Harry Riddle || Harry potter

Chapter 44: About Her

By the time Harry was about a year old, he'd decided he could safely rule out discovery being the source of the fear, but he'd never gotten a chance to solve the mystery. Lily was dead only a month or so later.

He had to wonder why Lord Voldemort himself had singled her out. Why had he personally gone after someone who wasn't truly important in the scheme of things . . .?

"And there you are! I've been looking for you for an hour! I mean, I know that old bitch was more insulting than usual today, but I've tried all sorts of spells and even turpentine and all it did was make her more angry—Remus, hello?!"

Remus steadied himself and turned around, forcing a smile onto his face. If it looked fake, Sirius didn't seem to notice, or maybe attributed it to the time of month. Harry had been right; it was near the full moon and he was very tired, his whole body achy as the wolf began to claw its way closer to the surface. He tried his best to be cheerful during those days, but sometimes he just couldn't be.

"Hi, Sirius," he managed, puzzled as he saw that Sirius looked oddly agitated. "What's wrong?"

Sirius began to explain as he grabbed his arm and started them off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, quickly dodging shoppers and vendors and animals running underfoot.

"As I said, I've been looking for you for all of two hours—we've got to get back to Grimmauld Place. There's been an emergency Order meeting called. McGonagall was the one who told me, she seemed upset—" Someone bumped into him roughly from the side, cutting him off mid sentence, and he didn't hesitate to snap, "Excuse you!" The witch paused to glare at him but hurried on her way when he glared right back.

Remus frowned deeply. He hadn't heard the words 'emergency Order meeting' since the end of the War, when meetings had to be held whenever the need arose, as the Death Eaters' activity fluctuated and new information became available. Since the fighting came grinding to a halt ten years ago, they met only once a month, and even then, it had changed over the years from preparing for another war to becoming something of a social. Talk of spies and battles and strategy had slowly morphed into 'oh-hello-cousin-Andromeda' and 'how-are-the-children-Molly' and 'it's-nice-to-know-you-still-hate-me-Severus'.

But now . . . what did this mean?

"Did anyone say what it was about?" he asked, finally voicing his thoughts.

"No," Sirius replied shortly, pulling him through the Cauldron's entrance and leading him over to the fireplace, ignoring the bartender Tom, who asked if he wanted his usual. He picked up a handful of floo powder. "But, we're about to find out. Number twelve Grimmauld Place!"

Remus watched as Sirius disappeared into the flames and reluctantly followed him, a feeling of dread building in his chest. He came out in familiar surroundings, the house's library, and could already hear Walburga screaming obscenities at someone in the foyer.

"Son of a mudblooded whore! How dare you disgrace the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black with your disgusting, inferior presence?!"

Remus grimaced and slowly patted the ash off his clothes.

"Why, it's nice to see you, too, Walburga. You always were such a good student, too."

Dumbledore. Only he could take the insults so calmly.

"Blood traitors! Mudbloods! Polluting my family home! How dare—?!"

"Oh, shut up, you old hag!" Sirius, of course.

"Don't talk to me that way you filthy blood traitor! I wish I'd never whelped you, you little—"

Remus shook his head, cursing whoever it was who had commissioned that portrait. He'd never actually met Walburga Black in life, but if her portrait self still had the same personality, it was quite shocking that someone would still want her around after death.