Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirty-Five: Darkness Deferred

"Today your final testing begins!" Frank Longbottom boomed, looking rather haggard to the group of twenty trainees, despite the strength of his voice. Still, his eyes were as inscrutable as ever, and the three Senior Instructors stood behind him with equally blank expressions.

"There will be three tests: a final trip through the Labyrinth, negotiation of the Minefield, and a duel with a qualified Auror. You must pass all three tests to be assigned to a Mentor."

Longbottom grinned wolfishly, and Tonks felt a shiver run down her spine. "Passing, of course, consists of survival against a fully-trained Auror."

"And what if we win?" Inevitably, it was Jason. He didn't know how to be modest, even if he'd been more subdued in the week since his family died.

Longbottom laughed. "If you win, young man, you'll have joined the ranks of a select few to whom the division has underestimated enough to assign a beatable opponent."

The other candidates snickered, and Tonks thought she saw Hestia Jones smile. Immediately, she had to resist the urge to giggle. Smiling was something that their sour-tempered instructor rarely did, and when she laughed, she was definitely laughing at them rather than with them. Therefore, if Jones was smiling, it meant she'd been assigned to duel with Jason, and no matter how talented or powerful Jason Clearwater was, Hestia Jones was a tough opponent. Tonks had seen her duel with Shacklebolt before, and she fought dirty.

"Results of these final tests will determine your class ranking," Weasley added, "which will determine what Mentor you receive, along with other factors."

"What other factors?" Calvin Waters asked.

"Choice," Longbottom replied levelly. "Mentors chose their own students, with no questions asked. That is the final factor."

"What else is there?" Alain Brittingham asked, making Jones snicker.

"Worry about that after you pass, Brittingham," she retorted. "You've still got twenty-four hours of testing before a Mentor even thinks about you."

Tonks glanced over her right shoulder just in time to see Alain's face turn pink. She hadn't spoken to him much since their arrival on Avalon, but at Hogwarts, they'd once known each other well. Although he'd been a Hufflepuff and she a Ravenclaw, the two had become good friends, and had even dated briefly during her sixth year (his seventh). They had parted on good terms, but had lost touch over the years, and Tonks had been pleased to see him on Avalon, too, especially since she'd always known that he wanted to be an Auror.

Weasley exchanged a look with Jones before continuing: "You will test in the following order: Whitenack, Tonks, Fisher, Laurence, Haunting, Lockhart, Clearwater..."

Tonks did not bother to listen to the rest; she was too busy trying to quell the butterflies bouncing around in her stomach. Second? She had to go second? The only thing that could have been worse would be standing in June Whitenack's shoes. Poor June already had to live with the fact that her older brother, Oscar, was an Auror; now she had to be he first candidate through the toughest testing that a dozen fully-trained Aurors could design. And Tonks had to go right after her. Smashing, she thought sarcastically. Just bloody smashing.

However, there wasn't exactly time to complain. There was only time to act--something the Aurors had taught her how to do well. Taking a deep breath, Tonks forced herself to calm down and smile, an action that clearly surprised those surrounding her. Dana Lockhart leaned close.

"What are you grinning about?" she whispered. "You ought to be shaking!"

"Nope," Tonks replied cheerfully, finding that the smile felt real.

Dana rolled her eyes. "You're psychotic."

Tonks resisted the urge to giggle. "Yup--err, quite possibly, anyway. Aren't we all?"

"Good point," her friend grumbled. "We'd have to be, to be doing this."

Together, the two stepped towards the Labyrinth; both were in the first half of the group, and would head in that direction while the others waited. As they walked, Tonks stole one last long look around the island--would this be the last chance she had to appreciate its beauty and nobility? Once she became an Auror, she'd spend little time on the island, and none of the Aurors seemed to notice the aliveness she always felt on Avalon. She only hoped that she would not lose that feeling upon joining their number.

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As night approached, three significant events came with it. Two of those events had the possibility to change the world, though one group of individuals failed to try and the other could not succeed--but the first event, though the least meaningful, was perhaps the most painful. It was also the only one that would make the front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning.

Skeeter's headline would read, "AURORS WEAKENED: CAN NO LONGER PROTECT THEIR OWN." The story, however, was a little more complicated than that.

Number 29, Boxhedge Road was a rather nondescript Muggle home before the Dementors approached. It possessed a beautiful front garden and a well-kept lawn, yet the house was worn down just enough to appear comfortable. The lifelong home of two elderly Muggles, the only thing that the house ever did wrong was being owned by the wrong people at the wrong time.

Amanda and Alexander Fisher were both near sixty, having raised their only son rather late in life. Much to their surprise, Alexander Fisher II had turned out to be a wizard, but they had supported him every step of the way. Of course, they never quite understood the war, or what their son was doing as an Auror candidate, but they loved him all the same. They did not need to understand, both said. It wasn't their world.

Unfortunately, their blindness would herald their deaths.

