53.Playing with Fire

9th of October 1993, Saturday (3 days later)

Harry Potter

Stern-faced, dressed in a heavy yellow-and-black robe, the deputy headmistress had an imposing appearance that could intimidate many students by her presence alone. A younger version of Professor McGonagall, and far more dangerous.

He suspected there would be trouble when Amelia Bones slipped into the meeting with a guilty-looking Susan, but the proposal still surprised them. Even Nyx shifted underneath his skin, waking him from his stupor.

‘That woman is scary,’ his familiar whispered in his head. ‘Her magic is cold.’

“Ma’am?” Harry found his voice first. “You want to be our… faculty advisor?”

“Indeed.” Amelia Bones quirked an eyebrow. “Are you opposed to such an arrangement?”

“No study group has ever had a… faculty advisor,” he said weakly.

“No study group has had more than ten members before becoming a club, but here we are,” was the cool reply.

This was a threat, Harry realised. Bones would force them to register as a club, opening them to public scrutiny and forcing them to accept applications from all the students. It was either that or disband the study group. Out of all the people who could have come to make trouble, the deputy headmistress was the worst. Even Dumbledore would have probably turned a blind eye to this, like the many inane things that happened in school.  

“Our study group is too small to receive the sponsorship and advice of a witch of your calibre, Professor Bones.” Juno’s words were soft, spoken in a smooth and practised tone, but the tightness in her jaw betrayed her nervousness.

“Is that so?” The edge of Amelia Bone’s mouth twitched. “Are you not collecting talent, Miss Black? Is that not what your little gathering is about? Or do you think I fail to qualify?”

Juno’s mouth opened, then closed as she blinked at the older witch. It was a rare thing to see his friend so tongue-tied, and Harry would have had a laugh if they weren’t both caught red-handed.

“Of course you qualify, professor,” he said with all the honesty he could muster, earning himself Bones’s scrutiny. Harry had faced worse glares, but he still remembered that in another life, Voldemort, at the height of his power, had gone in person to kill Amelia Bones in her home. “But you do not even know what our plans are.”

“That I don’t,” said Bones, nodding. “And precisely because I do not know your goals, I believe you need some oversight. And I’m not saying this solely as the deputy headmistress but as a concerned aunt. My niece is part of whatever you’re planning here, after all.”

This would greatly restrict their actions, but in the end, they didn’t really plan to do anything other than foster connections and cultivate a sense of unity here. Harry wanted these students and his friends, from his past or current life, to experience their schooling without going through ‘adventures’ or ‘fighting’.

He did not push himself to the brink daily just to drag others into his own mess. 

Juno was different, though. She had shamelessly barged into his life, helping him whether he wanted it or not. Though he did like it. 

Even now, Juno quickly gathered herself, spine ramrod straight, and an icy gaze that did not falter before Amelia Bones.

“There isn’t any grand goal to this study group beyond what you’ve already mentioned.” Juno’s voice was smooth and confident, but he knew her well enough to sense the unease underneath. “For myself, it’s a matter of survival. I have no desire to play to the tune of Aunt Narcissa, some distant Lestrange cousins on the Continent, or end up in the hands of Mother and Father dearest or the many others that might seek to control or remove me. Each connection I form makes controlling me harder for others. Then, there are those who covet the influence of House Black and Lestrange, others lust after my body or the small fortune of magic and gold to my name, a sizeable number of estates and business shares that stretch far beyond Wizarding Britain.”

Harry blinked. Was she still worried about her parents that much? No, this was not misdirection, not entirely. These were his friend’s honest thoughts. 

“I am aware.” Amelia’s eyes softened slightly. “But survival is not a tall task for you. You can always transfer away to Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, or Ilvermorny. It would be easy, but it goes against the pride of a talented witch like you. You want to thrive and to win, to overcome all challenges that bar your way.”

“Who doesn’t?” Juno smiled, but it was all teeth.

“Ambitious,” the older witch said, face unreadable. 

A part of Harry knew Juno had her plans for everything. He had not asked for them, knowing she would confide in him once she was ready. He knew her motives weren’t entirely noble or selfless, but then again, neither were his own, as he knew where selflessness led. It got him killed once, and he wasn’t eager for a repeat. But when the time came and his friend needed help, Harry would lend a hand—it was only fair after receiving so much of it himself.

