[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Tick-Tock


The Order of the Phoenix meeting on Saturday proved to be quite informative. The Marauders presented what they had figured out about Harold Minchum - the animagus information and that he had worked with Lyall Lupin at the Ministry for Magic (and presumably, therefore, also Charlus Potter, though Charlus had yet to answer James’s letters inquiring about his experiences with Minchum) - but the stuff they had found proved to be only a tip of the iceberg that was Harold Minchum's life. The others had found out things as well.

Minchum had grown up in Godric's Hollow, Marlene McKinnon said, and he'd been in Gryffindor when he attended Hogwarts, only a couple years behind Albus Dumbledore. Minchum had been friends with the headmaster’s brother, Aberforth. Apparently, Aberforth Dumbledore and Harold Minchum had got up to some mischief in their time, according to the files that Frank Longbottom had managed to knick from Filch’s office, mostly attempting to prank Albus it seemed from the records… though the old caretaker from that time hadn't been as tedious or thorough with his notes on offenses committed by students as Filch was, so it was hard to say exactly what it was Harold and Aberforth got up to - only that their names appeared quite frequently in tandem throughout the file - at least during Minchum’s first four years at the school.

However, despite being a frequent visitor to detention, Harold Minchum absolutely excelled at school - especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Alice Prewitt and Lily Evans had found his name on a trophy in the trophy room for a dueling club five years in a row. He'd been a prefect, head boy, and top of his class as well in his fifth through seventh years.

It seemed, then, after completing his time at Hogwarts, Harold Minchum had taken lessons in becoming an auror. He’d passed the classes at university with highest marks, but chose instead of immediately entering the entry program at the Ministry to instead take a year teaching at Hogwarts. Harold Minchum had taught at the school at the time that the man that became Voldemort had studied at Hogwarts, a fact that Jasper Odair had learned from talking to Rubeus Hagrid. Minchum had been a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and one of Voldemort’s least favorite teachers, second only to Dumbledore himself. "I don't think Hagrid meant to tell me all he had," Jasper said, "Hagrid always says more than he means to… Right easy to get loads of information out of him if you ask in just the right way."

"So Harold Minchum knows Voldemort then, the same as Dumbledore does," James said, "That's rather interesting."

"Seems anyone from that generation ought," answered Jasper, "But Hagrid wouldn't tell me anything more and I couldn't find any record of anyone named Voldemort at the school at anytime at all. Seems Minchum taught sometime around the late thirties, though."

After teaching a couple years, Minchum returned to the Ministry to complete the auror training program and had excelled at that, too.

Harry Warbeck's tale of Minchum had come as a story he'd heard from his aunt, Celestina, who was a famous singer. In his early years working as an auror, Harold Minchum had been a member of the security detail that had seen Celestina safely to a performance for the Ministry Official Cheer Operations - MOCO - an organization made up to boost morale amongst the the wizards working tirelessly in the first wizarding world war, when Gellert Grindelwald was at his highest power. Celestina had told a tale of the young Minchum tirelessly seeing to it that she was safe, even as the auditorium she was performing at came under attack... The ceiling had suddenly been lifted off the very walls, and Celestina and her audience had suddenly been showered upon with a barrage of dark magic, wielded by the followers of Gellert Grindelwald's followers. Harold Minchum had leaped between Celestina and several others, taking spells meant for them, fighting off imperius and cruciatus curses, and gone against the lead attacker face-to-face, miraculously winning the resulting duel, saving everyone in attendance. There were no casualties - but only because of the bravery shown by Harold Minchum.

Minchum had made Moody his protege at the auror’s office, and even stepped aside form the position of head of the auror department in the name of giving the title to Moody.

All in all, none had come up with a single negative thing about Harold Minchum, and as a group the Order members agreed that they needed to back the election and see to it that Harold Minchum's appointment of Minister for Magic became a reality. They immediately began planning ways to spread the word throughout Hogwarts students and worked the rest of the day, losing track of time long past lunch, creating badges and posters, declaring MINCHUM FOR MINISTER. The buttons featured a drawing of Harold Minchum that Remus drew, including his bowtie.

"I really need a bowtie," muttered Sirius under his breath to James, glaring at the dotted bow at the drawn Minchum's chin on his badge.

James smirked, "He only really has eyes for you, Padfoot, don't worry your head."

