Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Fifteen: Ghosts of Tomorrow

Midnight had long since been one of those hours when things simply happened. Be those things good or bad, dark or light, events transpired at the time known to superstitious Muggles as the Witching Hour. To Wizarding folk, midnight was often an important for magical reasons, but oftentimes matters were far simpler than that. Still, things happened at midnight, and August 8^th was no exception.

The crash startled James and Lily awake, and both immediately reached for their respective wands, which rested on opposite bedside tables. However, unlike the past, when James would have leapt out of bed to investigate, Lily jumped up, threw on a robe, and dashed out the door. It took James a moment longer and a good bit more magic to accomplish the same thing, but after a minute he was also clad in a robe, wearing his glasses and upright in his enhanced wheelchair. He rolled out of their bedroom as fast as he could manage.

James met Harry in the hallway, and his son looked as disheveled as his father felt. His black hair was standing straight up, his glasses were askew, and his feet were bare--but Harry held his wand in his hand, and his green eyes were attentively clear. "What's going on, Dad?"

"I don't know." James frowned, but instinct led him down the hall towards Sirius' room. Harry followed, and as they came around the corner, James found Lily standing in his best friend's doorway.

"--just knocked candelabra over, Lily," Sirius was saying casually. "Nothing important. I'm sorry to have startled you."

James' eyes instinctively traveled from his friend's back to the shattered antique candle fixture. Its pieces were scattered all over the carpet to the right of Sirius' bed and had made a considerable mess that his friend hadn't seemed to have noticed. The fixture must have hit the floor with considerable force because it had broken rather permanently. Even the candles had rattled free of their holders, and several of them had broken as well, splattering old wax all over the floor. But while he stared at the destroyed candelabra, something in James' mind clicked. A simple Reparo Charm would have fixed the candelabra in seconds, yet Sirius' wand still lay on his bedside table, and no spell had been cast. James could have put that oversight down to sheer grogginess, however, if it had not been for the way Sirius was staring out the window with his back to the door.

Lily, too, seemed to sense that something was wrong. "Don't worry about it," she replied, then hesitated. "Would you like me to fix the candelabra?"

"Nah, don't bother. I never liked it, anyway," Sirius replied lightly, but his relaxed tone of voice set off alarms in James' head.

He rolled his wheelchair forwards quietly, mentally cursing his slow method of transportation for the millionth time. When he wasn't looking, the left wheel managed to bump into the door, and James had to force a snarl back. But there were more important things to worry about than his infernal wheelchair, so James spoke up, careful to keep his voice nonchalant.

"Something interesting outside, Padfoot?" he asked.

"The stars are bright tonight," Sirius replied after a moment, but the smile he would normally have smiled was absent from his voice. James hesitated, blinking, then decided to pretend as if it had been there anyway.

"You're sounding like a centaur, mate."

Sirius snorted. "Wish I felt like one."

"Why's that?"

"No reason." His friend shrugged, still leaning against the wall. "Just a thought."

Something in his voice frightened James, something he'd thought was gone. Suddenly, he was reminded of what Remus had told him six months ago, shortly after Sirius had miraculously escaped from Azkaban and made his way to Hogwarts, battered and bleeding--and hurt. Remus had called him haunted, had said that his eyes held horrors that none of his friends could ever begin to understand. Yet they had stopped watching Sirius so carefully because he'd seemed so normal. Older, yes, and with far too many ghosts in his past, but he had still been Sirius. Those ghosts had not seemed to stalk his waking steps--until now. His blue eyes were shadowed, his face was tight, and James heard old memories weighing his voice down.

"You didn't tell me that you still had nightmares, Sirius," he said as the missing pieces fell into place.

A long heartbeat passed before his friend replied, "It never came up."

"Why not?" James asked quietly. To his right, Lily slid back, leaving the room and closing the door. She understood, James knew, just like she always did.

"Not important, really." Sirius shrugged, but James' eyes narrowed as he wheeled himself forward a few extra feet.

"I think it is."

Finally, his friend turned to look at him. The bones in his pale face seemed very sharp in the shadows; the moon was small that night, and the starts were not bright enough to light the room beyond a twinkle in the darkness. Yet the needed no more light. Not like this.

"You think wrong, James," Sirius said, his blue eyes cold. "This isn't anything new, anything that I haven't dealt with before."

"I never said it was." But the finality in Sirius' voice threw him off balance. "Remus told me that he thought your nightmares had stopped."

