships like that to exist between students and teachers," Dumbledore continued. "I do acknowledge that there are extenuating circumstances, however. First, Bellatrix is of age in the magical world. Second, you are a close family friend. And third, the family last night experienced a horrible tragedy. There is also the truth that Bellatrix Black is an extremely forward young lady. However, the fact remains that there is a boundary between students and teachers that must be maintained."

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He should have been more careful.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "there is also the fact that you were hired on a temporary basis because Professor Slughorn had become ill. He has now recovered. Given that my permanent potions master is now able to resume work, and given that the temporary potions master has landed in a bad light owing to certain circumstances, it would be irresponsible of me to retain you on the Hogwarts staff. Harry, I'm going to have to let you go."

Dumbledore held up his hand again, anticipating that Harry was about to retort. "I don't do this with malice, Harry. I'll provide you good references for any job to which you choose to apply. You'll have your pay through the end of the term. There's also one happy result that will come of this. You can freely court Bellatrix even though she is still in school."

Harry was too surprised to make a proper response for a moment or two. Finally, he brought out his only defense. "Headmaster, I can prove that nothing happened between us last night. We didn't…"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It doesn't matter one way or the other, Harry. Her being in your apartments, dressed in such a manner, is the boundary. I'm not interested in knowing what happened behind the closed doors."

Desperately, Harry cast about his mind searching for a possible defense, but he could find none. "When do I leave?" he finally said.

"Before lunch," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry that it's so quick, but Professor Slughorn will arrive in less than an hour to assume your teaching load. He'll want to have a chance to settle in to his quarters and office before tomorrow."

"I guess I'd better get started," Harry sighed.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Really, Harry, I'm sorry that it has to be this way. Perhaps after Miss Black leaves Hogwarts and if there is an opening on the staff, we could hire you again on a more permanent basis, though not as potions master, I think."

Harry stood and turned to leave, though he glanced back. "Defense Against the Dark Arts was always my stronger area," he said.

Dumbledore quirked a smile, and his eyes even twinkled slightly. "I'm glad to hear that, Harry, for more reasons than you know."

Harry shut the door on the headmaster. "I think I could make a few good guesses," he muttered.

It took Harry relatively little time to pack. He didn't have very many possessions, what with only having arrived in the past a few months prior. In the end, the thing that consumed the most time was making sure his student files were in order for Professor Slughorn, who, as Harry understood it, was already in the potions classroom teaching classes.

In a way, it was a relief. Harry supposed that with Orion, Cygnus, and Romulus dead, it now fell to him to spend more of his time plotting against the dark lord. Harry wasn't entirely sure what course to pursue, seeing that the game board had been drastically altered only the night before. He reckoned that he could think of a few things, though. He had helped the Order wage war against the dark lord for several years.

He was nearly finished when someone knocked on the open door. Harry looked up and discovered that it was his mother. "Lily," he said, mustering a smile.

"Professor," she said slowly, "is it true that you're leaving?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "It's true."

"What for?"

Harry shrugged, not really wanting to admit to his mother that he was suspected of having shagged Bellatrix Black. Come to think of it, Hermione, Ron, and everyone else from the future would be disgusted. Mrs. Weasley would have had a stroke. The future version of Sirius might have had a good laugh, though. "My services are no longer needed," he said carefully. "Professor Slughorn has recovered."

"They might have kept you until the end of the term," Lily said petulantly. "It isn't that far off."

Harry wasn't sure whether she was questioning the reason he was giving or criticizing the school. Hopefully, it was the latter. "Nevertheless, I have no choice," Harry said glibly. He paused a moment, studying Lily. "I do want you to know, Lily, that it has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you ever need help, you can call on me."

"Maybe you could give me a few pointers on dueling," Lily said. "Sirius and James told me about the dark lord. They think he'll want to kill muggleborns and half-bloods."

Harry nodded. "Yes, that is precisely what he will do. I can guarantee it."

Lily's eyes widened. "So you think I could be in danger?"

"Probably," Harry said, wondering whether she would ever become a target. There was little chance of her giving birth to another Harry Potter-at least that's what the time travel books had indicated. "Let's put it this way," Harry amended, "it is impossible to be too paranoid when dealing with this dark lord. Always take precautions and always stick with people you trust."

