"Sirius must know—but he never said a word to me about it—"
Harry's gloomy muttering told Hermione exactly what had put him in such a sour mood tonight.
It really wasn't unreasonable of him to feel that way, either, whatever anyone else might say to smooth it over. Even Hermione herself felt a small, uncomfortable twinge of discomfort about it.
Remus and Sirius meant far more to both of them than any ordinary teacher-and-student relationship, or even godfather-and-godson relationship, could really account for on paper.
Even if Remus hadn't specifically planned on inviting them himself—even if he'd simply forgotten, understandably, buried under the chaos of wedding preparations—Sirius, at the very least, should have told them something.
"Mrs. Weasley was invited, wasn't she?"
Hermione turned to look at Ginny, seeking the fuller picture.
"And Dad too—"
Ginny toyed idly with a strand of her red hair, twisting it round one finger as she thought.
"And the Order too—I mean, everyone from Remus's whole circle, more or less. Sirius is the best man, obviously. As for the maid of honour, Tonks invited Amelia to stand up for her. Oh, and—Tonks is pregnant—"
The news Ginny let slip almost as an afterthought at the end of her sentence set off a new storm instantly, several voices began rising together.
"You didn't mention that part just now!"
Harry stared at Ginny in shock, his earlier gloom was momentarily forgotten.
"That's because you started losing it the second you heard Remus was getting married in the first place, and I couldn't get a word in after that."
Ginny said, entirely unbothered by the accusation, shrugging one shoulder.
"Tonks, pregnant—that's unbelievable, that is!"
Ron made a strangled, gulping sound in his throat, his whole face showed his disbelief.
"I thought they couldn't—well, you know. Remus is a bit—special—"
Seeing the sudden flicker of displeasure appear on Harry's face at that, Ron trailed off mid-sentence and shut his mouth abruptly, looking sheepish.
"So then, would the baby be—"
But the half-formed thought gave Harry pause even as he started it, and fresh worry crept back into his expression, replacing the shock. He looked over to Hermione for an answer, but the words died on his lips before he could finish asking.
No one in their little group was unaware of Remus's condition as a werewolf, and for a moment, everyone at the table fell silent.
"I honestly don't know for certain, Harry—"
Hermione bit her lip, her expression was genuinely uncertain rather than evasive.
"By rights it shouldn't happen but there's no way to rule it out completely either—"
"If you ask me, there's nothing to worry about at all—"
Neville's face suddenly brightened, and he spoke up unprompted, his tone was light and relaxed, cutting through the tension. He tipped his chin toward a small boy sitting further down the long table, drawing everyone's eyes that way.
Bernell was playing Gobstones with Seamus a little way off, totally absorbed in the game.
Having just lost a round rather badly, he'd taken a spray of foul-smelling liquid full in the face for his trouble. He looked embarrassed for a moment, wiping at his cheek—but when Seamus and Dean both burst out laughing, delighted, he rubbed his nose and laughed right along with them too, looking bashful and happy.
"Exactly—"
Harry found himself smiling as well.
"Even if the baby does end up inheriting it from Remus, it won't be the end of the world, will it. I'd bet anything Hogwarts is never going back to having just one werewolf on the grounds after Bernell."
Everyone gathered at the table knew exactly whose doing that was.
"So—Remus must have invited Professor Watson to the wedding too, then, surely?"
Harry looked to Ginny again, his tone was certain now.
"Mum said Dad heard it from Sirius and told her. Remus originally meant to ask Professor Watson to officiate the whole thing for him and Tonks, actually, but they didn't want to add to his burden, knowing how terribly busy he's been lately—so they asked Professor Moody instead, in the end."
"Oh!"
Before Harry could even properly register his own surprise at that detail, Fred was already on his feet, wrinkling his nose theatrically at his little sister.
"Why does Mum tell you absolutely everything and not say one single word to the rest of us, I'd like to know?"
Beside him, Ron nodded furiously in vigorous agreement, clearly feeling the injustice of it just as keenly.
"Maybe—"
Ginny giggled at the pair of them.
"Mum thinks I can actually keep a secret, unlike some people I could mention!"
The mention of secrets, brought Harry's earlier mood right back down again all at once. If Sirius had been willing to tell Mr. Weasley something this significant, why hadn't he said a single word of it to him, of all people?
"Maybe Sirius was just worried about something." Noticing Harry's dejection settling back in, Hermione said gently, watching his face.
"Worried?" Harry blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion, then tensed.
"You mean—you think Voldemort might try something against Remus and Tonks?"
Even though the Ministry now openly used Voldemort's name in official documents and announcements, not everyone present could say it aloud themselves without some flicker of instinctive unease appearing on their face first.
Harry's sudden, careless use of the name brought a brief chill over the whole table.