His friend laughed bitterly. "I just got better at hiding them."

"Why?" Something sharp twisted and stabbed into James' heart, and he knew that the pain showed on his face. He didn't want to feel betrayed, but he did--they were best friends, brothers, and they trusted each other in everything. Four boys had once made a pact: No Secrets. No secrets, no walls. No breeches of trust.

"Because it's not something you can fix, James," Sirius replied, the bitterness fading abruptly as his shoulders slumped. "Ten years changed me, and Voldemort left a stain on my soul that I don't think even friends can erase."

"We can try."

"Yes, you can," Sirius admitted. "Maybe I'm just too cowardly to take advantage of that, or maybe I've changed. It isn't that I don't trust you, or Remus, or Peter--it's more that I don't trust myself. I can't deny that I have nightmares, or that those ten years still bother me...but it usually isn't this bad." A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "Really."

The honesty in his voice made James swallow, and he immediately felt guilty for feeling betrayed. Oath or no oath, boyish promises had to be tempered by time--and Sirius hadn't lied to them. Even now, he never had. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I know why you had to ask." Sirius' face still was dark, but the understanding in his eyes was real. He seemed more relaxed now than when James had come in, and the slight smile on his face did not fade. "And I really don't have nightmares as often as I used to."

"Then why tonight?" He didn't want to pry, but James had to. Behind the slight smile, he saw pain, and he needed to understand its cause. He needed to help.

Yet the answer was simpler than he had expected. "The prophecy."

James blinked. "The prophecy? Why?"

"Because it made me think." Sirius' gaze grew distant; it seemed as if he could see right through James. "It made me remember."

Two days had passed since Julia told the Marauders about the prophecy she had found in the ruins of the Ministry of Magic, surprising the four of them on some levels more than others. They had all come to realize that Sirius had a role to play in Voldemort's downfall, and an unspoken agreement between James, Remus, and Peter had decided the inevitable--they would not let him stand alone. But what they had not expected was for a twenty-five century old prophecy to intervene. He was not meant to stand alone--not while they lived.

"I see it in your eyes," Sirius continued abruptly. "You're thinking what I am, that the prophecy changes everything...and that the three of you wont' let me face the end alone."

"We wouldn't have anyway," James responded evenly. "Prophecy or no prophecy."

"I thank you for that," Sirius said quietly, too quietly. Unexpectedly, his face tightened into a mask. "But you might have to."

"What?"

"Don't you see it? Every other prophecy speaks of one alone at the end. There's no one else--just one." His eyes hardened into crystal ice. "That means the three of you won't be there at the end, but I'll be dammed if I'm letting my friends die."

Sirius met James' eyes, and all traces of the bitter ghosts that haunted him were gone. His voice was grim, yet held something else...something greater.

"So when that end comes, James, I will face it alone." His strongly boned face was almost serene. "And when I finish this, I will finish it alone."

--------------

"Try it again."

She took a deep breath and leveled her wand out. "Imperio!"

Immediately, her victim's body jerked out of his slump in the comfortable armchair, his back rigidly straight. He gave every impression of great attentiveness, but his green eyes were slightly glazed over, just slightly--only enough to see if look knew to look. To the unenlightened, he would have seemed perfectly normal.

"Did it work?" the other asked curiously.

"I'm not sure," she replied, pointing her wand again at the man in the chair. "Let's find out. Mess up your hair."

A traitorous giggle escaped Lily as one finely-boned hand reached up to jumble the immaculate gray hair. Her companions hooted in laughter, watching the always suave and well-groomed Nicholas Flamel destroy his always perfect hair; although they loved him dearly, Flamel was a bit of a dandy. Perhaps the attitude was simply a product of the era in which he had been born, and they did not hold it against him--but it was funny to watch him tangle his own hair. After the laughter had died down, she turned to Molly Weasley.

"Okay. Your turn."

Molly took a deep breath and pointed her wand at Flamel. "Imperexpis!"

A moment ticked by while Lily tried not to hold her breath. If this doesn't work...Months, almost years, of research had led to this moment, and if they had made even one small mistake, everything could go horribly wrong. Finally, Molly nodded. "It works. I can see the spell--it's almost as if he's glowing."

"I can't see anything," Jack Pieters said, making Lily sigh.

"No. Unfortunately, it's what we thought," she replied. "Only the caster can see the results. Still, it's something, and a lot better than trying to use Reperimperium."

