Chapter 19: The Black Cat (Patreon)

My mouth was finally clear, like I had just rinsed an almost ever-present toothpaste I had been keeping in it for over a month.

Meandering the corridors of Hogwarts was a normal student's casual waste of time. That I couldn’t deny, but I had a case of butterbeer bottles under my arm and a destination in the middle of the night.

That destination was my usual tower. I thought my stomach had shrunk again from a more limited diet, and I noticed my cheeks had sunken in a bit.

It wasn’t the largest deal, but without the leaf’s ever-present taste that had become more and more nauseating, I thought a celebration was in order.

Of course, my Father hadn’t disagreed but had only sent me a small stack of galleons when I had obliquely referenced my desire for a case of butterbeer.

It was honestly a fair response. Certainly he could have shrunk and magically lightened a case of butterbeer for me to be transported by owl, but he seemed to take greater satisfaction in poking me to break the rules instead.

Which honestly kind of flattered me. For him to see that much of himself in me was… well, I had the note pocketed in my trunk, so it probably meant something even if I really didn’t want to think about it because it made my chest uncomfortably tight.

Up the staircase of the tower I climbed till I emerged at the top to see Iris staring up at the sky, her black hair falling in a curtain of curls and her gleaming emerald eyes almost pitch black against the lack of light.

Even though I had certainly been under a disillusionment charm, her eyes snapped to me instantly, and a heartbreakingly soft smile appeared across her face, and my eyes flicked to her lips, examining their soft redness.

I shook the strange attention away.

I dispelled my charm and nodded towards her before walking over to next to her on the invisibility cloak she had spread beneath her. I settled the case in front of us and was struck by an odd moment of awkwardness.

We spent all our time together, and this didn’t really feel different than that, but it also definitely was.

I made to summon two butterbeer bottles toward me, but Iris moved first, crooking a finger and summoning two bottles from the crate into her hands.

I smiled in amusement as she passed one to me, her eyes seemingly consciously avoiding me.

“Were you waiting long?” I asked into the cool night air.

Iris shook her head, and then leaned it against my shoulder. “No,” she said softly.

I tapped the lid of my drink, sending the cap flying in a gentle arc to land back in the crate.

Iris’s brow furrowed, and she looked contemplatively at the lid of her own bottle, then she looked back to me. “Do you promise not to laugh if I bugger it up and cause the bottle to explode?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope,” I replied, popping the p, and she frowned at me but didn’t say anything, looking back to the bottle.

I regarded her with interest, wondering what decision she would make. I hoped she would try because as much as I loved her, I knew now more than ever I needed to encourage Iris to do things even if she felt silly doing them in front of me.

Especially if she still felt uncomfortable doing them in front of me.

Iris’s gaze firmed, and then she waved her hand over the top of the bottle, and the cap vanished.

We both stared at the bottle for a moment before I began to snicker.

Iris’s cheeks reddened, and she elbowed me in the gut. “Stop it,” she mumbled petulantly.

I stilled myself for a moment to look seriously at Iris. “Well, I know I’m not going to be letting you unbuckle my belt with magic.”

Iris’s cheeks flushed a bright red, even as her eyes flared with emerald light. “If you want anything along those lines, you’ll be happy however I decide to do it,” she remarked petulantly.

“As you say, Princess,” I chuckled even though I was focused on Iris tasting whether this was too far.

Iris stilled for a moment, her face going neutral.

My gut twisted slightly, though I didn’t go to retract; I would give Iris the ability to respond however she wanted.

Iris finally smiled, something soft and relaxed. “Are you going to make me your Queen Ares?” she purred, raising an eyebrow, which I could not find any other way to describe but adorable.

I raised an eyebrow at her even as I relaxed back, taking a moment to look at the night sky. “Are you not already?” I asked.

Iris giggled and bumped her shoulder into me before she pushed further, curling into my side. “Easy there, Heartbreaker; I’m not that kind of easy girl.” She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

“I would never,” I chuckled even as my mind went to the unfortunate situation with Fleur; perhaps if I ignored it a bit longer, it wouldn’t be my problem anymore. It wasn’t like she had confessed to me in the first place; quite the opposite.

Iris’s finger found my side. “Thinking about other girls when you’re with me isn’t allowed,” she chided in a breathy, soft voice.

I shook my head. “I don’t even know how you figured that out,” I groaned.

Iris growled, “You’re supposed to deny it, Ares,” she said, warningly, causing me to stop just as I was about to take a drink.

“I didn’t ask to be pretty,” I pointed out.