Lily nodded, accepting Harry's advice without question. Though she had already been informed of the dark lord, Harry's personal rendition of the information was disquieting.

Harry hesitated for a little bit, but decided to throw caution to the wind. "I'd also like to give you a little bit of advice, Lily. Your friendship with Severus Snape is not a bad thing. However, he has certain problems. He will easily be seduced by the dark. Perhaps you can save him, but please do not throw your lot in with him. Choose someone with the nerve to stand against the dark lord from the start."

"Isn't it a little too early for me to date?" Lily asked, smiling impishly.

"Whatever," Harry muttered. "Just stay safe."

"I will, Professor Ashworth. I guess I'd better leave you to your work." She turned around and walked away.

Before she could make it out of the door, though, Harry called her back. "Lily," he said.

"Yes?"

Harry removed the ring he had been given by Romulus Malfoy, the twin to the one Cygnus Black had possessed. He now had the Malfoy ring, and thus did not need to keep one of the other two. "Take this," he said. "If you are ever in a bad situation and need help, twist the jewel. I'll do what I can to help you. I promise."

Lily accepted the ring and slipped it onto a finger on her right hand. "Thanks, professor. I think it is a very pretty ring."

With that, she was gone. Harry quickly finished his business with what would now be Professor Slughorn's papers and records. A quick check of all the drawers and cupboards ensured that he had everything that was his. Finally, he checked his pockets to ensure that the shrunken trunks and boxes filled with his possessions were still there. He was ready to leave.

He trudged to the entrance hall and was there greeted by a very pale-looking Bellatrix. The sad expression on her face and her posture made her look very fragile. Bellatrix stepped forward and hugged Harry briefly. "It's my fault," she said quietly.

"It's all right," Harry said. "Really. There's tons of stuff I should be doing. I'll just find a place to stay and then get busy. It's not like I really need a job anymore."

"Yeah," said Bellatrix. "You do have all the Black money."

"And the Malfoy money," Harry said quietly so as not to be overheard by anyone who might be nearby. "Romulus gave me his ring and had me empty the Malfoy vault."

Bellatrix beamed a smile. "That's the best news I've heard all day. I don't suppose you got any Malfoy property, though."

"No," said Harry. "I guess he couldn't do that."

"So Lucius will still inherit quite a bit," Bellatrix mused. "He'll be able to slowly build another fortune."

"Better than him getting all the gold from the start," Harry replied.

"True," said Bellatrix. "Where will you stay?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "I haven't given it much thought."

"Maybe you should stick to renting rooms until I can join you," Bellatrix suggested. "My father used to buy and sell property. I think I could find us a good deal for a flat that can be easily warded. I know a few useful strategies."

"Sounds like a plan," Harry said. "I've been thinking about communication. I can do the projection spell and meet you here at Hogwarts."

"I didn't realize that," Bellatrix said, looking vaguely excited. "It's a brilliant idea, though. You'll find me in the Chamber of Secrets. I'm going to finish cutting up the basilisk carcass. If I'm not there, check the Room of Requirement second."

"Actually, I have a slight idea," Harry said, remembering how he had given Lily one of Malfoy's rings. "That ring your father had, it was something Malfoy had given him. If you twist the jewel, it kind of jolts the Malfoy family ring." He held up his hand. "Give it a twist and I'll meet you in the Room of Requirement as soon as I possibly can."

Bellatrix arched one her eyebrows. "That's a special ring," she observed. "However, I'd prefer the Chamber of Secrets. I'm going to be spending all of my free time there. I won't send a signal if I'm not there."

"Okay," said Harry, wondering why she'd prefer that place.

"All right," said Bellatrix.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I guess I'll see you around." It was beginning to sound like the end of an awkward date. Harry settled for a handshake and departed. Thankfully, Bellatrix did not choose to sit and forlornly watch him leave. She retreated up one of the staircases as Harry exited through the castle's main entrance.

Lord Voldemort was in agony. The method by which Romulus Malfoy had attempted to strike down the dark lord had been notable for its ability to leave the victim, if he or she survived, in extreme pain. Some potions were not meant to be forcefully lit on fire. For Voldemort, the effects had been disastrous. His head and hands had received severe burns. Healing spells and potions had only been able to do so much. Now, he was left with tender, ugly scar tissue. Worse, he still felt like he was on fire. This did little for his mood.

