26 th August 1914
Something horrible happened today. I actually managed to work well with a Potter. A Potter! We have been political enemies for at least two hundred years now! If Father knew, he would disown me!
But the most horrible part is, that I actually don't mind working with him as much as I act that I do. He's surprisingly pleasant to work with. He's quite witty and seems to know exactly what I plan to do next. It's a lot easier than with my brother - and I guess that shocks me the most.
I'm still cursing Ollivander for his damnable idea to put us together in the first place! But at the same time, I'm oddly thankful to him that he did it. I've never had a partner I could work with that instinctively as Charlus Harryjames Potter.
Damn Ollivander for suggesting that our children will be best friends one day! Of course, I heavily objected to that statement, but truthfully… I guess I wouldn't mind that much. I can actually see it: My grandson - because I fear my children are already too old to be good friends to Potter's potential and yet unborn ones - and Charlus Potter's children playing together at Grimmauld Place. Oddly enough, it makes a lovely picture in my head…
Maybe I like it because I actually like working with Charlus Potter.
But then, I don't think it was just Charlus Potter who made it pleasant to work with. Allaric Moody and Garrick Ollivander are one hell of a team. I wouldn't mind to continue working with them…
If you read this because I died, Father, then I guess I'm sorry for what I wrote just now. I know that you'd not be happy with me if you knew - but these are my thoughts, so if you're reading them, I guess you have to live with them.
Sirius Phineas Black
Sirius Orion Black was staring blindly at the open pages of the diary in his lap.
It was odd.
For years and years he had felt like the odd one out in the family. For years, he had felt that there was nothing but the blood in his veins that connected him with them - and yet, after all this years, he finally had found the connection to his family he had carved for when he was a child.
Sirius Phineas Black had been a man Sirius Orion Black would have loved to call a relative. This man had been friends with a Potter, had fought against the darkness and yet had still been accepted by his family.
This man was the man he, Sirius Orion Black, was named after.
And for the first time in his life, Sirius actually felt honoured to bear the name he had.
"What are you dreaming about over there, Black?" Moody asked gruffly.
The other man was in a bad mood, because while the diary of Sirius Phineas Black had some entries about the war with Grindelwald, it wasn't actually enough to answer Moody's questions. There was no entry that depicted the death of Allaric Moody and while the name of Moody's father was often mentioned, it - together with Garrick Ollivander's and Charlus Potter's names - was nearly the only one mentioned. The only other names that sometimes were thrown in were the names of one 'Sal Sanctuary' and some family names, like Sirius Phineas's children or brothers or nephews.
Sadly enough, all those people didn't interest Moody at all.
"Don't be grumpy, Mad-Eye," Sirius Orion Black said. "Just because you didn't find what you were looking for it doesn't mean that I didn't find something of interest in those journals."
The ex-auror frowned at Sirius then his face darkened.
"Whatever," he said. "I at least wasted my time reading those for the last few days. I'm not further than I was before, which means that I have to find other resources to find out about my father."
Sirius shrugged.
"Didn't you say something about an uncle?" he asked disinterestedly while caressing the spine of the book in his lap.
Moody nodded.
"I was about to leave to try and contact him again but you didn't react when I tried to tell you," he said unhappily.
Sirius shrugged.
"Well, now that I know you can leave," he said.
For a moment, Moody stared at him with an odd expression on his face then he inclined his head.
"As you say, Black," he said. "Then I'm off."
Sirius just waved and then returned to staring at the book, not reacting when the door banged close.
Only twenty minutes later, Sirius moved from the place he was sitting at and put down the book - and he only moved because an owl was persisting on gaining entry through the window.
Sirius opened the window and took the letter from the owl not at all that pleased to be interrupted in his thoughts.
It was only when he looked at the crest of the letter that he peaked up.
It was the Longbottom crest.
But what did the Longbottoms want from him now, after all those years?
August - September 1914
"So… this is Theseus Scamander," Sirius Phineas Black said while watching the other man walk by with a frown. "I'm not sure if I should be impressed by his guts to come here or feel offended that he's used as the face of our Resistance."
Charlus Potter next to him rolled his eyes.
"Stop being so melodramatic, Black," he said half-amused, half-exasperated. "It's not as if either of us could be used as the 'face' of our organisation as you put it."
Sirius frowned.
"Why not?" He asked. "I'm sure as hell handsome enough to be the poster-boy!"
"Yeah - and dark enough to make them flee from us when they know you're part of our Resistance before we can even tell them that you're fighting the good fight this time around," Charlus pointed out coolly. "Honestly, Black! We need people to join us - and not to run from us as if we're worse than Grendel… whatever!"
Sirius Black threw the other man a hurt look.
"I'm well versed in charming people, Potter," he pointed out unhappily and Ollivander, who was standing behind them and going over his plans snorted in amusement.
"I am!" Sirius repeated, clearly having heard Ollivander's reaction.
"Oh, I don't doubt it," Ollivander said while marking the new possible places of the enemy's attacks. "But we're not out to get the ladies into our beds. We're out to get fighters - and those you can't charm with the charm you have!"
Sirius send the young wandmaker a betrayed look.
Charlus on the other hand hid his smile behind his face.
"I guess you might be right with that one, Garrick," he said amused. "After all, as far as I know, the Black charm always worked just the one way you described right now."
Sirius opened his mouth to object, but was interrupted by another arrival.
"What are you doing here, lingering and watching the rest of the camp?" Allaric Moody asked with a frown. "Don't you have something else to do but to gossip?"
When two offended heirs turned their gaze on him, Garrick Ollivander spoke up again.
"I have two possible places for the enemy's next attack," he said. "The likelihood that they're either attacking the magical side of Neufchâteau or Virton next is highly likely."
Immediately, the three others turned to him and also looked at his plans.
"Why?" Allaric asked Ollivander frowning.
The wandmaker pointed at some other marked places on his map.
"The muggles are currently on their way there, too," he said. "If they keep up with their pattern, they will use the muggle war as a cover like they did before."
Charlus and Sirius exchanged an unhappy look.
"That sounds… quite possible," the Black heir finally settled on quite unhappily.
"This will be a fiasco…" Charlus muttered while turning the map so that he could look at it closer. "Stopping those bastards while surrounded by muggles - not a good idea…"
"Well," Ollivander said with a frown. "I think that might be the reason why they do it."
When the others looked at him in confusion, he shrugged.
"Unlike us, they don't care about the Statute," he pointed out reasonably. "So they know that we might hesitate to attack them and stop them because the risk of magic being found out is exceptionally higher if we actually fight back, you know?"
"So what?" Allaric asked, while looking from one man to the other. "We just sit by and watch because we might expose the magical world when we don't?" He definitely didn't sound happy when he mentioned that solution.
Ollivander frowned.