"Oh, it's a lot of something!" Jack said quickly. "It's definitely much more than we've ever managed before."

Lily waved off his apology. "Yeah, but more would be nice." Then she shrugged and smiled. "Regardless, we have done it. Go ahead, Jack."

Pieters lifted his wand, nodding. "Econtra Imperi."

The effect was immediate. Instead of jerking in his chair, Flamel slumped down as dead, losing his attentive posture instantly. After a long moment, he shook his head and blinked like a man who had just woken up from a deep sleep. But his confusion quickly turned into a satisfied smile. He chuckled.

"What did I miss?"

Unable to help themselves, Lily and Molly began to giggle. Lily hated to do so, because it made them sound like little schoolgirls, but her laughter only came harder when Pieters, Jason Montague, Auriga Sinistra, and Perenelle Flamel joined in. Even their newest member, Ted Tonks, started chuckling after a moment, making Flamel's amusement quickly become befuddlement.

"What?" he repeated.

Snickering, Lily managed to reply, "Find a mirror, Nicholas."

"Oh," he said slowly, his mouth falling open like a donut. Then shocked outraged colored his face. "You did not."

"Oh, they certainly did," Sinistra replied gleefully. "But it's not that bad. Really."

"You are a horrible liar, Auriga," Flamel said archly, but Lily saw the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, stop being such a sourpuss!" She snorted. "It certainly is that bad, but it's not like you can't replace that toupee in half a second."

The others started hooting in laughter again as Flamel tried to object--but he was having a hard time containing his own mirth long enough to form a coherent argument. "I'll have you know that this is my original hair," he said with an old-fashioned sniff. "Genuine Nicholas Flamel, Vintage 1326." His face became an exaggerated attempt at self control. "Current Era, of course. I'm not that old."

Paroxysms of laughter shook the room so hard that Lily was almost afraid that some of the old books would come tumbling off of the shelves. But at least she didn't have to worry about being heard--the Unicorn Group's headquarters was located in the Middle of a Muggle neighborhood, and their teenaged neighbors were far louder than any group of grown witches and wizards could ever hope to be. In fact, Lily had been forced to cast Silencing Charms before this meeting to keep the Muggle rap music out. She snorted at the thought. She was a Muggleborn witch, herself, but there were some things that she would never understand. Lily shuddered. Especially stupid teenaged Muggles and what they call "music."

No one was going to hear them, and if they did, who would care? Even a group that included Nicholas Flamel's odd but lively sense of humor sounded completely harmless--Lily had talked to a few of her 'neighbors' and found out that the Muggles thought her friends came over to play poker. Of course, telling Nicholas that made the famous alchemist insist that they actually play the game... Right up until Molly Weasley had very adroitly won a hundred galleons off of the risk-taking old Flamel during their very first game. That had quieted most of Nicholas' demands to play poker, but one never knew when he would bring the subject up again. He was as unpredictable as he was brilliant, and that said a great deal.

Nicholas Flamel had been a surprise addition to the Unicorn Group just a month before. Shortly after Dumbledore's funeral (which still hurt to think about, no matter how much time had passed), he had approached Lily with far more knowledge than she was comfortable with an outsider having. Much to her surprise, Flamel told her that Dumbledore had mentioned nothing more than the fact that he was going to leave Lily the Philosopher's Stone--but Nicholas had guessed the rest. He said that he knew her reputation, and was eager to see what she might accomplish with his creation. And he wanted to help--with everything. Lily had been shocked to hear it, but Dumbledore's death had opened Flamel's eyes. Five minutes of conversation had ended his self-imposed exile, and had gained the Unicorn Group two new members.

Nicholas' wife, Perenelle, laughed at him as he crossed the room to stand in front of a large mirror, frantically righting his hair. "You certainly look that old, my dear."

"I do not!" he objected outrageously.

"And it is a toupee." Perenelle grinned conspiratorially at the others. "He's been balder than a brass statue since 1477."

They all laughed again, but as always with the Unicorn Group, there still was work to be done. Lily cleared her throat. "Well, then. What's next?"

Sinistra, who had been with Lily from the very beginning of the Unicorn Group, answered immediately. "We've almost completed our original list of projects. All that's really left is Operation Clean Air."

An uneasy silence reigned until Ted finally echoed, "Clean Air?"

"Killing Dementors," Jack clarified grimly. "It's the one thing we have never been able to figure out."

