Three men and two large, lumpy burdens.
That's what a passerby, a traveler hurrying home at dusk down the narrow country lane, would have seen. But there were no observers as the men in swirling black robes approached the lonely barn, the last standing remnant of a old farm that some people in the neighbourhood said was haunted.
"Watch it," hissed the shortest of the robed figures as they neared the door to the weatherbeaten building. The other two, taller and heavier than the speaker, each struggled to carry something about the size of a man wrapped in blankets. One of these loads struggled back and was responsible for knocking the shorter man from behind.
"You said not to stun this one," came the thick reply.
"Mind that you keep him away from me, then," said the shorter man in a tone of command as he used a wand to free the door from a spell. He swung open the door and, stepping aside, said, "Hurry. Put them in there."
With twin thuds, the burdens hit the hard dirt floor of the empty barn. The blankets fell away to reveal two men wrapped tightly with cords at their wrists and ankles. The man with lighter hair --brown or blond; it was difficult to tell in the dim light-- struggled against his bonds; the other, with jet black hair, barely moved and appeared to be unconscious.
The three men now standing in the doorway wore black masks which completely covered their faces. Only the eyes of the leader, glittering in malicious triumph, gave some hint of what was going on as he looked down at his captives.
"Dangerous creatures like werewolves should not be about on the full moon," he drawled lazily. "I think it best that you stay here for the night."
"You don't need that mask," Remus Lupin said calmly from his spot in the dirt, "I know who you are, Lucius Malfoy."
"Very perceptive, werewolf," Malfoy chortled softly as he pulled off the mask, slicking back his pale blond hair. "I had heard reports that you were intelligent." He shrugged casually as if he didn't know whether to believe them or not.
"Although," he continued, handing his mask to one of the hulking goons behind him, "I am still shocked that Dumbledore allowed you to teach at Hogwarts. Imagine. My own son taught by a dangerous creature such as you."
Remus remained silent. There didn't seem to be much to say and he had never been good with those quick insults, the sort which always rolled off Sirius' tongue...or James' for that matter. He divided his attention between Malfoy, now searching his robe for something, and Sirius, who still lay motionless several feet away from him.
In the rapidly fading light, Remus could make out the gaunt face, smeared with dirt and bleeding from a cut on the forehead. Sirius breathed normally enough, and that would have to do for now.
"We have heard," said Malfoy, using the imperious we which could only mean Voldemort, "that you are still working for that old fool of a wizard." The Death Eater strolled toward his captives as easily as if he'd been out for an afternoon walk in the park. "We have heard that you have been visiting others of your kind lately."
Yes. That was true. At Dumbledore's request Remus had spent much of the summer trying to find werewolves in Britain, Ireland, and Europe in the hope that they could be talked out of supporting Voldemort.
"Foolish errand, Ambassador to Werewolves!" spat Malfoy gleefully.
Remus might agree with him there. So far he had had little success, except perhaps with the Basque Separatist Werewolves, but they didn't much like anybody.
A glimmer of metal from Malfoy's robes and a familiar cold chill down his spine caused Remus to pull back, to try at any rate. He felt the presence of danger before he could see it.
"The Dark Lord has found your missionary work rather annoying," Malfoy said, revealing the dagger -- silver, of course -- as he squatted down, careful to move his cloak aside as if to protect it from touching them. "We have been waiting for your return to pay you a visit, and then this little opportunity arose." He pointed at Sirius with the tip of the dagger.
"What quarrel do you have with him?" Remus asked against his better judgement. Talking with Malfoy was probably useless, but he felt all of a sudden protective and guilty for exposing Sirius to danger by association.
"Sirius Black," hissed the Death Eater softly, running the tip of the dagger down the side of Sirius' face in a way that made Remus shiver. "Sirius Black has leave to visit his godson on his birthday."
"How--" Remus gasped out the word without thinking.
"We have our little spies," chuckled Malfoy. "And they tell us that tomorrow Harry Potter, now staying with those insufferable Weasleys, can expect a visit from his godfather. Well, when I heard this, I thought that with a bit of advance planning, I might make up a special potion for the occasion. A birthday present, if you will."
Malfoy grabbed Sirius' hair with his other hand in a sudden movement and yanked the unconscious head up, holding it like a trophy, like Perseus with the head of Medusa.
"I have most of what I need for brewing a Polyjuice Potion. I thought I'd finish it up tonight in your kitchen, Lupin, if you don't mind. I know you won't be home."
