There'll Be Bluebirds

'Hiya, Teddy!' Victoire called across the Burrow's back garden.

Teddy glanced up from his intense perusal of Molly's herb garden, where he'd fled to escape the crowded sitting room. 'Oh, hi, Vic...'

Victoire clambered over the fence surrounding the back garden. 'Got your things for school yet?'

Teddy shook his head. 'No. Gran was supposed to take me this week, but I'm staying with Harry and Ginny. Al and Lily just got over dragon pox, so getting my books and other things have sort of been pushed to the end of the list.'

'Dad's going to take me to Diagon Alley tomorrow,' Victoire told him. 'Maybe we can come pick you up, too.'

'We'll have to ask Harry and Ginny,' Teddy said listlessly.

Victoire plopped into the grass next to Teddy. 'Don't you feel well?' She immediately attempted to press the palm of her hand to Teddy's forehead.

'Gerroff, Victoire!' Teddy huffed. 'I'm not running a bloody fever!'

'How do you know?' she asked primly.

'I'm fine...' Teddy sighed. He glanced at the girl sprawled on the ground next to him. Her hair had been woven into what he supposed had been neat plaits that morning, but they were coming unraveled. Her nose bore a smudge of dirt over the bridge, and her feet were bare. 'Your mum is going to go spare when she sees you,' he said ruefully. 'Looks like you crawled through the hedgerow.'

'I did.'

Teddy dug into his pocket for the handkerchief Andromeda insisted he carry. 'Spit,' he ordered Victoire. She obliged and he rubbed the damp cotton over her nose until the dirt disappeared. 'Where are your shoes?'

'Dunno. I think I left them by the paddock wall.'

Teddy got to his feet, and held out a hand. 'Come on. Let's go find them before Auntie Fleur finds you like this and starts screeching in French.' He critically fingered one of her plaits. 'Not much we can do about your hair...'

'Why do you care?' Victoire snorted, following Teddy down the garden.

Teddy flushed slightly, his hair going pink at the ends. 'I don't,' he said carelessly. 'Just don't want to listen to anyone's mum going on and on in a state.'

Victoire trotted next to Teddy, slightly breathless. She was still quite short, much to her mother's consternation, and had to take three steps for every one of Teddy's. 'Are you going to ignore me this year?'

Teddy hoisted himself over the stone wall and gave her a look of disgust. 'I don't know. Are you going to tag along behind me, wherever I go?'

'I'm in the same House as you,' Victoire pointed out helpfully. 'It's not like I have a choice about where I eat meals or do my homework when I don't want to use the library and I hate studying in my bed. Keep getting ink on the sheets...'

'Well, it would help if you didn't fall asleep with a quill in your hand so often,' Teddy retorted. 'Why you're not in Ravenclaw, I'll never know... You're certainly bright enough.'

'Blimey,' Victoire said mildly. 'Thanks ever so.'

'I didn't mean it like that.'

'If you say so.' Victoire bent to retrieve her sandals. She slipped them on her feet and soberly studied the boy standing next to her. It was as if the light that normally surrounded him had dimmed considerably. 'What's eating at you?'

Teddy's shoulders jerked irritably. 'Nothing.'

*****

Remus grunted, jerking his head away from the bright silver light flooding the small flat. He'd just managed to fall asleep after covering Arthur's shift at the Ministry. Dumbledore had sent his Patronus earlier, telling Remus he was needed urgently to take up a shift in the Department of Mysteries. His eyes cracked open and a blurry fox scampered around the room. 'Arthur's been hurt,' it said in Sirius' hoarse whisper. 'Molly and the kids are staying here. Come quickly.' It faded into sparkling nothingness, leaving Remus to stare where it had been, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He yawned and stretched, making his joints pop and crackle alarmingly in the stillness. He shivered, stripping off his threadbare pajamas, leaving them puddled on the floor, and pulled on a shirt, jumper, and trousers. Remus shoved his feet into a pair of shoes, then wrapped his traveling cloak around him, critically fingering a small tear by the collar. He'd have to repair it later before it became a gaping hole. He Disapparated, reappearing in the snowy back garden of number twelve Grimmauld Place. He opened the hidden door that would lead to a secret passage to the kitchen some members of the Order preferred to use, rather than traipsing in and out the front door and risk disturbing Mrs. Black.

