Old and Ancient Magic

Sirius’s Birthday

For the family at Delves, the next couple of weeks passed off peacefully and easily enough. Though the model had clearly put Harry and Snape in charge of their own destiny, nothing further had been done. Sirius and Remus continued their work: Remus was researching the powers the Lestranges had and preparing lesson plans for the following term, including pinning Sirius down for some details for their joint classes. Snape had issued an edict that he wanted all plans submitted a week before term began, knowing full well that Sirius would want to leave it to the last minute.

For Sirius most of the work was development - mostly with Fletcher, as the ministry couldn't be trusted now. Fudge was running a lame duck administration that was rotten to the core. Lucius Malfoy as deputy minister for magic wasn't the only interesting appointment that he'd made. All of them were 'innocent' in the eyes of the courts, unlike Sirius himself. He was also acting as official adviser to the twins, following the events of his birthday party.

As Harry had planned, they had innocently forgotten Sirius' birthday. All except for Severus, who had seen fit to turn up and demand lesson plans from the two teachers. A gleam in his eye, Lupin had exchanged potion for plans without complaint, and then seen fit to invite Severus to stay for coffee. Sirius had gone into the orchard and borrowed the Firebolt, and picked the plums and gooseberries, while Remus and Severus discussed the latest news, in all too formal tones. Juno McGonagall's funeral had occurred the previous day, and Severus had been asked to speak. His icy turns repelled the natural warmth in Remus' voice. Harry sat in the library with Fawkes on his lap, writing steadily, listening to the conversation. Fawkes sang quietly, his notes melding with the music of the moors that floated through the open window. Severus could never accurately be described as relaxed, but he seemed less stiff, and as the conversation progressed, there seemed to be a little more warmth.

From what Harry heard, the funeral had been traditional. Severus had been the one to give the eulogy, which surprised him, as he hadn’t been aware of any particular connection between his potions professor and Juno McGonagall. By all accounts, she had a colourful past, and had been laid in the cemetery next to Albus Dumbledore, as a mark of the friendship they had shared. She had been spy, lover, confidante and friend, and it had been their specific wish to lie together in death. Severus had played the amulet recording of the ceremony – only half a dozen people had been there, in order not to supply a target, and Harry hovered at the door, listening to the measured tones of his professor.

We are here to mourn a friend, someone who means something to each one of us present. To Minerva, the loss is of Mother, friend and confidant, to all of us, a remarkable woman of many guises, who kept so many safe and guarded secrets, secrets she kept to her grave.

Albus talked of her often. They knew each other for over a hundred years, a friendship that waxed and waned, but never faltered. He said they talked of marriage at one time, but she left, and found another with whom she spent the happiest years of her life. Her humour was legendary, as was her wit, and her front as a housewife provided a cover for a sharp brain, and her intelligence gathering.

Albus and she first met in Paris in the 1890s, when he was studying with Nicolas Flamel. She was the socialite, he the gentleman and scholar. They spent days and nights in the bars of Paris, hearing Debussy play, and watching the ballet. On more than one occasion she was responsible for ensuring that he didn’t create all the mischief that he intended to – his idea had been to ‘paint the town red’ – starting with the Sacre Coeur and including a bewitching of the Moulin Rouge, so it turned backwards.

[Here there was an audible chuckle in the background]

Now we mourn the passing of them both, and carry on the work for which they stood. We remember their vitality, and their kindness to those who sought it. I think I will always remember the kindnesses that they both showed to me, in my darkest days, and following. When I was hungry, they fed me. When I was in prison, they visited me, when I had strayed; they found me and brought me home. In Death and in life they represented the best of the Wizarding World.

To Albus, and to Juno, may you rest in peace, and rise in glory. To my two great friends, may your legacy live on. And to those present, I say that we shall always remember them.

Feeling as if he’d learned more about Severus Snape than he thought he wanted to know, Harry crossed the room away from the two men, went outside and found Sirius curled up under the apple tree in dog form.