"Can they be killed?" Ted asked curiously.

"Good question." Molly groaned. "We haven't figured that out yet, either."

"Oh."

"But there has to be a way," Lily said quietly. "Anything that can be created can be destroyed."

"Can magic even create Dementors?" Montague asked. He, too, was one of the older members of the Unicorn Group, having joined to replace Minerva McGonagall after her death in January of 1987. Jason, however, did not have the confidence or talent of Lily's old Transfiguration professor. In fact, it had been a long while since they'd had a genuine transfiguration expert in the Group, which was one of the main reasons for the sudden inclusion of Ted Tonks. Lily only vaguely remembered Ted from their Hogwarts days, but he had a brilliant reputation in the filed. Even though the Tonks' had steadfastly stayed neutral in the war, Ted had continued to publish research articles. Those articles had been what drew Lily's attention to him, and so far the risk she had taken by bringing such a new Order member into the Unicorn Group had been justified. This was the first meeting Ted had attended (he'd only joined the Order of the Phoenix two days before), but Lily was sure that his differing viewpoint would prove useful--and Ted did not disappoint.

"I would think that destroying Dementors has to focus on balancing out their evil. By using its opposite," he mused, biting his lip in concentration. "Much like transfiguring a living being into an inanimate object, but more permanent. We could use the Opposite Principle to generate properties that Dementors don't have. Like goodness."

Perenelle Flamel caught on immediately, nodding. "Warmth. Purity. Trust."

"Exactly!" Ted grinned momentarily, then returned to biting his lip. "Maybe the reason why no one has been able to kill them is because Dementors aren't alive. So maybe we don't need to destroy them at all."

"We just need to change them," Lily breathed. "Transfigure them."

"But how?" Molly asked thoughtfully. "Magic doesn't work on Dementors."

"Yes it does," Montague responded. "The Patronus Charm works."

"But that's it," Sinistra pointed out. "Nothing else works."

"No, Jason is right," Lily said. "If one charm works, something else will. We just have to figure out what." She shrugged. "We've been studying this for years, but we've never based our work in transfiguration. It's as good a starting point as any, though, so let's try it."

"Dad, look!" Harry suddenly shouted, startling James so badly that he almost dropped his tea. Still, while his legs might have failed him, his reflexes had not, and years of Auror training and combat made his left hand shoot out to steady the wayward cup as his twelve-year-old burst into the parlor. "I got a letter from Lee! And a present!"

Laughing, James put the tea down on a nearby table before he could drop it again. "Well, are you going to open the letter, or just admire it?"

His son blushed bright red, but immediately tore the envelope open. Harry's green eyes speed over the page, but James was surprised to see his smile collapse right away. After a moment, Harry looked up.

"He can't come back to Hogwarts," he said emptily. "His Mum didn't even want to let him owl us, so Lee snuck out to do it."

"I'm sorry, Harry," James said, wishing that the words didn't sound so trite. "I wish there was something I could do."

"Couldn't you talk to her?" Harry asked hopefully. "Make her see that hiding won't help? I mean, if Voldemort wanted to kill them, there wouldn't be anywhere safe, magic or Muggle, and--"

"Your mum already tried," James cut his son off gently. "It didn't help. Mrs. Jordan is determined to get away from our world. Permanently."

Harry's face fell again. "It's not fair."

"No, it isn't," he agreed. "None of this is. But at least he'll be safe, Harry, and hopefully Lee won't have to miss more than a year of school."

"Do you think that the war will be over by then?"

"I don't know." James sighed quietly. "I hope so, and we'll certainly try." And maybe I'm just an optimist, but you don't tell your son that this war might consume his life, too.

"Can I do anything?" Harry asked unexpectedly. "I mean, if he still thinks it might be me, I could help."

James tried to smile past the heavy lump in his throat. On one hand, he was so grateful that Harry didn't have to bear that awful fate, but on the other...Sirius didn't deserve it, either. "I think that Voldemort is well and truly convinced that it isn't you, Harry." Sirius' words from early that morning came immediately to mind, and James swallowed. "He knows who his enemy is, now."

"Oh."

Silence reigned for a long moment, then James spoke up, hoping to change the subject before things got any darker. "So, what did Lee give you, anyway?"

"Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls," Harry replied, brightening a little.

"Oh, no," his father groaned, remembering the trouble he'd caused using nothing more than a good set of Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls in his youth. "There's a reason why your mum and I never let you have those, you realize."

