Chapter Text
“My daughter is missing!”
The shrill voice pierces through Severus Snape’s private thoughts as he lingers near the back of Grimmauld Place, reluctantly present for this meeting. He would prefer to avoid them altogether, getting his pertinent information from Albus later on. However, the Headmaster seems to take a vindictive sort of pleasure in having him come in person. No doubt he enjoys watching Severus squirm, figuratively, in discomfort and distaste at his current company.
Molly Weasley’s face is red with anger and distress, her hair practically crackling. The witch, short and plump, isn’t what most would consider an intimidating figure in the slightest. But Severus has a healthy respect for her and her wand, knowing that Molly can be dangerous if riled. Her precious only daughter going missing is certainly enough to provoke her current dangerous mood.
It's an interesting contrast to her lack of empathy for Lupin. After all, the man was searching for what was basically the last of his family. Molly had known the entire time that the boy hadn’t gone missing. A select few of them had been in on the matter from the start, ones that Dumbledore was certain were loyal enough to keep his dangerous secret. After all, they would be in real trouble if anyone realized that they were holding captive the boy wonder, Harry Potter. Or Black, as it seems.
Severus’ lip curled at just the thought of the name. One of his childhood tormentors, Black hadn’t settled on just annoying, dangerous pranks that ruined any attempt at a reputation Severus otherwise would have had. No, he’d tried to kill him with that stunt involving Lupin and the Whomping Willow. Severus had taken just a tiny bit of satisfaction in helping pin the dangerous ex-con down in his new home. The collar had been his design. His mouth curved into a cold smirk as he remembered Black’s expression of pain as the spikes had bitten into his flesh the first time.
He would have loved to educate the man on what they were doing to his precious son, but alas, it was decided that Black was better kept ignorant. That way if he managed to somehow escape, he wouldn’t know who to point fingers at other than a general accusation. Severus was not a nice man by a long shot, he’d enjoyed helping Albus and the others start breaking the boy. It had been a thrill unlike any other to force dangerous, illegal potions down the brat’s throat and watch him scream and writhe in his chains afterwards. How far the mighty fell.
But eventually one of his delusional little bubbles popped, ruining part of his utopia. If the younger Black was ever freed, or if he broke Dumbledore’s control after his ‘training’, they would all face life sentences in Azkaban if not worse for what they had done to a teenager. So, reluctantly, he’d clued in Lupin to the boy’s location. Within a week, the boy had disappeared. Dumbledore’s rage at his disappearance had been a tangible thing, frightening in its intensity. He was no better a master than the Dark Lord in his own way.
Now the youngest Weasley girl was missing, abducted outside her own home. If the two events weren’t connected, Severus would start wearing Gryffindor colors. Internally shuddering at just the thought, he silenced his internal monologue, paying attention to the tumultuous conversation going on around him. Currently present were only those that knew about the Black boy’s disappearance. Severus had never bothered to learn the brat’s real name, he cared not.
“We have bigger problems than your daughter’s disappearance, Molly,” Albus snaps, the twinkle for once absent from his eyes. “Apparently your daughter knew something about Sirius’ location, he’s been liberated from his cell.”
Noticeably absent from today’s session is Nymphadora Tonks, who has been purposefully left in the dark about her cousin’s survival. It would have taken a blind man not to notice the unhealthy obsession she had with her older cousin. Blind Albus was not, he was taking advantage of that and re-directing her anger at her cousin’s son. She also didn’t know he was Sirius’ child, thinking that the man had sacrificed his life for only his godson.
“So?” Molly screeches impatiently. “What does that man have to do with my daughter?!”
This close to Albus, Severus can see he’s gritting his teeth, angry and impatient with the overbearing witch. “It matters,” he snaps, “because Harry is also missing from his cell and the pair are likely together somewhere. They cannot leave the country, if they were to get the ear of MACUSA or another overseas government, we’d all face very severe charges. Or do you think you’re safe because you never actually took part in Harry’s training?”
Several members of the Order pale, including the youngest male Weasley and Miss Granger. Both are overage, being caught and charged with the things they’ve done to an underage wizard would ruin their lives. Granger particularly, she’d been particularly eager to test out all the spells she’d been reading about on the boy. Severus remembers hearing his screams echo throughout his prison on numerous occasions, becoming more and more hoarse as he lost his voice.
The things they’ve done, to a teenager no less, are horrendous. Severus feels not the least amount of guilt, enjoying extracting his revenge against Black on the man’s hapless son. The fact that the spells he uses are far more dangerous and painful than anything the Marauders used on him is coincidence. A part of him knows that it’s not normal, the lack of guilt. He feels less remorse for what he’s done to the boy than what he did as a Death Eater. Severus is not worried that Black’s escaped, the man is in poor shape and no true opponent for him.
He listens to their newest set of instructions with curiosity, a bit of dawning understanding and awe at the amount of sheer malevolence and manipulation involved. It’s perfect, and will both send a clear warning and cement one of their wild cards firmly on their side.
The fact that someone will die for it; well, that’s war. Collateral damage.
When Andromeda’s portkey activates, there aren’t warm greetings and smiles. Instead, a scene of chaos and destruction meets Remus and Kingsley’s eyes. Andromeda lands on the floor, on her knees. She’s sobbing, hands drenched in blood. It goes up her arms almost to the elbow and she’s frantically waving her wand, medical spells spilling off her lips with the ease from years of training. The target of her spells is her husband Ted, lying on the floor with a massive gash in his chest and another across his throat.
