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Manipulations to War
By Mutt N Feathers

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Category: Pre-OotP
Characters:Sirius Black
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Death
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 19
Summary: Sequel to Harry's second Christmas. James and Lily are dead, and Sirius, Remus and Anwen are living in the Potter keep with Harry. They want him to have a well balanced childhood, but the need to keep him safe is greater. Sirius is working to unravel where the Potter money went while Anwen wants to discover why they were in Godric's Hollow and not safely in the Potter's home.
Hitcount: Story Total: 18809; Chapter Total: 520





Author's Notes:
Reposting galore today and many thanks to Arnel for being awesome.




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Chapter 21:
Influence


November 18, 1984



“Good morning, birthday boy,” Anwen said when Sirius’ eyes fluttered open a few minutes after she’d woken up.


“It’s always a good morning when I wake up with you,” he said. “Please don’t remind me that I’m old today.”


“Sirius, no one is going to call you old,” she said with emphasis. “Twenty-five is just getting into your prime. When you’re as old as Nicolas, then you can call yourself old.”


“Not interested in living for several centuries, Luv. However, a few lifetimes with you would be perfect.” Anwen smiled sweetly and kissed him softly.


“Let’s just get through this one, or at least the birth of this baby before we discuss lifetimes together. What would you like today, whatever it is, I will do my best to make it yours?”


“Another few hours of sleep?”


“I can’t give you more than one if that’s how you choose to spend it. Keep in mind that the elves are getting the children up and feeding them breakfast, then Remus and Emme are coming over to keep them company. We aren’t to be disturbed until eight, at the earliest.”


“Oh, my little minx,” Sirius said with a devilish grin. “You arranged an extra hour in the morning for us?” Anwen smiled coquettishly in return. “Happy Birthday to me,” he said before pulling her on top of him and sliding his hands under her nightgown.


An hour and a half later”bathing took extra-long as they shared the bath” Anwen and Sirius came downstairs to find their children happily playing in the ballroom. Remus watched Harry fly about eight feet off the ground and faster than any of the adults would have liked. Emme was in the playhouse that Sirius had created for Lizzy on her first birthday, letting Lizzy feed her all sorts of plastic foods. At the moment, she was enjoying a hamburger made with waffles, lettuce, pickles, and spaghetti.


“I need to eat something,” Anwen said quietly. “We burned off too many calories. Oof, and we woke this one up.” She put her hand on her belly and rubbed. This little bean was more active than Lizzy had been, and Anwen was convinced Lizzy would be a forward for a football team. Sirius didn’t understand her Muggle reference, so she took him to a game, and he enjoyed it thoroughly. She wanted to introduce him to rugby next.


"Daddy, good morning," Harry said. Since his sister had begun talking, Anwen and Sirius had noticed their names had disappeared from Harry's vocabulary. They were no longer Winnie Mummy and Daddy Sirius, but just Mummy and Daddy. The first time it happened within earshot of James and Lily's portrait, Lils had cried. Anwen still felt guilty on occasion but realized it was part of Harry's growing up and accepting his role in the family. "Happy Birthday."


“Thank you, Harry. I hope we can go flying today,” Sirius offered, and Harry nodded his head in anticipation.


“Anytime I can go flying, you know I want to.”


“Excellent, but I’m keeping the eight-foot restriction on your broom. For four years old, that is high enough.”


“Da-ad.”


“Don ’t whinge, Harry,” Anwen said.


“Yes, Harry, eight feet or there will be no flying.”


“Really?”


"Real ly," Sirius said. "Let Mummy and me eat some breakfast, and then we can go out back."


“Fine.” Harry took his broom a few feet away and then kicked off, deciding it was better to fly at eight feet than not to fly at all.


“He’s going to be a joy as a teenager,” Anwen said, “I hear it already. He’ll whinge, slam doors, contradict you. Heck, if you keep your hair long, I can see him shaving his head as rebellion.”


“Harry isn’t going to rebel. We’re the coolest parents in the world.”


"Oh, Sirius, of course, Harry will rebel. We all do it, and it's part of how we learn to be who we really are. That, however, is a decade away. How about you feed me and the little jumping bean in here." Sirius laid his hand on the side of her belly and felt a strong kick.


“Wow, that was strong.”


“Yup, and I have three months to go.”