"It would be the best - and yet also the worst thing to do," he said slowly. "If we sit by and watch, we will give them a lot more strength than they already have - but if we don't, we might end up exposing magic…"
They looked at each other.
Charlus frowned at the charts.
"What," he said slowly. "If we actually split up the jobs?"
Sirius frowned at that, but it was more thoughtful than unhappy this time.
Ollivander and Allaric exchanged a confused glance.
"That might be a good idea," Sirius said slowly. "You and I already take on the wards - we just have to split the rest of the jobs like we split our work with the wards between us two…"
This time, slow understanding entered Allaric's face.
"So," he said as slowly as Charlus had done so before. "Either Garrick or I will take over attacking - and the other -"
"Obliviating if necessary," Ollivander added, now also catching on. "An interesting idea."
He looked at the map thoughtfully.
"We should test it…"
The answer was a matching grin on the other men's faces.
"Why not?" Sirius said. "Let's go and get some action. Unlike our poster-boy Theseus we at least can do some dirty work!"
With that, the four allies walked off to find their leader and get permission for their newest mission.
Sirius Orion Black closed the letter of the Longbottoms he had been reading and looked up to stare at the wall in front of him.
The Longbottoms wanted an alliance.
No.
The Longbottoms wanted to confirm an alliance that had already been established by a member of Sirius' family - and not any member, but an heir.
Sirius frowned.
Who was the heir of Black after him?
The only name he could think of was his brother, but Regulus was dead - so there was no way that it could have been his brother who established the alliance…
Still…
Sirius looked back at the letter in his hands.
" To the venerable Lord Black," it read.
" The House Longbottom hereby writes to you to formalize the alliance your heir proposed to us just a few weeks ago. House Longottom wishes to reaffirm and officiate this alliance before the first Wizengamot meeting of the new year in January. At this time, House Longbottom will return into the Wizengamot under a new Lord and wishes to ensure old alliances and officiate those that have been proposed to ensure the new Lord's success.
Sincerely,
The House of Longbottom."
Sirius frowned again.
What other heir but his dead brother did the Black-family have?
Draco Malfoy?
No, he was the heir of Malfoy and would have named himself such - not even considering that the Malfoy family wouldn't have approached the Longbottoms for an alliance, and if they would, Longbottom wouldn't have accepted the alliance.
So who else?
The Lestranges were out for obvious reasons.
Harry?
But even if Harry was possible, he would have still been the Potter-heir first - and the Longbottom-family would have mentioned that…
Sirius pondered that question a bit longer, but in the end, he sighed and closed his eyes. He was quite sure that he wouldn't find that answer while looking into nothingness.
In the end, Sirius decided something he hadn't planned to do at all.
He closed his eyes again in defeat.
"Gringotts," he whispered to himself unhappily. "Here I come…"
It seemed as if he would take up his Lordship - something he hadn't wanted to do in his whole life…
Moody knelt in front of the fire-place, staring into the flames.
"Alastor," the current Lord Delacour greeted him with a thick French accent the moment the flames vanished and showed the middle-aged man's face.
"Louis," Moody replied and his magical eye turned to take a look at the entrance to the room he was in. "Is your grand-father somewhere near?"
"My grand-père?" the Lord Delacour said surprised. "I thought that you and he weren't talking with each other anymore?"
Moody sighed.
"I… guess that might be true," he admitted. "I… was a bit unhappy with Uncle Jêrome the last time we talked."
Louis Delacour's eyes narrowed.
"As far as I remember you stormed out after grand-père said something about Le Fou Marius," Louis said accusingly and Moody shifted a bit uncomfortably.
"I might have reacted like that," he admitted, feeling a bit foolish for his words and deeds of the past. "But now I need to talk to him."
The Lord Delacour raised an eyebrow.
"What about?" He asked.
Moody sighed again.
"Grindelwald," he admitted. "And everything connected to him."
The other man looked at him disbelievingly.
"You always fight with grand-père when it comes to Grindelwald and the war," Louis Delacour pointed out coolly.
Moody closed his eyes in regret. He wondered how long his uncle had tried to tell him the truth and he hadn't wanted to listen…
"I know," he said tiredly. "I know I never listened. But I need to talk to Uncle Jêrome. I promise, I will listen this time around."
Louis raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"How come?" He asked interestedly and Moody sighed.
"Someone told me some things I never knew about the death of my father," he said truthfully. "And I need to know if what he said is true. I need to know - and Uncle Jêrome might know a lot more about it than I ever thought."
Louis' lips twitched in hidden amusement.
"He might," he said. "Alright. I'll tell grand-père that you want to talk to him. He's currently not here but with a friend, but I'll tell him the moment he's back. I guess he will contact you to ensure that you can talk."
Alastor Moody nodded.
"Thank you, Louis," he said and then ended the floo-call. He hadn't gotten the answers he had been looking for, but at least he had the chance that his uncle would answer him before the week ended… and that was more than he had just hours ago.
"And then I will finally see who's been speaking the truth all along," Moody said to himself.
Moody knew himself well enough that if the answer was different than he hoped, not only his beliefs but also his friendship would be challenged - and chances were, that neither would survive the meeting with his uncle…
August - September 1914
"Wow!" Theseus Scamander jumped to the side and avoided by just half an inch or less the spell from the man he was fighting. "Careful with that stick! You could hurt someone if you swish it around like that!"
The answer were even more spells thrown at him by his enemies. He was outnumbered - one against twenty, yet he had no inclination to give up fighting. But then, Theseus was a 'knight' - at least that's what he was called in the language of the resistance. It meant that he was one of the fighters and not part of the support. So he definitely wouldn't give up his duty as a knight right now in the face of the enemy!
Instead, Theseus ducked, nearly avoiding every single one of the spells coming at him.
"Oh, c'mon!" He cried. "Can't we talk it out like normal people?!"
"You're an idiot if you think I would talk to someone like you!" One of his enemies replied, clearly fed up by Theseus luck when it came to avoiding spells, before firing another volley of dark spells at Theseus Scamander.
"Oh, please, man - make peace, not war!" Theseus complained. "We don't have to fight -"
Before he could end his sentence, he had to jump from one foot to the other to escape some vicious Unforgivables fired at him by some of the others.
"One against twenty - that's not fair!" He complained. "Can't you do the honourable thing and come at me all at once?"
That ensured him some disbelieving looks from the men he was fighting.
"You," one of his enemies said with an eye-roll before firing another spell at him. "Have an odd idea what it means to do the honourable thing."
Theseus shrugged and dodged another volley of spells.
"What can I say?" He said. "I'm an odd person."
That time around, neither of his enemies objected. But then, considering that they were having a go at him for nearly half an hour already and the only thing Theseus had cast in that time was a tickling jinx - well, you didn't argue when the person in question clearly assessed himself correctly…
Again, spells came flying at Theseus and the man danced and hopped and jumped and ducked out of their way.