“No,” Iris smiled in amusement, “But you should have thought about it a bit more before you became mine; it’s absolutely exhausting glaring at the girls who moon over you.”

I held up a finger. “Colin Creevey can’t say two words to you without edging the realms of consciousness.”

Iris groaned, putting her face in her hands. “He’s so weird!” she groaned out, drawing the word through her teeth in an exaggerated sound.

“He’s a boy in love,” I chuckled, jabbing at Iris's side. “Go easy on him; he may not be as dashing or charming as yours truly, but unfortunately, few are,” I smirked.

Iris raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s weird,” she crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t like him doing it, and I want him to stop.”

Any joke I had would have died on my lips at that instant. I looked at her, concerned. “He’s really bothering you, huh?” I asked.

Iris nodded, a small, shallow thing. “He was too nervous at the beginning of the year, but now he’s lugging around a camera, and I’m just so sick of it.”

I hadn’t noticed. Why hadn’t I noticed?

“He’s ambushing you when I’m not around then?” I asked.

Iris smiled, a smaller thing. “I’m pretty sure he actually thinks you’re the dark lord reborn; he steers well clear.”

“I’ll take care of it then,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I hadn’t seen much of him, so I didn’t know he was bothering you.”

Iris visibly hesitated. “I didn’t want to bring it up,” she said softly. “I know I’m famous, but I hadn’t really experienced anyone taking it farther than just overenthusiastic handshakes and words of praise.”

I frowned at Iris’s words and then drew her tighter into my side. I really hadn’t noticed; had I been so deep into my research? I was going to kill- Focus.

“Please, Iris,” I said quietly, “You have to tell me these things. I can’t be around to see everything; I won’t know sometimes unless you tell me.”

Iris nodded her head a bit against me. “It’s just,” she hesitated, “Annoying,” she finally finished.

A long moment passed before Iris groaned and butted her head against my shoulder. “Bloody hell, I ruined it, didn’t I? I ruined our first date.”

I shook my head. “No, Iris. I don’t care when. If something's wrong, you tell me. You don’t have to do things by yourself.”

Iris raised an eyebrow at me. “Do things by yourself, you wouldn’t happen to be talking about yourself, would you?”

I winced and looked away.

Iris released a sigh and then leaned fully into me. “I’m sorry; it just comes out sometimes. I don’t know why I say that.”

I had an idea; my Father had been pretty clear about what he had seen in Vernon's mind, including the not-infrequent arguments between Vernon and Petunia.

“It’s okay,” I said, “You weren’t wrong regardless; I know what I’m doing is unfair. That I’m being hypocritical. I just don’t see how telling you would help; it’s not like you could do anything.”

“But it’s not just that you’re not telling me,” Iris shook her head, “Ares, you’re scared, and I don’t know why, and that scares me too.”

Ah, to be seen through so easily kind of hurt my pride as a man.

“I’m sorry, Iris. I don’t want to scare you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Oh, Ares,” Iris shook her head, an almost sad amusement creeping up her lips, “I want you to not be scared; you talk more in your sleep, muttering about magical ingredients I haven’t even heard of. When you’re awake, you're tired, you smile less.”

She hesitated, then put her bottle down and quietly lifted herself up, settling sideways in my lap. Her arms carefully wrapped around my neck as she locked her emerald eyes on my cloudy grey, black hair curling about her head like a dark halo.

“Whatever this magic you’re trying to learn is can’t be worth it; whatever this magic is can’t be worth your health.”

I almost laughed and would have if it felt like my ribs weren’t in a vice. “No, Iris,” I pressed my forehead against hers, looking seriously at her. “It is; I absolutely have to learn this, even if it kills me.”

Iris shook her head, her hands finding their way to my shoulders. “Please,” she said quietly, “I can’t lose you. People need you, Ares.”

But they needed Iris more. This world and everyone, and most importantly Iris, needed me to achieve this.

Because both Dumbledore and I knew where the last Horcruxes were, if Voldemort could be defeated properly, the person who killed Iris’s parents, the person who had killed my Mother, if Iris would not have to fight a war… I needed to find a solution.

-

I regarded the blood red potion in my palms. Prepared perfectly, or so it was said in my book, and from the taste, nothing seemed apparently wrong.

Lightning flashed, and the air thundered in the late-night sky outside McGonagall's office window; clouds illuminated with the bright flashes of light.

McGonagall sat at her desk across from me, looking at me with an unreadable expression.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Black,” she said calmly.

Before I could think further, I downed the potion, my vision flaring as a strange morphing taste wrapped across my tongue.

I saw who I was.

A pure black cat, like shadows given substance, with cool grey eyes blinking lazily in my mind.