Sirius was huddled at the long kitchen table, poking at a stack of cold toast. 'What's happened?' Remus asked quietly.

Sirius looked through the hair that fell over his face, and took a sip of his cold tea. 'Voldemort's snake attacked Arthur,' he replied. 'Harry says he saw it while he was sleeping.' He held up a hand to forestall the questions he could see flying to Remus' lips. 'Harry also said he wasn't dreaming, and it wasn't like a vision. He said it was like he was the snake,' he finished heavily. 'He could tell me every detail.'

Remus said nothing, digesting this new information. He dropped into a chair next to Sirius and rubbed a hand over his forehead. 'You don't think...?' he began uncertainly. 'Nah...'

'What?'

Remus pressed his lips together, clearly unwilling to complete his thought, but he said, 'That if Harry can see what he's doing, would it work the other way around? Can Voldemort see what Harry's doing?'

Sirius shrugged. 'I don't know. Probably not, I would think. Because then he'd have a lot more information about the Order, and where we are. If Dumbledore thought we were in danger, they'd not be here.'

Remus nodded reluctantly. 'I suppose.'

Sirius suddenly swept the hair from his eyes. 'You don't think he's being possessed, do you?'

It was Remus' turn to shrug. 'I don't think so.'

'What do you mean, "I don't think so,"?' Sirius snorted. 'Aren't you the expert here?'

Remus gazed at Sirius levelly. 'All right. If he was possessed, he wouldn't remember anything that's been done or said. And you said he could tell you everything in detail.' He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the unnaturally still house. 'I thought you said Molly and the children were here.'

'They are. They've gone to visit Arthur at the hospital.' A sly look came over Sirius' features. 'Tonks went with them.'

Remus reached for a piece of toast and began to nibble it. 'Hmmm.'

'They ought to be back in a bit,' Sirius said in a slightly wheedling tone.

Remus propped his elbows on the crumb-strewn table. 'And your point?'

'Just that she might want to stay for dinner.'

Remus slowly put his toast down. 'Padfoot...' he began warningly. 'No.'

'What? I'm not doing anything...' Sirius replied.

'We've discussed this before. I've got no business getting involved with anyone, much less... her...'

Sirius shrugged. 'Fine.' He stopped talking and watched Remus eat the toast before he spoke again. 'I've asked them to stay here while Arthur recovers.'

'That's nice of you.'

'Not really.' The skin stretched over Sirius' cheekbones colored slightly. 'I was thinking, while we were sitting up, waiting for Molly to come back with news, that if Arthur was well enough to go home in a day or two, then Harry would go to the Burrow for Christmas, like they'd planned.' He hung his head in a gesture Remus had rarely seen on his friend. 'I hoped... I hoped it would be bad enough for Arthur to have to stay in for several days. Because then I could invite them to stay here... Easier to get the lot of them to St. Mungo's, obviously...' Sirius trailed off, staring at the toes of his slippers. 'And I could have Christmas with Harry,' he choked, waiting for Remus' comments.

Remus calmly sipped his tea. 'It wouldn't be the first time someone's called you a selfish git,' he told Sirius.

A hard, blazing light came over Sirius' face, fading as quickly as it bloomed. 'We could have Christmas with Harry,' he repeated. 'Just like we did when he was a baby with James and Lily,' he said pleadingly. 'Just like we should have done since...'

'I know...'

*****

19 December 1995

Arthur appears to be recovering nicely, but the snake is most likely enhanced in some way by Dark magic. Its venom is preventing the wound from healing, but Molly says the Healers are working on it. Generally wounds caused by Dark magic are notoriously difficult to heal and I suspect Arthur will have a rather nasty scar when all is said and done.

Molly and the children will be staying with Sirius until Arthur's released from the hospital, at the very least. I'll have a word with Molly about staying until they have to go back to school. It will be much easier to transport them all to the train if we can just take the Underground to King's Cross, rather than try to travel to London from the Burrow. I'll have to play on her need to overprotect the children. I don't like to do that, but I can't help but think about Sirius all but praying that someone he considers a friend turns out to be sicker, just so Harry can spend the holiday with him.