The door to the room in which Voldemort sat alone opened to admit one of the Lestrange brothers. He approached slowly. "My lord," intoned Rodolphus Lestrange, "Lucius and Mulciber have returned from Gringotts."

"Send them in to report," Voldemort directed stiffly. He didn't want to move the muscles on his face anymore than absolutely necessary.

"As you command," Rodolphus replied, drawing back from the dark lord and moving to the door. He exited, leaving the dark lord alone for a moment.

Voldemort drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, attempting to master his feelings. Satisfied that he felt serene enough to deal with incompetent fools, he opened his eyes and stiffly turned his head to make sure his face was still in the shadows of the room. It wouldn't do to let his followers see the extent of his injuries.

Eventually, Lucius and Mulciber entered the room. Instantly, Voldemort ascertained that they were the bearers of bad tidings. This was disconcerting because Voldemort had been more than sure that they could not possibly fail to accomplish the mission on which they had been sent.

"Report," Voldemort hissed. Ruefully, he realized that he was already losing his temper, but reassured himself by clinging to the fact that hissing did not require much facial movement.'

Neither Lucius nor Mulciber wanted to be the one to break the news, so a brief contest of wills ensued. Mulciber won. He was older and more intimidating. There was also the truth that he had been connected to Voldemort for a number of years. He nudged Lucius forward.

Lucius promptly fell to his knees. "My lord," he choked, "there was no gold in the vault."

"How can this be?" Voldemort demanded. His injuries and being in the shadows prevented him from showing anger on his face, but he made sure that Lucius could hear the malice dripping from his tone of voice.

Lucius was too scared to speak. Finally, Mulciber chimed in. "My lord," he said in an oily voice, "the goblins implied that the gold had been withdrawn by one who presented the Malfoy family ring."

"When?" Voldemort demanded.

"Perhaps last night," Mulciber ventured. "They were not very forthcoming on the matter. They did assure us that the Malfoy assets and properties are intact, however."

"Could your mother be the possessor of the gold?" Voldemort asked Lucius.

"It may be a possibility," Lucius admitted eagerly.

"It's unlikely," Mulciber countered. "We already know that Mrs. Malfoy is in France. Given her personality and quirks, I doubt she would have returned home so quickly, even for the death of her husband. Romulus Malfoy apparently had a contingency plan to be executed in the event of his death."

Voldemort desperately wanted to pace. However, that would require his standing from the chair. That would require him to put weight on his hands as he pushed against the armrests. The burned state of his hands made that an unattractive option. Consequently, he was forced to remain sitting and to seethe inwardly.

"There are a number of avenues we might pursue," Mulciber continued.

"Be quiet," Voldemort snapped. "I'm thinking."

Mulciber snapped his mouth shut, thoroughly embarrassed. He didn't have to fear for his reputation with Lucius, however. The young Malfoy was on the edge of blubbering, though it was not clear whether the thought of having displeased the dark lord or having been deprived of a vast fortune was more unsettling to him.

"Harry Ashworth was at Malfoy Manor when the attack commenced," Voldemort declared.

"If you say so, my lord," Mulciber said.

"He was," Voldemort snapped impatiently, "but he left, not even attempting to help Malfoy defend the manor."

"A possible turncoat, then?" Mulciber asked.

"A messenger on an errand," Voldemort retorted. "Romulus Malfoy was a defiant sod. I suspect he sent Ashworth to arrange for the gold to be removed from the Malfoy vault. Either Harry Ashworth has the gold, or he knows who does."

"What should we do, then?" Mulciber inquired.

"Bring me Harry Ashworth, alive," Voldemort commanded. "That is our first priority. Every single person is to focus on it and work together. Even if snatching Ashworth risks showing our hand publicly, do it. We need that gold. Now, leave me."

Mulciber and Lucius wasted no time in departing from the dark lord's presence. In only a few seconds, Voldemort was left alone. As soon as this occurred, he very awkwardly rose to his feet and began pacing furiously.

He had figured Ashworth as being a stooge of the Blacks and Malfoy. Apparently, Ashworth's involvement now ran deeper. Toward the end, Romulus Malfoy had apparently viewed Ashworth as a partner, or at least successor, in their defiance against the dark lord. Did Orion Black plan that all along? Voldemort mused. Was old man Black that canny?

