"But if you're not allowing me to write to him," Sirius said, scowling at Albus, "how am I supposed to persuade Harry back to our side?"
Albus sighed in what sounded like exhaustion and set aside the cup of tea Kreacher had made for him. (At least he'd been wise enough to check it over without either Sirius or Remus telling him to). "You will have your chance to speak to him, Sirius. I came to—to ask you to step in as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this year."
Remus drew his breath in sharply. Sirius reached out and clasped his best friend's hand without taking his eyes from Albus. He knew how it had to hurt Remus, to hear the job he'd wanted so badly given to someone else.
"I don't have the qualifications," Sirius whispered. "Albus, you have to—"
"You have an Outstanding on your Defense NEWT, and all the practical experience in battle with Death Eaters that I could wish," Albus said, his smile dragging down his face like chains before it vanished. "And if it is not you, Sirius, then the Ministry will appoint someone. I hurt to imagine whom Cornelius will think an appropriate choice."
Sirius swallowed. Albus was right. Even Sirius, distant as he was from the Ministry, had heard the rumblings about how Fudge was scrambling to achieve a stronger political position. Apparently people who disliked him were trying to put either Amelia Bones or Rufus Scrimgeour forwards as his replacement. Fudge would do something that he could claim was a "show of strength" in response.
"I don't think Harry took regular Defense lessons last year," Remus said. "Any more than he did with me. Are you sure that having Sirius in the position will force Harry to interact with him?"
"Not force," Albus said, giving Remus a gentle smile. "Never that. But there are any number of corners where a Defense professor might stand talking to an older student or a portrait and be overheard by a curious student creeping around with an Invisibility Cloak. Or any number of places we could have supposedly private conversations where such a person could find us. Or any number of philosophical lessons we could pass onto his friends to pass on to him."
"It sounds too indirect to me," Sirius said. "I should—"
"You know that he'll probably just refuse to talk to you," Remus said quietly. "I admit, Albus, this sounds like a weaker plan than your normal ones. But for it to work, it would have to be indirect. Harry is too set and unforgiving."
"And it'll have got worse with that family of his around him," Sirius said darkly. He wished to Merlin that Harry could see sense. Yes, Sirius had kidnapped him and ended up putting Harry with abusive Muggles by mistake, and he was sorry for that. But living up to the legacy of a Potter, embracing it, would still be better than embracing the legacy of a family who had willingly followed You-Know-Who.
"Yes, I'm afraid it will have." Albus leaned back in his chair. "I am sorry, Remus. I wish I could bring you back. But there are too many as set against you as Harry is set against Sirius."
Remus smiled in a way that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, Albus. I understand. Are you going to accept, Sirius?"
Sirius closed his eyes. In one way, he didn't want to. Why shouldn't he just seek out his godson if he was going to talk to him? Sneaking around and talking loudly at random students and portraits didn't sound very Gryffindor.
But on the other hand, what other option did he have? Cissy and that bastard husband of hers would keep Harry away from him completely if they could. And Albus was right about letters to Harry being too easy to intercept.
"All right," Sirius said. "I accept."
The darkness parted easily around him. He strode through it and towards the cauldron that was smoldering silently, the fire underneath it sending curls of smoke up towards the heavens.
Barty bent down and carefully inspected the fire, then nodded. It would take perhaps another five hours of controlled burning to completely render the Augurey corpse to ashes. This ritual was in every way longer and more tedious than the one that would have taken place if Barty and not Pettigrew had been in the graveyard.
Barty's jaw trembled, and he fought back the madness that would consume him if he let it. This was for his Lord. He had to think about his Lord, not about killing. He closed his eyes and meditated for long moments until he had his temper under control.
Then he reached up and touched his forehead, where his Lord's spirit resided. His Lord's spirit murmured back to him, There will be chances in the future. We will go to Hogwarts. We will find someone to take over or subvert. The person will get us to the Potter boy.
"Yes," Barty whispered.
And Lucius, the traitor, will be punished.
Barty nodded fervently.
You will wield the wand that does it, my loyal one.
Barty smiled.
....
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