Bones’s monocle then settled on Harry, uncomfortable and scrutinising. “What about you, Mr Potter? Do you agree with such ambition? Do you even know where it leads?”

He blinked at the older witch.

Amelia Bones was prodding for weakness, testing whether this was a friendship of convenience.

“I trust Juno,” said Harry, voice firm enough to leave no room for doubt. “She’s my best friend. And it’s not like I lack enemies of my own. Voldemort’s followers hold no love for me and mine—coincidentally, the people who are after her now. Many would love to see me brought to heel, outright disposed of, or used, and if it happens regardless, I would rather meet it on my terms.”

It was the truth, too. Fate loved its irony to see him become best friends with Bellatrix’s daughter.

Juno gave him a surprisingly wide-eyed glance. Did she expect him to leave her in a ditch or something?

“Regardless.” She cleared her throat. “Our purpose here is clear. While not entirely our only goal, we have founded this study group to study magic and practise spellcraft together, both beneficial to your niece. But if you truly want to join as a faculty advisor, you should contribute.”

“You’re asking the deputy headmistress to contribute to a study group that should be registered as a club due to its size?” Amelia asked flatly. “Even your mother was not so brazen as to speak of overstepping so blatantly at your age, even less to boldly suggest it before the Deputy Headmistress. Do you think you set the rules here, Black?”

“It might be a bother, but we can always disband the group or split it into two, rendering such trivial obstacles moot.” Juno smiled, undaunted by the older witch’s anger. “We could meet without oversight or permission. Avoiding the deputy headmistress might be hard, but not impossible, Professor Bones.”

“And in the end, we’re spending our precious time teaching others, ma’am,” Harry said hastily. “We could have used this to study or practise more ourselves. Adolescence is the time of greatest growth for any witch or wizard, and each hour wasted is one hour gone.” 

It wasn’t as bad as Harry was touting it to be—teaching others had significant benefits for him, deepening his insight into magic theory, which in turn strengthened his spells. And it kept his mind distracted from everything else that was happening. 

“And this is why I haven’t tossed the rulebook at the two of you,” came the measured reply. “I suppose I should at least contribute to the study group if I am to be your faculty advisor.”

“You will?” Juno asked, icy eyes narrowing.

Amelia adjusted her monocle. “Yes. I know relationships are give and take, Miss Black, and there is no need to act surprised. You two are not wrong when you say running such a venture is time-consuming. I should know, having run the Gobstones Club for a year myself.” Amelia’s voice grew steely. “A duel with the two of you. Once per week.”

Harry swallowed heavily. The chance to fight with someone strong enough that Voldemort deemed they had to die by his hand was tempting. This was the carrot, and the threat earlier had been the stick.

Juno had also realised, judging by her heavy frown.

“We agree,” he said, Juno freezing beside him. Then, he hastily clarified, “To have you join, faculty advisor or not. But we want the duels to be individual.”

“Quite decisive,” she said. “And I thought I would have to wrangle with you for quite a bit before I pried an agreement out of Miss Black.”

Harry shrugged. “Time is too precious to waste on silly arguments. In fact, I wouldn’t mind a duel right now.”

“Without preparation?”

“Those after me or Juno won’t wait for us to prepare or tell us they’re attacking,” he said coldly. “So, we might as well see what you offer without being presumptuous, ma’am.”

A cherry red wand appeared in the older witch’s hand as she chuckled, inclining her head. “Very well. You have more boldness and daring than many Gryffindors, Mr Potter. Are you sure the hat has not placed you in the wrong House?”

“I’m precisely where I wanted to be,” Harry drawled. “Juno, want to go first?”

Juno’s face was calm, almost unfeeling, but there was a glimmer of frustration in her eyes.

“I would love to test the skills of the former head auror.”

It took a minute to arrange the desks and chairs at the bottom of the classroom, leaving them room to duel. Then, Amelia Bones cast charm after charm on the walls, floor, and windows, spelling them unbreakable.

As soon as she finished, she spun around, a blue spell erupting from her wand.