If so, new avenues of speculation were open to Voldemort. If Romulus Malfoy had been so bold as to leave Harry with the care of his gold, could Orion Black have been so bold? Perhaps Cygnus Black could have made a similar decision. That would solve one mystery over which Voldemort had already spent time speculating. Who was the Head of House Black, and who controlled the Black fortune?

Guiltily, Harry was basking in luxury. He simply had been unable to resist the desire-not with all the money he now had. His deprivation under the hand of the Dursleys and the rough conditions of the war against Voldemort in the future had left in Harry a deep desire to indulge himself at least occasionally. Now, for him, the cost of a suite at one of London's more luxurious hotels was pocket change, as was room service.

Harry had checked into the hotel shortly after noon and had slept away most of the afternoon and a good part of the evening. Though he was now sorely tempted to order room service for dinner, or pay a visit to the luxurious restaurant downstairs, he had a dinner appointment that he reckoned he should honor. It was with Alastor Moody.

He quickly changed into some clean clothes and was on his way to be interrogated by Moody as they had dinner. He found the auror waiting for him, as arranged via owl, near a tube station.

"Nice of you to come, Ashworth," Moody growled in what Harry recognized as a semi-friendly voice. Most people would have been intimidated, but Harry did have the benefit of having known Moody fairly well in the future.

"It's not like I don't have spare time," Harry replied.

"Yeah, I heard about Slughorn returning to Hogwarts," Moody admitted.

Harry vaguely wondered how much the auror knew. His suspicion was that Dumbledore would have told Moody everything. Harry's relations to the Black family, and thus to Bellatrix, would be of some interest to those Dumbledore may have assembled to start the Order. "Shall we pick a place to eat?" Harry asked.

It only took them a few moments to choose a muggle restaurant once Harry made it clear that he was willing to pay for both dinners. For some reason, this made Moody rather pleased, though somewhat suspicious. They were soon settled in and waiting for their food.

"Now, Mr. Ashworth," Moody began, "the next few questions are official. Can you describe to me the events that occurred at Malfoy Manor last night?"

"Yes," said Harry. He had spent time since sending an owl to Moody rehearsing what he would say. Harry then briefly related everything that had happened, omitting only the specific details of the conversation between he, Malfoy, and Cygnus, as well as the detail about Malfoy sending him to Gringotts to evacuate the Malfoy gold.

"So Lucius Malfoy is the one that made it all possible," Moody mused.

"Apparently," Harry said. "It should have occurred to me that Lucius would have access to Malfoy Manor."

Moody shook his head. "No, it should have occurred to Romulus. Don't worry yourself about what might have happened, Ashworth."

"Aren't you going to ask me why I didn't rush to notify the aurors?" Harry asked.

Moody shook his head. "We got the alert quicker than you might think. By the time you had escaped the anti-apparition wards, we were already trying to break through them. If you want to share, though, feel free."

"No," said Harry, waving his hand dismissively. "I guess it just goes back to what you said about worrying about what might have happened."

"Indeed," Moody said.

The server arrived with their food and they were soon too busy eating for significant conversation. Eventually, their appetites were satisfied enough for them to resume and focus on the topic.

"I think we've already covered everything with which the Ministry is concerned," Moody said slowly. "However, for my, ah… my personal curiosity, I have some questions I'm hoping that you could answer."

Instantly, Harry realized that Moody was now fishing on behalf of the Order. Harry was willing to feed them information. He had already made that decision. He might have even brought it up with Dumbledore if it weren't for his being dismissed from Hogwarts. "What do you want to know?" Harry asked, deliberately lowering his voice as if what he might share could be very secret and very valuable.

It seemed to have the proper effect on Moody, for he instinctively lowered his voice also. "Well, Ashworth, you served as a private advisor for the Blacks. I assume that you're privy to the information they had on the dark lord. I'm even hoping that you might be privy to some of their sources."