"Oh, please," he said. "All at once, I said - not one after another!"
"Insane," one of his enemies uttered to himself.
Then suddenly, another voice could be heard from somewhere behind Theseus.
"Alright Thes!" They cried. "You can stop distracting them now!"
As an answer, Theseus Scamander stopped hopping around.
"Finally," he said, and the clueless face changed into a serious and determined one.
Icy eyes met those of his enemies.
"Run," he told them and raised his wand.
The next moment, the night sky behind him lit up with spell-fire and wards.
Not another two minutes later, his attackers were on the floor, either dead or unconsciousness.
And while Theseus watched his opponents in case someone had gotten away and was currently playing dead, Garrick Ollivander, Allaric Moody, Sirius Black and Charlus Potter stepped up next to Theseus Scamander.
"Well done, Scamander," Sirius said while looking at their enemies with fathomless eyes. "Let's get them bagged or bound. We've got to leave before more of those bastards come by and surprise us."
The others nodded.
It wouldn't be the first fight they would win, and it wouldn't be the last - but it would be memorable all on its own anyway…
Minerva sat at her table in her office, staring into space. In her head she was still hearing Longbottom's words about her family. Maybe, Minerva would have long since dismissed those words - but something in Longbottom's voice… something about Lovegood's words had stuck with her and kept her thinking about it.
What if it was true?
What if it was something that Albus hadn't mentioned to her because he knew that she wouldn't look it up if he didn't say anything… because he knew she wouldn't believe anything like that if somebody else told her about it?
But Longbottom?
Something in his voice, in his gaze, had made her doubt. Something in his eyes had told her to take him seriously - yet, she still couldn't bring herself to go into the library to find out the truth.
Since she had found out decades ago that her father's family had come from magical blood and had just lost their magic sometime in the past, Minerva had looked for anything related to that family.
Her father had been a squib, like her grandfather and her great-grandfather whose father had been magical.
Minerva guessed that she would have never found out if she hadn't stumbled upon the blood-test of the goblins which showed her her magical ancestry - but nothing else.
Since then, she had known that her father's family had been magical once and that they had been customers at Gringotts - meaning that they left Minerva as the only magical descendant a vault with a little bit of money.
But Minerva hadn't known more.
So she had gone, looking for it.
But there had been nothing. She had found thousands of things about other families, but of her own, there was nothing…
And all the while she had trusted Albus - who knew about her search - to tell her when he stumbled upon something related to her family.
All that time Albus had known how desperate Minerva had been for a connection to her magical ancestry, for any hint about it and yet…
What was when Longbottom was right?
What did it mean, if her family had been part of the Wizengamot… if she had been unable to find her relations because the old families of the Wizengamot were protected by more than just their wards?
Minerva knew for a fact that there was nothing about the Longbottoms or the Potters to find if you didn't know that they were part of the Wizengamot first…
So why did she still hesitate?
Why did she fear to go to the library and confirm that finding her family was still nothing but a pipedream?
Maybe, she guessed, that was because if Longbottom was right, she would have trusted the wrong man all along…
And yet…
Minerva's eyes flickered to the paper in front of her.
"Maybe," she mused thoughtfully. "It's time that I open my eyes and start doubting him…"
It was a complicated thought - full of contradictory emotions and warring memories and beliefs.
Minerva clenched her fists around the newspaper in her grasp and closed her eyes.
"Maybe," she thought to herself. "It's already too late. I have started to look at him critically - maybe there's no way to go back anymore."
Yes, Minerva had started to doubt - and the newspaper in her hand just helped with her doubt.
She sighed, shook her head and then stood up to finally do what she had hesitated to do for days now.
Just a few minutes later, Minerva stepped into the library and up to Madam Pince.
"Irma," she said. "I need your help."
The librarian looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"What do you need, Minerva?" She asked.
"I need information about the Wizard's Council and its members," Minerva said truthfully. "I need the names of the families that belonged to it."
Irma Pince just stared at her.
"Whatever for, Minerva?" She asked, barely hiding the surprise in her voice.
"I just need to confirm or deny something, Irma," Minerva told her truthfully.
The librarian stared at her another second or two, then she nodded briskly and stood up to lead Minerva towards one of the back shelves in her domain.
She pulled out a book and handed it to Minerva without ever letting her see the title.
"Here," she said. "Whatever you want to look up that for - in this book you will find what you're looking for."
Minerva stared at the inconspicuous book in her hands.
"Thank you," she said slowly.
The librarian nodded and then walked away briskly to deal with two Hufflepuffs who were definitely talking too loudly for a library, leaving Minerva to stare at the book within her hands.
Minerva took a deep breath.
This was it, she thought. This was her truth…
She opened the book within her hands, searched the registry for the pages she was looking for and then opened the book on the right page.
Her grip tightened.
"Black," she whispered. "Bones…"
Her finger wandered down the page full of names.
"Emrys," she stopped in her tracks for a second after reading that name before continuing down.
As surprising as it was, to read Merlin's last name in the registry for the Wizard's Council members, it wasn't why she was here…
No, she was looking for…
She froze.
There it was.
Black on cream.
She had reached what she had been looking for, what she had doubted to find just to find it anyway…
"McGonagall," the registry said.
Minerva stared at the name, her head swimming with disbelief and confusion.
"McGonagall," she said aloud.
Her family had been part of the Wizard's Council.
Her family was part of the Wizengamot - and Albus had never said a word…
Minerva had searched everywhere to find her magical family.
Minerva had begged Albus for his help and he had promised to look as well…
Albus had known the members of the Wizard's Council for decades now, while always knowing that Minerva was searching for that particular connection to find her family…
Yet, he had never said a word.
Minerva's eyes narrowed.
Why had he never said?
Hadn't it been her right to know?
It was her family.
It was her past and her only link to those that had come before her.
Albus had known how much she carved that connection…
Albus had known how much it would have meant to her…
Then another thought hit her.
"My family is old," she thought dazed. "My family is just because of that and the connections it has thanks to that fact, powerful."
She stared at the registry in her hands.
"If my family has had always that much power and Albus knew," she thought confused. "Why didn't he tell me just because of that when the last war went downhill?"
Couldn't she have helped - especially considering the power of a family as old as hers?
Couldn't she have had a lot more influence they could have used to fight the war and Tom Riddle?
Wasn't it her right to use her name and the power it gave her to pursue the enemy who wanted to destroy them?
Why hadn't Albus said anything?!
It was then that it finally hit her.
Yes, she could have helped with her name.
She could have politically helped.
She could have been involved politically.
"My family was part of the Wizard's Council," Minerva whispered to herself. "The Wizard's Council and all its members build the foundation of the current Wizengamot. My family… is part of the Wizengamot…"
Minerva stared blindly at the page in front of her eyes, still not believing what she was seeing.