One moment I was myself.

The next I was significantly smaller, crouched on the floor; idly, my new tail swished back and forth. I opened my mouth, and it was like a wave of magic blew through me. I nearly choked. Every magical taste from before now swirled in my head in dizzying colors far brighter than they had been before.

The world spun, and I rolled onto the ground dizzily, attempting to focus. The world was going in and out of focus as my sense of taste became louder than any of my other senses combined.

Suddenly, a warm paw settled on my forehead, and the air became slightly clearer.

I looked up to see a tabby cat gently patting my head with its paw, though they were almost more jabs than anything.

McGonagall.

Slowly I reined my senses in, though I couldn’t guess how long it had taken; my head was still swimming.

I looked about and realized I was, as I expected, a black cat.

I yawned, hissing in annoyance as the overwhelming taste emerged again.

We looked at each other, and McGonagall cocked her head to the side, and I got the impression she was asking if I was okay.

I nodded my head, and with a twitch of my mind, I was once again standing up, my arms crossed as I thought about this new ability. Even having achieved it, I found that I didn’t really feel anything. It wasn’t an accomplishment; it was paint-by-numbers, the kind that could be found in any Muggle kids' store.

McGonagall transformed as well, looking at me with a narrow look. “I admit,” she said in the silence, “I did not expect you to be a cat.”

I shrugged, going to yawn again the same way I had done as a cat instinctively before covering it in surprise.

The flavors of magic were even more intense as a human as well, and now, as I stood, it felt somewhat odd to be on two feet; yet at the same time, there was admittedly balance that hadn’t been there before.

Looking at McGonagall, there was a twitch in my mind of familiarity that also hadn’t been there before.

McGonagall looked at me; something caught my attention in her expression. I couldn’t tell the emotion fully, but something sad was there and perhaps the faintest traces of guilt.

“You’re Sirius’s son,” she said, shaking her head, “But the day I met you, I admit I thought more of his cousin Bellatrix Black. I wondered if, for a brief instant, you were her son.”

I nodded my head, unsure of how to respond to that. Where it had even come from. “Did you?” I said, not exactly like myself either, but the world still felt disoriented. “Why?”

McGonagall looked toward the shelf in the back of the room for a moment before she sighed and then went to her desk, grabbing her kettle from the fireplace and gesturing to the seat in front of her, “Take a seat, please, Mr. Black,” she said quietly.

I nodded my head, not able or willing to say anything else as I stumbled walking toward the chair before settling myself down in it.

McGonagall carefully poured out the steaming hot water, gave me a tea bag which I set to steep, and we sat across from each other as she set out a tin of biscuits.

Everything about her was unlike the woman I had been at odds with for so long.

“Have a biscuit,” she gestured with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but also wasn’t as far as it usually was.

I glanced at the tin before making to reach out before my magic reacted, and suddenly a biscuit went flying into my hand.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but she made no chiding comment even though I had expected one. “Bellatrix Black was a witch of immense capacity,” she said quietly, “Like all Blacks, though, she was fragile.”

I raised an eyebrow but did not contest McGonagall’s quiet words; I had met my Father and knew myself, if there was something more… Also, why was it Black, not Lestrange?

“Blacks accumulate power,” McGonagall said, stirring her tea quietly, “Consciously or unconsciously is of little consequence; your Father’s marriage to Marlene McKinnon was proof of that.”

I didn’t respond, simply watching her as she spoke, the older woman seemingly lost in thought.

“The truth is many Wizarding families would have liked to get their hands on the McKinnons’ Vorpal magic, and your father’s success doing so, even unintentionally, made it so I looked at you with,” she hesitated, “concern.” She finished, and I wondered if that was truly the word for how she had felt.

“Because you also believed he had betrayed James and Lily Potter?” I said bluntly, realizing I would not be getting out of this like a condemned man already standing on the gallows.

McGonagall nodded, looking at me with quiet, dark eyes.

I drummed my fingers once on the table. “What does Bellatrix Black have to do with this?”

McGonagall smiled, her eyes tracking to the window, away from me, watching the storm outside. “Well, she was best friends with your Mother,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow. “My father hadn’t mentioned that,” I admitted.

“Have you talked with your Father about your Mother?” McGonagall asked, not necessarily chiding, but I hadn’t expected her to guess at the cause instantly.

I hadn’t. Sirius was damaged in ways I couldn’t comprehend, and he was a Black. Right now I mostly tried to keep him stable. It was my main tolerance and encouragement for Apolline’s insistence on becoming close to him.

Not that I was going to admit that to McGonagall. She was one of the last people who would get to know anything about my Father.