They'd gone for a run on the moors like that, Harry finding sticks for Sirius to catch, Sirius jumping in the streams and soaking Harry when he shook himself out. They'd apparated into Whitby Abbey, and sat amongst the ruins, enjoying the summer sunshine. Walking down the 199 steps they talked about inconsequential things, before Harry dragged his Godfather into Kettle's Yard, the wizarding district for the area, with it’s plethora of tiny gem-shops, book shops and of course the owl-office. He noticed the empty shop near the entrance to the Yard, and considered mentioning it to the twins when he saw them in a couple of days, and then realised they'd got there before him – a discreet notice declared that it had been let by the Weasleys.

At 'The Hag's Head' they got a couple of beers and fresh scampi, and sat out on the terrace overlooking the harbour and bridge. Sirius was quiet, and Harry said very little, enjoying the view through the buildings and out to the sea. The piers reminded him of a blast-ended skrewt, somehow. Afterwards they returned to the cliff top and the path to Ravenscar.

Nestling in a little cove, it was an idyllic site. They wandered companionably along the railway path, Sirius pointing out some of the fauna for which Rowena's glen was famous. Turning off before they got to the village, they found themselves in woodland hiding a deep valley. A stream ran in the bottom, down to the sea barely half a mile away. They cut along the streambed, and presently came to a waterfall, with a deep plunge pool. Around it were large blocks of grey rock, with trees suckered onto them as best they could.

Sirius took out a scrip and sickle, and started to harvest some of the herbs, while Harry scrambled around, looking up through the canopy to the cloud-less sky. Sirius sang as he worked, while Harry sat at the top of the waterfall, looking down on the scene

Harvesting completed, Sirius stripped off and dived in, much to the amusement of an old witch who had just arrived. "Thee'll be young Sirius Black then, and that'll be Harry Potter." Sirius spluttered when he realised he was 20 feet from his clothes, in the presence of an older woman. "And a nice picture thee be making." Harry gasped with laughter as Sirius went bright red at her suggestive wink.

"Rowan's the name. Rowan Blackberry. I live over yonder in the glen cottages." Sirius immediately bowed to her, and smiled. Rowan didn't seem in the least bit disconcerted by the younger men, and sat on a rock in the sunlight. Harry stripped off and dived in himself, letting the waterfall pummel his back, icy cold.

"Thee's from the Delves, Mr Black? But thee's from the Hollow, isn't thee, Harry Potter." She contemplated him for a long while, not staring, but taking in his form in a disinterested manner.

"I've never lived there." Sirius snorted. "Not since I was a baby, anyway. Why do you say that?"

"You're a special child, boy. You have a great many gifts, more than you might realise." She whistled softly and a gorgeous barn owl flew to her fingertips, so different from Harry's Tawny. She gave him a mouse from her pocket, and he perched on her shoulder, eating happily. Harry watched fascinated, as this wizened old witch picked up Sirius' scrip and sickle, and gave them to the bird.

"He'll deliver your ingredients to Delves, Mr Black. You won't want them spoiling in the heat, and a preserving charm's no good." She eyed Sirius, who shrugged guiltily. "And you'll be moving on again, I daresay. I look forward to seeing you again, Mr Potter, Mr Black. I'll have something for you then." And so saying she Disapparated.

"Who is she?"

"Rowan Blackberry, keeper of the Glen. One of Rowena's own, I gather."

"One of ours?"

"Of a sort. I believe you need to meet some people." Sirius pulled himself out onto the rocky shelf around the plunge pool. "But not quite yet and certainly not today." The two men sprawled out naked, and let themselves dry in the filtered sun.