Her family was part of the Wizengamot.
No. Not her family.
She was part of the Wizengamot.
Longbottom hadn't lied…
She was part of the Wizengamot.
She was part of the Wizengamot !
Suddenly, ice cold fury enveloped her.
Albus had a lot to answer for.
Minerva closed the book and then turned to face the door.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her fury spiked even more.
The shelves of the library shivered like an animal captured by a predator.
Minerva swept out of the library.
The students she encountered ducked their heads and kept them down while she passed them - not that Minerva saw.
All her focus was directed at just one direction - and truly just one alone.
Albus.
Let's see what an explanation the old goat had for keeping that from her all this time…
May 1915
Ollivander was standing in the middle of a massacre.
His shoulders were slumped and he was tired beyond relief.
A man stepped up next to him and clasped his shoulder.
"This shouldn't have happened," Cygnus Black, one Sirius Black's brother said with tears in his eyes.
Ollivander knew that half of Cygnus' team was lying in front of them, not moving and dead.
"It shouldn't have," Ollivander said tiredly. "But this is war - things like that happen."
The answer was a sniff.
"It still shouldn't have," Cygnus replied while fighting of his tears. "We're… we were good… we were a fabulous team! This shouldn't have happened to us! It shouldn't have!"
Ollivander sighed and then slowly wrapped his hands around the raging man.
"It's war," he said. "And even with our best planning… even with -"
"If Britain would just enter this war already!" Cygnus hissed while his grief turned into fury. "If those idiots from the Wizengamot would just acknowledge that the rest of Europe needs them! If they'd just get up their asses and fight!"
Ollivander sighed.
"You know that there're some who try to make them see reason," he told the other man and Cygnus sneered.
"Yes," he said. "And then wonder-boy says that they're exaggerating and they belief him! Second coming of Merlin - my ass!"
Ollivander shrugged.
"That's politics for you," he pointed out. "There will always be some people who will sit back and hope that the problem will just go away if they refuse to look."
Cygnus snorted.
"And because of them my team is dead," he said icily. "Politics! I hate them!"
With that he freed himself from Ollivander's grasp and stalked off.
The wandmaker just shook his head and looked back at the bodies of the dead.
He could understand Cygnus - but at the same time, he also knew that even without the support from Britain they would give everything to fight the evil that was currently tyrannizing magical Europe…
Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair, rubbing his head.
He had a headache.
"Minerva," Albus thought sighing. "Truly can be dangerous if she wants to…"
The Deputy Headmistress had come into his room just half an hour ago, fury in her eyes.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" She had thundered the moment she entered the office. "How could you!"
Albus, who had been working on his paperwork, winced, his eyes flitting to the eyes of his Deputy.
"Minerva, wha -"
"You!" Minerva screeched, her eyes narrowing at him while she interrupted him icily. "You lied to me! I trusted you for years and you had the cheek to lie to me!"
"I -"
Albus stopped himself, totally confused what was going on. He had no idea what Minerva was talking about or why she was absolutely furious with him.
"You researched the Wizard's Council!" Minerva growled. "You researched it and its members years ago - and you said nothing!"
This time, Albus couldn't stop his eyes from widening and betraying him by that action.
He had never thought that Minerva would find out about her right as a member of the Wizengamot without him telling her. He had always believed that if he ever needed the seat of McGonagall, he would be able to talk Minerva into giving it to him without actually telling her what she was giving away. It had been one of his security measurements - one of those he felt the most sure about considering the age and therefore prestige of the seat…
Of course, having a seat like that active without Albus needing it would have just disrupted the current balance of the Wizengamot - something that Albus hadn't wanted to do at all for the fear of the unknown alliances that old seat bore already.
After all, who knew which alliances were still active from back then?
Albus had researched the Wizard's Council back then - and McGonagall had tight ties with the Black, Greengrass and Nott families as well as the Slytherins, the Peverells and the Moodies - the most of those families no families, Albus Dumbledore wanted to have any kind of ties with. Considering that he couldn't find out if those ties were still active alliances or not… Albus hadn't wanted to actually risk it.
And now Minerva knew…
"Minerva," he said, trying to keep cool. "You don't have any idea what you're -"
"Oh, Albus," she growled. "I think I have more of an idea than you want to think!"
"No, Minerva!" Albus objected immediately. "You can't take the seat! You have no idea about the alliances you will be forced -"
Minerva slapped him.
She actually slapped him!
"We are over, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" She forced out through gritted teeth. "You knew that I was longing for a connection to my wizarding family since I found out that my father was a squib and not a muggle! You knew that I was looking for information!"
"Of course, but the seat in the Wizengamot -"
"Is exactly that connection I would have needed to find out more about my family!" Minerva screeched. "If you hadn't wanted me to take the seat for whatever reason - I wouldn't have taken it, because I trusted you -"
"Then don't take -"
"No, Albus! That naivety is over!" Minerva growled. "I'm over with blindly following you!"
"But Minerva!" Albus objected, suddenly feeling fear.
If Minerva went against him the whole balance of the Wizengamot wouldn't just be off - but totally gone!
"You have to listen to me! Your seat is connected with a lot of dark families! You would be allied with Slytherin and the Notts and -"
"And maybe they're all better choices than you!" Minerva exclaimed angrily.
With that she slammed down the newspaper in her hand onto Albus' desk.
"If it wasn't for the children, I would ensure that we wouldn't even work together anymore," she told him matter-of-factly. "As it is, I hope you will refrain from actually talking to me in any other capability as my employer!"
With that she turned around and rushed to his door, just to stop with the handle in her hand to turn back to him with fire in her eyes.
"We will see each other in the Wizengamot," she told him. "Don't worry - we won't be allies there!"
With that she stormed out and closed the door behind her.
Since then, Albus was sitting in his chair, his head cradled in his hands, staring into nothingness.
"Minerva," he repeated with a sigh. "Is truly dangerous if she wants to…"
He guessed, he would have to make a lot of amends to ensure that the McGonagall seat wouldn't act against his alliance in the Wizengamot in January - because if it did, it would be a disaster with unimaginable magnitude…
And then Albus' gaze fixed onto the headlines of Oliver Twist's article in the Quibbler Minerva had thrown at him.
"This," Albus thought darkly the moment he registered the article's title. "I have to stop this! I have delayed this enough! I have to stop Twist!"
And yet, maybe Albus had to admit maybe just solely to himself, maybe it was already too late for that already…
The eyes that follow you
' Our Headmaster should be Minister!'
' Why does Professor Dumbledore refuse to leave Hogwarts?! He would be a great Minister!'
