Of Kings and Pawns
an excerpt

By: Cirque

Chapter 1
Establishing Who, Where, When, and What has Happened
The road had been a long and difficult one for all involved especially the Tetra, a group of four wizards and witches who had devoted their lives to destroying He-who-must-not-be-named, no matter what.
They, like the rest of the wizarding world, had lost so much to the evil that took human form. But they had learned to survive, as others had, and they were an effective strike team, expert duelers and spell casters.
It had taken time for them to build a reputation, but eventually those that bore the dark mark, feared the Tetra, almost as much as those on the side of light revered them. Aside from their name, Tetra, most did not know who made up the foursome, or the ratio of witches to wizards, there were a few who did, but they were bound by the fiddellius charm to keep the secret, so that the four, who were already in danger normally, weren’t in any more danger.
One member of the Tetra, the ‘head’ of the group if you will, collapsed boneless onto the couch in his flat after he had just spent the last 10 minutes apparating around England, making sure his trail wasn’t fallowed.
He glanced around the darkened apartment, and used his hand to bring the lights on low. Another wave and the muggle radio that he owned turned on. The sounds of 80’s pop filling the room and he leaned his head back, his mouth forming the words of the song. “Jenny I got your number … I need to make you mine … Jenny don't change your number … 867-5309 … 867-5309 …”
“I take it things went well?” A voice off to his left forced the man to turn his head and face the other man in the room.
Harry sighed as he looked over his best friend, Ron Weasley. Long gone was the red headed freckled boy of their youth. In his place was a lean, brunette hunter, who was damned deadly when it came to spells, and he could find anything in the world if you wanted him to.
Ron … Ron had lost most of his family within the first three years of the war. His two older brothers, one of the twins, and his father had been the first to go. It had taken Harry every favor he was owed, and every string he could pull to smuggle Mrs. Weasley and Ginny out of the country. In the end though … Ginny hadn’t wanted to leave, and George had been hurt badly, so the girl swapped places with her brother, and the two Wesley’s had left England, for where … Harry didn’t know. It was almost better that way though, because then Ron didn’t have to tell his mother that her little girl was dead, had been dead for 11 years now. He wouldn’t have to tell her that her youngest son had been dead for even longer. No, Ron wasn’t the same, none of them were.
“I thought you were going to stop thinking on the past.” Ron’s slightly rough voice brought Harry out of his thoughts, and the black hair man sighed again, returning his gaze to the ceiling.
“I’m allowed to brood once a week, this is my once a week.” The joke was weak, but he heard Ron chuckle, which in turn made him smile.
“Is he brooding again?” A female voice asked a few seconds later, and both men turned their attention to the doorway leading into the kitchen. In it, stood a stunning woman with long brown hair, and flawless pale skin. She was dressed in muggle clothing, jeans and a t-shirt, looking for the entire world relaxed, not like she was living in a war zone.
Before either man could reply to Hermione, there was a popping sound from behind the couch. Their gazes swung that way, though they were not afraid, there was only 5 people in the world who could apparate into this house, and that was due to a blood spell, no way around it.
“Of course he’s brooding, it’s his once a week thing.” The man’s voice was slightly amused as he pushed his shoulder length blond hair back, a small smile on his face. His eyes met Harry’s. “Sorry I took so long, Malfoy’s damned hard to lose sometimes. You get him next time.”
Harry nodded, and returned Neville’s slight smile. Neville was another one who had changed drastically. Hermione, yes, she’d gotten older, harder, but she was still the same bright girl that she always was. Neville had lost that self doubt as he grew into his body, and his power. He was still silent, but had the most sense of humor amongst them, though it was oddly placed at times. He tended to stay in the background, hidden until it was too late.
“Do you all want anything to eat?” Hermione asked after a second of the silent conversation between the two of her boys that had been out that night?
None of the men were very hungry, they never were anymore, hell even Hermione wasn’t hungry much anymore, but they would eat for her, because it was something normal, it was something regular, it was something that you were supposed to do. Something that didn’t matter if there was a war going on, everyone still ate dinner.