Speaking of Harry, something's terribly wrong with him. Obviously, he's been through a terrible shock, witnessing Arthur's attack. It would put a strain on the most well-adjusted of adults. It's not mere teenage moodiness. He went straight up to his room when they returned from the hospital and didn't come down for dinner. Ron said he was sleeping, but I rather think Harry might have been feigning sleep. He never came down for the plate Molly left for him. Not even by the time I left at midnight.

*****

Remus watched the flames from the fire send sparks of deep red through the glass of wine in his hand. Harry and Ron were stretched out on the floor, playing chess. Remus smiled slightly. It seemed that Minerva's boasts about Ron beating her chess set his first year hadn't been exaggerated after all. Ron was very good. What made Ron's playing so impressive tonight was that he was doing it blindfolded. Ginny was silently indicating to Harry which pieces he could move. To Harry's credit, he took Ginny's suggestions into consideration, and even used many of them. Remus nodded approvingly. Harry wasn't one to not admit when he was over his head. 'Checkmate,' Ron stated, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. He pulled the scarf off his eyes and examined the board. 'You're getting better,' he told Harry. 'Used to only take about ten moves to checkmate you.'

Harry snorted derisively. 'Right. And you're playing me blindfolded. Rather tips the odds a bit, doesn't it?' He began packing his chess pieces in their box. A chunk of wood broke off a log and fell into the coals, making the fire flare briefly, highlighting a set of scars on the back of Harry's right hand. Remus frowned slightly. He didn't remember seeing it on Harry's had during the summer. He nudged Sirius and used the hand holding the wineglass to point to Harry, giving Sirius a questioning look. Sirius shrugged in response, but Remus recognized the hardening of his expression. It was the one he'd worn in the days after he'd appeared on the Potters' doorstep. No matter how much he or James had prodded or cajoled, Sirius remained silent about the events that had driven him from his parents' house.

Ron clambered to his feet and began to laugh softly. Hermione was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, sound asleep. Still fizzing with humor, Ron ambled to her, and began to poke her in the arm until she awoke with a jerk that nearly sent her tumbling to the floor. 'Come on, Hermione,' Ron chuckled. 'You'll sleep better in bed...' He hauled her to her feet and still laughing, herded her to the door and up the stairs.

'Honestly, Ronald,' Hermione's cross voice floated back into the sitting room. 'I was fine where I was.'

'Right. And you'll be complaining when you've got a crick in your neck tomorrow...' Ron huffed. Their voices faded as they turned on the second landing. Harry picked up the box with Ron's chess pieces and tucked it under his arm. He held out a hand to Ginny, and helped her to her feet.

As they began to walk out of the sitting room, Remus spoke. 'Harry, could you come here, please?'

Harry froze and turned around. 'What?'

'Could I see your hand?'

Harry stuffed his right hand into his pocket. 'Why?'

'I'd like to see your hand, please,' Remus persisted evenly.

Harry stood stubbornly still, his hand firmly embedded in his pocket. 'It's fine.' He turned back to Ginny and started to leave once more.

Remus took a deep breath. 'Harry. James. Potter. Let me look at your hand. Now.'

The hard-edged command took Harry by surprise. Ginny gave him a concerned look and showed signs of staying, but continued up the stairs. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from his pocket and trudged toward the sofa where Remus and Sirius sat, dragging his feet sullenly over the rug. He held out his left hand to Remus, making Sirius snort. 'Your other hand, Harry,' Sirius murmured. 'Neither of us are blind.'

Sighing, Harry switched his hands, the sleeve of his jumper pulled over the right hand. Remus gently pushed the sleeve back and his fingers convulsed around Harry's smaller hand. Remus was no stranger to scars, but he'd only heard about scars such as this one. 'What happened?'

Harry tried to tug his hand from Remus' grasp, but Remus was surprisingly strong, in spite of his appearance. 'Nothing.'

Sirius traced the words arcing over the back of Harry's hand. 'I must not tell lies...?' he muttered. 'Is that what this says?' Harry's eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back and nodded, his jaw clenching from the effort. 'How did you get this?' he said roughly.

Harry's lips pressed together, and he glared at a spot over Sirius and Remus' heads. 'Detention,' he said shortly. 'With Umbridge.'