Are these some questions you have heard or ask yourself before? I bet they are. I heard them just a few days ago and decided to look into them. The answer I found seems not to fit at all with the man I thought to be a grandfatherly old man who is maybe a little bit crazy. Instead the answer points to something else entirely.
But let's start with another question: Have you ever wondered how the Headmaster of Hogwarts seems to know everything you are doing? When you have, then you have never ever read ' Hogwarts - a History '. The Headmaster knows everything because the castle herself is reporting to him.
The paintings, the armors and even the walls - the Headmaster can access everything and get information out of it. Wards, as old as the school, work to his favor.
' But why?' do you ask. 'Why do we have to suffer from incompetent teachers? Why do we have to suffer from bullying?' When the Headmaster knows everything - why does he not stop things like that to happen? Why are there possessed teachers? Polyjuiced teachers? Bully-teachers?
The answer is simple. The answer is gruesome.
' Because he lets them be' it is.
He looks away when you are cornered by other students. He looks away when a dark object is possessing and slowly draining you. He looks away when someone impersonates a teacher to get you.
And when you want to argue that that never happened - I will tell you some stories I overheard in the hallways of our beautiful school.
There once was a boy, I tell you. He was young, maybe a first year. He had to fight a troll because the Headmaster did not act. He had to fight a Dark Lord because the Headmaster did set him up to it.
There once was a boy who asked another one for the hand of friendship. He was rejected - even when he tried again. Next he was bullied by his own parents to act like he should - all because the Headmaster neglected to give him a safe haven at school.
There once was a girl that was a little bit different than the others. She was bullied mercilessly by students of her own house. Her things were hidden by the offenders, her homework destroyed, her books taken - all because a Headmaster decided to look the other way every time he should have looked at her.
There once was a boy, I tell you. He was called the Heir of Slytherin. He was called an evil bastard. He was called the wannabe killer of all Muggle-borns - all because the Headmaster stayed silence, while knowing that it never was the boy in the first place.
There once was a girl. A girl who suffered an entire year. A first year girl who still wakes up screaming. She wasn't rescued from her abuser for a whole year - simply because the Headmaster closed his eyes and stirred a boy until he found out the truth.
There once was a boy who was bullied all of his years of school. He still has a grudge against the people who stole his childhood. He still suffers from their doing - all because a Headmaster had no time to look at a child of a House he does not like himself. All because the Headmaster needed someone who he could control to his liking. All because a Headmaster chose not to act - even when the boy nearly died at the hands of the others.
Now you tell me that this can't be true and that I was lying.
But before you do this just ask the portrait near you if it has to answer to someone. And when the portrait does answer and tells you 'Yes, I answer to the Headmasters and the Founders' then look around you in the hall.
And then think about the fact that most of the portraits in school have some other frames in their ancestral homes. They come home every other week, listen to the talking of their children and descendants. Then they return to Hogwarts and answer you: 'I answer to the Headmaster and the Founders.' The Founders once promised never to ask about the things the portraits heard and saw in their ancestral homes. The Headmaster was never restricted by that oath.
' The Headmaster refused a position of power because he does not want to lead someone.'
' The Minister asks Dumbledore for advice.'
The Minister loses his job when he does something wrong. He loses his power. But Albus Dumbledore is still Headmaster after such a long time. Ask yourself: Why did he never leave Hogwarts to become the Minister?
And when you do, think about your whole life. Think about what you read - and then keep in mind that there is not just one of a kind in the world. Then look around the halls of Hogwarts. And maybe you find the children I have been talking about previously walking right beside you.
And when you do, just ask some questions - and you might get answers you never wanted to have in the first place.
Oliver Twist
November 1916
"Out of the way! I need a Lullaby! Has anybody seen a Lullaby?" Others stopped when the man ran past them, nearly falling over one or two of those he passed when they weren't fast enough to get out of the way.
"Lullaby! I need a Lullaby!" it was Ollivander who stopped the frantic run of the man through their camp.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" He asked with a frown. "And how do you know the code-words we use?"
The other man nearly fell over when Ollivander stopped him so abruptly, but instead of answering, his eyes lit up the moment they fell on Ollivander.
"You're Gar- whatever Ollivander!" He cried. "You're part of the Lullabies, aren't you?"
Another man stepped up next to Ollivander, his hand on his wand.
"I thought that Sal protested against calling the Obliviator Squad 'Lullabies'?" He asked with a frown.
The man who had been caught by Ollivander waved it off.
"I'm sure that as long as Thes and I use it often enough, Sal won't have a chance to stop the name from festering," he said, then his eyes narrowed at the newcomer. "You're Sirius Black, aren't you? My brother Thes talked about you the last time he wrote me."
Sirius eyes narrowed.
"And you are?" He asked coolly.
The red haired man blinked innocently, suddenly looking more like a shy school boy than a man.
"Oh!" He said. "I'm one of the Iron Bellies - you know, dragon division and all that. I'm the Ukrainian one from the Eastern Front!"
Ollivander and Sirius exchanged a confused glance.
"Aren't Iron Bellies dragons?" Sirius asked confused.
The other man waved it off.
"Dragons - spies, whatever, doesn't matter," he said dismissively. "What matters is that I need a Lullaby before my spell wears off. I'm quite sure we don't want a muggle running around who knows that we exist in the middle of a war…"
"You're right, that's not a good idea," Ollivander said a bit amused at the man. "Your name?"
"Huh?" The red haired man looked at him for a moment as if he couldn't comprehend the question, then he shrugged.
"Newton," he said. "But Thes and most other people call me Newt."
"Ah!" Sirius said in that moment. "You're the insane brother of his!"
Newt pouted.
"I'm not insane," he countered. "Now - will a Lullaby come with me to help me or should I attempt to obliviate the muggle myself. I just want to tell you that the last time I tried that, the man couldn't differentiate between his head and his toes when I was done with him…"
Ollivander snorted.
"I'll go with you," he said. "I was anyway on my way to my shift in the Obliviator Squad."
"Lullaby," Newt corrected.
"Lullaby," Ollivander acquiesced.
With that they hurried off together.
July 1917
Garrick Ollivander sat down next to Charlus Potter and Sirius Black who were looking at the flames of their little camp fire in front of them.
"You know," Garrick said. "I heard a rumour today… about Grindelwald…"
"What kind of rumour?" Allaric Moody asked while sitting down next to Garrick with some soup in his hands. He was followed by Theseus Scamander and a dark haired man with oddly piercing green eyes in the colour of the killing curse.
"Something hilarious, I hope," Theseus Scamander added. "I could use a good laugh."
The man next to him raised an eyebrow at the older Scamander.
"You always have a good laugh - if the enemy's upon us and all seems lost or if we're partying doesn't actually matter to you," he countered dryly.
Theseus turned to look at the man innocently.
"But Sal!" He mock-whined. "You can't just blurt out things like that! What will the girls say if you imply that I'm insane while I try to hook them up?!"