*R*R*R*R*R*


Two days later, on an oddly warm November afternoon, Remus was at the Burrow after an afternoon of play for the friends. He had cornered the Weasley matriarch in the kitchen. "Molly, truly, I would be happy to have both Ron and Ginny come to classes. Neville, Susan, and Harry are already with me, and I believe they will feel left out," Remus pleaded with her. His more formalized tutoring had begun on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, as so far, Molly had firmly stated her children would be taught by her, as she had done with the rest of her boys.

"I know that you would be more than accommodating, Remus, but I have taught all of my children before Hogwarts, and I will do the same with Ron and Ginny. All that they need to know to be successful witches and wizards will be taught to them when they arrive at Hogwarts," Molly countered. He was glad Anwen wasn't here to hear Molly or the goodwill built between the two women would be destroyed by Anwen's insistence that there was more to life than knowing how to do household charms and spells to make life easier. She and Lily had been merciless in their teasing of James and Sirius when they'd never heard of the concept of a natural science and didn't have a clue about world history.

"For their magical educations, I agree with you about Hogwarts, but I'm going to be teaching reading and maths to start with, and eventually we will add the physical sciences, natural and world history, literature, and the arts. Anwen had hoped to send Harry to Muggle primary school, but he is simply too magical."

“I can’t imagine how she’s going to handle three children under five and working,” Molly said with a cluck of her tongue. “Motherhood is a noble profession.”

"I'm sure Anwen agrees with you, Molly," Remus said, speaking kindly of his friend, "but her mind is extraordinary, and the Aurors need that right now. Sirius and I handle the children quite well."

“I’m sure you do,” she said pointedly. Molly didn’t see Sirius as good father material as he frequently played with the children a bit too enthusiastically for her taste. Remus wasn’t going to divulge that Ginny loved to ride on his back or snuggle in his lap when he did stories with them.

“Molly, I hope that you will think about letting Ron and Ginny join our little class,” he said, directing the subject back to the matter at hand.

"Remus, while I'm sure you'll be an excellent tutor, I don't think that it's the right choice for Ron and Ginny." It dawned on Remus what was going on, and it had everything to do with money.

"I'm not charging for these lessons just so you know," he said. "Anwen and Sirius are over-employing me at the moment, so I feel no need to charge anyone else." He wouldn't tell her that Frank and Alice insisted on depositing money into his account or that Madame Bones sent him a generous gift certificate to Madame Malkins. Molly nodded at him but said nothing. He went into the living room and saw Harry sitting on the floor reading to Ginny.

“See the drag-on l-l-lift his head,” Harry read slowly. “Now his win-gee.”

“Wing, Harry. The word is pronounced wing.”

“L-l-like on a bird, right, Uncle Remus?’

“Just like on a bird, Harry. Good ‘L’ sounds too. Your parents would be proud.” Harry smiled brightly at Remus before he turned back to the book.

“He can read already, at just four?” Molly asked over Remus’ shoulder.

“Yes,” Remus said. “He knew his letters at two and a half. He’s started on basic maths problems too.”

“I think you might be right about letting Ron and Ginny join in,” Molly said. Remus nodded his head and smiled.

*R*R*R*R*R

Elsewher e in the magical world, Alice was having a meeting in the bowels of the Ministry. "I'm not sure why you wanted me to meet with me instead of Anwen," Alice said softly. "She is much better at helping you interpret what these fragments mean. She's also better at Legilimency than I am."

“You are correct, I do usually prefer Anwen to work with me, but I have found a truly disturbing fragment that I believe needs interpretation and explanation before they are presented to Mrs Parker-Black," Albus said in his cell. Alice had found it interesting that one wall was covered in pictures that Harry and Lizzy had created for him, as well as their magical photographs and even a sonogram picture of what she suspected was the Black's newest bean.

"What could possibly be so delicate that Anwen couldn't see it straight away? She takes nearly everything in stride, except if it deals with Sirius or the tots. Is that what it's about?"

"I wish it were about Harry or Sirius, I truly do, but it is not. Alice, please, take the memory fragment that I'm putting in the fore of my mind. When you watch it, you will understand why I am so distressed." Alice tipped her wand to Albus's temple, in the exact spot he was pointing, and pulled a silvery-grey undulating thread of light out. She gently directed it into the bowl and then tapped on the side three times so it would project into the room, rather than having to dive into it herself. While Albus wouldn't have attacked her while in the memory, that could not be said for most prisoners, and this action was standard for prison interviews by Aurors.