Juno barely had the time to jerk out of the way, but Amelia Bones pressed the attack. The deputy headmistress was relentless, hurling spell after spell with scary precision and speed at Juno, forcing the younger witch to shield. In half a minute, Juno’s mobility was restricted by a Quagmire Hex, turning the floor beneath her feet into a sticky swamp.

Juno might have been among the best duelists in school after Harry, but Amelia Bones was simply faster, and her spells stronger. A cloud of black hornets zoomed out of her wand, swarming Juno. The older witch spun her wand in a complex motion, muttering something under her breath, and a part of the wall behind Juno morphed into a wiggling ivy vine, wrapping around her limbs and torso. A moment later, it turned back to stone, and Juno tried to wriggle out, but she was wrapped tighter than a dumpling, with her wand arm pressed tightly against her leg.

Not even a full minute had passed since the duel had begun, and it had already ended. From the start, Juno had been forced to defend, not receiving the chance to retaliate even once. 

“Subduing dark wizards and witches was my speciality,” the deputy headmistress said as she dispelled the swamp and the stone vine, releasing an irritated Juno. She was sulking, but the only thing that looked hurt was her pride. “Do you think your enemies will wait before attacking you, Miss Black? Or perhaps they would give you a room to counterattack?”

“I know they won’t.” Juno’s face was dark as she stepped aside, dusting off the crumbs the stone vine had left in the folds of her robes.

“The second you decided to hide behind your shield, you lost,” said Bones, voice kinder this time. “A dark wizard wouldn’t have hesitated to shatter it with a Crucio, leaving you squirming in agony and easy to capture or kill. You are talented, yes, but you must do better if you want to survive all those after you. Including your parents.”

Juno’s face grew blank. “I’ll be sure to remember, Professor Bones.”

The emotionless words sounded angry to Harry’s ear.

Clearing his mind, he stepped forward, palming his yew wand. Amelia Bones was an enemy stronger than all he had faced, not counting Voldemort. 

This action did not escape the witch’s gaze; her face showed a slight sign of approval. Or was it amusement?

He moved first, flinging a silent stunner. Bones merely swiped her wand, catching the spell and hurling it back at him. Harry ducked under, moving quickly, fearing he would end up on the defensive like Juno. There was no use in holding back here. 

The yew wand blurred in his hand. Stupefy, Relashio, Rictusempra, Impedimenta, Expelliarmus!

Amelia chanted something under her breath, raising a wall of ice, blocking all of his spells. Crackling frost crept through the floor, and the air grew chilling, filled with cold mist.

“Frigor Umbra!”

An icy spectre resembling Amelia Bones lunged at him. 

“Protego!” Harry gasped, stabbing his wand, but the thing passed through his shield as if it weren’t there, and plunged into his chest.

It was like taking a swim in the Black Lake in winter again. The cold spread instantly, crawling through his arms and legs and settling in his bones. A jet of pale light streaked towards him, but Harry could only watch the petrification curse nearing his chest. His legs were frozen stiff, and his wand-hand was slow to move.

The curse struck, and he hit the floor hard. ‘Brilliant,’ he thought bitterly, staring up at the ceiling, unable to twitch a finger. ‘I didn’t even last as long as Juno.’

‘It’s cold,’ Nyx said, her usual hiss came weaker. The serpent’s magic flooded his body, but did nothing to push out the chill that had taken hold of his flesh and bones.

“This is the power of elemental magic,” Amelia Bones said from the side. When she came into view, her brows were knitted in concern as she tapped his outstretched hand with her wand. The stiffness drained away, and Harry groaned, massaging his wrists. “I advise a visit to Madam Pomfrey for a Pepper-up. The after-effect can be quite nasty if left untreated.”

The cold still lingered in his limbs, chilling his very bones and making his movements awkward and painful. This was worse than when he had taken a swim in the Great Lake, even if there were no Grindylows here. Still didn’t rank the top ten worst things Harry had been through, though. 

Something had stirred in the depths of his chest. His heart was hammering with excitement. How long had it been since he had lost this badly?

How long had it been since Harry had faced a formidable opponent that made his fingers itch to grab his wand and keep on fighting? Even Sirius at his best had never given him half the challenge. Bruises, wounds, and meeting the cold floor up close were a small price to pay if he could grow further as a wizard.