When the Dementors arrived in the darkness, neither would ever scream. They did not see the creatures; neither ever knew what caused the nightmares that suddenly filled their heads. They only knew bitter coldness and terror in those last few moments before the end. Had they been wizards, or lived near other magical folk, the disaster might have been prevented. But they lived in their own world, blissfully unaware of what killed them until the very end.

The bodies remained undiscovered for a day, until their neighbor's daughter arrived on holiday. She discovered her father's body, and called Muggle law enforcement in. The end total was nine dead Muggles: the Fishers and seven of their neighbors, who had simply lived on the wrong street at the wrong time. Those seven had not been targets. They had not even known that the Wizarding world existed beyond the realm of fairy tales.

Casualties of war, they would be called by the Daily Prophet. The Muggle press began to wonder if there was some previously undiscovered virus on the loose.

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

Early evening brought the Failed Circle to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, at Remus Lupin's bidding. He was well aware that doing so was a breech of the Inner Circle's unwritten rules, but the Order of the Phoenix had much to discuss, and much more to accomplish than the shattered Circle could handle alone. In the first days following the destruction of the Country House, Remus had dug through the wreckage, salvaging what could be saved and bringing it to Hogwarts. He had felt that the school had always been the metaphorical heart of the Order, even if the Country House had been the Inner Circle's hidden haven. Fawkes, however, seemed to disagree.

Yet again, the phoenix refused to let a Circle form. Members had been chosen, but there could be no seats until Fawkes decided, and he would not do so. Remus had begged and pleaded, but had finally come to the conclusion that Fawkes had a reason. If he did not, all might be lost.

The headmaster sighed quietly as Sirius entered the room, last to arrive. One would think that he would be the first, since Grimmauld Place was his home, but Remus knew that Sirius had not set foot in the old house since before Voldemort's attack on Diagon Alley. How Sirius was occupying his hyperactive brain on Avalon, Remus did not know, but the only time he had seen his friend since the attack had been for the attempted formation of the Failed Circle. Now, though, he walked into the drawing room wearing the expression of a statue, distant and nothing like the very aliveness which had always characterized Sirius Black. Remus swallowed, wishing that he could not so plainly see the strain hidden behind his friend's eyes, and that things had been different. Somehow. Sirius didn't deserve this.

None of us do.

He took a deep breath. "Thank you all for coming," Remus began quietly. "For those of you who are new amongst us, allow me to explain how significant this meeting is..."

And so he spoke of the Inner Circle, its history, and its traditional formation. Remus left little out, for as Dumbledore had once told him, there were no secrets in the Circle--the Order could ill afford to tolerate them, especially amongst these eight individuals. So he spoke of the First Circle, formed by now legendary figures in 1976. Dumbledore had spoken of those old comrades with near reverence, and Remus tried to remember that as he told the stories of William Suntrode, Armando Dippet, Alastor Moody, Amelia Bones, David Potter, Arabella Figg, and Minerva McGonagall. He had never known three of the eight members, and yet he could remember the pain in the old wizard's words when he had spoken of their lives...and their deaths.

The Circle had lost many since its formation--out of sixteen total members, a full half were dead. When Dumbledore and 'Bella died, they had been the last of the Circle's original members. Now, all were dead, and their wisdom was gone.

Never before had Remus felt the pressure upon him so greatly. Why me? a part of him wanted to scream. Why the quiet one, the reserved one? Why the werewolf? Remus swallowed as he finished, searching for appropriate words to say next and finding none. What did Dumbledore see that made him trust me? Had he one opportunity to ask the old wizard one last question, that would have been--No. It wouldn't, he realized. Instead I would ask him why he felt that he had to die.

Remus shook himself free of such thoughts with an effort, blinking. He was painfully aware that every eye was on him, and it was time to act. Whatever the reasons he was there, Remus was the Order of the Phoenix, for all intents and purposes. And even his fellows needed guidance.

"This cannot be a true meeting of the Inner Circle," he continued regretfully. "Fawkes refuses for it to be so--he would not even come with me tonight, though I do not understand why. I think he fears..." Remus winced, cutting himself off. "Never mind. Regardless, we are here, and we must discuss the future."

Suddenly, James and Sirius' eyes met across the room. James was still in his wheelchair near the table, while Sirius sat in a large armchair next to the fire. Even though the weather was rather warm for late September, Sirius had immediately charmed the fire to life upon arrival, and then seated himself closest to it. However, his formerly blank expression faded a bit as he returned James' glance.

"We cannot stay long," he said quietly. "James and I. And Snape"

"Why not?" Peter asked, startled. Remus, too, frowned--what did he not know?

"The Councilarium meets tonight," Sirius replied simply.

"What?" Several voices wondered. Surprisingly, it was Severus who answered.

"The Council of the Fourteen," the Death Eater replied. "It meets once every fifteen years, and always on September the twenty-third. We cannot be late."

"I see," Remus said slowly, glancing at the giant clock that leaned against the far wall. "How long do you have?"

"Three hours," James said. "It should be long enough."

