Chapter Text

Chapter 49: The Word of the Lord

Sirius banged on the front door of the Pettigrew house until he was white-knuckled and sore. They lived in a rather charmless neighborhood, where every house on the block looked just the same and the only way to tell one house from the next was the numbers on the mailboxes and the type of flowers in the window boxes. The Pettigrews had begonias. The street was quiet and muggy, and the now-overcast suggested an afternoon spring shower. It had been sunny.

Just before he unlocked the door himself, Peter’s mother appeared in the window, and then at the door.

“Hello, dear!” the rather portly woman spoke cheerfully. “My apologies, I was in the loo while you were knocking. Sirius Black, right? If I’m not mistaken? One of Peter’s dear friends from Hogwarts, how lovely to see you!”

“And you as well, ma’am! You look so – so well!” Sirius exclaimed. Though he hardly had the time to get sidetracked, this was not at all someone he’d expected to see at the door. From the way Peter had talked about her, he had just assumed she was bedridden.

“Well…thank you!” Mrs. Pettigrew gave a little head bobble with cheery enthusiasm.

“I’m just so pleased to see you up and about!” He didn’t want to be impolite, or seem as though he was prying, he was finding it hard to hide his surprise. “Peter must be thrilled!”

“Huh.” Mrs. Pettigrew furrowed her brow. “We all age, I suppose we don’t all have to take it lying down… is your family well? Are… you?”

“Oh, yes, all fine. But I have found myself in a bit of an emergency – is Peter around? It’s rather urgent.”

“He should be – PETER!” she called back into the house, “you have a VISITOR!”

Sirius heard footsteps on the stairs and watched Wormtail round the corner and come into view. And unless he was very much mistaken, his friend was absolutely terrified to see him.

“Sirius!” Peter tried to play off his obvious nerves as excitement. “What’re you doing here?”

“We need to talk. I need your help - now.”

“Yeah, let’s just – let’s just go outside. Not bother my mother, you know?”

“I know I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t an emerg—”

Sirius was cut off by Mrs. Pettigrew’s pleas that really, he was no bother. But before she could say much more, Peter had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him straight back off of their front stairs and into the grassy front yard.

“Your mother seems so well!” Sirius began.

“It’s a good day – why are you here?” Peter demanded.

“Can you get in touch with Dorcas Meadowes, it’s an emergency. She’s in danger.”

“I – I’m not sure? Dorcas Meadowes? Do you even know Dorcas?”

“We’ve been acquainted, but no, not well, but that’s—”

“Ah, see, she’s a force. I’m not sure she’s ever in danger…”

“No, Peter, I’m serious. The Dark Lord’s after her. Personally. I think things are about to escalate.”

“W-what? And how would you know that?”

“Because he TOLD me, Wormy. He fucking TOLD ME!” Sirius ran his hands through his hair.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Going to Peter instead of James meant that he’d lost over a year of transparency. In the same breath that he’d explain he just had the Dark Lord over for tea, he needed to convince his friend that despite not joining the Order, despite the use of the Dark Arts, despite the fact that the logical path would’ve been to become a Death Eater and everyone knew it, he was actually on their side.

He had chosen the Pettigrew’s instead of the Potter’s residence for Harry’s safety, and he would make it work. It just didn’t make things easy.

“I – I can explain,” Sirius attempted. “It’s not at all what it sounds like. Just let me explain.”

“But you’re not… a Death Eater,” Peter stated plainly.

“I’m not. Peter, I swear I’m not. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I was, right?”

“Then why would the Dark Lord talk to you directly? Let alone tell you about a plan of his?”

“The FUCKING MONEY! It’s all anyone has EVER wanted from me since we left Hogwarts!” Sirius took a deep breath; losing his temper right now would get him nowhere. “Sorry – I don’t know if you’ve heard or if it’s been discussed in the Order, but it’s said that you can trace the victors of any conflict or war through the movement of the Black family’s wealth. It’s – it’s not as cut and dry as people make it, but no one wants to take the odds against it.”

“Okay, Sirius, and?”

“And so the Dark Lord wanted to ensure that even if Isabella and I don’t join his ranks, we won’t join the Order. I don’t think he believes that we’re the type to be neutral – which…” Sirius shrugged. “But more so than that, he wanted to ensure that the Black wealth would never back the Order.”

“And?!”

Sirius considered admitting the truth, but stopped himself. It had been painful enough admission when it first slipped out, and it would do him no good here. So he gave a half-truth, “No. As long as my grandfather’s alive, there’s not a chance in hell. And he’s not going anywhere.”