With a swift, brutal stroke, Malfoy drew the dagger across Sirius' face and up through his hair, slicing across his cheek in a way which seemed deliberate and coming away with a lock of black hair. Sirius' head fell back to the ground with a sickening thud.
"Sirius Black will be visiting his godson tomorrow," laughed Malfoy, turning to show Remus his prize. "And I will deliver to the Dark Lord something he has wanted for a long, long time: Harry Potter."
Malfoy moved closer to Remus and pointed the bloody dagger at him. The mere presence of the metal this close made him uncomfortable and the other man sensed this, judging by the serene smile of pleasure on his face. As Malfoy drew the point lightly across his throat; Remus wanted to cry out, but forced himself to be silent. He wasn't going to give this gloating Death Eater the satisfaction.
"Don't worry about your friend here," clucked Malfoy in mock sympathy. "He's not harmed, really. The Stupefy Curse will wear off in an hour or so."
"When does the moon rise, by the way?" Merely a rhetorical question and a cruel one at that. They both knew moonrise would be soon. Remus could feel the Change coming in every cramped and aching muscle of his body.
Malfoy stood up lazily and looked down at both men. "Crabbe," he said sharply over his shoulder and one of the masked hulks attended him. He thrust the dagger and hair into his minion's hands and turned his attention back to his prisoners.
"I should think that the moon will be up within the half hour, so you won't be much of a conversationalist when your friend here wakes." A sly grin was visible on his face even in the dim light. "Perhaps you should say goodbye to him now."
Malfoy walked back to the doorway and turned to face Remus and Sirius. He produced a wand and waved it casually, making the cords binding them vanish. "Happy hunting!" he called, turning his back on the room. "Goyle, bar the door."
Goyle hurried forward at the sound of his master's voice, and barred the door without jamming more than two of his beefy fingers.
And our heroes were left discarded on the cold dirt floor.
Remus was already busy, rubbing at his abraded wrists, and trying to get some life back into his numb limbs, all the while sending concerned looks towards Sirius.
He had good reason for concern. His friend was, as promised by Malfoy, still quite unconscious, and there was just something profoundly wrong about a motionless Sirius. Wasn't this the boy who was given to motion even when he slept, living out dreamtime adventures like a sleeping puppy?
No, it wasn't: this was the man the boy had grown into. And hadn't he always suspected that the motion was not entirely unconscious? "Really, Remus. I had no idea what my hand was doing!" - huh, a likely excuse.
Remus, shaking out his fingers, tried to shake off this intimate memory. He glanced over at the adult Sirius again, and was struck by how vulnerable he seemed: especially that hollow in his left temple, looking quite defenceless now that the lock of hair that had once covered it was gone.
He had to get over to his friend! Giving up on his extremities, Remus started crawling across the floor, his legs shaking and unsteady. The four-legged motion seemed rather familiar: wouldn't this be much easier, he thought, in wolf-form?
Well, no, it wouldn't. Not if he wanted Sirius alive.
Did he stand any chance at all? From long experience, he knew that the Change was coming on fast. How long did he have? Malfoy had been close to right: half an hour at best.
Remus reached Sirius, extending a trembling hand to touch him. Pulling closer, he shook a bony shoulder and moved his hand higher, across the left cheek, touching the bleeding cut that Malfoy's dagger had made. Tentatively, he looked for other injuries, his eyes sliding up and down his friend's body, his hands hovering above, shyly touching likely spots. Pausing, he took Sirius' hands in his.
"Sirius," he whispered hoarsely, chafing the hands. The sound of his own voice shocked him slightly: he had sounded on the verge of tears. He pulled himself together. "Sirius! Wake up!" he said evenly.
Well, he hadn't really thought that would work, anyway.
It had never worked in his dreams.
His dreams... He knew this nightmare so well. The one where a loved one lies, defenceless, before the changing wolf. He'd had it his first night at Hogwarts, the Thursday before last, and numerous times in between... It was almost hard to believe that, this time, it was real.
How could they have been so careless? It was all his fault, he thought automatically.
Well, maybe not all, but some of it was sure to be.
How could he have let himself be captured so easily? Remus shook his head, remembering...
Sirius turned up at Remus' house much as planned. Well, late, actually.
"Well, he hasn't changed in that, at least," Remus grinned to himself, hearing the rumble of the Shadow's engine grow louder. He made for the door with some anticipation, and opened it just as the rumble finally died away.