"Very well," Remus nodded, desperately wanting to ask why his friends hadn't told him about this before now, but sensing that it was forbidden. Neither James nor Sirius kept secrets from their friends unless they had to, and he understood that some things were not meant to be shared. A quick glance at Peter revealed that Wormtail likewise understood--both had been Marauders far too long not to. As children, perhaps, there had been no secrets, but now that promise was tempered by judgment. "Two hours it is."

A short moment of silence reigned before Bill Weasley spoke up. "If you don't mind my asking, why are we here?"

"Many reasons." Remus allowed himself a small smile before continuing. "Mostly because, we, as the Inner Circle, direct the Order of the Phoenix's efforts throughout the war. However, the attack on the Ministry weakened us as much as it weakened the government, and we must repair the damage done. Recent events have proved that we no longer possess the luxury of time--if we do not prove ready to take the war to Voldemort, he will force it upon us.

"Therefore, we must first decide what threats we are facing, and then how to meet those threats. Most importantly, though, we must figure out how to counter the psychological effects of Voldemort's recent victories."

"I don't know if we can," Lily said quietly. "So much has happened lately...everyone is shaken. I hate to say it, but I think even we are shaken."

"I--" Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Snape cut him off.

"I disagree," the Potions Master said gruffly. "As cold as it sounds, these deaths may work in our favor. I believe that the Dark Lord may have miscalculated by targeting Aurors' families."

Lily arched an eyebrow "Why do you say that?"

"Because fear is a powerful toxin," Sirius replied. "It always has been. Before this point, those who were not involved in the war were afraid of fighting because they feared the consequences of doing so. Now, however, Voldemort has proven that pain and death are not limited to combatants. Now, they begin to fear what will happen if they do not take sides."

"And many of those who sat on the sidelines before, hoping we would win, are those who must act," James finished for him, nodding thoughtfully. "I can't really call this a positive development, but it is, perhaps, a wake-up call."

"Perhaps," Dung grumbled. "But I would expect this to heighten Voldemort's recruitment, not ours."

Snape shook his head. "The attack on the Ministry did so. The massacre in Diagon Alley was even more influential. Beyond that? I think he has gone too far, too fast. As Black said, terror can be a powerful motivation."

"So what do we do with it?" Peter asked, chewing on his lip.

"What can we do with it?" Dung asked skeptically.

"Nothing," Remus replied. "Other than talking to people, and stretching out a hand...nothing. But speak to friends and family. See what can be done."

Lily turned immediately to Sirius. "Can you speak to Andromeda Tonks, Sirius?" she asked. "Ted has joined the Order, but she hasn't."

"No," was the surprising answer. "I don't think she'll ever forgive me for forcing her to open her eyes. You'd probably do better than I."

"I will probe amongst the younger Death Eaters," Severus spoke up. "Some of them were friends with Clearwater, and resent his family's death. That may be the influence we need."

"Good idea," Remus nodded, thinking quickly. Did he want to bring the old worry up now? No. Let the new Circle adjust first, Remus decided. It can wait until Fawkes relents and we can completely reform. He had time.

Yet only time would tell how wrong that feeling was.

"There is something else we need to think about, too," Sirius said suddenly, making heads turn. He'd been so quiet since the attack on Diagon Alley, working unseen and in the shadows. Remus had almost allowed himself to forget Sirius' usual outspoken role--on Avalon, he'd been divorced from decisions, allowing Alice Longbottom to fill his shoes and act as his intermediary. Now, however, it seemed that something had changed.

Heads turned as Bill Weasley grimaced. The two Aurors' eyes met for a brief moment before Sirius spoke on, his voice so detached that it bordered on cold.

"Eight days ago, two Aurors uncovered evidence of a previously unknown prisoner being held in the Riddle House." Bill's eyes were focused on Snape, but surprisingly, Sirius' were not. "Although we cannot positively identify who it was, there appears to be reason to believe that someone was there. Evidence suggests that it is Alastor Moody."

Silence fell immediately. Remus swallowed, staring at his old friend and trying to read something, anything off of Sirius' face. He remembered his old friend's Mentorship, remembered how close Sirius and Moody had become. Remus, also, had liked the grouchy old Auror, but he had not known him well. Sirius, on the other hand...had he ever looked up to someone as a father figure, it would have been Moody. But his face showed nothing, and his eyes were dark.

Bill was still staring at Severus, and his glare must have been nasty enough to unsettle the older wizard, because Severus immediately replied, "I know nothing of this."

Then again, judging from the look Severus shot Bill, perhaps Sirius' words had unsettled Remus' deputy instead of Bill's glare. Moody was a legend, and like most legendary figures in this war, he was dead. Or is he?

"I'm not surprised," Sirius replied emotionlessly.

"Why not?" Peter asked.

"Because the situation is too perfect, too tempting." Sirius snorted. "Moody, alive after all these years? If it's true, I'll eat Prongs'--excuse me, James'--smelly right boot."

Bill frowned slightly. "The evidence adds up."

"Yes, it does, and the Aurors are investigating further," the head of that division replied before James could ask. "But I still think it's a trap."

"Creating such a trap would be rather unlike Voldemort," Dung pointed out.

