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The Foiled Plan


With each passing day, Sirius got more and more angry that nothing seemed to be being done about You-Know-Who hanging out with two students in the dungeons, and it was showing in his attitude. He was being quite sassy, talking back to even the teachers. Professor Flitwick seemed at a loss when Sirius had snapped at him during the morning Charms lesson, but Professor McGonagall was much less inclined to put up with him. “Mister Black, I recommend that you check your attitude at the door, unless you fancy a detention,” she said hotly when he had muttered his lack of trust in the faculty of Hogwarts beneath his breath during Transfiguration.

“We need to do something,” Sirius said one night in the dormitories. He was pacing while the other three Gryffindors were desperately trying to get some sleep, running his hands through his shaggy hair.

“Go to sleep, mate,” yawned James, “Let Dumbledore handle it, we’ve already done what we could.”

Sirius shook his head. “You three don’t understand how bad this all is, how bad You-Know-Who is… how bad he makes people.” He scowled. They hadn’t experienced the effects that the Dark Lord had on people, them with their perfect families. They had no idea what it was like, living ‘round people who followed him, couldn’t imagine what it would be like if all the world were following. But Sirius certainly could. He imagined all of the wizarding world as hateful and nasty as his parents, running amok and cruciatusing all the people who didn’t share their views on things…

“Nothing you’re going to do about it pacing ‘round the common room, Sirius,” said Remus pragmatically, “Especially not at this hour. Get some rest.”

Sirius couldn’t rest, though, even after he’d climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin - just to placate the others. He lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to decide what else he could do. It was in the smallest hours of the night that he finally came to a conclusion and, with the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind, he was able to at last close his eyes and rest.

Next morning, Sirius was up before any of the other Gryffindors and he snuck his way through the castle, up to the owlry. The sun was coming up over the mountains and golden light reflected off the ruffling feathers of the birds that filled the rows and rows of perches in the tower. He searched around until he spotted a nice tawny and called her down, attaching a note he had scrawled out very carefully on a piece of parchment. He tied the letter to the bird’s leg and let her go out of the small window and watched as she circled over the forbidden forest.

“Glad to see you calmed down a bit, then,” said Remus later, when the boys were getting ready to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Sirius only nodded.

In the Great Hall, the boys were eating their beans and toast when the owls flew in to deliver the morning mail. James was bragging about a box of cherry salamanders his mum had sent him when Sirius suddenly perked up, his eyes wide with excitement. Remus glanced over his shoulder to see what Sirius was so excited about, but there wasn’t anything he could spot. “What’s going on, mate?” he asked.

Sirius was grinning. “I’ll tell you later!” He jumped up, tossing his bookbag over his shoulder and darted from the table.

“Well alright then,” James muttered, shaking his head, “Bloody mad, he is.”

Remus frowned, staring after Sirius as he ducked out of the Great Hall.

Peter snatched up the rest of Sirius’s beans and poured them over his own toast when nobody was looking.



Sirius rushed up the stairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, nearly colliding with Professor Moody on his way. He had sent an owl to Lucius Malfoy, pretending to be the Dark Lord writing him, asking him to make contact in ‘the usual way’ as soon as he’d received the letter. Sirius had watched anxiously as the tawny owl he’d chosen in the owlery that morning flew in the steepled windows over the Great Hall, circling at the ceiling before landing in front of Lucius Malfoy. When Malfoy had gotten up and left the Hall, then Sirius had leaped into action to get the proper witnesses to show - and Professor Moody was exactly who he he was looking for.

The Professor caught Sirius by the shoulders only just before they ran smack into each other and frowned down at him with his one eye. “Just where are you hurrying off to?” he asked with suspicion.

“I was on my way to find you!” exclaimed Sirius, “You’ve got to come quickly - down to the dungeons.”

Professor Moody’s eye narrowed, “To the dungeons?” he growled.

“Yes, to the Slytherin Prefect’s toilet!” Sirius implored, “No time to explain now, but you’ve just got to come and see.”

Sirius turned and pulled Professor Moody along through Hogwarts, down the stairs to the entrance hall and ‘round the way to the dark, dreary flagstoned floor of the dungeons. Moody followed along behind Sirius, surprisingly quiet for his wide frame, without much adieu, at least until they ran into Horace Slughorn, who was just coming out of his study, tucking bits of candied pineapple into the watch pocket on his vest.