“I thought elemental magic was… obsolete?” Harry asked. He had read so in the Hit-Wizard manuals. 

“Obsolete? Slower and harder to master than any standard spell, but no less dangerous,” was the cool reply. “It requires a certain level of talent and years of dedication to see tangible results. Elemental magic is a road rarely travelled—many prefer to master curses and charms instead.”

“The wall of ice might have been elemental magic, but you used a spell, Professor,” Juno said as she came over, helping Harry up. 

“That’s right, Miss Black. But the Cold Shadow Hex is meant to drain warmth from the first thing it touches, slowing you for a moment. Mastery over ice allowed me to wield it in ways its creator never dreamed of and make it more powerful than it has any right to be. Mine can slip through magical shields and freeze you inside out, as Mr Potter found for himself.”

“There has to be a downside to this,” Harry murmured, massaging his stiff wrists. “Beyond the difficulty of learning, I mean.”

“It’s very demanding on the mind,” Bones said, voice patient. “Not counting Headmaster Dumbledore and me, only three more professors could do it. One of which hasn’t ventured into elemental magic at all. Then, there’s the lack of counterspells. Elemental magic is dangerous, and it is easy to kill or maim by mistake.”

‘So, not a downside when used against enemies.’

Now that he knew the cost, he could spot a trace of exhaustion in the older witch’s eyes.

“How does it work?” Juno asked. “How exactly will a mastery of an element strengthen spells?”

A delicate flower hewn from translucent ice slowly bloomed from the tip of Amelia’s wand. 

“As you should know from Charms class, spells are dynamic magic constructs held by intent. Most spells have a limit to how much magic you can pour into them before they implode. Or the construct is just too stable, and does not change, regardless of how much you channel into it. Elemental magic breaks those rules, and the limit becomes the mastery of the element.”

It sounded frighteningly similar to free magic. Or perhaps it had been a part of it all along. He recalled the battle in the Ministry Atrium—Dumbledore and Voldemort could do far more dangerous things with the elements than Amelia Bones, even if Harry had thought them powerful charms back then. 

If he wanted to surpass them, elemental magic was something Harry needed to master.

“And how can one achieve such control over an element?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Start small, Mr Potter. Pick a simple spell of the element you want to learn, and master it. Once you have achieved chantless and motionless casting, try to replicate the magic without the spell until you succeed.”

“Purely with intent?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

Wasn’t this more or less what he had been doing for the past six months, while trying to sort out why his fire spells were a mess?

He tightened his grip on his wand, closing his eyes. Concentrating as hard as he could, he tried to push every bit of magic and intent into forming a small flame.

When he cracked his eyes open, he saw a thin wisp of smoke lazily curling from the wand’s tip. Harry let out a groan. Free casting fire was far trickier than he had thought, and it didn’t help that his control had a habit of wobbling at the worst possible moment. 

“So advanced already?” the older witch said, eyeing him with surprise. “You’re half a step into elemental magic—something that should have taken you years.”

“I already spent quite some time mastering fire spells,” he said, voice honest. “I just did it for control.”

“Keep at it,” Bones murmured, shaking her head. 

“Can the fire element counter ice magic like that spectre?”

“There’s no point in telling you now.” The edges of her lips twitched with amusement. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

The deputy headmistress pulled out a gold-rimmed pocket watch, glanced at it, and sighed. 

“It’s time for dinner, so I shall see you next week,” she said. “And don’t forget to get a Pepper-up Potion from Pomfrey to banish the lingering cold.”

Words said, Amelia Bones left the two of them. Was the curse supposed to linger? Harry just frowned at his hands—the chill was already gone, and even the stiffness in his spine and joints had melted away.

Juno pointedly walked to his side, pulling a vial with ruddy red liquid from her robes.

“Here,” she said, voice even. After that Diagon mishap, she always carried an array of potions on her person, amongst other things.

“Thanks.” Harry pulled the cork out and drained it in one go, and blinked. The bubbling warmth spreading through his throat never came, replaced by something lukewarm. “Was this the right potion?”