"No it wouldn't," Sirius rolled his eyes slightly, but Remus saw his right hand twitch in the direction of his left forearm, and could tell that Sirius forced it away. "He enjoys forcing others to play by his rules."

Severus frowned, but did not comment. Instead, James asked, "Do you think anyone is there?"

"Yes. Someone has to be," Bill replied immediately, then glanced at Sirius. "Don't you agree?"

"I don't think it is Moody," was the oddly evasive reply. "Aside from that..." He sighed. "It's probable."

Others made noises of agreement, but Remus glanced at Severus. He didn't like the look on Sirius' face, realized that the discomfort in his eyes came from more than just the possibility of Moody being alive. There was something deeper, there. Something darker.

"Find out what you can, Severus," he told his deputy, who nodded--but Remus kept looking past him at Sirius and wondering. What haunts you, old friend? Is it the Mark, or is it something more?

"And if it's not Moody?" Dung asked darkly. "Do we just leave them there because you think it's a trap?"

Clearly, the jibe was aimed at Sirius, but if the Auror noticed, he did not react. He only shrugged. "No. We have no choice but to act," he said quietly. "We must do so, or risk losing everything for which we fight. Still...I can only hope I am wrong. If I am not..."

He trailed off, but Remus was watching faces, and he saw the set expressions on almost everyone else's. Did they not see it? Or were they too caught up in the mystery to care? Suddenly, Peter met his eyes, and Remus saw recognition flicker. No. They see it, he realized. But like me, Peter and James hold their tongues. This is neither the time nor the place, but something is stirring within Sirius, and I fear it.

"Next order of business," Severus interrupted the silence calmly. "Since Death Eaters are on the agenda, I feel obligated to mention that Martha Blackwood has arrived on Azkaban."

James scowled. "Oh, has she now?"

"Indeed," their resident Death Eater replied dryly. "She seems likely to stay, and has been working closely with Bellatrix Lestrange on a new project."

Everyone frowned upon hearing that news; any project Bellatrix Lestrange concentrated on was likely bad for all involved. Her psychotic creativity had harmed many in that room, as was evident by the dark looks on almost every face. However, thinking of Azkaban and Bellatrix Lestrange made something else occur to Remus.

"Is Lee Jordan still on Azkaban?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." Finally, Severus' exposure cracked, and he grimaced. "He is still a prisoner, and I fear for him."

Simple words those might have been, had they come from someone else, but from Severus they were momentous. A proud man, Severus Snape never admitted to fear--Remus had heard such words from him very few times and was shocked to hear them yet again. He knew that Severus cared about his students--even the Gryffindors he claimed to hate--yet hearing the worry in his voice told the headmaster more than any mere words could. Lee was in grave danger, and they had to get him out.

Others were thinking the same. "We need to rescue him," Dung Fletcher said gruffly. "Quickly."

"Children don't belong in that place," Lily agreed softly. Heads nodded, and Remus thought of Lee's poor mother, alone after her husband's death and her son's capture, feeling guilty and defeated.

"But how? Breaking into Azkaban is almost impossible," Peter whispered.

"And it's something we've failed at far more times than we've succeeded," Bill added heavily, his eyes painfully aware of the fact that he'd said what no one else wanted to.

James scowled. "Never mind that fact," he replied. "How should we go about this?"

But no one had an answer, and even the increasingly powerful visions Remus had been experiencing lately had never shown Azkaban. Not once... Does that mean we will fail, or that we will never try? He shivered. Or perhaps we'll find another path, Remus tried to tell himself unsuccessfully, shivering again. Lee Jordan needed saving, but what if they were not meant to do the rescuing?

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

The three left Grimmauld Place together, but took different paths to their destination. Snape, of course, could ill afford to be seen with either James Potter or--especially--Sirius Black, but Sirius also had to arrive alone. Such was his duty, and his fate. He'd never asked to be born as a Black, but he had been, and he would carry out those obligations set forth by his lineage with honor. His mother had often called him a blood traitor, but Sirius had never considered himself one--true, he had never been what she wanted him to be, but his pride had not been in purity as much as it had been in honor.

And this was perhaps the greatest honor, though it was an interesting one at best.

The Fourteen Families were one of the older traditions possessed by the Wizarding world, but like so many others, the group had been formed for one purpose and had been warped into fulfilling another. What had began as a coalition of the world's strongest families, working together for the greater good had been twisted and warped into an elitist group seeking only power and more power. Sirius had been heir to that tradition. Not the older one.

Now, however, a strange twist of fate had given him a chance to change all that. The last Councilarium had been presided over by Sterling Saturnius Black, as the senior member of the senior family, bearing the name Black, just as the founder of the Fourteen once had. Seirios Black. Sirius resisted the urge to laugh out loud as he raised his wand to Apparate to his destination. The ironies never seemed to cease--but suddenly, he thought of Dumbledore, and words the old man had said to him so many years ago.

"I know what you are, Sirius, and it isn't what your parents want you to be. It isn't even what you make others believe you are--oh, you are reckless and foolish, and very much a child, but what you have just done marks you as different." Fifteen years old, he'd stared at the headmaster with startled eyes, not understanding. Dumbledore continued: "Always remember that being different is not necessarily wrong."

