The gale kicked up by Fawkes's wings scattered the letters on Bryan's desk in every direction, sending them fluttering up off the table and drifting down again in a slow snowfall of parchment across the kitchen floor.
The phoenix rolled once around the low-ceilinged kitchen in a bright streak of scarlet and gold, wings brushing far too close to the shelves and knocking over pots and pans in a clattering chorus, before finally settling on Bryan's shoulder with a soft, satisfied flutter and nuzzling his cheek affectionately with its curved beak.
It loved the warmth and light in this wizard's magic.
Remus and Severus stared at each other across the small kitchen, each a little startled to find the other here.
Remus's surprise carried with it a trace of embarrassment.
He had come to invite Bryan to his wedding but he had not invited Severus.
As it happens, he had originally meant to. The intention had formed and then quietly set aside over the course of several nights.
After all, of the old acquaintances from their school days, the dead were dead, buried and mourned and gone; the wounded were wounded; and those still living had little enough contact now, scattered as the years and the war had scattered them.
Back at school, he and Severus had never gotten along—had barely tolerated each other's presence in a common room, if he was honest about it but they were both in the Order of the Phoenix now, fighting side by side against Voldemort.
And with Bryan in the picture, the old grudges between them had eased considerably.
But what had finally decided Remus against inviting Severus was, in the end, something rooted far deeper, in Severus's own past rather than anything so simple as lingering house rivalry.
Because of James, Sirius had always been flatly, unforgivingly scornful of whatever it was—never quite spoken of outright, never quite explained by anyone, a silence that had set over the years into something nobody cracked open—that had existed between Severus and Lily back then, before any of the rest of this had happened.
Remus, though, was somewhat more just about it than Sirius.
He suspected, faintly that the reason Severus had left Voldemort's ranks in the first place, and the reason Dumbledore trusted him so deeply was precisely because his feelings for Lily had run that deep, deep enough to survive her death and still be steering him now, all these years later.
All these years alone, unmarried, without so much as a rumour of anyone else—that alone seemed proof enough to Remus.
So he hadn't wanted his own wedding, of all things, to stir up something in Severus that might wound him freshly.
"Urgent business?"
Bryan shot Fawkes a look and turned slowly to face them both.
There was no need to spell it out—if it weren't genuinely urgent, Dumbledore would never have had Fawkes carry Severus here directly.
Severus nodded once curtly. He glanced, expressionless as ever, at Remus, who seemed to be struggling to say something and misread the reason for it.
"It concerns you as well."
"Oh—"
Remus blinked, genuinely startled.
"All right, then."
They cleared the table quickly between them, scattered letters gathered into an untidy stack and pushed to one side, and Severus and Remus both took their seats at last while Fawkes was gently gathered down into the crook of Bryan's arms.
"Before I came from Hogwarts, I was with the Dark Lord."
That single sentence was enough to wash away whatever trace of lingering awkwardness had remained on Remus's face, leaving it grave in an instant.
"What is it now—is he setting me another puzzle to solve?"
Bryan, by contrast, looked entirely at ease. He toyed idly with Fawkes's beak as he asked, smiling faintly, one eyebrow raised as though really curious rather than concerned.
"He means to retaliate—"
Severus's tone was heavy.
"To retaliate for what you proposed at the International Confederation of Wizards—forming a joint task force, and having the Death Eaters formally classified as an international terrorist organization."
"What does he intend to do?"
Remus asked, unable to keep the concern from creeping into his voice, leaning forward slightly over the table.
Severus flicked a glance at Remus before turning his gaze back to Bryan.
"He's put Adam Vogel in charge of the matter. The prisoners who escaped from Erkstag will all take part in the sabotage. I don't know the full details of the plan—he isn't letting the Death Eaters anywhere near it, myself included."
"Why?"
Remus asked, genuinely puzzled now.
"Doesn't he trust the Death Eaters anymore?"
Severus said nothing to that, his jaw was tightening subtly. Remus turned to Bryan for an answer instead, hoping for something more, and found his composed expression there startling in its own right.
"You already knew, Bryan?"
"It would have surprised me far more if Voldemort hadn't responded to my provocation at all—"
The corner of Bryan's mouth twitched with something almost like satisfaction.
"As for keeping the Death Eaters out of it, I imagine our Dark Lord has realized that, given the current state of things, letting the Death Eaters run wild outside of Britain right now would hardly be wise. It would only unite the international magical world against them all the more firmly—give every reluctant Minister on that Confederation precisely the evidence they've been quietly hoping not to need."