Immediately, MACUSA healers launch into action, trying to supplement Andromeda’s work. Their actions are frantic, words chaotic and tumbling over each other. When one of them begins using chest compressions and breathing into Ted’s slack mouth, Remus’ heart sinks. He’s frozen to the spot, unable to move forward. Eventually, reluctantly, the healers ease off and move back, only one remaining. He leans forward, grabs Andromeda’s wand hand and ceases her relentless spellwork. Slowly, sadly, he shakes his head.
Andromeda’s screaming wail of grief echoes around the room, making Remus want to cover his ears. He refuses, even as the noise reverberates against his eardrums and makes his wolf quietly growl in annoyance. He takes the abuse to his sensitive hearing like a penance of sorts, despite knowing that he’s not responsible for Ted Tonks’ death. Eventually Andromeda’s voice tapers off to heaving, gasping sobs, her blood-stained hands wrapping around her own waist as her shoulders hitch. She’s crying silently now, so hard she’s struggling to breathe.
Now Remus finds motion again, going to her side. He sinks to his knees, avoids looking at Ted and draws the woman to his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. Andromeda is stiff at first, then her arms wrap around his shoulders in a vise-like grip, her nails cutting into his skin through his shirt. He takes the small bite of pain easily, not really noticing it much.
“What happened?” he says quietly.
It’s the right thing to say. Andromeda’s breathing eases, her hands lessen on the pressure that she’s gripping him with. He can hear the rising anger in her voice as she says, “Dumbledore’s people attacked us,” she spits, “not the man himself, he’s too clever for that. But his people, of that I’m sure. I recognized Alastor and Severus. Alastor’s the one that got Ted, I was focused too much on Severus.”
“Alastor Moody?” Remus asks, verifying. He can see the anger, regret and pain on Kingsley’s face at the name, the renowned Auror mentored many in the field, including both Kingsley and Sirius. His latest protégé was Andromeda’s own daughter.
“Yes,” she says calmly, too calmly. She pulls away from him, casts a spell to remove the blood from her arms. Her blue eyes are burning with the famous Black anger, her expression switching from grieving to glacial so fast he can see the unease on some of the other people’s faces.
“My daughter’s mentor,” she continues, “and he kills her own father. They’ll blame it on others of course, maybe even you. It’s something Dumbledore would do, play on her emotions and mess with her control of her own logic.”
She locks her burning blue eyes on Remus and says, coldly, “When we find them, Alastor is mine.”
In the face of her grieving rage, all Remus can do is nod.
When they arrive at the Avengers Tower, Sirius grips his cousin in a tight hug, letting her burrow her head into the crook of his shoulder. Andy’s older than him, a strong woman who made the decision to rebel against her family for her own happiness. Her character was always something he admired and looked up to. Andy’s rebellion had inspired him to gather his courage and do the same a few years later. But now she’s crumpling in her grief, curling in on herself and using that stoic Black reputation as a shield.
Sirius refuses to let her, pulling her in close and running a soothing hand over her wild dark hair. She grips his shirt, makes a short sobbing noise. It’s abruptly cut off, smothered by sheer will. Andromeda straightens, pulls gently out of his grasp. Her blue eyes are shining with tears but hardened in resolve and aristocratic control. Reluctantly, he lets her pull away.
She turns, facing Tony for the first time. The rest of his team is here as well, the first time Sirius or their son has been around the rest of the Avengers. Harlan’s standing back near the shadows, eyeing Andromeda a bit warily. She looks a bit like her sister Bellatrix, whom Harlan dislikes immensely. Sirius is not upset at his son’s wariness, but his heart hurts for the teens’ loss of innocence and trust. He reaches out, takes Harlan’s hand soothingly in his own. Rubbing his thumb against the skin of the teens’ palm, he gently tugs. Harlan takes the few hesitant steps he needs to leave the safety of the background, stepping up next to him and into his side.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Tony is telling Andromeda, looking genuinely upset. “This is one of the reasons why I wanted to get you and your husband to somewhere safe, we guessed that Dumbledore would take action after the loss of both our son and Sirius.”
Andromeda dips her head in a restrained nod, acknowledging his words. “Thank you,” she says. “Ted and I both knew the risks once we realized our daughter had become tangled up in all of this. Now, of course, I understand your need for secrecy on the matter, finding my cousin alive was a pleasant surprise.”
“We were quite shocked,” Tony said with a wry smile. “We had Harry’s blood tested so that we could try and understand what had been done to him, we weren’t expecting to find out that Sirius was alive as well.”
Andromeda nods, as if she’s made a decision. “I would be willing to do as you asked in the letter and act as my cousin’s son’s therapist, my cousin’s as well if he would be willing to talk to me. The fact that my daughter was involved in it may make it personal, but I want them both to recover.”
Next to Sirius, Harlan’s eyes flash with understanding. His eyes narrow and his face tightens. He’s clearly realized the gist of what Andromeda’s purpose here is and is not pleased. Sirius starts to try and say something, having realized how important therapy will be for his son after what he’s been through, when Harlan abruptly speaks, cutting him off.
“I will do my best to talk to you,” he tells Andromeda. Then he adds bluntly, “But if it’s about what your daughter’s done, I’ll find someone else. I won’t be the one to add to the pain you yourself are in.”
Sirius is relieved, if apprehensive. How much had his cousin’s daughter been involved in? But at least Harlan hadn’t outright rejected the idea of talking to a therapist. It was better than Sirius could have hoped for. He’d warned Tony that Harlan would not be very open to the idea and that he could be incredibly stubborn. Tony had just joked that it was something he’d come by honestly.
Sirius takes a deep breath and tries to relax. Andromeda is here, safe. Ted is gone, but at least his cousin is protected. But his hands are tense, itching with nerves. There’s the constant desire to look over his shoulder, to try and guess what Dumbledore’s next move is going to bring.
This needs to end, soon.