“I checked the label,” Juno said, a heavy frown settling over her face. She snatched the empty vial from his hands and took a whiff. Redness crept into her pale face. “Definitely the highest quality Pepper-up. Are you feeling well?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Harry stretched his limbs and found no issues or lingering stiffness. “Everything seems fine—forget about it. You don’t seem happy.”

Juno’s lips thinned.

“I would have liked it if you had consulted me first, before making that decision,” she said. “I assume you have a reason for accepting Bones’s proposal so boldly?”

“Yep—she was the department head of the DMLE in my visions. Amelia Bones was dangerous and important enough that Voldemort had to go and kill her in person, and now I can see why. The opportunity to fight and learn from her is too good to pass up.”

“That it is,” his friend murmured, looking a tad defeated. Then, she hesitantly tugged on his sleeve. “I believe in you, Harry, but please be careful. Amelia Bones can jeopardise all of our efforts here. Some of the things we have done and plan to do might not exactly be legal, and we don’t know where her loyalties lie.”

“I trust you will find a way to deal with her,” Harry said with a smile.

A hint of colour appeared on Juno’s pale cheeks. Was she blushing?

She turned her face away as she walked to the desk to fish the member list out of her bag, glancing up and down. “Seems Susan didn’t rat us out.”

Harry went to her side, glancing over her shoulder. Indeed, Susan’s name was still in gold. “Maybe it’s defective?”

“Impossible, I tested it myself earlier.” Juno shoved the scroll back into her bag and rubbed her face tiredly. “Susan was probably waylaid by her aunt. Anyway, we must figure out a way to get Professor Bones to sign it, too.”

Harry frowned. That was indeed a breach of security and secrecy. They had no way of knowing if Amelia Bones would spread word of their activity. While she was not one to worship Voldemort or his cronies, that did not mean she could not be a danger.

“Maybe we should just ask her?” Harry asked.

Juno scoffed. “Do you think that would work?”

“I mean, we don’t lose anything by trying.”

To Juno’s surprise, it worked. They entered Bones’s office, and the older witch took a glance at the golden quill and decisively signed A.C.B at the very bottom.

The rest of the evening was a blur, and while Harry went through the motions at dinner, his mind was elsewhere—elemental magic.

Excitement slithered under his skin at the thought. Elemental magic was woefully understated in every tome he had read so far, but now that he had seen the real deal, he could no longer forget it. A new challenge to overcome made his blood boil. Today alone, he had learned more than he had since the beginning of the school year.

Just the knowledge that his shield could be so easily bypassed, not broken, was invaluable. Harry had so many things he wanted to try out.

For the first time in a while, he was genuinely eager to rush into training. As if sensing his enthusiasm, Nyx slithered out of his skin and ventured for one of her rare hunts in the Forbidden Forest.

The first thing Harry did in his room was sit on the chair by the small desk and draw his wand. This time, he did not attempt to free cast fire, but settled for a chantless Incendio, trying to control the output. Before, it was just an obligation to fix the weakness in his magic, but now this had become a door to many possibilities.

Yet, even the barest strand of magic surged, fire exploding from the tip of his wand, in every direction.

“Aguamenti!” Harry hissed out, pushing his magic into the spell as the jet of water quickly extinguished the burning curtain and his Runes textbook.

Frustration swelled in his chest, but at least it appeared that his face was not burned, only covered in soot—nothing a quick shower wouldn’t fix. The same couldn’t be said for the room that looked like it had been blasted by a bomb and then struck by a rainstorm.

Why?

Why was his control over fire magic so… volatile, even after so much practice?

15th of October 1993, Friday (6 days later)

Sirius

“Thank you for coming, Andy,” he said, giving his brightest smile. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Andromeda clicked her tongue as she hung her coat on the hanger and kicked off her boots. “Besides, I’m doing this for little Estelle, not you.”

“Right.” Sirius ran a shaky hand through his hair. Merlin, he was tired. “Right.”

“What happened to the poor Devil’s Snare at the northern wall?” Andromeda asked, peeling off her stylish leather gloves. “It looks like someone tossed it into a bonfire.”

“Estelle happened. I took her outside, and she latched onto the vines and set them all aflame. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I haven’t had more than an hour or two of sleep in—”

“Little Missy set Dobby on fire again!” The house elf suddenly popped in, screaming his lungs out as his butler suit was burning.