“I see,” I said. I pursed my lips. “Bellatrix Black, the convicted Death Eater who tortured Neville Longbottom’s parents to insanity?” I said the words like dry fact, even as my gut twisted slightly in familiar pain.

McGonagall nodded her head. “Yes,” she said quietly.

I regarded McGonagall for a long moment; she wanted something from me, but I didn’t understand it yet.

“So why did you think I was her son?” I asked.

McGonagall took a sip from her teacup. “Because it was the logical explanation. I knew Bellatrix had always wanted a child; she never married, though,” she let loose a brief smile, “You can imagine the rumors around that.”

Wait, that wasn’t right. Bellatrix should have married Lestrange.

Something was off.

I hadn’t even thought to investigate, but “Bellatrix Black,” I tasted her name, “She served Lord Voldemort as a Death Eater, but when we met you weren’t truly on guard till you thought I was Sirius Black’s son, wouldn’t Bellatrix have been worse?”

McGonagall flinched, but her eyes remained locked on me. “From a rational viewpoint, I suppose yes.”

I waited, looking at McGonagall as she looked at me, our eyes locked across the desk.

“She was a precious student,” McGonagall finally said. “She was a Black, not even one of my Gryffindors at that, but she had a warm inner light to her. Several months before she tortured the Longbottoms, she had written me a letter asking to be taken on as a Mastery student; I was-“ she hesitated, visibly searching for the word- “shocked when I discovered what had happened.”

So it hadn’t been one Black she had loved that let her down; it had been two.

But something was still bothering me. I had no reason to think Bellatrix Black wouldn’t be a Death Eater.

Why did McGonagall know both Bellatrix and Sirius, and was wistful and sad about Bellatrix as my parent but cold and angry at Sirius when he was actually proven to be one of my parents?

No one talked about Bellatrix Black until now, not so much as a word; not even Neville had said anything.

And for the first time I began to wonder why.

And a cold thought sank in my gut.

If it was Bellatrix Black.

If it was Bellatrix Black who was still loyal to Voldemort.

If she hadn’t married a Lestrange.

Was Hufflepuff's cup in my fucking vault?

-

Neville looked up with a grin as his best friend wrapped an arm around his shoulder as he swung over the couch seat next to him.

Ares held out his free hand in a fist bump, and Neville returned it, and then they drew their fists back, exploded them with the appropriate sounds from their mouths, before catching their hands together again by the bases of their thumbs.

“What’s up, Big Man?” Ares said with a familiar grin and raised eyebrow.

Neville sighed, rubbing his head. “Professor Sprout wanted me to help her decide the curriculum for the third years as an exercise.”

Ares’ face dropped in horror. “You’re insane; you took on extra work in Herbology?”

“Potions,” Neville said with a dry look on his face.

Ares frowned. “Snape makes me do that, and that’s not what I meant. Herbology is a devil science; the only good plant is a dead one.”

Neville snorted and bumped his shoulder back into Ares, even as he curled up slightly against the warmth of his friend's arm; physical contact wasn’t something his Grandmother had been big on, and the friendly warmth from Ares was like a soft topical balm.

“Well, you can just rely on me to get you through it, huh?” Neville laughed, shaking his head.

Ares nodded, but his smile had faded, and his eyes went distant for a moment, and Neville realized he had just cast a spell, probably a privacy one.

“Nev, I got a big request and even after I say it you can still say no,” Ares said quietly.

Neville stiffened, looking concerned, but he nodded in reply anyway. “What’s up, Ares?” he mirrored his friend's earlier turn of phrase.

Ares frowned, bit his lip, and then released a breath. “We both haven’t talked about our parents,” Neville’s gut twisted slightly as Ares continued, “And honestly I was fine with that. Leave the feelings to the fairer sex, huh,” Ares shook his head grimacing, “But there’s something important I need to ask: what do you know about Bellatrix Black’s involvement in your parent’s deaths?”

Neville felt like ice had been stabbed in his gut, and he began to shake his head. “Ares, I don’t blame you for-“

Ares raised a hand. “Right, I figured we’d get into that, but it’s not about that, or making up for anything; I just need to know whatever you know about Bellatrix Black.”

Ares, despite his persona, wasn’t the type to talk about this for fun. Neville knew; he felt a little strange talking about it, but if it was Ares, well, he probably would have told his best friend eventually.

“I don’t blame you, Ares,” Neville said quietly. “My grandmother told me this when I asked her. It was Barty Crouch, Bellatrix Black, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange who were brought in for the trial.” Neville shook his head, focusing on his breathing. “No one knows much about it other than their trials, because, well,” Neville’s eyes flicked away, “My Parents were found as they were.”