“Moody, my man,” Slughorn’s booming voice seemed to echo off the walls of the dungeons, “What brings you ‘round my neck of the castle?”

Sirius’s face flushed with anger. Surely if Malfoy was anywhere on the whole floor he could hear Slughorn’s voice and would now know that Moody was coming!

“Just getting familiar of the castle,” grumbled Moody, “Dumbledore’s orders.” He looked down at Sirius and added, “I think this one here was looking to ask you for some, er, homework help,” he said, nudging Sirius toward his teacher. “I won’t keep you.” He shuffled on past Slughorn.

Sirius stared after him, hoping against hope that Moody would find what he was looking for.

“What can I help you with, my boy?” Slughorn asked Sirius, grinning, “I should think you would’ve simply asked Miss Evans for help with your homework rather than coming all of the way down here just to see me!” he chuckled.

“Oh, I, uh, yeah, sorry,” Sirius stammered, “I, uh, suppose… well she doesn’t like us looking over her homework, after all,” he said, watching as Moody’s shadow disappeared ‘round the corner.




Moody moved silent as a ghost down the corridor, his back to the stone wall, his one good eye piercing the dark as he moved. His breath rasped quietly from his mouth. He raised his wand, hand steady as could be, prepared for whatever he might find… Approaching the Slytherin Prefect’s toilet, he pointed his wand at the handle and whispered, “Salazar Slytherin,” and was rewarded with the low click of the barrell unlocking.

Alastor Moody moved through the door frame fast as a centaur charging, and found himself in a brightly lit room, empty, except for the usual utilities that should be installed in a toilet. He looked around… four walls, a low inset tub, toilet stall and sinks along one wall… nothing extraordinary at all about the room. He frowned, and stepped back out into the hall. He studied the door of the Prefect’s bathroom for a moment before turning and heading back to the corridor where he’d abandoned Sirius to Slughorn.

Sirius was still talking to Professor Slughorn in the hallway about the essence of Murtlap that they’d been concocting in class the week before when Moody came back ‘round the bend in the hall without Malfoy. “Thanks Professor,” he said, suddenly cutting Slughorn rather short in his description of how to properly cut down the Murtlap’s leaves, “I think I’ve got it now. See you.” He bolted off after Moody’s stumping gait, headed back up to the Entrance Hall. Running up the steps behind him, Sirius asked, “So what’d you find? Why didn’t you bust him?”

“There was nothing there, Black,” grumbled Moody, “Just a regular toilet.”

“What? No Malfoy?” Sirius was perplexed.

“No Malfoy,” confirmed Moody.

“And nothing in the mirror?” Sirius pressed.

“Other than the reflection of my own ugly mug over the sink, there wasn’t a bloody thing,” Moody replied, coming to a stop just before the doors to the Great Hall.

“What about the wall?” Sirius pressed, “The full wall mirror?”

Moody’s eyebrows twitched. “The what?”

“The west wall. It was all mirror. But it doesn’t reflect what’s before it, it reflects...something else, I don’t know what. Some where else, maybe,” Sirius explained, “Just like the piece I gave to Dumbledore. Didn’t he show you?”

Moody’s one eye didn’t show any recognition of the topic. “The west wall was normal as could be, Black,” he said, “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.” He sighed, “But I recommend you not go on wasting the time of the faculty with any more nonsense like this.” He lowered his voice, “This is very serious business, you know, catching the followers of You Know Who isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“I know, sir, but Malfoy --”

“Wasn’t anywhere to be seen,” interrupted Moody. “And isn’t likely to do a blessed thing to be caught at if he thinks I’m watch-dogging him… which he’ll be more likely to do if he thinks I’m trumping about the Slytherin corridors at every blow of the wind.” Alastor Moody licked his lower lip, “Constant vigilance, Sirius, can be kept from afar.” He looked around, “Now get to class, boy.”

“Yes sir,” muttered Sirius, frustrated.

Moody watched as Sirius scurried off up the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room and was about to turn back to the Great Hall to get some breakfast himself when he spotted a very pale Lucius Malfoy ascend from the stairwell to the dungeons, eyes moving about the hall nervously as he crossed the room and ducked in the doors to rejoin his table. Alastor ran a hand over his chin, wondering…

And then he shuffled off to the Headmaster’s office.