Sirius groaned, swiping his wand to send a jet of water into the elf, extinguishing the flame and making him look like one giant wet rat.

“What if she burns her crib?” Andromeda drew her wand, glancing with worry up the stairs.

“Her whole room has been refurbished with non-flammable furniture and materials,” Sirius muttered. “Even her blankets, too. Everything that could have burned there has burned out already.”

His cousin let out a long sigh. “Start from the beginning, Sirius.”

“Estelle started crying a lot more after Harry left for school,” he murmured as he collapsed onto the sofa. “She misses him, I reckon. It started innocently enough, as she tried to play with the phoenix plushie my godson had gifted her, but then she accidentally set it on fire halfway through September. Seeing it burn only made her cry harder, and she set me on fire when I came over to see what had her wailing. I got her calm with her favourite lullaby, but ever since then, her tantrums have been growing worse, especially after she learned to crawl. She keeps getting out of her crib and setting things on fire. I have barely caught a wink of sleep in the last week…”

“What are you feeding her?”

“A baby milk formula.” Sirius weakly gestured at the kitchen. “It’s in the fridge.”

“Unicorn milk spiced with dragon blood?!” Andromeda exploded half a minute later. “She’s a little veela, not a Hungarian Horntail, you dolt! Where in the bloody hell did you even get your hands on this? Which blithering buffoon puts dragon’s blood in baby’s milk?”

“Hagrid said it’s pretty good for newborns,” he offered weakly. “And Androw Farhart’s ‘Treatise on Raising Veela’ suggested they needed some fire magic to grow properly.”

“Hagrid?! Let’s forget Hagrid for a moment. Androw Farhart is a hack and a fraud,” she said with a sharp hiss. “A man who swindled people and enslaved creatures for profit. Something you would know if you bothered to read the history books. Damn it, Sirius. Did you not think to call me before she started combusting furniture?”

Sirius groaned as his eyelids grew heavier. “I thought I could manage. There was no problem even with this milk before, when Harry was around…”

“Just sleep.” Andromeda waved him as her softening gaze was fixed on Estelle. “I’ll handle this, and then we’ll have a very serious talk.”

The sleep that followed was god-sent—Sirius slept for over sixteen hours. The very serious talk wasn’t as dreadful as he feared.

“The unicorn milk isn’t the problem,” Andromeda said, voice reluctant. “Hagrid got you some of the highest quality stuff, fresh and given willingly. This is a premium product of the highest quality that can wean any living creature—even your parents wanted to wean you and Regulus on it but failed to procure it.”

“Hagrid just gave it to me as a favour for letting him use the bike, though,” Sirius said, scratching his brow. They were in Estelle’s room, and she was finally asleep, happily snoozing in her enchanted blankets.

His cousin looked torn between laughter and tears. “I don’t know whether to admire your lackadaisical success or be pissed. This girl…” Andromeda’s dark eyes glanced at Estelle’s head, inspecting her soft, silver-gold curls. “She’s going to be considered a bastard and a half-breed, and she’s receiving things that the wealthiest of pure-blood scions can’t even dream of.”

“Only the best for my little girl,” Sirius said, nodding earnestly. “So, is this dragon blood problem resolved?”

“Well, I’m not sure.” Andromeda rubbed her face. “I did consult with Ted, and he does seem to agree that a small measure of dragon blood would be beneficial. But you should neutralise its extreme potency with moonstone essence—that’s what I gave her with the last serving of milk. Essentially, you’re feeding her milk rich in magic, but no longer in a way that will make her into a little pyromaniac whose body is overflowing with fire.”

“Thank you,” Sirius said, bowing. “If there’s anything you need—”

“Don’t thank me just yet. I will continue to visit once or twice a week to ensure little Estelle is well until I’m reasonably certain you’re qualified to care for her alone. And we should bring her to Ted for an examination someday—”

“No,” he said sharply. “I’m not letting her go to Saint Mungo’s. Her existence should remain a secret from the public.”