But this was no normal meeting of the Fourteen--those were held every fifteen years, and the most recent Councilarium had met in 1984. This was instead a rarer gathering, required to be held whenever a family of the Fourteen died out. Such things had happened throughout history--of the original Fourteen Families, only four remained, and a total of sixteen families had come and gone. Exactly 683 years had passed since the founding of the Fourteen, and the fact that any of the original families still existed was close to miraculous. And this wasn't the first occasion that a member of one family had killed another, but it was the first time that one of the Fourteen Families had completely wiped out another.

Sirius gritted his teeth, then forced himself to stop. This was not the time to dig up old grudges--yes, Voldemort had slain the last of the Bones line, but he was one of the Fourteen. He'd been permitted by special vote of the Councilarium in 1954, which meant that he was the last remaining member of the Second Family, and would sit at Sirius' right hand.

At least, the last Black thought to himself as he Apparated into the old restaurant's grand entrance hall, he won't be sitting to my left.

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

"Lord Black." The same dark haired man bowed in his direction, and Sirius recognized him immediately as Mr. Salamander. The airy and open front hall of Salamander's had gone still with his arrival; though no one was staring at him, most of the servers and waiting guests were trying too hard not to, which made their interest even more obvious. However, Mr. Salamander seemed oblivious to it all, which made Sirius smile slightly.

"Have my guests arrived?" he asked cordially.

"Yes. They await you in the upper hall," the owner replied, not blinking--but then again, every Councilarium since 1849 had been held in Salamander's, just seven years after the opening of the premier Wizarding restaurant. Salamander offered another graceful bow, followed by an equally graceful gesture. "If you would follow me?"

"Willingly."

It was odd how he fell back into the old and formal patterns of speech here--was it that Salamanders reminded him of his childhood, or was he simply fulfilling the role he had to play? Sirius resisted the urge to chew on his lip as he tried to answer his own question, but it was hard. He should have been thinking about what was to come, and how he would manage sharing a dinner with the Dark Lord, three Death Eaters, an aunt he had not seen in 17 years, and a score of distant relatives. Almost all of the Fourteen Families were related in one way or another, though oddly enough, they were the most diverse of the pureblood families. Purebloods had an annoying habit of wanting their children to stay that way, but the Fourteen were...different. Intermarriage had eliminated several family lines, and they had learned from that lesson. Thus, while Sirius knew exactly how he was related to the last of the Marvolos, it was thankfully distant. If you can call a cousin distant, he thought darkly, then banished the thought from his mind. The doors were opening.

They were seated around the marble table as he entered, and rose to greet him. The twelve senior members had, of course, awaited him in silence, each with a glass of Wreyern's best white wine at their left elbow. Ornate scrolls were precisely placed on the black marble surface, and the golden writing on each matched perfectly with the gold inlaid in the marble. No sign of the meal was evident yet, but that too was custom. They would not eat until the newest family was introduced.

This Councilarium, however, was a little different from the traditional meeting of the Fourteen. When the families met every fifteen years, the senior of each branch would bring their designated heir--just as Sterling Black had brought a nine-year-old Sirius to his first Councilarium in 1969. What little he knew, he remembered from that day or had read in the records kept by every Black since Seirios, and as much as he admired the traditions--the old ones, not the warped ones--he hated them just as strongly.

Twelve sets of eyes followed him as Sirius stepped into the room, but he did not flinch as he made his way to the far side of the oblong table, quickly absorbing the seating arrangement. It was, of course, correct in every possible way--each individual was arranged by order of precedence, with those from older families sitting closest to Sirius' own seat. Thus, he was sandwiched between Marvolo on his right and Malfoy on his left, with the empty seat across from him. James, unfortunately, was on the other side of the table, at the far right corner away from Sirius and seated next to Snape. Snape was one of the anchors, sitting on the end across from Osborne Blackwood and thankfully distant from Sirius.

He halted behind his chair, noticing that Salamander had wisely disappeared. Slowly, Sirius crossed his hands on the chair's back and studied the others.

"I hereby call this Fifty-Sixth Councilarium to order," he said solemnly, "held for the purposes of renewing the Fourteen Families. We mourn our dead"--Slain by our own, he did not say--"and lift our faces to the future. Be seated."

Chairs did not scrape on such soft carpet, but the others sat upon his order, watching him quietly. An eerie set of red eyes to his right sent a shiver down Sirius' spine, but he resolved to ignore the monster, even when his left forearm twinged in response. This was not the time nor the place, and he doubted even Voldemort had the gall to do so on purpose. He was too much in love with Wizarding traditions to dare.

"Our primary purpose this evening is the admittance of a new family to the Fourteen," Sirius continued. "The highest ranking of the families on the outskirts are Longbottom, Avery, and Flint. We will examine Longbottom first."

As he spoke, the thirteen scrolls laid out began to unroll further, revealing the Longbottom family tree and the entire family history. Most of the members looked down at them immediately, either reading or pretending to do so, but Rodolphus Lestrange and Stephen Hoppner did not bother. Instead, they stared at Sirius stonily, as if daring him to object. He did not; it was their choice, and their loss. Even a Black could not force the Fourteen in any direction.