They sat down to the meal, quiet as always, there wasn’t much to talk about anymore, nothing suitable for the dinner table anyway. After they’d eaten, the four went their separate ways in the house.
Ron cleaned up dinner, as Hermione had made it. Hermione sat at a desk in the living room, 80’s music still playing, and she finished up a few reports for work. Neville had clamed the shower first, so Harry had moved into the ‘library’ which was actually just a small office that had been filled to overflowing with all sorts of magical books and scrolls, whatever they could collect, on any topic they could find.
Several of the books were from his very late grandfather’s old home, 12 Grimmauld Place, and in what little free time he had, Harry had been categorizing them, seeing which dealt specifically with dark magic, and which were more mundane.
He was flipping through yet another book when a spell caught his eye. The power of it seemed to seep through the page, but there was no explanation, no information on what it was about. He read the spell, and then read it again, making sure that he didn’t speak it, and he didn’t let any of his power seep into even his thoughts.
“Shower’s free.” Neville stepped into the room, wearing beat up black jeans, and a form hugging olive green tank top. A towel was draped over his shoulders. He stepped further into the room when Harry didn’t instantly answer. He looked over his friends shoulder, and whistled lowly. “Damn that’s strong.”
Harry glanced over at Neville, not having heard him come in, but he nodded. “It’s one of Sirius’ books.” He offered.
Neville snorted at that, they both knew that Sirius would have nothing to do with those books if he didn’t have to. Sirius had deeply hated any affiliation with his family, even their belongings. “What’s the spell for?”
Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t say which concerns … and intrigues me.” He sighed. “This is bad … we shouldn’t be messing with it.” He closed the book and rubbed his eyes.
Neville smiled slightly and took the book. “Who knows, maybe it’s useful? Let’s go ask the others. We can decide what to do when all the Tetra have decided on it.”
Harry nodded, fallowing Neville out to the living room. The book didn’t feel evil, the spell didn’t feel bad. It just felt … different … powerful. It was strange, and intoxicating, and terrifying all at the same time. But something deep within him wanted the spell to be cast, wanted the spell to be read, as if … as if it would change things, make things better.
By the time he came back to himself, Hermione had finished reading the spell, and had handed the book over to Ron, who was glancing it over. The man flipped a page forward, and a page back. “No explanation?” His voice was expressionless.
Harry shook his head, sighing and pushing his hair back. “And the rest of the book is about herbology … it’s one of Sirius’ books, and was in the company of a transfiguration book and a potions book, both fairly low levels. The spell’s just … there.”
“That’s a good place to put it though.” Neville said after a moment of silence. “Plant charms and spells can be some of the strongest out there due to the nature of the words. What better place to put such a powerful spell?”
“But why would you go to all the trouble of hiding it? Especially without leaving any sort of clue?” Hermione’s logical mind was already working on the puzzle, trying to fit the pieces together, even though she didn’t have all of them yet.
“We should cast it.” Ron handed the book back to Harry. “I know you feel the pull, it’s not evil, and it’s not dark. It want’s to be cast.”
Harry looked to Neville, who gave a nod, and then he looked to Hermione. She didn’t look pleased with the idea. After a silent moment of letting her think on it, they all knew she would agree … or give them a damn good reason to not go, but she had to come to that conclusion herself. “I want us all to have our kits.” She said finally. She looked more resolved, having come to a decision one that let the boys indulge in their curiosity, and let her make sure they were all safe.
They dispersed, only to arrive back in the living room minutes later. They were all dressed as if they were once again, going off to battle. Black dragons hide pants and trenches over black shirts of varying styles. Their kits included the clothing they were wearing, some weaponry of their choice, and small vials of basic and advanced spell ingredients which lined the insides of their coats, protected by a holding spell. Hopefully they would be prepared for anything.
They stood in a square, their backs facing each other as Harry read the spell. Normally it was a draw between him and Neville as they were both extremely powerful, but since the book had belonged to the Black family, and Sirius considered Harry family, it would be better for him to read the spell.