Sal just looked pointedly at the darkness of the forest around them.
"What girls?" He asked and Theseus pouted.
Allaric snorted, but Garrick just shook his head.
"Sadly it's nothing amusing," he said unhappily. "There's a rumour going around that Grindelwald managed to get his hands on a legendary wand."
Charlus looked up from the flames at that.
His eyes narrowed.
"What wand?" He asked sharply.
Garrick shrugged.
"It's called the Death Stick," he said. "There's a rumour that it's part of the Deathly Hallows, from the tale, you know?"
Sirius Black frowned.
"How reliable is that rumour?" He asked concerned.
Garrick shrugged.
"I can't say," he said. "All I can say is that he's gotten even more vicious than he already was…"
Allaric rolled his eyes.
"It's just a fairy tale," he said, clearly not believing it. "There's nothing like the Deathly Hallows."
Sal opened his mouth, clearly to object, when Charlus Potter spoke up again, his voice grave, but utterly convinced.
"There is," he said unhappily. "And they're damn dangerous in the wrong hands."
The others, except Sal, looked at each other, suddenly uneasy - especially when Sal just nodded and added "They are," his voice as sure as Charlus' when he finally spoke up.
For a moment, there was utter silent between the friends, then Allaric combed a shaking hand through his hair.
"Then we should ensure that he's not finding the other two pieces as well," he said, his voice shaking as much as his hand. "I don't fancy to fight the Master of Death."
The others nodded, suddenly ill-at-ease.
Charlus just shook his head.
"You would never fight the Master of Death," he said, his voice clear and strong. "My family has always known more about the Deathly Hallows than any other family - and I can guarantee you, you'd never fight the Master of Death."
Sirius frowned at that.
"Why not?" he asked. "If Grindelwald finds the other two -"
"Then he still wouldn't be the Master of Death," Charlus said and looked at his friends calmly. "The true Master accepts death as a part of life. He won't try to command it. The role of the Master is balance. He's there to fight and yet accept death - it's not an easy role. Death is natural - and yet, as the balance, the Master would have to fight it without going so far to try and rule it."
"Sounds like a difficult job," Theseus snorted. "Nothing I'd truly want to do."
"And lonely," Garrick added.
Charlus nodded.
"Considering that the Master would be unable to die until he'd give up his job as the balance or until every other life on Earth ended - it's definitely lonely," he agreed.
Sirius shuddered.
"Not a role I'd wanted to take," he said. "I'd hate to have to sit by and watch my family die - especially if I'd know I'd had the power to change it, but it would be unnatural to do so…"
Charlus nodded gravely.
"There's a legend in my family that one of my ancestors was the last Master of Death," he said. "He was also called 'The First Grim', because he wasn't human but a grim and the son of Death himself. According to legend, he gave up his position after thousands of years of loneliness by killing himself in front of his children."
The others shuddered and Sal's face had blanked into an unreadable mask.
For a moment, silence reigned, then Sal spoke up again.
"Maybe," he said slowly. "We should use the time tonight to talk about something happier than the discussion we had right now."
"But Grindelwald," Garrick spoke up in protest.
Sal just shook his head.
"If he truly has the Death Stick, it won't change a thing," he said, his voice strong and sure. "I will still fight him. Like Charlus said, there's no way that he can be the Master of Death - not while bringing more death than balancing it. We should keep it at that."
Charlus nodded.
The others exchanged a glance, but in the end, Sirius nodded as well.
"I guess it doesn't matter," he said. "Death Stick or not. I won't back down now. Let him come - we will take him down, mythical weapon or not!"
"Damn true!" Theseus agreed grinning.
Allaric snorted and raised his soup as if he wanted to toast to someone.
"Hear! Hear!" He exclaimed and in the end, even Garrick Ollivander smiled, shook his head and changed the topic of their discussion to the plans they had for the attack on Grindelwald's men in the morning…
December 1917
"Garrick! Step back! Step back!" Garrick Ollivander immediately listened to the voice of Charlus Potter who was next to Allaric Moody not too far from him.
"Damn," Allaric cursed while looking at the ward Arcturus Nigellus Black was ringing with. "If that thing comes down uncontrolled, he'll be dead in an instance."
Ollivander nodded darkly.
"Damn Grindelwald and his damn tricks!" Allaric cursed.
It was then that Charlus Potter's eyes hardened.
"Garrick," he said, his voice booking no argument. "Bring those hostages to safety. Allaric - defend them. Black -"
Sirius Black who had been watching his brother's face with a deathly pale face turned to look at Charlus.
"You'll have to stabilize this ward alone," Charlus said and gestured to the ward he and Sirius Black were currently stabilizing so that it didn't come crashing down on them and the imprisoned hostages like Grindelwald actually planned it to do.
The pale man nodded.
Charlus took a deep breath, then released his part of the control of the wards to the older Black brother before hurrying to the younger one.
He was just in time - a second later and he wouldn't have been able to help the other men anymore.
But like it was, he was barely able to grasp the magic of the wards and releasing the inexperienced ward-helper that Arcturus had been forced to use when they discovered the second ward hidden within the first.
The helper staggered back and for a moment, Charlus had the feeling of getting crushed by a boulder, then he bit his teeth and forced himself to fight through the power that had been released upon him. He normally was the ward-breaker not the power-support, so carrying the power of the wards that Arcturus was dismantling was a new experience for him. But unlike Arcturus former support, Charlus at least knew what he had to do as a support to prevent the backlash coming back at the ward-breaker and kill him.
With his last strength, Charlus grounded himself into the earth, taking the brunt of the power onto himself to prevent a backlash. Doing so, Charlus knew, could have dire consequences as well - too much power cursing through his body would weaken it and ensure that his heart would simply give out a lot faster than normal. Charlus knew that his action could shorten his life down to ten years or less - but he also knew that this was the only way to prevent Arcturus immediate death.
The moment, the power run through Charlus into the earth, he could feel his strength leaving him. His clothing was charred by the power running through him.
For a moment, Charlus feared that the power would overwhelm him and attack his organs, but just before something like that could happened, the brunt of the power finally ran its course through his body and vanished into the earth.
Arcturus staggered, as affected as Charlus.
Ten minutes later, they were finally able to fully dissolve the ward.
"You dunderhead!" Sirius Black thundered the moment the ward was down and enveloped his brother into a hug. "Working with an untrained ward-holder! Are you suicidal?!"
The only answer from his brother was a dazed look, then Arcturus sagged to his knees, unconscious.
Sirius Black stood in front of the doors of Gringotts, staring at the entrance in trepidation.
He shuddered.
It was disconcerting to be out in the open like that after hiding that long, but the most of the other people actually didn't pay attention to him - something that was surprising, considering that it was the first time he had been out in the open since he had been declared innocent.
