"Where is my daughter?" Andromeda Bla— Tonks's voice hit the eardrums like a circular saw hitting wood.
What a voice, Andrei thought, pulling his hat down further and arranging his most vacant expression. What a temperament. I think I understand now why Walburga was in no hurry to make peace with this niece.
Now he didn't merely understand—he knew for certain that there was no such thing as a former Black. Though some of them mutate, like Sirius, a stray thought surfaced, but then he had more pressing concerns—the empty classroom kept filling with new arrivals.
Madam Tonks had apparently brought along several Aurors, a contingent of hunters, a dozen people of indeterminate purpose, and they were all proposing to search the forest. He had to talk her out of it—otherwise things would be unpleasant for everyone. Ninochka would show them where the ticks wintered, and he'd be in no better position afterward, having promised to preserve the forest's peace. Quite a promise, in hindsight. And he'd gone running to find the unicorns practically at dawn—to no avail. The Headmaster's phoenix had snatched him back to the school in the blink of an eye, practically by the scruff. Powerful bird, one had to say. It would be good to have it as an ally—only how?
Hagrid drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and produced something about what a shame it was to scold such a fine, such talented girl—children were children, they got carried away, it was in their nature. And the unicorns in the forest had few enemies, and no one was going to let any harm come to their foals.
The slightly battered Headmaster again looked at him as though he were a saviour, so Andrei waved his hands and said he'd go and fetch her rightthisminute.
Madam Tonks almost went with him—thank goodness her husband held her back.
That Ted is a solid man, Andrei thought, hurrying out of the castle. Manages somehow, remarkable. And he picked up his pace toward the forest, already imagining how he'd ask Aragog and Ninochka to help find the unicorns. They didn't refuse, naturally.
When he reached the small herd, one of the young foals came bounding toward him—and then he was holding a tear-stained second-year in his arms.
Now what? Scold her? She's clearly had enough of that herself already. He awkwardly patted her head and carried her toward the school, but when he made out the words "you left me" between the sniffles, he stopped abruptly.
"Sit." He rolled a section of old trunk toward her. "And look me in the eye. Then tell me: who left whom? And who ran away from whom?"
"Well… I thought you'd find me."
"Do I look like a tracking hound? Or should I have tried Accio Nymphadora Tonks—dragging you through the entire forest, shredded by branches, and catching what was left? Or perhaps I should have overtaken a frightened unicorn mare and stopped her—that might have used up the rest of my life, but I'm not certain. What would you have done next to my body, impaled on the horn of your new friend's mother?"
The girl went scarlet. All over. Including her hair.
"And can you imagine the uproar at the school? You promised to write to your mother the moment you were back from the forest, didn't you? Presumably the Headmaster needs to be dismissed and I need to be sacked—since we failed to stop an enthusiastic second-year from going off on her own. Is that right?"
Nymphadora looked at her feet and gave a guilty snuffle.
Good, Andrei thought. Now I just need to improve the child's mood—because handing a tearful daughter back to her mother could be… inadvisable.
He settled the girl back on his arm and straightened up.
"All the same, I'm a little envious of you. I've always wanted to get closer to unicorns, but they never let anyone near. Perhaps you'd like to tell me what it was like, while I carry you back to the school—to your mum and dad? And you can call me Uncle Rubeus, if you like."
The girl stared at him, then broke into a smile.
"They really wouldn't let you near, Uncle Rubeus?"
"Well, I'm rather large," Andrei said, with mock modesty. "A lot of creatures are cautious. And you?"
Nymphadora shook her head and began to talk. A night in the unicorn herd had been quite an adventure for the child—she hadn't thought to transform back into a human—the only problem was that she hadn't enjoyed eating dry, frozen grass at all, so by morning she was very hungry.
The gamekeeper's pockets always carried something good to eat—snacks for the forest friends, and Andrei was never above a bite himself, especially after a great deal of running. A couple of rice cakes from the signature porridge recipe, and the girl in his arms was already laughing, recounting the funniest moments of her adventures in a unicorn's coat.
When Madam Tonks saw her daughter laughing happily in the gamekeeper's arms, her fury extinguished instantly. But not for long. Fortunately, when the second wave arrived—after Nymphadora, barely pausing for breath, had told everyone present what Andrei had already heard from her about the unicorns—it was considerably smaller and far less dangerous. Andromeda announced that she was transferring her daughter to Beauxbatons, tore up some previous arrangement with Dumbledore—at which the Headmaster alternated between red and white—gathered her retinue, and swept out, but not before fixing Hagrid with a look that told him plainly: a closer acquaintance was unavoidable. Not a woman—a typhoon. No matter, he had some experience in that department by now.
***
At Grimmauld, Hagrid was met by Severus—as pleased as a freshly-washed elephant.
"Shall I congratulate you on a success?" he asked, and received a nod and an inviting gesture in reply.
