"I was just following orders!"
Everyone inside Witch's Brew — a coffee shop nestled one block from the junction of Diagon and Knockturn — turned to look at the table next to the window. Harry tried to reassure the other patrons that everything was fine with his best smile. He wasn't sure if it worked. It didn't help that the woman sitting across from him was bowing so low that her head pressed into the table. Her hair anxiously shifted from bubblegum pink to plum purple and back.
"I'm not upset with you," Harry said. "So please, Tonks. Lower your voice a little bit."
She dropped her voice just above a whisper. "You really aren't angry? Even though we arrested you?"
Right. Harry had actually forgotten about that, to tell the whole truth.
"I'm over it," he said. "It wasn't your decision. If I'm peeved at anyone, it would be Dawlish. But I'm sure he was doing what he believed was best in his own way."
"You aren't going to track him down and exact an excruciating revenge?"
"Who exactly do you think I am?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," Tonks said. "It's been bothering me. You came out of nowhere and made mincemeat out of an entire werewolf pack. I've been doing a lot of thinking, but I haven't gotten many answers. Then you sent a letter asking me to meet you." The roots of Tonks' hair turned bright blond, which seemed to be her way of turning pale. "Can you blame me for being nervous?"
"I guess not," Harry said.
He waved the waitress over as she came out of the kitchen holding his order. Harry accepted a pumpkin muffin and a steaming coffee, tipping her with a handful of Knuts from his pocket.
"Are you sure you don't want anything?" Harry asked. "Since I dragged you out on your day off, paying is the least I can do."
Tonks gave his muffin a longing look, but didn't do more.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked.
"Should I not be? I know you thought I was angry, but the truth is, you helped me a lot. If it wasn't for your ability I would've had a much tougher time dealing with the 'situation' we found ourselves in."
"So you're trying to hide your identity."
"My identity is Harry Potter." Harry smiled, tilting his head. "I don't have your talents, so this is the only face I've got. If you mean that I'm trying to keep a low profile, you'd be right about that."
"Why?"
Harry picked up his muffin and took a big bite. "Fame sucks," he said, wiping crumbs away with the back of his hand. "Being a celebrity is no way to live. I can't believe people actually fantasize about that. Gives me the shivers."
Tonks leaned over the table. "Are you a secret agent?"
Harry accidentally inhaled a portion of his muffin. He buried his mouth in the crook of his arm, coughing.
"Where did that come from?" Harry asked when his voice returned.
"I've read about them." Tonks' eyes were shining— almost literally. They'd turned an electric shade of blue. "The Unspeakables' hidden department, filled with top secret masters of magic who only the Minister knows the existence of! That's how you got released so quickly. Orders from above."
"I was released because there were no grounds to detain my friends and I. Amelia understood that. There's no department like that in the Unspeakables. They're researchers, not black ops."
It was a poor choice of words since Tonks wouldn't know what Muggle black ops were, but she got the gist of his point.
"Right. Researchers. Of course." She winked. "Forget I said anything else, sir." She winked again.
"Please, no winking," Harry said.
"No winking," Tonks said. She winked.
Harry gave up. "Well, I did call you here to ask you something. You don't mind if I give us a bit of privacy, do you?"
Still under the impression that he was some magical James Bond, Tonks said, "Go ahead!"
Harry erected the most advanced muffling spells that he knew. Even though the coffee shop was busy, they suddenly couldn't hear more than a dim hum from the other patrons. For anyone trying to listen in, it would sound as if Harry and Tonks were discussing Quidditch.
"Do you remember what I told you in the woods?"
"That my job would be the easy one?" Tonks said.
"The other parts."
Tonks swallowed, her enthusiasm mellowing.
"That the Dark Lord is back, and you joined the Order of the Phoenix to fight him.
"Yes, that."
Harry took another bite of his muffin. It was very good.
"How can you eat while talking about something like this?" Tonks asked.