Sirius took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a second.
"Alright," he told himself. "Alright. I can do that. I will do that…"
And yet, it was like forcing himself to grow up even if he wasn't yet ready to lose the childhood he never had…
Again, Sirius looked up the building, still hesitating to go in.
Since he had freed himself from Azkaban just to be imprisoned in his childhood home again, he had resented Albus Dumbledore for his meddling and his demeanour, yet, Sirius had never done anything to contradict the Headmaster until now.
Going into Gringotts would do that…
Did Sirius want to go against the man who led the light side against Voldemort?
If he had asked himself that question in the last war, he hadn't hesitated to say "no". James would have never gone against the Headmaster - and Sirius would have never gone against James…
It was that thought that made Sirius stop in his thought process…
His eyes widened when the thought actually registered within his mind.
"I wouldn't have gone against James," he whispered to himself. "Against James !"
It had never been Dumbledore that had his loyalty, but always James!
It was a stunning, and utterly surprising thought - something that Sirius had never even registered in his own mind before…
"James," his eyes looked unfocused at the door. " James was the one I followed."
But that left the question who Sirius would follow now…
The answer came to him the moment he wondered mentally about that.
"Harry," he said to himself. "If I have to follow someone, I will follow Harry."
And Harry had broken with Dumbledore, as disillusioned with the old man as Sirius himself felt.
But Sirius also knew that there was no way that they had a chance against Dumbledore as simply "Sirius and Harry". No, they needed more if they wanted to have a chance, if they wanted to break with Albus Dumbledore without simply being killed by Voldemort the moment they left Dumbledore's protection.
"We need some power ourselves," Sirius whispered. "Harry is the Head of Potter - but he can't stand alone. We need allies…"
Sirius' eyes narrowed.
If he wanted to ensure that Harry could break free, it was Sirius who had to ensure that he could.
"I'm not a child anymore," Sirius admitted to himself, forcing himself to see the truth the first time since he had left Azkaban. "I'm the adult. I should act like one!"
It was a hard to face truth - a truth, Sirius actually didn't want to be true, and yet, here he was, admitting to himself for the first time that he might have acted more like a child than like the adult he was supposed to be since he had fled Azkaban.
"I might have an excuse for the first year after my escape," Sirius said to himself. "I was just out of Azkaban and still half-insane from the Dementor-exposure after all…"
But he had to admit to himself that neglecting Harry in his fourth year - especially after Harry had faced Voldemort - had been more than immature. Sirius had just continued with being immature since then…
"Maybe," Sirius mused darkly. "It's time that I stop being an idiot…"
Even if it meant to fake being more mature until he truly was…
So Sirius took another deep breath and then stepped through the doors of Gringotts.
It seemed that it was time that he'd face the responsibilities he had refused to face his entire life. Oddly enough, it had been the journal of his ancestor that had forced him to admit, that maybe he had been too much of a child, still and that maybe it was time to take up the mantle of his ancestors and follow them and their example than continue like he had…
04. November 1944
If you ever read this, my dear son, then I'm sorry that I died - but this was my decision. I am the Head of Black, and I will never stand down and sit by while this monster is still alive. If it means my death, so be it. If it means to go against the Wizengamot, so be it. I am the Head of Black - and I will do anything to ensure that. I know that you stand by my side, currently and for my sake of mind, I hope you'll survive this war. If you don't, I will forever hate myself for that - but I won't ever blame anyone but me. You are my son, you have my blood and my stubbornness. I will regret your death, but I will understand that you fought for what you believed in.
If you survive and I don't, then I hope you will live your life to the beliefs I instilled in you. I hope that you will follow your beliefs even without me at your side and that you will keep true to them for the rest of your life.
Stand strong, my son.
Be who you ever wanted to be.
And don't let anybody ever meddle in your life - even if everybody else believes he has the right idea…
I love you, Archie.
Sirius Phineas Black
Yes, Sirius Orion Black guessed that it was time to follow the example of his ancestors. Maybe, it was finally time to stand up and follow the advice his ancestor had left for Sirius' grandfather.
Maybe, it was time that Sirius Orion Black finally followed his heard - and that meant that maybe he should finally be the man James and Lily had seen in him when they had named him godfather of their only son.
Maybe, it was time that Sirius finally stepped up and change into the man he had wanted to be - the godfather he had longed to be for years now…
Sirius stepped through the doors of Gringotts and walked up to one of the tellers.
"I am Sirius Orion Black," he said. "I am here to inquire about the lordship ring of Black."
The goblin looked at him coolly.
"Follow me," he said. "You will have to confirm your identity before you can inquire about anything, wizard."
Sirius inclined his head and followed.
It was time to be the Lord of Black.
It was time to step up and tell Dumbledore "no".
It was time to accept the alliance the Longbottoms had offered.
It was finally time to live the life he should have years ago…
The man Alastor Moody met was sitting at his desk, his arms folded in front of his chest.
"Alastor," the old man greeted Moody.
"Uncle Jêrome," Moody replied softly. He hadn't talked with the man in years, but even now he couldn't stop the use of the title he had used even as a child.
The man smiled softly at that.
"It's nice to still be seen as family by you, Alastor," he said. "It has been a long time."
"It has, Uncle Jêrome," Moody replied, inclining his head. "I am sorry for that."
The old man shook his head.
"You don't have to, child," he replied. "You've been ensnared by a great man for quite some time, after all."
It was the first time that Moody heard the hidden sarcasm in the other man's voice.
Moody closed his eyes.
"Tell me, uncle," he asked. "Do you think that I did something wrong, following Albus Dumbledore?"
The old man hesitated.
Moody's eyes met the old man's, inquiry visible in them.
"Will you turn around and leave me if I answer you?" The old man asked cautiously and Moody closed his eyes in regret.
"I won't, Uncle Jêrome," he replied bitterly. "I might have been blinded in the past, and I might have if you had said something before, but I'm not blinded enough to not listen to you now."
The old man stared at him coolly at that.
"What changed your mind?" He asked.
Moody shook his head tiredly.
"Who, not what," he said sighing. "Harryjames Potter did. He had information about Dumbledore's actions at the time of the Grindelwald war. I need to know if the information I gained was right."
The old man raised an eyebrow at that.
"You refused to listen to me when I tried to tell you the tale of your father's fight when you were young," he remarked.
Moody closed his eyes.
"I didn't believe you," he said. "I thought you lied to me. It sounded so different to the things Albus Dumbledore told me when he visited my mother."
The old man's eyes narrowed at that.
"Of course it sounded different!" Jêrome exclaimed. "Albus Dumbledore has never had any idea what it means to fight in a war. He never fought! He hid until he couldn't hide anymore and then he destroyed everything we worked for just because he was blinded by his own greatness!"