As he read, Harry felt the spell take on a life of its own, as more power seeped into the words as they were spoken. He came to the last verse and Ron held his bow up, knocking an arrow into place. Neville had drawn his sword, and Hermione had her twin short swords out. Harry stepped a bit back into the circle, so that both Ron and Hermione could defend him if they needed to.
He finished the spell, and the air around them seemed to shimmer, then wind started to blow, and suddenly they found themselves in the center of a tornado. The sound was defining, and the wind pulled at their clothing. They were all tense, gripping their weapons and the book tightly, praying that what ever it was that they had started would end soon.
After what seemed like a long time, but was in reality, less then a minute, the wind cleared and the four were instantly on alert. The three with weapons drawn scanned the area while Harry quickly slid the book into a pocket and drew his collapsible bowstaff out, a flick of his wrist extending the weapon.
Before he could speak, there was the popping sound of apparition all around them, instantly they dropped into fighting positions, and stared at the small group of people that surrounded them, all pointing wands at the Tetra.
With a feeling of shock that was extremely difficult to shrug off, Harry found himself looking at a man he knew very well, a man who had been dead for… many years. Harry found himself looking into the face of his godfather, Sirius Black.
“Spectacular.” Ron’s voice was dry and emotionless, but the rest of the Tetra knew that he was talking about their current situation. Harry didn’t have to look around to know that they were probably surrounded by people that were long dead. Spectacular indeed.
Harry straitened, though didn’t collapse his weapon, and as he came up, the other three did as well. Their body language screamed that they were relaxed, which seemed to confuse the people surrounding them.
Harry wasn’t exactly sure on where to start, but he did anyway. “Sirius Black.” He inclined his head to the man. “It’s been a long time.”
Sirius studied the man in front of him with confusion. The man honestly didn’t look any older then him, but there was something in his eyes, a weight, and pain, something that plainly said that this man had seen and done more things then Sirius ever wanted to do. “Have we met?” His tone was guarded, he franticly searched through his memory to place the face in front of him, but the only one that came even remotely close was James! But that was impossible; James was inside with Lilly and the other Order members right now. Not standing in front of him, looking … slightly different.
The man smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes, which was slightly unnerving for Sirius. “No. I suppose we haven’t.”
The man’s words confused Sirius and he could tell that the others were confused as well. Frank Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, Fabian Prewett and Severus Snape, none of them understood what the man meant.
“I don’t suppose that Dumbledore is around?” The man dragged Sirius’ attention back to the present. The man looked calm, but there was slight, honest, interest in his eyes. “And… seeing as you are in fact, Sirius Black, could you tell me the date?”
Sirius glanced at Minerva, indicating she should go retrieve Dumbledore from inside, and then returned his attention to the man’s other question. “It’s October 1, 1981 … why?”
The reaction he got was not one he or anyone else was expecting.
Harry heard the date, blinked, then blinked again, and again, and again for good measure. “That’s … not good.” He finally managed his voice fairly devoid of any emotion. Most of that had to do with the fact that in 30 days … his parents would be killed by Voldemort … trying to protect him. No, this situation was not good at all.
Before anyone could make any other comment on his words, Dumbledore appeared beside Sirius, with McGonagall panting along after him. “And may I ask who you are?”
Harry could tell that the man was slightly distrustful, but his mind was putting pieces together much faster then anyone else was. A strong spell casting, a man that looked like James Potter, but with Lily’s eyes, the desire to see him instantly, and if Dumbledore had heard the last part, a man that wanted to know the exact date. Yes, if one thought about it logically, it really only lead to one conclusion.
Harry waited just another moment, until he saw the glimmer of understanding in the old man’s eyes. “Perhaps we could … take this conversation somewhere less conspicuous?”
Dumbledore gave him another apprising look, and then nodded once curtly. He motioned for Harry to fallow him inside. The other people, members of the original Order of the Phoenix were warry, but they trusted Dumbledore.