Sirius allowed himself to study the others in the silence. To Voldemort's right, Cornelia Crouch--the youngest member of the Fourteen, but having inherited her seat after the deaths of her uncle and cousin--chewed on her lower lip as she read, considering every word with care. Both her parents were dead, Sirius knew; she had been raised by relatives from her mother's side, yet Cornelia obviously understood her obligations as a member of the Councilarium. Next to her, Snape was typically expressionless, and James was as well. To James' right was Alfred Lichtenstein, the oldest member; he had to be nearing two hundred, and Sirius doubted that he'd make another meeting.

Skipping over the empty chair, the suave and handsome Lance Delacour came next. He was a half-Veela and showed it, but he was also one of France's most famous Potions Masters, said to rival even Severus Snape. He sat next to Rodolphus Lestrange, who was still glaring at Sirius--Bellatrix's husband was the only member who had not managed to put personal animosity and the war aside upon entering the room. What a disappointment he must be to Bella, Sirius thought. Not stupid by any means, but he's not exactly brilliant, either, and he isn't nearly as controlled as she would like. To Rodolphus' left was the other non-reader, Stephen Hoppner, who was now staring off into space distractedly. An inactive Auror after his stay in Azkaban, he had once been a friend of Sirius', and sitting next to one of Voldemort's chief torturers had to grate on him. That, however, had nothing to do with his refusal to read the scroll. In fact, Stephen was Alice Longbottom's cousin, and probably knew all that information already.

Next to him and at the other end of the table was Osborne Blackwood, the brother of James' erstwhile healer, Martha. What side he preferred in the war no one knew, but Sirius strongly suspected that he was putting family first...just like another of the Fourteen. Strange what we are driven to do. Morgan Montague was next, slender, beautiful, and serious looking in black. To her right was Sirius' own aunt, Lydia Vablatsky. Lydia looked enough like Sirius to be his mother, which was no surprise, considering that she was Aurelia Vablatsky-Black's older sister. Unfortunately, the similarities did not end with looks--the two sisters were very much alike, and Sirius had only marginally better memories of his aunt than he did his mother. Last and to Sirius' left was Lucius Malfoy, whose presence would have made Sirius bristle if not for his startling resemblance to someone Sirius missed desperately. Unlike his close relative, Rodolphus, Lucius was studying the scroll closely, probably searching for a persuasive argument.

Sirius tried to chase the grim thought away, but was unsuccessful. Families had been refused positions within the Fourteen before, he knew. Ravenclaw had been rejected at the original formation in 1309 in favor of Bane, due to the fact that their entire line was descended from Rowena Ravenclaw's bastard son, David. It had taken until 1602 for Ravenclaw to enter the Fourteen, and even then there had been much discussion. Likewise, Ivan had been refused in 1600, only to enter the Fourteen two years later. Meliflua had been rejected and permanently removed from consideration in 1882, but that had been due to a unanimous vote of the Fourteen and there had been cause.

Let's hope none of those precedents matter today, Sirius thought to himself, shaking himself out of such dark thoughts. Although the Avery clan wasn't such a bad second choice (what with the brother dead and Jessica senior until she married), adding the Flints would bring another of Voldemort's allies into the Fourteen, which might overbalance the interesting compromise that defined the Councilarium--but it was time. Even old Lichtenstein had stopped reading.

"Evidence supports that the Longbottoms possess the appropriate age, purity, and legacy," Sirius said. "Are there arguments or objections?"

Of course there were. The only question was who would get in first.

"You neglected to mention their conduct, cousin." He should have known that it would be Rodolphus Lestrange, who wasn't really his cousin, but was sickeningly close enough.

Fortunately, even Malfoy glared at him for this idiocy, which made Sirius want to laugh. Death Eater politics were as cutthroat and ambitious-driven as any Slytherin class reunion, and it was good to see old "Moldy Roldy" being ignored for acting like a fourteen year old. Still. Some things, Sirius mused silently as he mulled over an answer to Rodolphus' objection, just don't change. However, the need to answer was taken away from him by Lydia Vablatsky, who glowered across the table with narrow gray eyes.

"Conduct, young man, is defined in two ways for the purposes of the Fourteen," she said archly. "Either as honorable, or dishonorable. Thus--"

"I thank you, Lady Vablatsky, for making my point for me," Rodolphus foolishly cut her off. "Clearly, the Longbottoms have failed to honorably live up to the standards of conduct set forth by--"

"Rubbish." Hoppner snorted, rolling his eyes. "Simply because they oppose you is not sufficient reason to depict them as dishonorable. Having the courage to stand up for your convictions exhibits the highest honor."

"False convictions? Foolish choices? Dishonorable and degrading support for Mudbloods?" Rodolphus demanded. "What honor is there in that?"

"More importantly, do we want to set such an example by allowing such blood traitors into our midst?" Blackwood added, making Cornelia Crouch's mouth drop open. Immediately, she flushed red and started to reply, but Malfoy's drawl overrode her.