A long, heavy silence stretched before Neville continued.

“Gran told me what it was like at the trials. She says Bellatrix Black was quiet, didn’t say a word in her defense nor admit anything, just smiled the whole time softly, like she wasn’t even there.”

Ares nodded, looking at him seriously, a small frown on his face. “And Barty Crouch Sr. presided over it, then sent them all to prison.”

Neville nodded, keeping his confusion about how Ares knew about Barty Crouch Sr. from entering his face.

Ares sighed, “I know about him because he signed the paperwork for my Father; he didn’t get a trial. My father’s had some people investigating him, retired Aurors.”

Neville nodded again in understanding. “I could see why your Father would want that,” he said sympathetically.

Ares looked surprised, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him before he nodded. “Yeah,” he nodded and then visibly hesitated. “Um, my Mother was apparently friends with her,” he said quietly.

Neville shivered slightly, and he looked away. “I, uh, knew that Ares, Gran told me before the start of first year.”

Ares grimaced. “Oh?”

Neville took a bracing breath. “I didn’t want to bring it up; at least until you had a bit more time, I thought it might make you feel- I don’t know, bad?” Neville shrugged awkwardly.

Ares nodded slowly. “I understand, Nev. I’d understand if that complicated things with me.”

Neville groaned, nudging his friend, “You’re not breaking her out of Azkaban or anything; you’re like a distant relative. I already told you I didn’t hold that against you.”

Ares laughed easily, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Nev; I’m the new Dark Lord in the making. What if I need minions?”

Nev groaned, a smile breaking on his face. “Well, you do that, and then you can help me avenge my parents.”

Ares nodded his head, his expression suddenly serious. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Nev.”

Neville mocked a jab at Ares' head, and the grey storm cloud eyes became tinted with violet, and suddenly Ares was no longer there.

Neville looked about to see Ares standing several feet away with his arms crossed.

Neville glanced at the rest of the room, who didn’t seem to notice in the slightest. Then back at his friend.

“Bloody hell, did you apparate?”

Ares jammed a thumb in his own direction with a grin. “Nope, I’m just that good.”

Neville sighed as he realized he was going to have to nag it out of Ares.

That guy loved mysteries way too much.

-

I trotted in massive snow-covered leaps, bounding across the powdery white of the Hogwarts grounds' first snowfall, a black shadow punching through the crystal snow.

I realized in retrospect I had been somewhat lucky that we had gotten a thunderstorm before our first snow, as I wasn’t overly confident that such would have occurred if it was wintry.

More importantly, the Whomping Willow was up ahead, and I sprinted powdery white snow into the air as the tree completely ignored me, and I scooted underneath the hollow and then down a dusty corridor, jumping up the trap door and passing a strong magical ward that scoured my fur.

I landed on fresh carpet, in a warmly furnished brown building. Leave it to my Father to find a new passion in home maintenance and construction. I trotted down the corridor, stepping into the dining room to see my Father humming to himself as he finished making our lunch.

Smiling to myself, I yawned widely and then let out a short, sharp meow.

Sirius startled backward, spinning to look down at my furred form.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kitten me,” Sirius slammed a hand against his forehead. “My son’s a bloody cat. I’m a dog, and he’s a bloody cat,” he groaned out.

I slipped into my human form, smirking at the man as I crossed my arms across my chest. “Maybe you should have raised a better son.”

We looked harshly at each other before Sirius broke into a grin, and then he barreled toward me, picking me up fully in a sweeping, fierce hug.

It felt good, warm, safe, comforting; it wasn’t a hug with Iris or even Fleur on a good day, but then what was?

I shook the thought away in the next instant; that path was madness.

“You can put me down if you want, Dad,” I grinned at the man.

Sirius chuckled, “Can’t you let your poor old father have this?”

“My old man has been chasing his tail while I’ve been doing actual work; you already have everything,” I laughed, and Sirius broke into his own laughter, setting me down as he went back to the sandwiches he had prepared along with a Muggle bag of crisps.

“We can head to Gringotts after this,” Sirius said calmly.

“Not going to ask me why?” I asked curiously.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his smile dropping to something serious. “You’re the most responsible young man I’ve ever met. I’d trust you with anything,” he said, letting out a small, sad smile. “You must’ve gotten it from your Mother,” he said quietly.

I hadn’t brought it up, but his mention of her got me to focus on him.

“I-“ Could I ask? His face looked relaxed, not as pained as it had been, but there was something there.

“How’s Apolline?” I asked.