“…Very well, you can come to our house, then,” Andromeda mused. “She needs scheduled medical check-ups. You should start logging her health, behaviour, and food each day, so we know where to start should things go wrong. There’s practically very little credible information on raising veela outside of the European veela enclaves, and if they don’t want to help you, you’d have to do all the legwork on your own. Unless you somehow know of, er, civilised veela?”

Sirius didn’t know about any of that, though he could have sworn Harry had met one during that duelling tournament years ago. He shook his head; it did not matter. He was willing to learn and do all he could to help his daughter. But raising Estelle had been a challenging learning experience already, so it was nothing new.

“Anything else I need to know?”

23rd of October 1993, Saturday (8 days later)

“Moony.” Sirius nodded as they met in a small private lounge in the Three Broomsticks. “My apologies for not arranging a meeting earlier. Had a bit of a pickle with the little one as of late, and it took me quite a while to resolve it.”

That was not the only reason why he had not been in a hurry to meet. Their less-than-favourable meeting last time had left Sirius cautious. But now that his Estelle had calmed and Dobby could be entrusted to watch over her again without turning into an elvish torch, Sirius had got a good week of sleep and itched to leave the Potter house, even for a bit. 

While Sirius loved his daughter, raising a newborn was simply too suffocating and frustrating, and he needed to vent or at least get a small change of pace.

“I know how newborns are,” Lupin said with a knowing smile. “They are young and fragile, easy to fall sick and all too curious for their own good, yet have seemingly boundless energy and a pair of lungs that would put a banshee to shame. Most importantly, you will find yourself ready and willing to do anything to protect them.” 

“Exactly!” Sirius beamed as Rosmerta brought them a platter of butterbeer and her patented beef pasties. “Thank you, dear.”

“Not going to try to flirt this time, Black?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Not even buy me a drink? Never thought that a little stay in Azkaban would stop your quest to add me to your long list of conquests.”

Sirius raised his hands. “I’ve grown out of such things now,” he said. He was struggling to raise one child, and no longer dared to risk having a second, or even a third. “My heart is already taken, anyway.”

“A pity,” Rosmerta said with a tone that suggested it was no pity at all, but did not forget to sway her hips on her way out of the small parlour.

“I see Rosy is still trying to rake in more profits by using her good looks,” Remus said nonchalantly, emptying the first cup of butterbeer.

“That she does, old friend, that she does.” Sighing, Sirius took a bite of the beef pasty and closed his eyes with relish. It was just the way he liked it. “So, how’s the life of a teacher treating you?”

“Quite well. The students actually pay attention, even though it’s History, and the pay is better than anything else I’ve had.” 

“Then, why the long face?”

His friend stared into his drink, looking gloomier by the second. “Some days,” he said quietly, “I’m scared it’s all just a dream. That one morning, the spell will break, and I’ll wake up back where I started—alone, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Am I just a figment of your imagination, then?” Sirius asked.

“As if my mind would dream up something as ghastly looking as you,” Remus said with a chuckle. “Of course, my other worries are far more tangible. Before, I was alone, and I only had to think for myself, but now I have Selene and Liam to always consider. I fear that I will be ousted as a werewolf one day, and I’ll have to leave in disgrace. I fear that it would affect Liam’s future.”

Sirius let out a long sigh. “If you’re afraid of what could possibly happen, you shouldn’t have taken the job in the first place.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Moony said quietly, eyes staring at the distance. “I needed the gold, and won’t raise my family on handouts.” 

“Well, at least the kids lucked out,” Sirius said with a smirk. “We had to endure five years of Binns, and now they get to experience an actual History of Magic class, not just some prattle about goblin rebellions.”

Moony let out a happy burp as he took another cup of butterbeer. “Joke all you want, but teaching History is quite fun. I heard you had a blast teaching Divination yourself, and I’ve seen many children complain about how dreadful Trelawney’s lessons are compared to yours.”

“Because I skipped the boring mysticism and got directly to the fun stuff. So, have you spoken with Harry yet?”

“…No.” A flash of guilt passed through Moony’s face. “He hasn’t signed up for the N.E.W.T.s History class, and I’ve been busy. Less busy than James’s son, always studying or practising magic, from what I heard, and I couldn’t find the courage to approach and waste his time. Merlin, I look at the boy, and all I see is James and Lily, and my resolve wavers.”