Harry nodded slowly, thinking carefully. Quickly, this was transforming into a better opportunity than he had realized or hoped for. With Orion, Cygnus, and Romulus dead, none of them could dispute anything Harry said about what they might have known, thought, or did. Harry could feed the Order, through Moody, information of which the patriarchs had known nothing about. There was also nothing to prevent him from hiding himself as the source of information. There was even the possibility of continuing to "receive" information from the sources of the late patriarchs. Without joining the Order, Harry could have a major influence on it.

"Anything I say is officially of the record, right?" Harry said.

"I'm not going to blab about it at the Ministry, if that's what you mean," Moody retorted. "But if you give me bad information, I'm going to come after you."

"Fair enough," Harry said. He grabbed the pen that the server had provided alongside the bill for the food. Slowly, he wrote "Lord Voldemort" on an unused napkin. "This is the name of the dark lord. Please don't think I'm afraid to say it aloud-I'm not a coward-but Orion reckoned that this guy might have a way of detecting when people were talking about him. We always found other ways to refer to him."

Moody accepted the napkin from Harry and studied Voldemort's name. "Interesting," he said. "Surely this isn't his birth name."

"We can always hope," Harry said, smirking.

"I say that because it could be useful to find out more about the dark lord's background," Moody pointed out.

Harry nodded. "I see. Well, I think Orion was on the same path right before he passed away. Maybe if I poke around I can dig up some information on the dark lord's past."

"Why don't you do that?" Moody said gruffly, almost as if he were assigning Harry to do it.

"All right," said Harry, sipping his glass of water. It would be ridiculously easy of course. He would just need to arrange another meeting with Moody and then dramatically declare that the dark lord was none other than Tom Riddle, Jr. He would make a point of emphasizing the junior part. It wouldn't be all down time between now and telling Moody the dark lord's birth name, however. Harry had a lot of stuff to do, and he would of course need to continue pursuing the battle against Voldemort.

"How long do you think it will take you to find out?" Moody asked.

"A few days," Harry shrugged. He'd have to see what his schedule was like and how bored he was. "I'll owl you when I have something."

Moody frowned and Harry feared for a moment that the auror wasn't entirely satisfied with the terms of their little arrangement. It turned out the frown was for another reason. "I think we need to find a more clandestine way to communicate," the auror declared.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Moody. "I can't have folks constantly wondering from whom I am receiving owls on a regular basis. You also will want to lay low. This dark lord might want you dead. There's also Prewitt to consider."

Harry frowned. "Prewitt? What does he want from me?"

"At the moment, you're in the clear," Moody said. "However, if it becomes politically expedient, you could become a target."

Harry knew too well the sort of trouble a Minister of Magic could cause for him. Though Harry could back up everything that had happened via a truth potion, he did not want to risk being forced to admit to having taken the Malfoy gold. There was also the fact that being innocent didn't always protect one from the Ministry. "All right," said Harry, "I'll make an effort to not avoid notice. What do you suggest for communicating?"

Moody spent a few minutes considering this question. He glanced out the window and his eyes fell upon a lamppost just outside of the restaurant. "Let's get out of here," he said gruffly. "I've got an idea."

The two were soon standing out on the sidewalk next to the lamppost. "All right," said Harry, "tell me what you got."

Moody glanced around to make sure that no one was observing them. He then drew his wand and pointed at the lamppost. On a small plate attached to the metal pole, a series of numbers and letters appeared. It looked as if the number had been stamped onto the plate by the foundry itself. "It's a date and time," Moody declared. "The first number is the day of the month. The next few letters are an abbreviation for a month. Then, the next numbers are a time. When you're ready to meet with me, use your wand to set the date and time. Then, when the meeting comes, we'll meet at the same tube station we started at this evening."

"Isn't this a little over the top?" Harry complained.

"Constant vigilance!" Moody said vigorously. "We can't be too careful."

"Yeah, okay," Harry replied. "So you're going to check this lamppost every day? What if you want to meet with me? What do you do?"

"I'll change the day of the month to something higher than thirty-one," Moody said. "Let's say that the higher the number, the more urgent it is I meet you."

"Fine," said Harry. "What's the latest time of day I can put a message on here for you, assuming I want to meet on the same day?"

"Let's say five in the evening," Moody said.

"Great," said Harry.

"All right," said Moody. "I need to go. I'll be looking for your sign, Ashworth. Don't forget to check for mine."

Harry nodded and said goodbye to Moody before walking off into the dark streets of London.