"Voldemort doesn't scare me," Harry said. "Even if he did, it doesn't mean you can stop eating. No matter how grim things get, you have to keep going. Are you sure you don't want a muffin?"
"...Maybe I'll take one."
Harry smiled. "I'll order it when I take the enchantments down. Before that, I'll get to the real question. Will you join the Order of the Phoenix?"
"You want me?"
"Who wouldn't want the young auror that managed to defeat Britain's fiercest werewolf?"
"But that was actually— You're teasing me."
Harry finished the last of his muffin and washed it down with a sip of coffee. "No matter what rumors have spread, I know your abilities better than anyone. You played along with my crazy plan and covered for me perfectly. That must have been one of your first missions. A situation like the one we stumbled into would make veteran Aurors want a teddy bear, but you pulled through. I can't think of anyone I'd want in the Order more."
Tonks shifted her shoulders, sitting up straighter.
"The stories my mum told me never gave any specifics," Tonks said. "What does the Order actually do?"
"Oh, all kinds of things. Spying. Espionage. Of course we respond to Death Eater attacks where we can, too. It's not too dissimilar from Auror work."
He would know, since he'd done both.
"Do I have to sign some kind of contract?" Tonks asked. "Oh, there isn't a tattoo involved, is there? My mum would kill me if she caught me with one."
Couldn't you just hide it? Harry thought.
"There's nothing like that," Harry said. "The Order operates off of trust. If the wrong person is brought in, it can cause a tragedy. Despite that, we believe in each other. Although it might seem like a weakness, that belief is how the Order has sustained itself this long."
There was a level of loyalty you could never reach by branding followers like cattle and leashing them through fear. Despite being outnumbered in the first war, the Order held on fighting the good fight against the odds. Harry had nothing but respect for what Dumbledore had built.
"If I say yes, then I become a member?" Tonks asked. "It's that simple?"
"You'll be invited to the next meeting," Harry said. "I can give you the date and location if you agree. It's up to you, Tonks."
In the end, she didn't have to think about it for long.
"When?" she asked.
Ten minutes later Harry waved goodbye to the young Auror, sending her off with the details of the next meeting and a fresh blueberry muffin in her hand.
He was left alone on Diagon Street. It was a strange feeling to have recruited one of the key Order members from his time. Tonks had been part of almost every critical mission the order undertook in the second war, and soon he would be witnessing her very first meeting. It made his head spin.
But the day only had so many hours, and Harry still had errands to run. The ring had been destroyed in Russia. That left four more pieces of Voldemort's soul to throw on the chopping block.
Five, technically, but the last one was a good bit more complicated.
Harry would start simple. The locket was his next target— he had a two-step plan to get it, and the first part required heading to the deepest part of Diagon.
Near the back of the alley, buildings got larger and shoppers decreased. It was rarely visited except by those who worked here. Warehouses and workshops took the place of restaurants and shops. Many of Britain's biggest magical companies operated out of this place. Harry spied the Bertie and Botts factory next door to the Floo production plant.
When he came to a stop, Harry double checked the address James had given him. In front of him lay a building smaller than some of the others around it, but still approaching the size of the Great Hall. It was also bright purple. Big letters spelled out Hounddog next to the business logo— a dog with hearts for eyes staring at female models. The dog's eyes constantly moved between the women it shared the logo with, panting out of excitement as they danced and played.
"...Yeah. This is about what I should have expected," Harry said.
He walked in through the front door. An old teenager with acne looked up at him.
"No, you cannot meet the models," he said in a bored, nasally voice. "If you would like to get in touch with them, write fanmail. Letters addressed to Hounddog Fashion and Photoshoots will be delivered to the proper models—"
"I'm here to see Sirius," Harry said.
Hearing a male name made the worker hesitate.
"I'm afraid the boss is busy at the moment—"
Harry touched his wand against the side of his throat.