As a show of good faith, Harry glanced at the others, indicating they were to leave their weapons at the door. In reality, it didn’t matter if they were armed or not. Not anymore anyway. They were all fairly deadly weapons in and of themselves, but it might make the others feel marginally better if the ‘strangers’ no longer had easy access to their biggest threat.
Harry fallowed Dumbledore into an adjoining room, while the other three waited in the foyer, exchanging the occasional glance with the Order. Harry knew that none of his team was happy about this turn of events … though it did mean that some interesting decisions would need to be made, in probably, the very near future.
Harry closed the door as he faced Dumbledore, and watched at the older wizard cast a silencing spell over the room. Not that it really would have mattered, he had been in 12 Grimmauld Place before, and he knew that the walls were thick enough in certain rooms to block all sound except the strongest of yelling. And if it got to that point, Harry was sure the rest of Tetra would hassle the others out of the hallway. Privacy had become a very important factor, as the Tetra knew that they would tell each other everything, when they needed to know. So it was pointless to push. It was a sign of trust amongst them, one of the last real things they could do for each other.
Harry waited long enough for Dumbledore to cock an eyebrow at him, before he relented. Dumbledore could play the waiting game better then anyone that Harry had ever met … except for possibly Neville, but that was another thing to ponder at another time. “I … am Harry Potter.” He answered the man’s question from outside.
“You’re related to James?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Harry knew that the man had a damn good idea of who he really was, but he wanted to hear Harry’s answer before he said anything about his suspicions.
Harry chuckled slightly; he didn’t remember Dumbledore being this devious, though he had underestimated the headmaster a great deal in his time. Then again, the man had underestimated him. For all his power, Dumbledore was not omnipotent, that was a lesion that had taken him many years to learn, and then come to terms with. “I’m his son.” He pulled the book out of his jacket, and tossed it to Dumbledore, who caught it deftly. “We used the spell in there, we weren’t sure what it was exactly, but all of our instincts said to cast it, we’ve learned to trust our instincts this late in the game.”
He watched Dumbledore flip through the book until he found the page with the spell. He watched as the man read the spell, and ran his hand down the page, as if he could tangibly feel the power coming from the words. “This is a modification of a transportation spell. Where did you get this book?” He was still looking at the page, as if staring at it would answer all his questions.
Harry halted that train of sarcastic thought, reminding himself that yes, the man had been meddling, but he still deserved Harry’s respect. “Here actually, in the attic, in one of the last crates we got out before the place was destroyed. It’s been sitting in our library for… almost three years now. I’ve only just had the time to get around to it.”
Dumbledore glanced up as Harry spoke, and caught the man’s grin at the last words; something he said must have amused him, though Dumbledore couldn’t be sure what.
“I suspected a time based spell had been cast when I felt you arrive, but this spell would require several powerful wizards to cast.”
“I thought my father was powerful.” Harry was leaning against the wall, looking around the room. It was the one that held Sirius’ family tree all over the walls. He scoffed slightly.
“He is.” Dumbledore said cautiously.
Harry smirked, looking very much like said father at the moment. “So … I wouldn’t also have similar abilities?”
“That would largely depend on who your mother was as well.” Dumbledore pointed out. This conversation was in all honesty, a bit strange, even for him. Conversing with one of his former students children, who was pulled back from the future, and was now most likely older then said former student.
“Lily Evans.” Harry answered instantly. Then he gave Dumbledore a look, all amusement gone from his face. “If Sirius was telling the truth, then you should already know that. How much more proof do you want that I am who I say I am? Let’s just cut the crap shall we, I need to talk to my team, we have things to work out, and we don’t have enough time to do it.”
The man studied him again, this time the scrutiny lasted for a much longer time. Then Dumbledore nodded. “Will you tell me …?” He stopped himself. “No, of course you can’t, it would disturb the timeline.”
Harry thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. That was one of the things he wanted to talk to the others about. He had a theory or two about it, knowing that Ron and Hermione were the two most experienced with time, and would be able to tell him if his theory was sound. “Let me speak to my team, I’ll see what answers I can get you.” He offered. Harry really hoped that his theory would meet Hermione’s standards though, because being able to tell them the truth would make life so much easier.