Sirius shrugged. “The sex is pretty good,” he said.

I nodded my head as if that wasn’t an outrageous thing to say to your son.

“And?”

Sirius sighed, giving me a soft smile. “No one could really replace your Mother Ares.”

“Father-“ I shook my head, but Sirius held a hand up.

“No, I should have been clearer; I do care for Apolline. Maybe someday I could love her,” his eyes darkened as he looked down at me. “But you’re the last piece I have of Lena; you are my priority.”

I nodded my head quietly, and the silence spread between us.

“It scares me,” I admitted quietly. “I nearly murdered a first-year; I was already wondering whether to try to make it look like an accident or a suicide,” I said, shrugging. “Or if I would even have to bother; Dumbledore doesn’t seem to care what I do in that regard.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “You should have seen what I did to a Fourth Year Lucius Malfoy after he tried to corner her for a conversation.”

Relief swirled through me so fast I was almost dizzy. “So you’ve dealt with this.” I bowed my head. “What do I do about it?”

Sirius sighed and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Try to make it look like an accident when someone pushes you over the edge; otherwise, I have enough gold, favors, gold to buy favors to make it look exactly how you need it to. I’ve got it covered.”

I nodded my head, grimacing slightly. “That’s not helpful, Dad. If I kill this kid, Iris is going to notice, and I promised not to lie to her.”

“She never asked about the Dursleys,” Sirius pointed out. “Give James Potter’s daughter some credit; that man knew exactly what I was like,” he chuckled, rubbing his beard.

“Right, which is the problem.” I rubbed my head. “She’s going to get all upset when other people call me the Dark Lord reborn just from the sheer number of rumors. I think the last one I heard was that you and I were plotting our revenge on the Ministry for your unjust imprisonment.”

“Well, we are?” Sirius looked confused at me.

“Not the point, Dad; I’m not fucked because you’re spending gold buying the government. I’m fucked because I don’t want Iris to spend another moment thinking about this child, so we need to put our heads together about that too,” I sighed, rubbing my head as I added another thing that definitely wasn’t learning magic to my already long list.

Sirius nodded, smiling sympathetically. A long moment passed before he changed the topic. “I’ve gotten movements from Davis on the Wizengamot; apparently he’s very concerned about dark artifacts now that his daughter got a hold of one, thinks some regulation is a smashing idea,” he said cheerfully.

I laughed dryly, shaking my head. “See, proof there is magic. You just experienced a small miracle.”

Sirius laughed as well, but then sighed, “I should talk more about your mother, shouldn’t I?” he said softly. “The truth is, that was the time I was happiest in my life, and now, between her spell and the dementors, so much of it is blurred; sometimes I spend the entire night in my Occlumency, teasing a memory free.”

What went unsaid was the obvious: nothing would stop Sirius from continuing the activity till he died.

I didn’t bother telling him not to push himself; I didn’t know if losing Iris would be survivable for me; I already respected my Father beyond anything in that regard.

We finished our lunch quietly, and then my Father grabbed my shoulder, and we disappeared in a burst of frozen grape.

We landed in a fully furnished apartment and then exited the door down the stairs into the full swing of Diagon Alley.

Through the crowd we walked, ignoring the occasional startles we generated among the members of the magical community that recognized us.

Up the steps of Gringotts we walked, entering the bank and walking up to a teller. “We need to see the Black Vault,” my Father said gruffly, not bothering with a single pleasantry.

The Goblin nodded, and my Father offered a key wordlessly, with the goblin taking it, glancing down, and then stepping down from the counter and coming around. “I am Lockclaw, follow me,” he said, equally as gruff as my Father.

Time was money, my Father had explained, especially for Goblins. Time spent talking about inconsequential things was regarded as rude.

We stepped into the cart and then began skating down the track, going deeper and deeper into the darkness, entering a cavernous space as we traveled even further. Passing underneath the distant spray of a waterfall, the darkness pressing in around me, though it didn’t bother my vision at all now.

Sirius sniffed next to me as he looked about, and I felt his hand firm on my shoulder.

We finally came to a massive stone arena where a pale-skinned dragon with milky, glassy eyes lay, startling a bit as it looked up at us.

It sniffed the air, and I felt the agitation in its pale body, memories of pain staining the scent of its magic.

Instinctually, I offered out my own magic while pressing my mind against the creature’s, promising without words that there would be no pain or aggression from myself.

The pale dragon crawled across the stone, looking at us, though the dragon did not hiss or roar.

Lockclaw reached for a metal object on his belt, and I scowled. “That won’t be necessary,” I said quietly, walking fearlessly up to the dragon’s head.