"Yup." Harry grinned smugly. "I know."

The happy look on his son's face made it hard for James to check his temptation to sigh in relief. That, however, was an effort he was more than willing to make--and it reminded him of how thankful he was for Harry's youth. Despite the fact that his son sometimes acted older than his twelve years, at heart Harry was a child. He still had the innocence that his father had lost years before, and James had made it his self-appointed task to ensure that no one robbed Harry of that innocence. He would grow out of it in his own time, war or not...and James was glad that he could still smile and laugh, could still be distracted by something happier than the darkness that faced them all.

James' feelings of relief, however, did not mean he was untouched by Lee's plight. It was wrong, and Miranda Jordan should have known better, even though she was a Muggle. She'd been married to Ernie for over seventeen years, and though Lee was their only child, Miranda had become fully integrated into the magical world. Yet even the wife of an Auror could respond to his death with paranoia...and she was not alone in her fears. Miranda Jordan was only one amongst many who felt that the war could not be won, and that the only safe thing to do was hide. James let out a quiet sigh as he watched Harry experiment with his new set of Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls. Hiding from Voldemort wouldn't help anyone, and most of the hiders should have realized that...but they were afraid.

In truth, he was too, but his job wasn't to show fear. It was to fight it.

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August 8, 1992

POTTER WINS BY A LANDSLIDE

by Eric Dummingston, Special Correspondent

RESULTS IN!

James Potter: 87%

Lucius Malfoy: 8%

Cornelius Fudge: 5%

Early this morning and into late afternoon, ballots were cast for

Wizarding Britain's new Minister of Magic. Although in past years the

candidates all gathered at the Ministry of Magic during the voting

process, security concerns did not allow the traditional face-off to take

place. Votes were gathered by owl and counted by Ministry of Magic

employees, but higher than usual security was evidenced by the

presence of countless Aurors, including several dozen from the Aurors'

mysterious training facility that some claim is called "Avalon."

After the count was verified, the new Minister of Magic was escorted to

the speaker's platform by his long time friend, the famous Auror Sirius

Black. Potter, however, seemed unconcerned for his own safety, despite

the fact that his landslide victory is sure to anger He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named.

Political analysts credit Potter's amazing victory to a split between the

supporters of Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge, many of whom likely

abstained from voting because they could not decide between the

longtime supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the career

politician who seeks to end the war at any cost. In contrast to both

Fudge and Malfoy, Potter gave a short but stirring speech after he

formally accepted the office, saying:

"I am not the kind of man who makes promises that I do not intend to

keep, but I will promise you this: We will not surrender. Nor will we forget

what we have lost. But we will not stop because the road is hard. And

we will not forget the sacrifices that others have made--we will honor

them. And we will fight.

"We will fight until the bitter end, no matter what that end may be. But

we will not battle for a losing cause. We will fight because we must, else

see our world vanish into darkness. And we will win because on our side

is right, and as long as light lives in one heart, darkness can never reign."

Optimistic words, true, but Potter's speech seemed to kindle its own light

in the hearts of many. His election has been heralded as a sign that He-

Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not gained supreme power over the

Wizarding World, and that hope is not yet lost. Potter has repeatedly

been called the heir apparent of the late Albus Dumbledore (1841-1992),

former Minister of Magic and one of the greatest wizards of all time. It

remains to be seen if Potter can match Dumbledore's achievements in

his paralyzed state, but the new Minister's wheelchair-bound status

seemed to bother very few voters.

Famous Potions Master Thomas Binns responded to this concern by

saying: "What's in a wizard's soul has nothing to do with his legs. Potter

could have seven or eight of them as far as I care; he's still the best man

for the job."

So there you have it. May the Dark Lord be warned: the Wizarding

World will not lie down without a fight. 87% of the popular vote proved

that Potter is indeed the wizard for the job, and if anyone can fill Albus

Dumbledore's legendary shoes, he can.

--------------

"What rubbish!"

Julia rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it a rest, Lucius. You knew that you were going to lose."

"Of course I did." Her handsome brother snorted with aristocratic disdain. "But their foolish optimism sickens me. Labeling a Potter as their best and only hope? The entire family has been degenerate Muggle-lovers for generations. Their bloodline is polluted and their power is weakened. The fools would have done better to choose Black, as misguided as he is. He, at least, has power."