"Albus, my old friend, I understand you met someone interesting recently?" an older man with a full beard enquired. Alice could make out no other facial features, as Albus struggled not to look at the man. His hands were thin and wrinkled, and two of his nails were black. The wrist was bony, skin sagging. His shirt showed signs of fraying at the cuff, and there was a small tattoo peeking out from beneath it. The room they were in was harshly lit and had grey, blank walls.

“I do not know who you could mean,” Albus said, moving his chess piece to a different square. Albus was attempting to sound indifferent, but Alice had heard the man speak enough time to tell when there was intense emotion just below the surface.

“That isn’t true,” the thickly accented voice said, his hand moving his own chess piece. “She is the granddaughter of someone I had hoped to meet. Sadly, she and her children died.” Alice couldn’t see Albus, but it felt as if the blood had drained away from her own face in the same way she was assured it had from Albus’s when this conversation happened. She was aware of Violette’s story and the implication for Anwen. Someone knew who and what she was even as she was growing up as a Muggle in Wales.

"I'm sorry, but I do not know who you are asking about. I meet many people, and not all of them remain in my memory. As for folks you wanted to 'collect' thirty or more years ago, I cannot be expected to remember specifics.”

“Don’t make me say her name,” the other man whispered the threat. "We both know you're aware of whom I'm speaking. Tell me, can she do what her grandmother did." Albus's hand hovered over the chess piece. He sighed loudly.

"I don't know for certain, but given what she displayed when I took her to Diagon Alley, she is more powerful than you could have dreamed," Albus confessed sadly.

“Keep her close,” the other man said quietly. “He will want her if he knows.”

The memory ended, folding back in on itself until it was only a ribbon floating on the glassy surface of the Pensive.

“Who were you talking to?” Alice asked. Albus didn’t look up, didn’t answer, instead sat stock still. “Albus, who were you talking to?”

"You have to understand that even after our falling out, his defeat, after all of it, he was still the most…he was the most knowledgeable. He knew me better than anyone. I thought I could hide the truth from him; I felt with him locked away, I was safe from his sway.

“That was the day I realized that even in prison, Gellert was pulling my strings. He was an insidious puppet master, and I, as always, was his marionette. I had helped Violet disappear, I knew her as a child, and I couldn’t let him take her and use her. She was far too precious, too good to let him sully. She hated leaving her boys, but she had no choice. They were so little, they hadn't really come into their magic, so the spells weren't detrimental to them. Their lives would be better away from the magical world and their heritage. They were safe with a Muggle family, and with so many children fleeing the cities then, it was easy to hide them. She fled to Brittany, close enough to hear all the news of Gellert but far enough away that no one noticed when one more witch was in their little village. When I finally had defeated him, imprisoned him, she went to find her children, but they were happy where they were. It broke Violet’s heart, but she made the best choice for her boys.”

“Then her name was written in the Head’s book of students, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was…” Albus trailed off, looking as if he was staring back into time and some unseen wonder before him.

“Anwen, she was…when her mother opened the door to me on her birthday, and I saw her standing there “ she was a pixie in braided plaits wearing a ballet costume and a bright smile “ she looked just like her grandmother at that age. It didn’t take me exceptionally long to conclude she was as strong as her grandmother. At first, I talked with her about strange things that happened in her life, like changing the lights on busy London streets or the sheep coming to her when she sang in the paddock. Then I cast a spell, and I knew she saw the magic from the brilliance in her smile. I could not let him lust after her too.”

“Albus, are we talking about Grindelwald?”

“Of course, we are,” Albus said sadly. “Whenever anything deleterious happened in my life, it was due to Gellert. When I was a young man, I was taken in by him, not that I should use that as an excuse. I have seen many young men and women “ you, your husband, your close friends “ make better choices at a younger age than when I at the same. I am ashamed that even in my advanced years, I cannot seem to stay away from him."

"I'm confused. Are you saying you're still in contact?" Alice asked, surprised by it hadn't even been a decade since the memory they'd been in moments ago.

“Until the week before I was imprisoned, although now that I have had time to think about it, I am ashamed to admit it.”

Alice sat quite still, trying to figure out the importance of this information, although not sure how it all fit. This wasn’t her strength. She could find clues, but it took others to put them together. James had excelled at it; Anwen still did.

“I’m still not sure what this means, but is this the oldest fragment you have?”