The bike was there, just as he remembered it. And, on it, that familiar figure, now turning towards him and starting to dismount.
But no, something was off here. He'd been expecting the figure to leap off the bike in traditional Sirius fashion, but this man seemed to be taking far more care. He seemed smaller, too: perhaps not shorter than Sirius, but certainly thinner.
The summer had been busy and he had seen his old friend only a handful of times, never alone but always in some meeting of wizards discussing the doings of Lord Voldemort. He couldn't recall a clear impression from those times; his head had been so full of movements and missions.
Remus found himself reaching for his wand quite instinctively as the strange man moved towards him, raising his arm...
"Remus!" The man yelled, stretching a hand forward in greeting. "I know I'm late, but surely that's no reason to look so grim?"
It was Sirius. How could he ever have thought otherwise? That laughing voice had dispelled all confusion. True, the visitor did look older and gaunter than the boy Remus remembered, but wasn't that what he should have expected? Especially after what he had seen in the Shrieking Shack...
Remus summoned a smile, and reached out to shake his friend's hand. Sirius was looking rather good, all things considered... That smile, the eyes...
Ah, the eyes. Remus' confusion returned. The eyes were smiling, but not with that familiar self-satisfied twinkle. Sirius seemed to be searching his face, and looking for more than just mischief.
Remus stared back. Sirius' eyes reminded him of what he sometimes saw in the mirror at the end of a bad day.
A series of loud bangs interrupted Remus' melancholy train of thought. He felt grateful (and then instantly guilty about feeling grateful) that the motorcycle had started smoking and making those explosion sounds behind them. Sirius didn't seem concerned; he turned casually to the bike with a frown of minor irritation and took out his wand.
"Still getting the kinks out of her," he said, raising his wand and pointing to the shaking engine and the long exhaust pipes pouring out puffs of emerald green smoke. "I think Hagrid let some of his creatures nest in her. I knew I shouldn't have let him have the bike."
As Sirius threw spells at the motorbike, Remus mused that some things hadn't changed at all. Sirius had been forever tinkering with the Black Shadow once they'd left school, trying various charms to make it fly faster or do better tricks. And before the bike, there had been a series of brooms...
The green smoke was swirling around their ankles, rising in what seemed to Remus to be an ominous way. Sirius, however, was unconcerned as his wand threw sparks at the shivering black beast of a motorcycle.
"A bit like taming a dragon," Sirius called over his shoulder, echoing Remus' thought.
Finally, the beast was tamed and the motorbike stopped smoking and shuddering.
"Really, Sirius. You propose to take Harry up on that thing?" Remus said. in a worried tone.
"You don't trust me?" Sirius turned to him with an all too familiar arch of the eyebrows. "It'll be fine by tomorrow. You worry too much, always have."
Remus had to agree that this was true. Well, someone had to worry about these things. James had usually been the one to back him up when Sirius wanted to do something completely insane, but now... He'd have to muddle on by himself.
"Yes, well... I thought you could put that thing away in my shed, but is it safe to..."
"Fine. It'll be fine," reassured Sirius as he grabbed the handlebars of the bike and followed Remus to a garden shed next to the little cottage. There was ample room for the motorcycle inside and the thing did seem to be behaving itself now.
"Er, normally I don't lock the shed," Remus hesitated as his friend closed the door on the silent Shadow. "But, do you think..."
"I'd like to see someone try to steal her!" retorted Sirius. "The starting spell by itself is tricky and then there's riding her. You worry too much, Moony."
Remus winced at the old name and at the familiar injunction. Okay. He would try to loosen up a bit more. He knew that life hadn't been treating Sirius very well for some time (although things were improving) and tonight they were supposed to have a chance to relax, perhaps roam under the full moon in the old way, if that were possible.
Turning away, Remus motioned his friend into the house.
"Um... Well, this is the main room," he said when they'd entered.
"I know. I've stayed here a few times while you were away, remember?" Sirius replied. "It looks quite different now... cleaner?"
Well, Remus had felt strangely compelled to tidy up before his friend's visit. He'd even reshelved the open books that usually covered his desk.
"I know," he found himself staying. "Certainly much cleaner than the way you left it... Really, all those beer cans, and the dog-eared copies of 'Horse And Hound'..." Remus paused, realizing just how prissy he was sounding. "Anyway, I'll, um, get some tea. Do make yourself at home," he finished.
"Oh, I will," Sirius grinned, sitting gingerly down in a chair by the fire.
There had followed a long silence, which Remus just couldn't help thinking of as uncomfortable.