Two days later, Sirius had been rudely awakened by Fawkes pecking his ear. The house was unnaturally still, and still in dog form, he crept out of Harry's room into the living room to find that the party fare had been laid out, along with various boxes. Drinks were mixing themselves on the dresser, and sandwiches were making themselves - ham, mutton, cress, rat.... RAT! Sirius sniffed and gave a doggy scowl. Padding outside he found the orchard deserted, except for a smell that led him inexorably towards Remus' shed, where his old friend was sitting, preparing fresh Whitby kippers on the barbeque. Sausages, bacon, mushrooms, eggs, black pudding and hash browns were in various stages of preparation.

"Happy Birthday, old friend. Mind your nose, that's a hot sausage." Sirius cocked his head, and then panted on the sausages to cool them down. He wolfed them down in one gulp, and then transformed.

"You remembered."

"Yes. How we used to cook breakfast in the forest after a night on the tiles. Only we can't do that with the Wolfsbane, so I did the next best thing. The kids set it up while you were asleep, and then vanished Harry muttering something about Rowanberries."

"Rowan Blackberry. She met us 2 days ago."

Remus nodded, and handed Sirius a plate of breakfast. "The party's starting at noon. We're having open house, so people can come and go as they please. And although you need to be around people, you don't like being among crowds any more." Sirius nodded gratefully. "Hermione's coming. As are Ron, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, and a few of the others from school days. And other places." At this, he smiled wickedly. "And of course Fred and George."

"You've been conspiring with the only two to have ever come close to breaking the records James and I set." Sirius grinned evilly, and Remus found himself unaccountably nervous.

The rest of the day passed with the maximum number of minor incidents, the culmination of which was a firework display by Fred, George, Bill and Remus. The pranking score was somewhere in Sirius' favour, after his retreating into his room until lunch, fiddling with his old school trunk. He'd known Bill and Charlie from school days, Charlie in particular having assisted in any number of pranks, including in the one that had got the Marauder's Map confiscated, along with Bill. The result was a mutually beneficial business deal between the twins and Sirius, with Sirius being paid a consulting fee and given the title of 'joke development officer.' Remus had to extract a promise that Sirius would not attempt to sell jokes to students. For all that he'd grown old and responsible, particularly where Harry was concerned, he could still be that reckless kid. It was what made him a dangerous duellist - the wit to take risks, and the patience to handle any opponent.

The pranks were as funny as the gifts. Ron and Harry had found a battered old copy of “Quidditch in Bed” by Hyde and Seeker, and duly given to Sirius amidst much merriment. Sirius had in turn started reading it aloud, with suggestive winks to his audience, causing the younger ones to blush, and the older ones to laugh at the memories. When Sirius found the bit that said, “Like your Quidditch field, your witch doesn't simply consist of one hoop. We, the authors, would like to draw attention to the other hoops, and point out that scoring through these can also be quite satisfactory,” the younger boys blushed, and Sirius put the book down, and lifted his hands, making a hoop between his thumb and forefinger. “One hoop” looks at other hand “two hoops, and then of course, there’s the obvious third hoop. What on earth did you think they meant.”? Charlie, Bill and the others laughed at Ron and Harry’s discomfort. “Chaser tactics: - this was the bit your father liked, Harry – “Some Keepers don't seem to want to play in that position, and will happily cede their hoops to the oncoming chasers. Others aren't so lucky...”” Harry blushed, and Ginny nudged him.

Sirius watched Ginny over the course of the next few days. Harry obviously worshipped her, but there was something he couldn’t quite place. She had a habit of being utterly lovely to everyone, except for Harry; only he didn’t seem to notice it, wrapped up in her as she was. She did some really sweet things, like carving the box for his birthday, and then would encourage him to buy her expensive gifts on the back of it. Bill and Charlie evidently didn’t approve. Bill had been heard telling her off, and had decided to talk to Sirius after the birthday party, rather than interfere directly.

Ron and Ginny were between the Burrow and Delves - Molly felt that since the party it was probably safer for them to be somewhere unplotted some of the time. She and Charlie were arranging for the next year. Molly would be working as a free lance Auror, working particularly on strategy and intelligence, putting her formidable organisational skills to work. She hadn't brought up seven kids for nothing.