“Well you didn’t expect Malfoy to leave his stuff where Dumbledore knew to look for it now, did you?” James hissed quietly as the boys worked on in Herbology. Sirius had just spent the first half of the class telling them about how his great plans had been foiled and what Moody had said about the mirrored wall in the Slytherin Prefect’s toilet no longer being there. “Of course he’s packed it up and moved his things elsewhere!”

“How do you move a whole wall’s worth of mirror?” demanded Sirius, “And where to? How are we supposed to get him caught now if he’s moving his office all over the place?”

James shrugged, “How am I supposed to know?”

“Dumbledore’s not an imbecile, Sirius,” intoned Remus, “He has it under control. We don’t have to do anything.”

“Yeah, Sirius,” echoed Peter, “Dumbledore’s got it under control.”

Sirius frowned, “We thought Tutman had it all under control, too. Great lot we knew about that, though, wasn’t it?”

James rolled his eyes, “Tutman is not Dumbledore.”

Sirius pretended to be focusing on the task at hand as Professor Viridi walked by. The moment she’d passed on to the next lot, he said, “I didn’t say Tutman was Dumbledore, he’s not anywhere near as powerful as that, obviously, but Dumbledore’s got a lot to deal with maybe he isn’t paying as much attention to this as he ought to be. Maybe he thinks Lucius Malfoy isn’t really dangerous. Wouldn’t be the first time an adult underestimated what a kid’s getting into based on the fact that they’re a kid,” he added.

“Dumbledore knows better than to take something lightly if it shouldn’t be,” Remus said.

“Does he really?” asked Sirius, rounding on him, “The man who let’s a werewolf on the school grounds isn’t capable of underestimating the dangers something poses?”

Remus’s face turned red.

James and Peter both looked quite surprised.

“Sorry,” Sirius said, looking down at his hands as guilt flushed through him, “I didn’t mean that as nasty as it sounded. I just -- I mean --” he stammered.

Remus shook his head, “No, no.. It’s alright. On the contrary. I think you have a point.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said solemnly, grabbing hold of Remus’s shoulders and looking him in the eye. “I don’t think you’re dangerous. Certainly not as dangerous as that Slytherin scum.” His eyebrows knit together seriously. “I swear it, Remus.”

Remus forced a weak little smile, “It’s alright, mate, really.” He waved off the apology, even though he’d felt quite warmed by the sentiment. The boys went back to work on their Herbology assignment in silence, their hands pressing against the warm greenhouse mud, despite the icy cold blowing against the windows.

“Maybe he’s made the mirror a smaller mirror,” said Peter suddenly.

The boys all looked around at Peter in surprise, “What?” asked Sirius.

The very tips of Peter’s ears burned red. “Malfoy. Snape. Maybe they’ve made the mirror from the prefect’s toilet smaller somehow, like a hand mirror or something. That piece you gave to Dumbledore still worked, didn’t it? The same as the rest of the wall? Perhaps Malfoy’s broken the mirror into smaller bits.”

“Blimey, Peter, you’re bloody brilliant!” exclaimed Sirius excitedly, his eyes flashing, “That’s got to be it. You’re right. He’s probably made the mirror smaller - he’s a seventh year - of course he would know the spells to do something like that. Something like engorgio except the opposite way, you know?”

“I’ll bet he’s got it in the Slytherin dormitory,” agreed James eagerly, nodding. “So now all we’ve got to do is get into the Slytherin common room and --”

Remus’s eyebrows raised. “Excuse me, what?”

“-- steal back the mirror for Moody to see!” James finished with a flourish.

Remus looked, shocked, between the two of them as Sirius nodded excitedly at James’s idea. “Oi - you two have got to be joking!”

“We’ve got to get Malfoy caught,” Sirius proclaimed, “It can’t be that hard to get into the common room. You did it, didn’t you, Peter?” he added, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Was it hard?”

Peter looked surprised by the camaraderie. “H-hard? N-not really, no. I just… opened the door, I s’pose.”

“You’re mad,” Remus stammered. “You’re all bloody mad.”