Sirius' hand closed around Harry's wrist, and he urged him to sit on the sofa between him and Remus. 'Was it a black quill? Rather long and thin with a sharp point?'

Harry nodded. 'She told me I didn't need ink,' he said miserably.

'And as you wrote, those cuts appeared on the back of your hand and you were writing in your own blood,' Sirius stated. It wasn't a question. Harry sat still for a long moment, and nodded once.

'Can I go now?' he asked, his eyes downcast.

'Yeah, go on,' Remus told him quietly, with a sympathetic pat. Harry didn't need any further prompting and he fled toward the door, clattering up the stairs.

'How can Dumbledore allow it?' Sirius said through clenched teeth.

'I don't know. But Umbridge does report directly to Fudge, and Fudge, as we both know, is weak and easily persuaded. The school governors can persuade him that removing Dumbledore is in the school's best interests and he won't stop them.' Remus felt his shoulders slump wearily.

'But it's abuse!' Sirius nearly shouted, lunging to his feet.

'Padfoot, calm down!' Remus ordered. 'Neither of us can do anything! You're officially on the run from the Ministry and I'm persona non grata around the Ministry as it is!' He grabbed Sirius' arm, swinging the other man around. 'We just have to bide our time, Padfoot, all right?' He shook Siruis slightly. 'And let's have a nice Christmas tomorrow. For Harry's sake.'

Sirius exhaled slowly, his head bent in defeat, hair hanging in his face. He nodded slowly.

*****

24 December 1995

This is the first time in years I've actually felt like celebrating Christmas. I think Harry ought to like the books Sirius and I chose for him. I scoured Flourish and Blotts until I found a set of Defensive magic books that not only contained material likely to be found on the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, but presented the information in such a way that it doesn't require one to be as clever as Hermione to understand. That's not a judgment against Harry, mind. It's just that Hermione is cleverer than most witches and wizards two or three times her age. Prongs had something similar when he was in school. Perhaps I ought to have inscribed the books but not with Umbridge at school. Maybe after she leaves - and if history is correct, she won't last the year - I can inscribe them for Harry.

Harry's account of his detention troubles me. I know I'm not Harry's parent or guardian, but I will have a word with Dumbledore about allowing that sort of thing occur at the school. I'm positive he knows - nothing slips by him - but he's still the Headmaster and to hell with the High Inquisitor.

Not to speak ill of Dumbledore, because we would be so much worse off than we are now, but there's a part of me that suspects he lets things like blood quills slide as proof of Fudge's character - to illustrate the kind of person he'll hire and allow to teach students. That way, Dumbledore can say, 'This is what happens when the Ministry tries to take over the school.'

For the greater good. God, how that makes me want to be violently ill - to ignore all manner of abuse in the name of trying to prove something.

Sirius asked me to go back to the house tomorrow, after everyone's in bed. So, and I quote, 'we can have a small family celebration.' He seemed a bit too gleeful when he asked. I have an inkling what he's got up his sleeve, but I'd rather not think about it just now.

*****

'Do you have your booklist?' Harry asked, while Teddy ate breakfast.

'It's in my pocket.' Teddy reached over and pried Al's hand away from the back of his neck. 'Don't scratch,' he sighed.

'Wasn't scratching,' Al protested.

'Uh-huh.' Teddy craned his head to glance at the back of Al's neck. Red streaks ran from the top of his collarbone to the edge of his hair. Blood oozed from a loosened scab, vividly red against the dark green spot.

Harry sipped his tea, while he dabbed at the back of Al's neck with a tea towel with his other hand. 'I'm really sorry I can't take you to get your things this year, Teddy,' he said quietly.

Teddy shrugged. 'It's all right.'

'Don't forget to thank Bill for taking you with him and Victoire,' Harry reminded him, glancing out of one of the kitchen windows. 'And take your jacket. Looks like it's going to rain later.'

Teddy nodded, furtively looking around the table. If there was food in front of him, James was oblivious to anything else around him. He figured Al and Lily were too young to understand. Or at least he hoped they were too young. 'Do you ever miss your parents?'

Harry's eyebrow quirked upward. 'All the time,' he said smoothly.