With a vague smile, Remus pulled the tea things together and carried the tray over to the fireplace. "Black, right?" he asked, handing his friend a cup.
"So flattered that you remember," Sirius said off-handedly. "And you... let me see, it's on the tip of my tongue... Lupin, right?"
Remus couldn't help groaning. "I must admit I'd forgotten your painful sense of humour," he said, pulling up a chair.
"As long as that's all you've forgotten," Sirius replied. Their eyes met for a moment, and a memory flashed through Remus' mind: Sirius, looking back at him, up through his messed-up hair. The look in those eyes had been similar: hungry, pleading for something...
Remus broke away looked up at the ceiling. He hadn't thought about all that in years. He'd dreamt about it, occasionally, and woken up filled with a familiar longing. But then reality would reassert itself, usually by means of an uncomfortable, unfamiliar sleeping-place... And, besides, hadn't Remus Lupin become quite the expert at banishing uncomfortable memories? He'd dismissed it all as a boys' game, an adventure from a time when they had all cared much less about the consequences of their actions.
Still, he'd felt so alive back then, for once as fully alive when human as he did when running through the grounds of Hogwarts.
What inappropriate thoughts... Remus made a effort to calm down. When he finally stopped silently listing goblin rebellions, he became aware that the uncomfortable silence had returned.
"It'll be nice to see Harry again," Sirius tried a safe topic. "Although I still haven't quite got the hang of this godfathering thing."
"Mmm..." Remus was busy with the tea. "How is Harry doing?"
"Wonderful," Sirius' grin broadened as he leaned forward in his chair. "You've heard about the tournament, of course?"
Remus nodded.
"No-one, kid or adult, could have handled it better," Sirius announced proudly. "Honestly, Remus, he's so much like James... It's almost as if..."
Remus shook his head, impatient with such sentimental wishful thinking.
"Yes, it is!" Sirius exclaimed. "It's almost as if the Marauders were all here again. Fighting old Voldie, you, me, and... Potter!"
"Much has changed in the last thirteen years," Remus said quietly. "I just can't..."
"I'll say much has changed!" Sirius' mouth turned down in a snarl. "Wormtail... We won't miss him. Although I would dearly like to see him just the one last time. I'd like to..."
Looking at Sirius' contorted face, Remus felt a pang of worry. "Have some tea," he suggested, interrupting.
Sirius stopped, and took a sip without thinking. The he looked down at the teacup with a small smile. "Well, one thing hasn't changed," he said. "I do still tend to take your advice, Moony. You've changed, though," he looked up sharply.
"It's been thirteen years," Remus replied. "Life has treated me kindly compared to you, of course, but certainly I've changed. I'm no longer Moony the carefree Marauder."
He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. How could he make Sirius understand his hard-won emotional independence?
"I haven't changed in essentials, of course," he began.
"I'm glad to hear that," Sirius smirked, looking Remus up and down. "Can I see?"
"What?" Remus sat up in his chair. Trust Sirius to break his chain of thought! "Can't you just drop it, Sirius?" he asked, irritated.
The change in his friend's expression made him regret his words immediately. Sirius' whole body seemed to slouch as he sunk back into his chair, blinking uncertainly and looking anywhere but at Remus. "Sorry," he muttered.
The boy he remembered would never have reacted that way... But then had the boy he remembered ever even existed? Could anyone be that invincible?
"No, I'm sorry, Sirius," Remus sighed. "Time of the month, you know," he joked feebly. He was starting to suspect that he had been mistaken even about the tension in the air between them. That last comment - it could have been just an innocent, silly joke.
Under the pretext of fetching some biscuits, Remus got up and turned away from the fire and the familiar figure hunched up before it. Nothing about this meeting was going the way he'd imagined. He couldn't help thinking that this intimate little reunion had been a terrible mistake. Sirius seemed so painfully vulnerable, and Remus had no comfort to offer his friend.
Returning to the fire, he offered Sirius a biscuit instead.
Before Sirius could respond to the offer, a loud explosion noise, then another, came from outside. It sounded suspiciously like the Shadow. Sirius must have reached the same conclusion as he stood and said, "Thought I had that nailed down...I'd better go and see."
Remus went to the window and peered out into the yard. There was no-one in sight, but green smoke was seeping out of the shed from under the door. Could he really let Sirius take Harry for a ride on the bike? With those worried thoughts in mind, he followed Sirius out the door and to the shed.