"For over six hundred years, the Fourteen Families have remained strong through ensuring our unity and purity," he purred. "So many years of tradition cannot be so easily disregarded--must we disrespect our own beliefs in order to expand our numbers?"

"Speak for yourself," Montague growled, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. "The Longbottoms are as ancient a family as many here, and history has proven them to be strong supporters of Wizarding traditions."

"When it suits them," Blackwood retorted.

"You--" Hoppner started.

"That's enough," Sirius cut him off. "If we cannot--"

"Who are you to speak, blood traitor?" Rodolphus cut in furiously. "You try to speak as if you had some standing in this council of your betters. Do you think yourself important, cousin? Do you think we care what you decide is enough? You're worse than the Longbottoms, scum. You're a traitor to your class."

"You speak of traitors, torturer?" Lydia Vablatsky asked acidly, her silver eyebrows arching imperiously.

Sirius had been trying to hold back a smile when Rodolphus had finished his tirade, but Vablatsky's reaction surprised him. His own mother would have approved of his cousin's views, but Lydia was cut from a different cloth than her younger sister. For that matter, Lydia's own son, a deceased Death Eater, had been a close friend of Rodolphus'...but she, it seemed, was no Voldemort sympathizer. Old fashioned, traditional, and arrogant though she was, perhaps someone in Sirius' family had a small molecule of sense.

"I--"

"Desist, Rodolphus," a cold voice interrupted, startling almost everyone at the table. Sirius fought against the urge to jerk away in surprise--this was the first time in his life when that voice had not been a precursor to pain or battle.

Immediately, the Death Eater fell silent, still glaring daggers at Sirius but not daring to meet his lord's eyes. Pain prickled along Sirius' arm again, but he forced himself to nod at the man to his right. "Thank you, Lord Marvolo."

The ancient forms of address still survived within the Fourteen--while none of them held what Muggles would call titles, the oldest families were indeed the Wizarding world's nobility. While Sirius did not put as much stock in that belief as many of the others, he was aware of his position. And referring to Voldemort as Marvolo somehow made civility easier.

"My pleasure." Those words sounded positively surreal coming from Voldemort's mouth, but they had all the same. His arm tried to twitch. Sirius ignored it and continued.

"My Lords, my Ladies, we have digressed. As others have so...eloquently stated, the Fourteen Families should be, and are, above such petty squabbling." He was quite sure that Rodolphus had not meant precisely that, but the point was made. "We are all aware of the war raging just beyond these walls. Many of us will reenter it the moment we leave this place. However, that war is immaterial. We are here to decide upon the Fourteenth Family. I will see a division now."

He looked right, choosing to start the hard way. Voldemort's first move would indicate how his followers would act. "Lord Marvolo, we would appreciate your guidance."

His stomach tried to twist into a knot of nausea, but Sirius pushed the feeling away. Their world, he kept reminding himself, had not always been this way. And if there was any chance of change, it might just have to start with the individuals in that room--some, of course, would never abandon their bigoted beliefs. The others, however, could make a difference. They could change fate.

"I am honored, Lord Black," the other replied softly...but there seemed to be an underlying tension in his voice, somehow--

"You know I'll fight you every step of the way."

"Yes, you will. But why?"

Memory.

"Because you don't understand things like hope." The other choked, and blood burbled up from between his dirty teeth, but the answer was surprisingly serene, for all the pain in his voice. "Or friendship."

"The kind of friendship that leaves one of its own for dead?" He wanted to laugh, but somehow could not force himself to do so.

"I made my choices," he whispered.

Now he did manage a smile, but it felt empty. Anger boiled up within him, and he did not know why. Pointless defiance usually amused him...but not from this man. Not anymore. It was no longer pointless. "And now you live with them. With me."

Sirius blinked, certain that the memory had passed within the blink of an eye, but feeling rattled all the same. He had to force his suddenly tense body to relax, knowing that the others were watching, knowing that his worst enemy sat to his right--

Pen scratched on paper.

'I also do not believe I will break him if I continue in the same manner... I am fascinated by him, I will admit that as well. He is the only one that has ever withstood me.'

Whose memories were these?

Without meaning to, Sirius glanced to his right, and saw a startled--nay, frightened--pair of red eyes staring back at him. For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of blue beneath the burning red, but that vanished along with the fear. As one, two expressions schooled down into nothingness, becoming blank and attentive once more. Had anyone else noticed the exchange? Sirius stole a glance around the table, but saw nothing. Had it really happened so fast? Voldemort continued, and his cool voice sounded exactly the same. Is this just my imagination?

"Tradition, purity, and lineage must be considered above all else," he declared. "The Longbottoms are acceptable."

Sirius hadn't expected argument, but Rodolphus had, and he flushed with fury--only to go pale with fear the moment Voldemort turned to him. "Have you an objection?" the Dark Lord asked archly.