Harry, Ron and Ginny flew to Rievaulx and Rosedale frequently. Harry wanted to return to Ravenscar, but didn't want to tell the others. His most useful find so far had been about the blood magic, something that he'd related to Hermione by letter. Surprisingly she hadn't replied, something that was most unusual for Miss Hermione Granger. They supposed she was caught up with Olivia and her family.

Ron didn't seem so upset as Harry and Ginny expected. After all, he'd expected to see more of Hermione this summer, but then events had taken this turn. She was a little resentful that they had access to the two best magical libraries in the country, and weren't to her mind using them properly. Her fire-calls had expressed surprise that they weren't busy preparing for NEWTs as she was.

One piece of news was that Emma Fawcett was re-taking her final year. She'd had glandular fever the previous year, and had had to miss most of the year. She'd be in their modern magic with them, along with Ginny and the rest of their year. She and Hermione had spent the last few weeks going over what Emma had managed to do of her coursework.

Remus had stepped in and reminded them both that the defence course was changing, and they couldn't rely on what they'd done. All Hermione could say was that she'd be glad to get ahead with being Head Girl next year.

When they were together, mostly the three talked about the present state of the wizarding world. All of them, bar Ron, took Modern Magic – Ginny would be in her first year of it, while Hermione and Harry would be in their second. Hermione’s experiences with the house-elves two years ago had left her less inclined to meddle, but she was still interested in what was going on. Ron knew it, because he lived it, while for Harry, it was if he was at the centre, but knew little of what was actually going on. Sirius and Remus sometimes contributed, and at times it felt as if it were like a small Muggle town, where everyone knew everyone else, although they could consider themselves privileged to know intimately some very influential figures.

Harry chose not to tell them about his scrolls, save that there had been a gift from Dumbledore. He had found a box in among his father’s possessions, one that was not recorded anywhere, and seemed crafted with a finer workmanship than he had ever seen. His time in the library at Rievaulx gave no clues, and it was only when he was researching Nerosite magic that he found some clues. Surprisingly the best information came from some Muggle books that Remus lent him. Remus himself was remarkably tight-lipped, saying that the best way to learn was to find it out for himself. Sirius didn’t have a clue what was going on, and said so, but Remus pointedly ignored them all, and the case was closed. He had gone off for a few days the following day, apparently to see his family, and on his return had locked even Sirius out of his room, such that he’d slept in Harry’s room for another week.

Severus spent his days quietly immersed at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters were steadily building power and strength. Generally he avoided all but the most odious, and even Lucius Malfoy could be quite entertaining until he realised you were laughing at him rather than with him.

His lesson plans were written up in his spiky, angular script. Fleur would be following his syllabus and teaching up to fifth form. Although he had been the same age as her when he began teaching, he wasn't happy about letting her take the kids. He just couldn't trust her to be competent, and they needed competence in the 6th and 7th years.

It had been the sorting hat that had told him what to do with Professor McGonagall. She'd been looking tired and drawn for the last few weeks, and had driven him to distraction trying to organise the school so that it would all be right.

None of the other staff was back yet, although all lesson plans had owled there way onto his desk and into the archive. Snape contemplated the model that Ron had drawn. He loathed that he had to have anything to do with Delves, and those therein, tiresome wretches, that all the world hinged on a seventeen year old boy.

He walked to the Founders' Hall, and stood by the compass. He'd spent 5 weeks trying to right the magical balance, a little each day, hoping it would be set to equilibrium by the time the term started. The Hall was empty again, save for the compass and the wall decorations. Albus' body was in the depth of the crypts now, along with his predecessors.

A sound at the door disturbed his reverie. Flurry was waiting for him, a young man beside her. She bowed and announced "Master Charlie Weasley." before disappearing with a pop.

"What are you going to pester me with now?"

"I've been talking to Lupin."

"Lucky you." Snape forgot that Charlie handled far more dangerous dragons for a living than himself, and was surprised by the glare he was being fixed with.