"No, there are memories much older which appear to have been tampered with by that fragment of bone found in my head," Albus explained. "Some dating back into the early sixties. They do not appear to have any rhyme or reason." He gave her a small leather-bound book, and Alice flipped through the pages. Here Albus Dumbledore had listed each fragment he'd been able to uncover through hours of remembering and sifting through his mind. The first date he was confident of something being tampered with was when he learned that Tom Riddle had left his post at Borgin and Burkes. It was two days after Hepzibah Smith.”

"Why start tampering then? All of the memories of Anwen's which were corrupted were within eight months," Alice asked.

“Whoever did this, and for whatever reason they did it, they did not want me to think about all the pieces of Lord Voldemort and question it too much. I believe I know why as well.”

“Why?”

“Alice, I believe he has delved deeper into Dark Magics than anyone else alive. The Darkest of magics allows a person to become immortal, something Tom Riddle was obsessed with when he took on the mantle of Lord Voldemort. It always bothered me that Hepzibah’s murder, his disappearance, and the loss of the Founder’s heirlooms she treasured all fell within a few days of each other.”

“You think he stole them?”

“I am certain he did. I also feel quite confident that he turned them into something exceptionally wicked. To become immortal, you must split your soul and then house it in an object.”

“How do you…I’ve never heard of magic that can split the soul,” Alice said with a shiver.

“You wouldn’t have,” Albus said with a distant gaze. “Your family has always been part of the light “ good witches and wizards who believed in the betterment of society. It is those who want more, who had a desire in them to exert their will over…” he trailed off.

"Gellert wanted immortality through the Deathly Hallows; Riddle wanted it through something called a Horcrux.”

“Deathly Hallows, like the storybook? What is a…hor? What did you call it?”

"A Horcrux, Alice, and I'm not surprised you don't know. I doubt anyone in your family would have ever heard of such a thing either. No, you need to wade through Dark Magic into the deepest pool of depravity to find the spell, and the consequences are dire. A Horcrux is an object “ in the case of my earliest corrupted memory, the cup or necklace that Madame Smith owned “ which houses a bit of soul “ in this case, part of Tom Riddle, although he may have already considered himself Lord Voldemort."

“How does one split off a bit of your soul?” Alice fearfully asked.

“By committing the worst crime known to wizarding kind, of course. You must commit murder.”

Alice had never been one for swearing; she just found it uncouth and unladylike; however, she had known Sirius Black for her entire life, and he could write a textbook on such utterances. What flew from her lips surprised Albus, who must have heard it all from his students over the years.

“Alice Nighman Longbottom, I declare that might be the most surprising thing I have ever heard you say,” Albus said with a grin. “Thank you for lightening the mood.”

"I'm confused, sir. I can see why Grindelwald would have wanted Anwen's grandmother, put her under the Imperius Curse, and, well, controlling her could create a world of problems. Violette is an impressive witch. But why did he care about Anwen? Grindelwald is in prison."

“He is, and Nurmengard holds him to this day, and it will until he dies, but it points out two critical and, frankly, terrifying points about Gellert. First, he had eyes on me every day of my life. I do not know who or how, but he knew. Second, he knew of Voldemort before his true rise. The latter is what frightens me.”

"You mean because he potentially knew about Anwen?" Alice asked, and the old man wrung his hands. The movement struck Alice as quite odd; she'd never seen Albus worry so about anything, even war.

“No, although I have always worried that what Anwen is would have been enticing to Tom. No, what worries me is that Gellert and Tom had met, possibly more than once. I had always suspected that Gellert's writings had influenced Tom and his attitudes, but their meeting one another…well, I find their combined personalities diabolical.”

"But sir, they're both sociopaths, or was it, psychopaths? Anwen explained the difference, but I can't seem to “"

"They are both psychopaths, Alice, but Gellert is far more persuasive. Tom only spoke to those who felt like they were losing their place in a world that was changing. Those initial followers just stoked misunderstandings and half-truths or bullied their way into compliance by others. Gellert was able to convince otherwise reasonable witches and wizards all over the continent that they were a being above. He was hypnotic when he spoke, and well, like any addict, once you had that first hit, it was hard not to go back."

“Sir, I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Alice confessed.

"That's alright, dear girl; I'm not sure what I'm trying to say either. Find a way to tell Anwen. Tell her in a way that doesn’t frighten her, please.” Albus slumped against the wall, and Alice picked up the Pensive and left.
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