“Some Gryffindor you are,” Sirius scoffed, but let the remark hang, not in the mood to start another row with Moony. “Still, there’s plenty of time in the future. You can get to know Harry at your own pace.” 

“Yes, there’s still time,” said Remus, but a shadow of worry passed through his face. “But I have far bigger worries. Dumbledore reckons Greyback might sneak into Wizarding Britain or at least send some werewolves to meet with the Death Eaters here.”

“So the feral bastard is coming to stir up trouble again, huh?”

“Pretty much. I might be part of the Order, but some days I wish I could have turned down Dumbledore. What if something happens to me when I’m on a mission? What will happen to my wife and son?”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Sirius said, staring at the bubbling butterbeer in his glass. “Look at us, some of the biggest purveyors of mischief in Hogwarts, the Marauders themselves, grown cautious and restrained in our old age. I remember you chugging firewhiskey like it was pumpkin juice, but you don’t even dare sniff it now, hah.” He raised his butterbeer in a toast. “To our children!”

Moony clinked his cup.

“To our children!”

They chatted and ate their fill and drank for a whole hour, spending the time reminiscing about old glories rather than anything serious. Sirius spoke of his earlier escapades after Azkaban, while Remus told of his stunts across Central Asia and Australia, though most were dreadful or boring or both.

Yet try as he might, Sirius could see the light talk couldn’t fully dispel Moony’s worries.

“So, how do you spend the full moon these days?” Sirius eventually asked as their reservation was running out, and they prepared to leave. “Back to the good old Shrieking Shack?”

“That’s certainly an option,” Remus said. “I went back to Selene’s place last full moon, and this time, the headmaster prepared an underground stone chamber for me, only accessible by a pull-up ladder, and enchanted it to prevent any noise. It’s hidden just halfway between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, in a location nobody would visit.”

Sirius whistled. “Damn, that sounds neat. I’m pretty sure the headmaster could have done that when we were students, but chose not to because he found the rumours about the Shrieking Shack being haunted amusing.”

“I can imagine it,” Remus said with a faint chuckle. “The Marauders would have never made it if the headmaster didn’t have a love for mischief—much to the chagrin of Professor McGonagall, I might add.” 

“What about the Wolfsbane? Pandora tells me you only visited once and bought enough ingredients to brew two potions.” Sirius drank from his butterbeer and eyed his friend. “That’s two months’ worth, Remus. It should have coasted you through summer.”

Remus looked conflicted for a moment. “It worked, but it’s simply too expensive for me to procure regularly. The Headmaster offered to sponsor it for me and Professor Slughorn agreed to brew it even, but the price and preferential treatment are too much, even when I’m not the one paying it…”

Then, his face grew solemn as he stood up. “I really must run now—I have to prepare for the coming tests for four different years in the next two days, and there are no materials I can borrow from Binns.”

“Write me when you’re free next, then,” Sirius said, giving him a jaunty wave.

“I will! And I might just introduce my wife.”

The two old friends parted on better terms than before. He was still slightly irked by Moony’s cowardice when it came to Harry, but as a newly minted parent and experienced teacher, Sirius could understand his friend’s woes.

Teaching wasn’t that easy—even a vague subject like Divination required a lot of preparation, let alone something as cumbersome and precise as History of Magic. But Sirius knew Moony never faltered before academic challenges, so that shouldn’t have been a reason to worry. 

Did his friend have trouble in his marriage?

Or did he still fear Greyback? Not only the violence the werewolf was capable of, but also as a symbol of what he could become if he gave in to his inner beast.

Was it perhaps something else entirely? More financial troubles?

Raising a family was expensive, after all.

Or maybe Sirius was imagining things?

No, Moony was too stubborn to ask for help, Sirius knew. Dumbledore was probably asking for too much again. Doubtlessly, Remus felt indebted for receiving such a good job in Hogwarts, and struggled to turn down the additional tasks. 

Perhaps Moony was too prideful to accept unwanted help, and the headmaster had already sunk his claws into the werewolf. Sirius knew better than to press, but if Remus asked for help, he would be willing to lend a hand. As long as neither Harry nor Estelle’s safety was threatened, of course.