"And why do you say that?" Julia asked, straightening despite her best efforts not to do so.

She sat in a high backed chair at Malfoy Manner, quite at ease in her brother's study, which was a feeling that most Death Eaters would not share. But the ornate surroundings were that of her childhood home, and she had nothing to fear in this place--even her brother. Perhaps especially Lucius, for all that he noticed her reaction.

"Curious, aren't you, little sister?" he asked with a mocking smile. Lucius missed little, if anything, despite his arrogant nature. Julia could never underestimate her brother's intelligence.

Or his ruthlessness.

"Don't play games with me, Lucius," she replied coldly. "What are you talking about?"

He half-smiled. "You know about Azkaban, Julia. And you were there for the attack on Grimmauld Place. Surely he told you what happened."

"He doesn't trust me that much," Julia snorted. Lying was deeply imbedded in the Malfoy genes, but Lucius looked at her inquisitively.

"Do you love him?"

"I did," she answered without hesitation. "But we have both changed too much."

"That is good," her brother replied quietly, sounding far more relieved than she would have expected. As ruthless as he could be, Lucius was loyal to his family. All Malfoys were, Julia knew; loyalty to the family came above all else, even, deep down, before the Dark Lord. Only Lucius' own ambition might come before his family, but Julia did not forget that ambition for a moment. Lucius would remain loyal to his family so long as that family supported him.

"He will have you kill him soon," Lucius said suddenly.

Julia started. "Sirius?"

"Yes." His icy gray eyes met hers evenly. "Sirius Black has become a threat, sister. More so than Potter. Therefore, he must die."

"I can't do that."

"What?" Even Lucius' trademark drawl vanished, and he stared at her through wide eyes. "Julia, I don't think that you understand--"

"No, it's you who does not understand," she replied calmly. "It is not a matter of conscience or weakness of the heart. This is a matter of power. I already told you that he does not trust me enough. I could not kill Sirius in battle. Only in his sleep would I stand a chance to kill him, but he is not such a fool, no matter what you think of him."

Lucius glared. "The Dark Lord does not countenance failure."

"Nor does he countenance stupidity." She snorted. "If our Lord is threatened by Sirius Black, what chance do I have?"

"I do not wish to see the consequences of you telling him that," her brother drawled.

"Nor do I," Julia admitted. "But that doesn't change the truth."

"How dare you?" Droma demanded furiously.

"I--"

"Don't you even try it, Sirius," she snarled. "I was there. I saw her, and I know that you knew!"

"Andromeda," he began slowly, trying to keep his voice level, but disliking the way she towered over him. Did she always have to do that? "This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh, isn't it?" his cousin demanded. She'd always had more than her share of the Black family temper, and being back at Grimmauld Place seemed to have lit a fire inside her. The evening had started out as a simple invitation to dinner, but that had quickly become something far nastier and far more typical of the Black family.

Sirius sighed. "My intention has never been to lie to you," he replied. "But I did not feel that it was my place to tell you."

"Not your place? I'm her mother!"

He couldn't argue with that--fortunately, he didn't need to. Someone else did it for him. Yet again, Ted Tonks drew his wife's angry attention away from her cousin.

"She is your daughter, love, and she knows you well," Ted said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Droma's blue eyes flashed.

"Nymphadora did not tell you because she knew how you would react. She knew that you would be angry, that you would try to stop her."

"You--" Andromeda sat down hard, her face suddenly pale. She stared at her husband. "You knew."

Ted nodded sadly. "I knew."

"Why?"

Ted reached across the table and took her hands in his own as Sirius shifted uncomfortably. James, Lily, and Harry had gone out to celebrate James' victory, leaving Sirius to share dinner with Droma and Ted in private. Now, though, he felt as if he did not belong, and wished that he could have said something before now. But Sirius' instincts had said the same thing that Ted's had, and they had been right. Droma hadn't been ready then any more than she was now.

"Because it was Nymphadora's choice," Ted said gently. "Not ours." He smiled. "And she was right to make it. She has the courage to do what we have been afraid to even face. And I'm proud of her."

Droma blinked, swallowing. But she was a Black, and Sirius had always known that there were good traits passed down along with the bad. She had courage, even if she had forgotten it.

After a long moment, Droma turned to face her cousin. He met the eyes that were so like his own, and saw the reluctant smile begin to form.

"I guess you were right, Sirius," she said quietly. "Fourteen years ago. Some things just have to be done.

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