"SIRIUS I'M COMING IN! YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO MAKE SURE YOUR CLOTHES ARE ALL ON YOU SCALLYWAG!"
Harry lowered his wand. He smiled at the boy behind the desk, who'd been scared so badly by the sudden Sonorous Charm that he tipped his chair back.
"Thanks for your help," Harry said.
He walked out of the reception room, ignoring the squawk from the boy telling him to stop.
The next room was filled with mannequins. Harry counted over four dozen dressed in varied outfits. There were standard robes, fancy dress robes, wizarding swimsuits (one-pieces that looked a century out of date), and even some revealing attires. Harry spotted a staircase and took it to the second floor.
If the downstairs was for storage, this was where the work went on. It was a bit disorienting. Curtains separated about twenty artificial sets. There was a bedroom here, a bathroom there, a fake balcony next to that, and so on. The curtains were enchanted to show realistic backgrounds that matched their props.
Harry found the man he was after with a camera in his hands. Sirius was on a set that was designed to look like an afternoon picnic with a view of London. The grass was fresh and enchanted to sway in the wind, with a blanket laid out for sitting. Two beautiful women lounged on the blanket in stylish robes, a dark-skinned woman with braided hair and a pale, pretty blond.
"Harry! You didn't tell me you would be swinging by!" Sirius said.
"And James told me that this was where you worked," Harry said. "I don't see much work happening."
"You're wounding me," Sirius said. "Don't you see this camera in my hands? You're looking at the fastest-fingered photographer this side of the channel! I've been toiling since this morning without a single break to capture the perfect shot—"
"You have lipstick on your chin."
"Shit. Where?"
Sirius conjured a mirror and checked his appearance. It was blemish-free. He glared at Harry, who smirked at him. "Hard at work, huh?"
Sirius groaned. He put the camera down and plopped onto the blanket between the women. "Fine, I can't win against you tricky Muggle Studies Professors. You even called me a scallywag. I don't know what that means, but I'm thinking about stealing it."
"It would go nicely on your business card," said the dark-skinned witch.
"You know what? You're right," Sirius said. "I think it would help my title roll off the tongue better. Sirius Black, Britain's best photographer and scallywag extraordinaire! Ah, before I forget. Harry, meet Jaqui Jordan—"
The dark-skinned witch waved.
"—and Adalicia Bletchley. Two of Hounddog's very best models."
The blond witch nodded in Harry's direction.
Sirius grabbed a bottle of champagne that had been positioned like a prop and popped it open. "If you're here, sit down and spend some time! Let nobody ever say Sirius Black isn't a good host to his friends."
Harry accepted his offer while Sirius filled four glasses with carbonated alcohol. Harry couldn't help looking around.
"This is quite the change from an Auror career," he said.
"What can I say?" Sirius held one of the glasses out to Harry, while Adalicia and Jaqui picked up their own. "When I walked out on Auror work, I suddenly found myself with the third biggest inheritance in Britain and absolutely zero idea what to do with my time. So I sat down and thought, what do I like? Women. Pretty women especially. For too long the wizarding world's image has been plagued by greasy old farts! So I started Hounddog. It's part fashion brand, part magazine, and one-hundred-percent blood pumping. Do you want a copy of our latest issue? Jaqui and Adalicia would be happy to sign it. You might even get a Floo address for your trouble."
Adalicia gave Harry a onceover and sipped her champagne. "Stranger things have happened."
She was as attractive as you'd expect a renowned model to be, but Harry said, "I'm actually here for business."
"My kind of business?" Sirius asked. "Or boring James' kind of business?"
"In between the two. I was curious about Grimmauld Place."
Jaqui pulled Sirius' arm, and he slid it over her shoulder. "That dump?" Sirius said. "Why?"
"I had a meeting with your cousin today. Nymphadora mentioned it in passing, and I thought I might be able to get a lesson out of it. You know, teaching the ways that wizards blend into Muggle cities."