Sirius kept his eye on Remus just the same - and not just because he was jealous. It was also because the full moon was coming up soon and Remus was clearly feeling it as he sat there on the floor in the Secret Room, drawing the posters out, and he winced as he shifted on the stone... Sirius frowned in concern, watching from the windows, where he and James were standing together. "Every month, the moons have been getting worse," he commented lowly.

“Growing pains perhaps compounding it?” James guessed, “It seems like Moony gets taller every time I look at him.”

“Perhaps,” Sirius mused, “He is a bit lanky isn’t he?”

“Pretty soon, he’ll be half giant and be having to pick you up to snog,” James smirked.

Sirius snickered, picturing it, then he said, “I’d be alright with that - so long as he stops suffering. I hate to see him in this much pain. I mean, he’s good at masking it to a point, but that just makes me realize how bad it really is when we can see it’s bothering him!”

James looked over at Remus, then back to Sirius. "There has to be something that could help him."

"There's the aconite, those leaves he chews that Viegler gave him last year. He ran out last month, though." Sirius sighed.

"So we'll get him more," James said.

"They're illegal, mate," Sirius answered.

"Where did Viegler get them from?"

Sirius shrugged.

James chewed his lower lip, "Must've got them some place. We'll find him some. Whatever it takes to make it better for him."


Sirius looked over at James and smiled. "You're a good one, James."

"Its what friends do," James said.

Sirius drew a deep breath and leaned against the window, feeling the cold against his back. "Is he doing alright otherwise?"

"How do you mean?"

"Sleeping and all?"

James shrugged. "Dunno, honestly. I'm usually asleep myself."

Sirius nodded. "I just worry about him is all."

"And he worries about you."

"Does he?"

James nodded, "Oh yes, quite a lot."

Sirius smiled in a sad way. He was glad to know Remus cared so much but also felt bad that he caused Remus worry. He jumped down off the sill. "Do you reckon things will go back to normal ever?"

"Sure," James said.

Sirius turned his wand over in his fingers. "I wish I could come back for real. I miss Professor Minnie and Flitwick and even Sluggy and bloody Filch and his ruddy cat."

"You don't seriously miss Mrs. Norris!" said James.

"I know - it's a sickness, practically!" Sirius said, “Missing that filthy flea-ridden hair ball…”

"Indeed. We should have you checked.”

Sirius smirked... then slowly frowned, "It's just that Hogwarts is my home and you lot are my brothers and when I'm not here I feel misplaced, like a lost object... It’s just not right."

James said, "It’s not right without you here. I can’t tell you how many bloody times I’ve turned about in a class to tell you something and been utterly perplexed by the fact that you aren’t ruddy there. History of Magic is murder without our excellent doodled Quidditch matches, mate! But I reckon once Dumbledore's back that things will get better... Maybe Dumbledore will fix it... Maybe Dumbledore can un-expell you."

Sirius murmured, "Maybe."




Far up in the Divination tower there was a ringing silence… had been ever since the day Lily Evans had destroyed the clocks. Dust fell through beams of sunlight coming in through the windows, white specks in the late afternoon golden glow… the crystal ball on the desk at the front of the room refracted the light, sending tiny rainbows across the ceiling that danced about as the sun slowly set over the Black Forest… It would only be if you were to stand right there, right at that desk, in the sort of silence that filled the room at that moment, that you would hear it… it was so near to silent that even a hearing would’ve taken a moment to hear it…

Tick-tock… tick-tock… tick-tock…

Kreacher stood on the desk, his great ears flapping, trying to decide where it was coming from… and he climbed down onto the chair before the desk, down to the floor… he tilted his head, crawling along the wood floor and pushed aside the corner of a large rug… There was a small trap door, a trick floorboard… and he lifted it up carefully and there, inside, was a very plain, old fashioned brass alarm clock, with two big bells on the top. Kreacher pulled the clock up out of the floorboards, his long fingers closing around it and he turned it over in his palms a couple times, studying it.

“Kreacher doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about,” he murmured, “Kreacher sees nothing special about this clock…” he put it down beside himself as he closed the floorboard and pulled the rug back over it.

Tick-tock… tick-tock… tick-tock…

He turned back to the clock, picking it up, and turned it over once again. “But the Dark Lord asks for it and Master Orion tells Kreacher to get it, so Kreacher is having it now…” and he clicked his fingers and with a crack he disappeared from the Divination classroom, only slightly stirring the dust.