Moody stared at the other man in surprise at that.
"What are you talking about, Uncle?" He asked confused.
The old man's eyes narrowed.
"Tell me, Alastor," the old man Jêrome asked. "What do you think when I say 'Sirius Black'?"
Moody frowned.
"The ex-convict of Azkaban?" He asked, now fully confused.
The old man sighed.
"No, Alastor," he said. "Sirius Black - the man who basically lost his life at Numengard."
Moody frowned.
"I don't remember someone ever telling me that there was a Black at Numengard," he frowned. "I read the journal of a Sirius Black - but except of some mentioning of my father, it wasn't worth anything. It sounded as if he was against Grindelwald - but if he had been, he wouldn't have been at Numengard… Did the Blacks secretly follow Grindelwald?"
The old man just shook his head tiredly.
"No, Alastor," he replied. "I just gave you the name of the man who died to pull down the wards of Numengard. There's a reason why the heir of Black was named 'Sirius' - exactly like there's a reason why the heir secundus was named 'Regulus'."
Moody's frown deepened.
There was nothing of that sort in the journal he had read. The journal stopped way before, and Moody had taken the only source he had for that event as truth…
"I thought that the wards on Numengard weakened," he said confused.
Jêrome's eyes narrowed.
"That's Albus Dumbledore talking," he said. "There's a reason why a Black would never ally himself with Dumbledore."
Moody frowned.
"The current Sirius Black -"
"Was following James Potter's lead," Jêrome replied. "He was and is allied with the Potters, as far as magic is concerned, not with Dumbledore. If he would have allied himself with Dumbledore, he would have lost his family name long ago."
Moody looked at the old man in surprise.
The old man just smiled at him.
"You will see," Jêrome said. "The moment Sirius Black will take up his lordship he will ally himself with the Potters and others - but not with Dumbledore. The thought to ally himself with Dumbledore will not even cross his mind. The current Sirius Black might see himself a rebel - but he's only following the lead of the true Blacks of long ago."
Moody raised an eyebrow at that, and the old man elaborated amused.
"Nearly the whole Black family decided to rebel against the British Ministry at the time of Grindelwald," Jêrome explained amused. "They left Britain to fight the war against Grindelwald even when the Ministry refused to send people. They stood up to the whole nobility of wizarding Britain. At first they listened to their arguments, then they contacted their allies and decided to do the absolute opposite. The current Sirius Black's rebellion is nothing when you look at the whole thing compared to his grandfather's and great-grandfather's generation."
Moody couldn't even object to that - the words just supported by the journal of Sirius Phineas Black.
"But if the Black's fought in the war - why doesn't anybody know about that anymore?" He asked confused; a question, he had wondered about since the day he had started to read Sirius Phineas Black's memories. "If they were responsible for the lessening of the wards of Numengard, why is their sacrifice not remembered?"
The old man shook his head and sighed.
"Tell me, Alastor," he said instead of answering. "What do you think if I say 'Newt Scamander'?"
"The magizoology expert?" Moody asked.
"Exactly."
Moody frowned.
"I can't remember him doing anything in the war," he said.
The old man smiled tiredly.
"What do you think if I say 'Fleamont Charlus Potter'?" He asked instead of elaborating. "In his youth and with the Blacks known as 'Charlus' or 'Charlus Harryjames', for the rest of the magical world known as 'Fleamont'?"
"James Potter's father?" Moody asked frowning.
"The same," Jêrome said.
Moody's frown deepened.
"As far as I know he was an Unspeakable and had nothing to do with the Grindelwald war," he replied slowly.
"What about 'Garrick Ollivander'?"
Moody's frown deepened even more.
"He's a wand maker. He was at Britain at that time," he replied, wondering why his uncle brought up all those names without explaining anything.
His uncle just nodded and continued.
"And what do you think if I say 'Marius Black'?" He asked Moody.
Moody stared at his uncle.
"The squib?" He asked.
"Him," Jêrome replied.
Moody's brows furrowed.
What had a squib to do with a wizarding war?
He had never heard anything of a squib fighting against Grindelwald. He didn't think that Albus had ever - he stopped his thought process with a frown. Albus Dumbledore hadn't told him a lot of things - and it seemed that he was unaware of a lot of other things as well…
But why would his uncle name a squib when talking about a magical war?
Then his eyes widened when he thought it over.
"Mad Marius," he repeated in disbelief.
The old man's mouth curled into the resemblance of a smiled.
"Him," Jêrome agreed, before asking. "And what do you think if I say 'Sal…'" The old man stopped with a frown. "Ah, well, I forgot his damn first name again. 'Sal Malfoire' then, I guess."
"Albus said something about the Blacks and Malfoires believing that he was at fault for Grindelwald," Moody said slowly. "I never heard the first name of the Lord Malfoire of back then."
The old man shrugged.
"I fear that the most of us always forgot his first name. It is damn complicated and he hated it if we mangled it to 'Salazar' - the most of us did, you know?" There was amusement in the old man's voice when he confessed that. "In the end we shortened it down to 'Sal' and left it at that."
Moody frowned.
It was then that he finally combined all the evidence he had accumulated and understood what his uncle was talking about.
"He was Sal Sanctuary, wasn't he?" He asked.
The old man smiled.
"That he was. Mad Marius, you named already - but the rest I named were important in the war as well, if you know them or not," the old man said.
"Important, how?" Moody asked. There - finally he would gain the information he had come for, finally he would find out who had lied to him, Albus Dumbledore or Harryjames Potter. His uncle, one Jêrome Delacour would have the evidence that he needed to finally understand what happened back then and why Harryjames Potter suddenly was that enraged with Albus Dumbledore…
"Every one of them had their own part in the war," Jêrome replied shrugging. "Like Mad Marius was our specialist. Like Sal Sanctuary was our leader. Like Newt Scamander was part of the dragon division."
Moody's eyebrow raised at that.
"Dragon division?" He guessed that that was a fitting place for a magizoologist…
The old man nodded. "Ukrainian Iron Belly," he answered amused. "In the first war against Grindelwald he was on the Eastern Front, in the second he was the Head of the Division."
Then the old man shook his head.
"But that's not why I named them," he confessed and Moody's eyebrows furrowed again.
"Why else did you name them?" He wondered.
"I named them because they were the ones who worked with your father the closest," Jêrome replied. "They were his bosses and his suppliers. They were his strategists, his back-up plan, his extraction team. They were the people who worked with your father, who trusted your father, who believed in your father."
Then a heavy gaze fixed on Alastor Moody.
"You may have noticed that I never named Albus Dumbledore," he said icily.
"I noticed," Moody replied drily. "I am an Auror. I am trained to notice things like that."
The old man stared darkly at the opposite wall.
"There's a good reason for it, Alastor," he said. "Let me tell you about it…"