"What I mean is—"
Hermione, faintly annoyed at Harry's carelessness with the name in a public setting like this, shot him a quick, sharp look before continuing.
"Remus and the others must have already considered that possibility themselves, surely. After all, Ginny just said plenty of Order members will be there in one place at one time—for Voldemort, gathered like that, that's rather a good opportunity, isn't it, if he were looking for one—"
Harry had originally planned, before any of this conversation had started, to help Roya once Hermione's class had ended for the evening, giving her some practical advice on picking players for her hoped-for Quidditch team.
After all, if Roya genuinely wanted to put together a proper team from the exchange delegation, the very first thing she needed, before anything else, was enough willing players to actually field a full match against anyone.
The exchange delegation wasn't small by any means, but few of its members were actually suited to Quidditch as a sport, when you looked at the roster honestly.
Hagrid's half-brother Grawp was the very first to be ruled out, obviously—there simply wasn't a broom in the world built to carry a giant safely through the air.
Polly was a centaur, so that particular option was out too, for reasons that hardly needed explaining.
And expecting the three house-elves to take up something so thrilling, so physically demanding, and requiring so much on-the-spot creativity wasn't realistic either.
That left Roya, in the end, with only her own people to consider, alongside Bernell, Elun, and the goblins as the realistic pool to choose from.
Werewolf or not, Bernell's nerve clearly still needed a good deal of work before he'd be ready for something like Quidditch—right now, even a friendly game of Gobstones by the fire was proving something of a struggle for his confidence, let alone competitive flying.
As for Elun—
She had said, at least, in passing, that she didn't much care for rough flying herself, but that she genuinely loved playing tricks on people whenever the opportunity arose. Who could say, honestly, whether that particular claim about disliking flying was even true, given everything else about her.
Only the goblins and Roya's own kin among the delegation were worth testing out on a broom at all.
But for now, all of that careful planning would simply have to wait its turn. Harry found he had no head at all for helping Roya scheme over broom assignments just yet.
Not until he was back safely in his own dormitory much later, lying dazed and wide awake on his bed in the dark, still turning Hermione's words over and over in his mind, unable to settle.
'For Voldemort, that's a good opportunity.'
He had to admit—Hermione had a point.
Over these past few months, Voldemort and his Death Eaters had suffered one humiliating defeat after another, both across the wider wizarding world and specifically here in Britain. They needed, badly by now, some fresh opportunity to rebuild the fear they'd once held over everyone's hearts.
In the dim, quiet dormitory, Harry lay staring up at the canopy of his four-poster, blinking rapidly without stopping.
For some reason, he found he couldn't stop thinking about Tonks and Remus's coming baby.
Not worrying that the child might inherit Remus's werewolf blood—but something else. Harry rolled over irritably in the dark, kicked off his shoes without bothering to sit up properly, and pulled the blanket up over his head.
It was as if fate were pulling the same trick all over again!
Harry felt that the coming child's fate and his own were far too similar—and that Remus and Tonks were standing in the same position his own mother and father once had!
Curled up tight under the covers in the dark, Harry shuddered violently.
Did he need to write to Sirius—to warn him that Remus and Tonks might be in danger at the wedding?
The thought had barely finished forming before Harry snuffed it out again.
He didn't need to worry himself sick over it. There were people far cleverer than he was, with far more experience of this kind of danger, already handling it.
If Professor Watson had received an invitation, surely he'd already thought the whole matter through on their behalf.
And besides all that, the man himself would be present at the wedding. With him there in person, Remus and Tonks would absolutely be safe.
But what about the time before the wedding, though? How would Remus make sure his wife and unborn child stayed safe until the day itself actually arrived?
Harry wondered again.
'The Fidelius Charm!'
He wasn't even entirely sure how the answer had actually come to him—it had simply leapt into his mind automatically, as though some voice inside his own head had whispered it to him directly.
So then—who would be the Secret-Keeper? Would it be Professor Watson himself?
Last time, Professor Dumbledore had used that very same charm to try to keep his mother and father safe—and it had ended in absolute disaster.
But that had been the Secret-Keeper's failing in the end, not any flaw in Professor Dumbledore's casting of the charm itself.
His mother and father had originally meant to make Sirius their Secret-Keeper—but Sirius had trusted Wormtail instead as a decoy, and paid for that misplaced trust dearly.
'The Secret-Keeper was Sirius!'
The answer rang out clearly in his mind again.
That was it—that had to be it!
Sirius wasn't the kind of man who'd shrink back from something just because he'd made one catastrophic mistake before.
He was someone who could face his own past failures head-on when it mattered enough to him.
If, last time, it had been his misplaced trust that had ultimately gotten Harry's parents killed—then this time, with Remus facing a situation so close to what Harry's own parents had once faced, Sirius would very likely step up and volunteer for the role again himself.
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