That night, as dinner ended and the three Marauders were on their way out of the Great Hall, a hand landed upon Remus’s shoulder - Alastor Moody’s. Remus stared up into Moody’s real eye, the magical one making him very uneasy as it swiveled about in the frame he wore for it. “Stop by my office tomorrow evening,” Moody said. “I’ve made a decision about where you’ll be placed. We need to discuss the details.”

Remus stammered, “I… uh… can’t, sir…”

Moody’s eyes both focused very hard on Remus then, and his mouth formed a scowl. “Why can’t you?”

Because he’d be in the Shrieking Shack. Because it was the full moon tomorrow. Because Remus Lupin would cease to exist in his present form by tomorrow evening.

“I have a… a uh… prior… prior engagement,” murmured Remus. Then, going out on a limb, he added, “Dumbledore knows about it.”

Moody’s face twitched.

Remus waited, not daring to say more, praying that it would be enough.

“Very well,” Moody said, though the question still lingered in his eyes, even as he relented. He paused. “The next night, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Remus nodded. “I’ll be there. What time?”

“Five.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there at five.”

Moody walked away.

The moment he was out of earshot, James said, “Blimey, that was bloody terrifying! Good job keeping your cool, mate, I would’ve lost it.”

Remus nodded, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Peter led the way up the stairs, all three sets of their feet thundering along the stairwell, Remus’s hands shaking with the relief of the stress that Moody knew better than to question Albus Dumbledore too much.




In the dungeons, in the middle of the night, Regulus Black sat up quickly, gasping for air. He had a thick layer of sweat over his forehead and he fought with the blankets, struggling to untangle himself from them… and in his fight, he fell out of the bed, landed on the green carpet face-first. He rolled and finally disengaged from the green duvet he’d been so wrapped up in, and he crawled, then pushed himself up to his feet, staggering out of the room in a hurry, tugging on his bathrobe as he went, fleeing out of the dorm.

Regulus looked down into the common room, spotted the form of Severus Snape by the fire, and hurried toward him, “Sev - Severus!” he said, panic in his tone as he raced over to the other boy, his eyes flashing, “Severus, I - I think I’ve… I think I’ve seen the Dark Lord’s mind.”

Severus Snape looked up from the fire he was sitting before.

“Severus --” he threw himself down beside Snape, staring into his face imploringly, his eyes wide with fear.

Snape looked at Regulus.

“How do you know when you’ve seen somebody else’s mind, what’s it like?” he asked desperately.

“Like looking through somebody else’s postcard collection,” muttered Severus. “Pictures of places, people, things… memories attached if you wished to delve deeper into anyone of them, but not really of any particular significance to you until you have…”

Regulus nodded. “Severus, I’ve seen the Dark Lord’s mind. I didn’t mean to. I think I’ve done it on accident. Severus -- have you seen --?”

Severus stared at Regulus, calculating. “I know a couple things.”

“About Toddy the House Elf?” Regulus demanded.

Severus’s eyes searched Regulus’s. “I know about far bigger things than about a house elf,” he murmured.

“We have to stop it,” Regulus whispered.

Severus murmured, “We can’t.”

Regulus said, “We have to try.”

“If you wish to die, then by all means, try.” Severus’s voice was slow and sharp. “Personally, I’m fine here, by the fire, alive.”

Regulus shook his head. “Fine.” Regulus turned on his heel and went up the stairs to the dormitory. He slammed the door behind him.

Severus sat there, staring after him.

Regulus went to Barty Crouch Jr’s bed, grabbed onto his shoulder and shook, hard. “Wake up.”

Barty struggled, stirring, “Reg…?”

“Wake up,” Regulus demanded, “I need your help with something. Now. It’s important.”

“What bloody time is it?” murmured Barty.

“I dunno, after midnight, it doesn’t matter. This is important, Barty, you can’t let me do this alone. We’re friends, yeah? Friends don’t let friends go into battle alone.”

“Battle? What battle?” Barty rubbed his eyes. Regulus was rushing about, getting dressed tugging on a green jumper over his head.

“Somebody’s in danger. I have to save them. Will you help me?”

“Who? Who is it?” Barty kicked off the duvet and got up. He started getting dressed, too.

“Hurry,” Regulus replied in answer.

He could still hear the echoing cries in his head…