I held up a hand and waited, still emitting the gentle stream of magic. The dragon snorted, its nostrils flaring, and then slowly, cautiously pressed its nose to my hand, and for a moment I contemplated the feeling of grey scales beneath my palm.

I turned back to see my Father completely unbothered and Lockclaw, who looked horrified at what I had just done.

I smiled pleasantly. “Please, after you, Lockclaw.” I gestured with my free hand in the direction of the vaults.

Lockclaw slowly nodded, his eyes flickering back to the Dragon who was slowly beginning to release a rumbling, shaky sound as I stroked along its nose.

“Follow me,” he grunted and walked across the stone and then diverted down a corridor, my Father shooting me a thumbs-up before he followed after Lockclaw.

I turned back to the Dragon and smiled sympathetically; it was easier now that I was also an animal to understand other animals I had noted, and this was no different.

“Stay strong, my friend; someday you will see sunlight,” I said softly before I followed after my Father and Lockclaw.

We walked down the corridor, eventually arriving at the end at a massive vault door.

Sirius glanced at me, and I grabbed my key, placing it into the vault door, ignoring Lockclaw turning it and feeling the locks disengage as the magic reached out, recognizing me.

The door swung open, revealing a truly excessive amount of gold and jewels and, from the taste, a truly absurd number of magical items.

I stepped inside, and my Father followed, though he stayed near the entrance.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, searching for a moment before I bit down on the now familiar taste of disease of a Horcrux, feeling my stomach surge in relief.

I skirted the piles of useless currency, finding a small black box sitting on the floor, seemingly without a care in the world.

I bent down, looking at the box, letting my eyes fall half-lidded as I parsed the taste before me: protective wards. The box was seemingly without a gap or hole, only able to be breached by a key.

“Blood,” I muttered to myself.

But whose?

Shrugging to myself, I drew a blade of vorpal energy from my index finger across my palm before reaching out and swiping it across the box.

I tasted the clicks as the magical lock of the wards recognized my blood: first lock, second lock; it stopped at the third and final.

My blood was close, but it needed something specific.

I tasted the magic around the box, noting its similarity in residue to mine.

One more thing to try before I started committing my next crime, I guessed.

“Father,” I said, and Sirius walked forward, offering up his palm to me, which I dragged my finger across, sending crimson liquid welling out of the gash.

He reached out, pressing his hand against the box.

Two locks clicked open, and the third remained stubbornly shut.

“I think we’re going to need her blood,” I sighed, rubbing my chin in thought.

“Can’t just incinerate the whole thing?” my Father asked curiously.

“From the taste, I think it’s something Dumbledore described to me,” I admitted. “It’s a blood lock; whoever cast the spell needs their blood to open it. In exchange, this isn’t a container that can be damaged by any magical means that are currently known.”

I then shrugged, “But it can’t hurt, can it?”

Violet flashed from my palm, slicing across the box’s lid.

I felt another lock click, and then the box sprang open, revealing a gleaming goblet that tasted like a Horcrux and a folded scrap of parchment.

Sirius frowned, and I did so as well before summoning the parchment to my right hand while I gestured with my left hand, unleashing violet fire into the box, the essence within not having a single moment to respond before it was obliterated.

I looked at the note in my free hand, words scrawled in a long cursive hand, faint wrinkles on the parchment from moisture.

The Last Will and Testament of Bellatrix Black

Whoever reads this note, I imagine it will not matter much to you the circumstances of why I write it, but I do so anyway because I have nothing left to lose. Lord Voldemort has instructed me to hide this Cup inside my vault in Gringotts. He believes there is nowhere safer than in the vault of his most loyal follower, and he is right.

That is not myself. I joined the Death Eaters for only one reason. Because no one was going to defend Marlene McKinnon but me. I thought that if I served well, I could keep the Dark Lord’s hunger for magic from subsuming her.

I was wrong.

My existence is now meaningless. I have lost everything. Whether I live or die is unimportant.

What is important, and what I beg whoever holds this note to do, is to do whatever is necessary to destroy this object. My final vengeance. My only hope is that the light of my world will be avenged.

I can only hope this note finds its way into the hands of the right person.

I hope it is you.

Wordlessly, I held up the note to my Father, who took it.

A minute passed.

Finally, I unearthed words I didn’t want to say: “Is it true?”

Sirius released a long breath. “Unfortunately, this may answer too many questions,” he said softly.

“Did you ever manage to talk with her in Azkaban?” I asked.

Sirius shook his head. “No, she was near me in a neighboring cell, but she didn’t say a word, not the entire time we were in our cells. Not even anything when they took me out.”