“Interesting. So it’s not up to you?”

“No, it’s not! But that’s hardly the point – Peter, can you or can you not get in touch with Dorcas Meadowes?!”

Time was ticking by and it felt as though Peter wasn’t quite understanding his sense of urgency.

“How do you know he’s going after her? Why would that come up?”

“I think it’s a measure to ensure we don’t join the Order and punish anyone who’s tried to recruit us. I’m sure you know better than I do – she must’ve developed a reputation or something. And he said he would ‘deal with her personally’.”

“So you admitted that she recruited you?” The words landed like a punch to the gut, but Peter didn’t necessarily sound mad, just surprised.

“Not… in so many words, but please don’t make me feel worse than I already do and help me stop this. Please.” Sirius begged.

“Of-of course. I just need to talk to Dumbledore – Dorcas moves around a bit; I might not reach her at the right place. Do you… want to talk to him as well? Explain everything? Do you think that’s… wise?”

“No no no – Peter, I’m lucky you believe me. And you’re one of my closest friends. After everything in the news, you think I’m convincing Albus Dumbledore?!”

“Right. Fine.” Peter now just looked uncomfortable. “Do you want to wait here… or do you…”

“No. I need to keep moving. I should find Isabella as soon as I can.”

“Why?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Sirius snapped back. “Because I MET the Dark Lord! Because he said that they’ll ‘proceed’ and I don’t know what that means! But if it was determined by the fact he no longer fears that I’ll wield the money against him, no matter what he does, then I – I don’t know. I don’t know, Peter!”

Peter’s relative calmness was throwing him off. Sirius had essentially taken away the Dark Lord’s constraints. He’d confirmed that the one resource that could change the tides of the war would not be accessible to the Order. Ever. Sirius didn’t think he was blowing this out of proportion.

But then, why did Peter seem so calm?

“Look, I don’t think I’m misreading this,” Sirius backtracked. “When he left, he looked like he was going to start a war – and since the rest of us think we’re already fighting one, I have no idea what’s coming next. I don’t know how soon, or wide-spread, or how hard he’s going to hit. But I’m not going to sit around and wait, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll alert Dumbledore, he’ll alert the Order and Dorcas included. And you find Isabella, right?”

“Yeah, perfect – thank you.”

“And Sirius?” Peter’s voice dropped and his tone shifted. “Be smart, okay? I say this as your friend, I don’t think that you convinced me in the way you think you did. I trust you, and I’m going to help you, but before you go and share this with the Potters or whomever else you might want to talk to about this, maybe think about what you’re saying? Again, I’m saying this as your friend, really think about what you’re telling people and if that’s a smart choice.”

It was a fine sentiment, even warranted, but Sirius found himself brushing it off. Peter simply didn’t understand just how much more the Potter’s knew.

He gave him a cursory nod anyway.

Sirius had a moment of unsubstantiated optimism that Isabella may’ve returned from lunch while he was at the Pettigrews’; but a lap around the estate confirmed that wasn’t the case. And still, no matter how empty his house seemed; he couldn’t to convince himself to floo directly to the Potters.

Instead, he found himself standing in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld. Part of him hoped he’d get lucky and be able to touch base with Regulus, a check-point to whether or not he was being rationally or irrationally paranoid about what had just transpired. The other part of him realized it would at least be a buffer between the two locations.

Neither of the options had accounted for a conversation with his mother.

“Sirius.” Walburga Black nodded in acknowledgement of his unexpected appearance, as she straightened the sofa cushions in the drawing room.

“What’re you doing?” Sirius passed over a greeting, instead puzzled by his mother’s unusually domestic actions. “Where’s the elf?”

“I can do, just as easily as I can command, thank you,” she replied coolly, easing herself into the corner of the plush velvet couch. She studied his face for a moment and laughed, “Merlin, you look just as dreadful as your brother.”

“Do I? Is he here?”

“No.”

“But he was here?”

“Yes; and then he had to go… dubiously willingly.”

“You’re not - you’re not nervous for him, are you? Oh good Merlin, is that why you’re doing chores?”

“Well,” his mother looked uncharacteristically disarmed, a hint at her emotions on display for only a moment before she recomposed herself, smoothing out her skirt, and her face morphing back into stone. “Well, he’s a sweet boy… who, it seems, thinks he’s going to die. And I confess, I think it would be rather unfortunate.”

“The death of your youngest son would be… unfortunate?”