"You're the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts?" Jaqui asked. "You might know my brother! Lee Jordan?"
"He's one of my seventh years," Harry said. "He's an attentive student."
Jaqui chortled. "Yeah, right! He's just like his older sister. The only thing he knows how to do is play around."
Her fingers danced on Sirius' knee, who flashed her a smile before he answered Harry's question.
"I still own Grimmauld, but that's only because I couldn't sell it. Anyone who's not a pureblood isn't safe from all the enchantments my family added, and I'm not about to give it to the Malfoys or their ilk. That place is nothing but bad memories. If you want to visit, knock yourself out. If you want to have it, you're welcome to it."
He took a ring out of his pocket and threw it to Harry. When Harry caught it and turned it over, he found himself staring at the Black Family signet ring.
"I don't think you're supposed to loan these out…"
"When have I ever considered what I'm supposed to do?" Sirius asked. "The ring won't really work for you since you aren't in the family, but it'll get you past the wards on the house. There's only a house elf living there. Don't feel bad for him— he's just as fucked up as the rest of my family."
Harry stood up, pocketing the ring. "Thanks. I'll return it when I'm finished."
"No rush!" Sirius said.
He drank the rest of his champagne and leaned over to Jaqui, whispering something in her ear. Jaque giggled. Sirius nipped at her earlobe. Harry took that as his queue to head out.
"Leaving so soon?" Adalicia asked.
"Afraid so," Harry said. "I've got a bit of a busy schedule. Thanks for your help, Sirius."
The man himself was preoccupied with Jaqui, so he gave Harry a simple thumbs up. Harry headed out the way he came in, leaving Sirius and his playground behind. The man deserved his fun. Especially given what Harry watched his counterpart go through.
Harry could only hope the second half of his plan would go as smoothly as this had.
O-O-O
It felt strange standing in front of Grimmauld Place again after so long. He hadn't been here in this life. No one had, according to Sirius. Just Kreacher — alone — tending a vacant home.
Harry climbed the steps. The signet ring in his pocket ensured that the wards wouldn't fry him the way they would an outsider. Harry stopped on the last step.
The Order must have added more wards than he realized when they made this place their base. In the past, even when you were keyed into them, passing the defenses gave a vague tingly feeling along the back of your neck because of the thickness of magic. Harry hadn't felt it this time.
He opened the front door.
"Anybody home?" he asked.
He waited for Walburga's likeness to screech at him like the wonderful woman she'd never been.
Nothing happened. Was she asleep?
Not exactly. When Harry's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he stared at the frame which had held the Black matriarch.
The wood outline was there, but the canvas was nothing but char. There was a hole in the middle where Walburga's head would have gone. Harry smelled a bitter tang in the air.
"Fiendfyre…!" he said.
His wand had already been in his hand, but he raised it now. Harry slowly walked down a hallway he'd traversed tens of times in his past life. The Black decor had always been gothic. Plentiful shadows surrounded him. His steps made the floorboards creek.
"Kreacher? A filthy mudblood is here to see you! I'm sullying your beloved floors as we speak, so you better get out here to stop me…"
As he reached the door to the dining room, Harry slowed down. He quickly stepped into the opening in one motion, aiming his wand to cast at anything that moved.
The room was completely still, but Harry's heart pounded. He had found Kreacher.
Harry walked forward slowly, wary of traps, but none sprung. When he got to the table Harry conjured a ball of light at the end of his wand.
He almost wished he hadn't.
Kreacher's body had been pinned to the Black's ancestral table with spikes through his open palms. The dead elf's mouth hung open. It was a gruesome sight, but one thing stood out above the rest.
Kreacher's eyes were gone, the eyelids taken with them. In their place, the killer had inserted two poorly-transfigured pendants.
Replicas of Slytherin's Locket, the Horcrux Regulus stole and Kreacher helped to hide. The very thing Harry was here for.
Outside the room, from where he entered, the front door slammed shut.