Dumbledore nodded, handed the book back to Harry, and waved his wand, ending the silencing spell. He waited for Harry to open the door for him, before he stepped out to where the others were waiting.
Harry fallowed him, and noticed the increased tension levels in the room. His team had all gone still, backs to each other as if they expected to be attacked, there was a fierce looking snarl on Ron’s face, the other two looked … angry.
Harry glanced to the Order and saw that they had been joined by other members. All who could make themselves fit in the small area. His eyes slid over them, matching faces to names, but not stopping for any revelations, until his eyes landed on one man, one man that he had hoped to never see again. Peter Pettigrew.
Harry closed his eyes; he did not want to deal with this … thing. He didn’t want Peter here and … and his options were getting fewer and fewer by the moment. The order didn’t realize that Tetra was reacting to Pettigrew’s presence; all they knew is that something had set the two men and woman on edge, an edge that no one wanted to push them over. Harry had to admit, the three of them looked quite intimidating when they wanted to. And this wasn’t even intentional intimidation. If the circumstances had been different, then things actually might have been amusing. Goodness knows situations like this had been before. A memory of them at the Ministry, shortly after they had formed, drifted across his mind, and Harry had to suppress a smile.
“Tetra.” He didn’t snap, but almost. His voice was commanding, and startled the Order, though his team was used to it now. Besides, none of the Order had realized that he and Dumbledore had returned, Tetra had been aware of his presence since he laid his hand on the doorknob.
Harry jerked his head back towards the room, though it didn’t look like the other three were paying him any attention. Barely a second passed, and the three broke their formation, and were inside the room. Harry’s eyes met Dumbledore’s and silent words passed between them as Harry closed the door behind him. He smiled slightly hearing the others immediately jump on the Headmaster, as soon as the door was closed.
He waved his hand, re-establishing the silencing spell that Dumbledore had used just minutes before. “Tell me that that was nothing more then you reacting to Pettigrew.”
The three in front of him had relaxed, and Hermione shrugged. “Of course it was, if it wasn’t for him …”
“We still don’t know if things would have been any better.” Harry cut her off. He had had this argument many times, with many people. He was unwilling to lay the blame solely on Peter’s shoulders, it would be convenient if he could, but he wouldn’t.
He waited for either of the boys to say anything, and when they didn’t, he continued. “Dumbledore knows. I’ve told him that I’m James’ son, and he knows we’re from the future. So far, that hasn’t done much, if anything to the timeline, though I now have a question for you.” He met each of their eyes in turn. “Do we tell them?”
“We can’t.” Ron said instantly. “If we did, that really would mess up the timeline. Who knows what would happen.”
Harry held up his hand for silence, he met Ron’s eyes. “I agree, but I also have another question. What about Mutually Exclusive Histories?” His eyes traveled to Hermione, knowing that out of all of them, she was the one who would know the most.
Hermione thought for a few long moments, then sighed and shrugged. “It’s always a possibility.” She offered. “As not much time travel has ever been done, at least not to this extent, I can’t really tell you. The time turners, well people that use them; they don’t generally go back far enough to make the theory a real issue.”
Harry nodded. “Now we just have to decide what we believe. Do we believe that telling them will permanently screw up the timeline, or do we believe that telling them will change this timeline?”
They all exchanged glances, trying to come up with some sort of answer. “I say we tell them.” Neville said finally. “Because honestly, could the future get any worse then the way we left it?”
Harry didn’t quite agree with that, he had a few ideas of how it could be much worse, but he just couldn’t see that happening if they told the Order the truth. Maybe he was unable to look at the larger picture, but he just couldn’t see it. “I agree.” He said after a moment.
Ron took another second to decide, and then nodded. Harry knew he would. Ron had his own mind and his own opinions, but he did generally tend to fallow Harry’s lead on things like this.
Hermione bit her lip in indecision, and then nodded slowly. “I think … I think it could be worse.” She said finally. “But I also think that … if we’re careful, we can … keep it from getting too bad.”