"No, My Lord," the Death Eater mumbled, staring at the tabletop. Lydia Vablatsky snorted, and Sirius knew what she was thinking. Bellatrix would have argued; Rodolphus did not dare. Then again, Bella had always been stronger than her husband, stronger than both the Lestranges, for that matter. It was a shame that women could only enter the Councilarium while they retained their maiden names--even Vablatsky was only there because she had never married, avoiding the stigma associated with bearing a bastard child by arranging his birth. Of course, it was not the first time that a senior matron of the Fourteen had done such a thing; she had simply enlisted the aid of Julius Malfoy, who had already fathered two children and was unlikely to prove paternal over the existence a third.

No one ever mentioned that the deceased Alexander Vablatsky had been half-sibling to both Lucius and Julia Malfoy. Such things just weren't said.

"We have two in favor. I now again call for a division," Sirius said, regaining control of the discussion. "Lord Malfoy?"

As always, Lucius' reply was aristocratically precise. "Accepted, with reservations."

"Lady Vablatsky?"

"Acceptable."

"Lady Montague?"

"Acceptable."

And so the division began. In order of precedence, Sirius asked each head of the Fourteen in turn, watching their faces carefully. Some, like Lestrange, agreed only because they had to--Rodolphus had neither the wit nor courage to abstain. Snape, however, did, and he very quietly disagreed, citing his fears for the future of the Fourteen if heirs such as Neville Longbottom were allowed within their august council. Sirius saw several sets of eyes narrow in response, and had to admit that Snape played his part extremely well. His hatred for young Longbottom was well known, even outside of Hogwarts, though thankfully few remembered the strange friendship that had formed between Snape and Frank Longbottom during their Hogwarts days. Had anyone, they might have wondered why the Death Eater so opposed the entrance of the Longbottoms into the Fourteen.

Then again, I suppose that we all have our roles to play, Sirius thought quietly.

Montague, Crouch, and Hoppner concurred. Blackwood abstained, clearly mindful of the Dark Lord's wrath, and left Sirius wondering if perhaps Osborne had joined the Death Eaters' ranks as well--or was, at least, flirting with the idea. James, of course, agreed, and so did Lichtenstein. A frowning Delacour came last, but in the end he agreed. Sirius, however, vowed to watch the half-Veela Frenchman. There was something disturbing in his eyes.

Sirius rose. "By vote of eleven in favor, one against, and one abstained, the Longbottom family is admitted to the Fourteen. The Councilarium will reconvene in one hour's time to greet the Fourteenth Family."

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

When a knock came on the door to the spacious quarters Frank and Alice shared on Avalon, the last person Frank anticipated seeing was Sirius Black. What's more, he had not expected an immaculately-groomed and elegant Sirius Black. Dressed in expensive robes of black and navy silk, Sirius looked more like a Black than Frank could ever remember him appearing. He'd known the younger Auror since Hogwarts, and had always admired Sirius' steadfast refusal to become what his wicked family wanted him to be. Yet now he was fulfilling that role in a surprisingly complete way--especially for an Auror on Avalon.

Before he could speak, Sirius offered a very formal and old fashioned bow. "I bear an invitation to the Councilarium," he said quietly. "Of the Fourteen."

"Of the--"

The folded and sealed parchment that Sirius held hung extended in the air between them, and Frank blinked. He had little care for the status games played by the oldest families in the Wizarding world (his own included), but he was a pureblooded wizard of an ancient family. Frank had long known of his family's status, known that they were on the outskirts, just one step away from the Fourteen, yet never amongst their number.

"The Bones," Frank said quietly, well remembering their deaths. He had forgotten, however, what that would mean.

"Yes." Sirius' voice was strangely distant, but he nodded towards the letter, sealed, Frank suddenly realized, by an emblem older by far than his own. The Black seal. Accepting the letter, he opened it to read:

You are hereby requested and required to attend the Councilarium of the Fourteen Families at ten o'clock Post Meridiem on the twenty-third day of September, in the year nineteen hundred and ninety-two.

By the hand and action of:

Sirius Black

of the First Family

"If you refuse, the next family is Avery," Sirius said quietly. "Our world is run enough by fear and by darkness. I would not have the Fourteen reflect those feelings."

Of the First Family. Never before had Frank seen Sirius like this--never so cool, so collected, so in control. He had always remembered the brash and reckless boy who had been four years behind him at Hogwarts, and who had carried those same qualities over into his conduct as an Auror. He'd always been brilliant, yet Sirius was also as rebellious as he was unpredictable. Now there was something different about him, something implacable.

Frank nodded slowly, his mind racing. Even as he tried to comprehend the changes in Sirius, one other thought occurred to him. "Is he there?"

"Yes."

The blue eyes were calm, so calm. Had something snapped, or had something grown?

"I will come," Frank replied slowly. "I don't know what difference I can make, but perhaps..." He swallowed. "Perhaps."

Sirius' slight nod was a strange response, but Frank felt something tingle within him. There was something, a feeling just beyond his comprehension, a sense that something had changed. It was almost as if the world had twisted and then had fallen back into place.

His eyes met Sirius', and Frank saw. Sirius knew.

The other man's voice was quiet.

"Then let it begin."

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