“She’s still guilty, isn’t she?” I said quietly, “She still tortured Neville’s parents.”

“In all likelihood, a Black wouldn’t concern themselves with that kind of task,” Sirius replied obliquely.

It wasn’t innocence, not anything close to it.

I waited what I thought was an appropriate time. “Mom would have wanted her to be free, wouldn’t she?” I said softly.

My Father nodded. “Marlene loved Bellatrix,” he said quietly, his eyes slightly distant, grey darkening.

I sighed, rubbing my head in frustration. “Damn it,” I mumbled.

-

Fleur released a small, anxious breath as she sat across from Iris, who had drawn her to an out-of-the-way classroom at lunch and proceeded to stare at her with solemn, darkened emerald eyes as she held a black cat in her arms that Fleur had seen about on occasion these last few weeks.

Ares's supposed new familiar.

She restrained a giggle as their eyes met, lazy grey to her own blue.

The cat looked as all cats did, befuddled by their current position, though he was not struggling.

Iris looked down, seemingly catching her gaze before smiling cheerfully, “Don’t mind Polaris; Ares just wanted me to watch him.”

Fleur nodded, her red lips twisting up somewhat in amusement. “He seems like he would be incapable of doing such by himself?” she asked, smiling teasingly as she curled a finger beneath the startling grey-eyed cat.

Iris shrugged. “Ares hasn’t really had a familiar before,” she said, and Fleur nodded in understanding.

“What was it that you needed me for, Iris?” she asked, smiling in what she hoped was a pleasant manner at Iris.

Please don't know. Please don’t know.

“Apparently, at some point before we began dating, you told Ares you’d be willing to date him for his own protection,” Iris said calmly, and Fleur’s heart stopped, and then she shook her head.

“Please, it is not like that; you must understand-“

Iris held up a hand. “No, Fleur, I’m not mad; I just wanted to confirm it.”

Fleur nodded slowly, almost hesitatingly. “Please, I have no intention of pursuing a relationship with Ares, especially now.”

Iris nodded her head slowly as if processing the words. “To be clear, the especially now is because I’m dating him,” she said.

Fleur nodded again.

Iris nodded her head a couple more times, the motion having become so repetitive that Fleur was surprised that Iris made each nod as cute as it seemed.

Iris took a deep breath and then clutched Polaris close to her chest. “So the thing is, I’d like you to get closer to Ares.”

Fleur opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“Quoi?” Fleur said faintly.

Iris grimaced. “I’m worried about him, and I need someone else to watch out for him, and if you were willing to date him, then that means you must care enough about him to do so.”

Fleur frowned, and while she could lie to Ares, she couldn’t lie to her friend. “But it is impossible, Iris. You know what I feel. I want him so bad sometimes my blood burns, and I have to excuse myself from class to let out flame.”

“Right, and it’s not your choice,” Iris nodded her head. “And I’m sorry to do this to you, but I need Ares to be safe, and I can’t think of anyone better to attach to him than you, because whether it was something you chose or not, you’ll die for him.”

Fleur looked away, attempting to hide her flinch.

It was true. She wished it wasn’t, but it was.

She wanted to blame Iris for pushing her like this, but in truth she knew that this might be the best option for her. To be close but not to have him. Her friend would let her bask near Ares' warmth enough to stave off the chill but also allow her enough distance so she did not burn.

“I know why you are actually doing this,” Fleur murmured, looking back at Iris and watching a small warm smile emerge on the other girl's face.

Iris looked amused. “And why do you think that is?”

Fleur smiled back at Iris, allowing for real warmth to emerge. “Because we’re friends,” she whispered, almost not believing her own words.

Iris shrugged, but her cheeks had reddened, and she looked away. “Yeah,” she said softly, “We are.”

Fleur’s heart soared; this emotion- this- a bond of friendship with another girl, strained, not yet fully tested, but it was the thing she had truly never thought to have. Love as a Veela was a matter of time and person.

Friendship. That was something else.

Iris looked at her, concerned, and Fleur realized her eyes had welled with tears.

“Oh Fleur,” Iris said, hurrying forward and wrapping an arm around her, squishing the cat in her other arm between them, surprisingly something that Polaris seemed to tolerate, though he did stiffen slightly.

“I love you,” Fleur said softly, holding the other smaller girl in a tight grip, “I’ve never had a friend like you; I don’t want to lose that for anything.”

Iris hummed softly, vibrating against her. “You understand that I’m using you, right?” she said in a soft voice.

Fleur giggled, “That’s how I know you’re my friend.”