In the laboratory, two new potions glowed with their own inner light in two cauldrons, and in a separate vessel sat perfectly purified blood of the esteemed Headmaster. For some reason Andrei was quite certain this vessel was not the only one, but decided not to enquire. He had trusted Severus for some time now, and had not once been wrong to do so.
"The mind-stabilising potions were tested on two dozen volunteers and otherwise," Snape reported. "One hundred percent results. Five of the Longbottom patients at St Mungo's are showing marked improvement; three are in stable remission."
"And the other two?"
"Upstairs."
"So you dosed Sirius and Remus."
"Regulus also asked."
"What for?"
"That was roughly my response to him as well."
"After which you had to repair the duelling hall again?"
"You're very clever."
"Large skull—plenty of room. Let's go upstairs, Severus."
***
"Well then, volunteer test-subjects, ladies and gentlemen of the conspiracy," Andrei greeted the assembled company upstairs. "Everyone here, I see. Will the lady be joining us shortly? Everything ready? Remus—any progress on the skull bones? No? I thought as much."
"We've decided to use the radius instead," Regulus answered. "Here are the calculations. Do you want to look?"
"I'm a poor half-educated half-giant," Andrei smiled—"but hand it over all the same."
He immersed himself in the densely-written scroll, read it through, and looked up.
"You're certain about this?"
"Not one hundred percent, but—"
"And what do we do about a minor? How do we introduce him? Name, documents? How will the Student Book respond to his appearance?"
"We checked—the name stays the same," Lupin answered this time. "It won't register in the Student Book, but the Mark is another question entirely. All our calculations suggest the maximum age of whoever we get will be no more than sixteen—and no later than before the first Horcrux was created."
"Meaning whoever comes back will not yet be a murderer, nor a Dark Lord? That's wonderful."
"That was the whole point," Snape put in.
"One question: who will be responsible for him?"
"I had thought no one else would ask that," came the voice of the lady of the house, and everyone rose to greet her. "Sit down," she nodded, and continued: "As it happens, Augusta and I have been thinking. There are now two—even three—boys in the Black family, while the Longbottoms have only one heir. And the Healers advise against them having a second child for at least ten years. I believe an extra boy in the family would not go amiss. And Augusta Longbottom will raise him properly."
Andrei understood why he'd sat down when he did and was grateful for it. The prospects awaiting a not-yet-resurrected Dark Lord were truly extraordinary. Neville's older brother. He heard a stifled sound, turned, and saw Sirius and Severus doubling over, biting their lips to keep from laughing—but Regulus got in first, in a remarkably even tone:
"The Dark Lord—a Gryffindor. Come see the spectacle."
A ripple of slightly nervous laughter ran through the room like flame through dry leaves, and died away just as quickly.
"I don't imagine he'll be entirely a child," Walburga said. "In principle we could take him here, but I'm not confident the house could bear the strain."
"The question is whether they'd kill each other first."
"Hagrid, I'll let Madam Longbottom know you're concerned about her," Lady Black's voice promised swift and efficient retribution.
"Thank you," Andrei said, with a bow. "I'd rather do without that."
"Perhaps you were planning to become his foster father? Or guardian?" Snape enquired, with his most cutting inflection.
"Wait—that's actually an idea!" Sirius's eyes went wide, earning him universal snorts and a dumbfounded expression from Hagrid.
"Are you all completely off your heads? What am I supposed to tell Dumbledore?" Andrei asked. "Not my fault—he turned up himself?"
"What's the Headmaster going to do to you anyway—bewitch you?" Sirius said.
Walburga's eyes sharpened.
"I think there may actually be something in this."
"Knowing what Hagrid used to be, I personally wouldn't guarantee that the Headmaster hasn't got something specifically designed for this kind of… half-giant," Snape said, coming unexpectedly to Hagrid's defence. "I brewed certain things for him myself—some of them work perfectly well. I'd rather not have to bring him back to himself afterward. The method is rather extreme."
"My head might not survive a second time," Andrei agreed, looking at the sceptical faces around him. "Does no one feel sorry for me? By the way—" an idea came to him, and seemingly at exactly the right moment. "We no longer have any Potters left, do we. What if he became a sort of uncle to Harry? A Potters' bastard, perhaps? Let him raise the younger one, and what was it in the prophecy about a troubled life? That much is guaranteed."
Snape's expression was unreadable, indescribable, and unforgettable. The others were not far behind.
"He'll be a minor himself," Walburga was the first to recover. "How do you envision that working? Though—if someone became a regent over both of them, that could be interesting. But in the end it all depends on the age, and on what actually emerges."
"One would like to think it will be a who, not a what."
Sirius Black's head jerked as though he'd been cuffed on the back of it—despite the fact that his mother was on the other side of the room. He gave her an injured look; Walburga responded with a dry smile.
Only a few hours remained until the ritual.