"This Adam Vogel—"
Remus's brow furrowed deeply, the name was clearly unfamiliar to him beyond whatever he'd overheard.
"You're the one who had him arrested, aren't you. Do you know him? What do you think he'll actually do, given free rein like this?"
The formation of the joint task force had struck a blow against the Death Eaters that was, in its own way, genuinely no less severe than the Battle of Diagon Alley had been as it was a wound to their standing and their momentum both, dealt in full view of the wider world.
It was another of Bryan's morale-raising strokes—and if it were sabotaged now before it could properly take root, the flourishing state of things they currently enjoyed would likely stall out into wasted years all over again, the lost momentum would be hard to reclaim.
"Just an ambitious man who wants nothing more than to watch the world burn—"
Bryan said simply.
Back then, he had personally intervened, redirecting Adam Vogel who should have been sent to Erkstag alongside the others into Azkaban instead.
The whole purpose had been to deliver him straight into Voldemort's hands.
They had met only the once, briefly, but Bryan understood him clearly enough from that single encounter: a wizard like that cared only for watching the world burn around him, not for anything so lofty as making wizards proud before Muggles, whatever high-minded language he dressed the impulse in for Voldemort's benefit.
Letting him live had served one purpose only in Bryan's calculation—to draw Europe's fractious magical world more tightly together against a common threat, rather than let every nation stand safely on the shore, arms folded, laughing at Britain's expense while it burned alone.
Seeing how unflustered Bryan remained through all of this, Severus felt something in his own chest ease just slightly.
Compared to the two matters he still had left to raise tonight, it was clear enough that Dumbledore was far more troubled by the prospect of further international incidents.
"And the Death Eaters, then?"
Bryan offered no further explanation of his own handling of the Vogel matter, turning instead to Severus.
"Has Voldemort given them some new assignment?"
Severus's eyes shifted, just slightly, but he said nothing at first—he looked instead to Remus.
Seeing this, a frown gathered on Bryan's brow; it eased for a moment then drew tighter.
The look Severus was giving him left Remus utterly at a loss, glancing between the two of them with rising unease.
"Voldemort means to come after me? Over what—oh, is he planning to gather the Death Eaters and attack the Learning Machine Workshop?"
"I doubt the Dark Lord has quite that sort of vision—"
The corner of Severus's mouth twisted, as though he meant to sneer at the suggestion, but he caught himself—this was not the moment for it. His mouth twitched once, twice, as though physically suppressing the urge, and then he said, coldly,
"The Dark Lord evidently believes that a wedding, held at an inopportune time such as this, between two wizards of mismatched standing, is a grave insult to pure blood—and he has no intention of standing by and letting it happen unchallenged."
Fawkes gave a few sharp, ringing cries at that, splitting open the suffocating silence that had begun to settle over the table.
After a moment's genuine bewilderment, working through what had just been said, Remus's face turned suddenly cold and tough.
"He means to have the Death Eaters ruin my wedding to Tonks, is that it!"
Severus glanced sidelong at Remus and said nothing more, letting the silence answer for him.
"Does Voldemort intend to send every Death Eater he has to do it?"
Candlelight from the branched candlestick on the table played across Bryan's face in shifting, restless shadows—much like the unreadable currents of his thoughts moving beneath the surface.
He was quiet for a long moment before he began toying with Fawkes's beak again.
"That's what he said—"
Severus said, his voice giving nothing away.
Bryan didn't bother wondering how Voldemort had learned so quickly that Remus was to be married.
Tonks's parents had already begun notifying relatives, after all and in a circle as small and as interconnected as pure-blood society, where every family watched every other family's business as a matter of course, it was hardly surprising word had gotten around this fast.
"So then, Remus—"
Bryan's gaze fixed once more on Remus, whose face had gone rigid with a controlled, simmering anger.
"Do you have any plan to invite Harry to your wedding?"
Understanding emerged in both Remus's and Severus's eyes simultaneously.
"You mean—!"
Remus exclaimed, startled, sitting up straighter.
"I did have that plan, yes. The wedding's set for the weekend after next—I thought there'd be time enough to have Harry and his friends come along. But I hadn't quite made up my mind about it. After all, Hogwarts is still the safest place there is right now, whatever else is happening. Bryan—"
Remus asked gravely, leaning forward again.
"Do you think Voldemort has guessed what I mean to do—and means to use this as his chance—"
"No."
A brief, heavy silence fell across the table. Before Bryan had time to answer for himself, Severus spoke first, cutting cleanly through it.
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