"We need to re-call the order, and start to organise things properly. There's too much that isn't being done. We need to send more envoys out, including to the magical beasts." Snape nodded, and Charlie continued. "I'm happy to go out to the werewolves, centaurs, and others, but we need someone to go to the other sentient beasts. Moreover, it needs to be done soon. It's like a slow poison."

"So you want to go gallivanting off, and leave me with an empty staff position this year?"

"I spoke to Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Tumnus, and they said they'd be happy to cover. Not to go behind your back, but I thought I'd better cover myself."

"I see. Very Well. Professor McGonagall will be returning for the sorting, and the first week of term, and then will be away until the end of September. I suggest we reconvene the full order on Sunday, 7th September, at noon, before she leaves us. Lunch and Dinner will be provided, and we shall gather here."

Charlie nodded and bowed. "Very Well."

"I shall announce the meeting in the usual way." Fawkes appeared with a pop, and the headmaster explained what was to happen, and provided the phoenix with a small sheaf of papers with the date of the gathering. The bird bowed, and disappeared again.

Harry was with Rowan Blackberry when their respective invitations arrived. She looked surprised at first and relaxed only when she saw Harry had one. They’d been talking about school in general, and the present teaching staff. Rowan seemed unsurprised that there was a faun there – there was usually a Narnian born up at the castle. Hagrid himself had been born in Harfang, the giant colony to the north of the forest, where Fridwulfa had kept his father safe, until she left for other realms.

"A full order meeting then. Very rare. Almost as rare as a centaur teaching at Hogwarts, in fact. You know that it’s the first time that’s happened in over four centuries, don’t you. Now, would you like some iced Pimms?" She refilled his glass and they returned to their comfortable places in the garden. "Now, you have something you wish to talk about."

"It's my legacy."

"The box and the scrolls."

"You have them?"

"Yes." Harry picked up the first scroll, and began to read.

The children of the light will walk in darkness. Where once they walked in hope they will tread the shadow of the black phoenix, whence the sun will be ripped from the sky.

The Nation of Death shall be consumed in their mortality, and the harvest will be of blood. Innocents will be slaughtered, and no mortal shall be untouched. Every warrior's boot will be used in battle, and every garment rolled in blood. The earth will be scorched and left for dead, and in the black night of the soul shall come no remorse, simply grief.

Into this a child shall be born, his mother's life will be given, and the hope will be on his shoulders. He will be called the everlasting one, the child of peace. On his shoulders will rest the phoenix, and from his sword will come the cleansing fire.

The youngest of his line, he will be by no means the last of that line. He shall come of age in Darkness, yet shall be joined by a companion of honour and of hope.

The companion shall be of the shadows, and yet will be known to the light. He will bear a mark of Cain, and be reviled by men. However, those who know his heart will know him to be a man of honour, and of wisdom. Endowed with great strength he will repay his debts, and show loyalty and strength beyond measure.

When these men shall come again, then hope will reign in the land. In the days of the final battle, all will know the strength of their hand and light will cover the earth. The Darkness will be banished, but the shadows will remain.

The remnants will be cut off head and tail, but the roots will remain. They will seek to guide and mislead them; the people will be lead astray. There will be no pleasure in the youth of men, grown old before their time, but there will be a greater rejoicing.

The Prince of darkness will feed on the death of others. On his right, will they devour and still be hungry. On the left, they will eat and not be satisfied. They will turn on the flesh of each other, and still be ravenous.

The youth and the master will be joined in battle, by the sons and daughters of eve. The Ancient magic will be awakened, and shall rule again.

A second scroll was attached, one that was in Trelawney’s familiar hand.

The sought after immortality is in the hands of the last potter. Between the Master and his goal shall stand a woman, Muggle-born, and yet her death shall spell an ending to his quest. The death of the last potter is all that stands between the thief and his quest.

Below this was written two dates. 1^st August, 1970, and 31^st October, 1981.