“Yes. I think I’d be rather displeased, you know, to be all alone in this house.” She shook her head dismissively. “No, it really wouldn’t do.”

A brilliant reminder of the kind of woman he was dealing with.

“Well, mother,” Sirius sneered, “how could you say you’d be alone? You’d have Kreacher.”

“Oh good Merlin, I’d have Kreacher!” To his surprise, his mother laughed. “Do you think your brother’s successfully imprinted on the thing? It’d be like I never lost him, though… smaller. And mangier.”

“Does Reg make it a habit of sleeping in cupboards?”

His mother snuffed the mood with a deep sigh.

“I don’t know what your brother does.”

It was an appropriate end to the conversation, Sirius thought, eyes glancing back to the fireplace. Any other day… But Sirius found himself lingering for a moment instead, perching himself on the armrest of a well-worn loveseat.

“How do you do it?” He surprised even himself with his question.

“Do what?”

“Stay neutral? I don’t… I-I think I’ve done something wrong. To put it diplomatically.”

“Oh good Merlin, Sirius, three years out of Hogwarts and you’re no smarter than the day you left. Has your grandfather taught you nothing?”

Right, Sirius thought, rising from his seat with a huff.

“No, forget I asked. I forgot you and I – we’re not capable of this” he gestured back and forth.

“Neutral is purely financial,” Walburga carried on as though Sirius hadn’t said a word. “I am not neutral; the Blacks have never been neutral. YOU are not neutral, and Merlin-knows your wife certainly isn’t.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Good.”

“But we don’t have a side. No matter what you want to believe, we don’t actually have a side. Doesn’t that make us neutral?”

Walburga leaned back, stretching her arm out along the length of the couch, and looked up at her agitated son as though he had just told an adorable joke.

“Well I think we get into a very interesting semantical debate here. Can you be both opinionated and neutral? Polarizing and neutral? See, I would argue that you, and Isabella, are the antithesis of neutral. In fact, neutrality – indifference – comes so unnaturally to you, that you went and formed your own side of the war. If it wasn’t you, I would say it’s almost impressive - you went for neutrality and found a way to still be at the center of the conflict.”

“You think I chose my beliefs? For what - for attention? It’s a combination of nature and nurture, mother…”

“No, Sirius, I think you did it without thinking twice about it. I bet you couldn’t even conceive that some people are willing to make sacrifices to achieve greater support.”

The way this woman could get under his skin, even now. He shook his head dismissively.

“I’m done with this conversation. There’s a reason you and I don’t have this kind of discussion…”

“You asked me a question and I am giving you an answer. So SHUT IT and listen,” his mother reprimanded. “I am not neutral. I am above the war, above fighting in the streets, above being a bloody follower, and there are no advantages to me socially. But do I agree with the Cause? Sure.

“But you, you’ve chosen a more interesting path. You don’t view yourself as above the war, though I feel you should. You, instead, have separated yourself by your own beliefs. I am sure I would be horrified to learn what some of those beliefs truly are, but you feel so strongly about these issues that – whether you realize it or not - you have started your own side in the war. I actually think that’s rather admirable. But Sirius, ask yourself, what are you willing to do to ensure that your side of the war wins?”

“I-I’m not trying to win the war… that’s not…”

“Well maybe you should be. Do you realize who you are? Who you married? If you wanted it, if you really wanted it…”

“No, that’s – that’s delusional! I’m a good wizard – maybe a very good wizard - but I’m nowhere NEAR Dumbledore. Let alone- ”

“No, you’re not at his level. Nowhere near it,” his mother cut him off. “But neither of them can sit in the top box with the most senior Ministry officials, now can they? And you’re 30 to 80 years their junior.”

“That’s… that’s just -”

“It’s just food for thought.” His mother smirked. “Now where’s Isabella? She far better at these kinds of conversations than you are.”

“Yeah, I was going to collect her – she’s out, and, well, if Regulus is off…”

“Smart. And last thing Sirius,” his mother looked at him with a brightness in her eyes that she only had when she was about to deliver a devastating final blow, “did you cause this? Whatever’s happening today – is this your doing?”

Sirius went rigid. It was that obvious, wasn’t it? Was that even fair to say?

He just shrugged and made his way to the fireplace.

“I spoke to someone today who you know well.” Without even turning around, he left his mother with the parting words he’d been left with. “He said to tell you he said hello.”

The last thing he heard before he flooed to the Potters was his mother laughing. Genuinely laughing.