He expected to see the voluminous cloud of green smoke that rushed out at them when Sirius opened the door to the shed. He did not expect what came next.
"Stupefy!" came a loud incantation from behind the wall of green. Sirius crumpled on the ground in front of him. Before he had time to respond, magical cords shot out of the smoke, wrapping themselves tightly about his wrists and ankles.
Three masked and hooded shapes stepped out of the shed. Even through the thick green haze (which had not been caused by the motorcycle at all, he
realized too late), he recognised them as Death Eaters.
It had been stupid not to lock the shed, stupider to let Sirius walk into that ambush, alone. This was the Second Age Of Voldemort, after all. How could he have let personal confusion distract him from his duties? Even as a teenager, he'd been more responsible than this.
And now he was compounding his errors by dwelling on memories, instead of trying to find a way out of this mess.
Remus gave Sirius' shoulders one final, fruitless, shake, letting his arms trail off gently down his friend's arms. Standing up, he decided to take a good look at the prison.
The barn had no windows, and just the one door. The walls were made of sturdy brick; Remus walked all around, looking for chinks, but there were none. There was, however, some evidence of recent repairs, and Remus' increasingly sensitive nostrils picked up the scent of relatively fresh mortar. Malfoy had been very thorough, it seemed.
He hadn't spared any expense, either. The door was solid oak, and fitted with silver. Remus couldn't even examine the shiny lock without feeling instinctive terror. It was pointless, anyway: he remembered the heavy bar that one of the goons had lifted.
Walking away from the door with relief, Remus looked down at the dirt floor. Could he somehow dig through it, under and around the barn's foundations? He knelt down by a wall, reaching downwards...
Aconite! He recoiled instinctively, baring his teeth in disgust. They must have poured out cauldronfulls of a rather concentrated potion. He supposed he should feel flattered; in his solitary life, there had been few instances of people putting so much thought into preparing something just for him.
At any rate, no werewolf could dig his way out of here, not in any form. Perhaps a dog could, although it was doubtful if Padfoot had the necessary attention span...
It was a moot point anyway, as there would be no Padfoot. Turning his head, Remus cast a brief look at his friend. No change.
There had to be something he could do... Wasn't it a law of nature that every slow, sadistic plan to kill the hero has at least one fatal flaw?
Perhaps he could hide Sirius from his own wolf self? But the empty barn offered no visible sanctuary. With a sigh, Remus walked back towards Sirius and sank to his knees by his friend's side, listening to his shallow but regular breathing.
That Stupefy curse. It had been skillfully cast, no doubt, and timed so that there was a significant probability that Sirius would wake before the werewolf was finished and so get a chance to appreciate Malfoy's inventiveness. It should be rather weak then, shouldn't it? Might he not be able to break it, even without a wand?
Children did things like this all the time, when first displaying their powers. Usually at times of intense emotion.
Well, Remus was no child, but this certainly was an emotional time.
He closed his eyes, focusing, emptying his mind of all distractions. He forgot about the barn, the moon, the silver and the aconite. The last thing he thought of was Sirius' final grin, and his question about Remus' essentials.
He opened his eyes, placing his hands against his patient's face. "Enervate," he whispered with confidence he did not entirely feel.
Nothing happened. He felt his fingers dig into Sirius' cheek, and forced himself to relax, to slow his breathing. What more could he try? The Animagi transfiguration itself was far too complex a spell.
Perhaps something simpler? Simple things often worked the best. "Finite Incantatem," he said, urgently.
Sirius stirred.
For a moment, Remus froze, watching his friend move his head and moan. Then he blinked: sudden tears were distorting the picture. Leaning closer forward, he cradled his friend's head in his hands.
"Sirius," he whispered, waiting for his friend's eyelids to flutter open.
But nothing more happened. And, sitting there, Remus slowly grew aware that nothing more would.
The counterspells had not been strong enough. And he knew well that he did not have the energy to try again: he felt the Change pulling on him, draining all that was human.
Remus couldn't help himself: he threw back his head and moaned, or rather howled softly. That single moment of hope had destroyed all his self-control. He'd been so sure that he had found contentment in his lonely, independent life without the Marauders, without Sirius to brighten it with his absurdities.
But now he felt as if the old loyalties had never really left him. Now Sirius was here, about to be lost to him for the second, final, time, and Remus knew that the grief would swallow him up, overflowing all his emotional barriers.
Not because of the guilt he would feel at what he was about to do, but because of the knowledge that he had wasted and then destroyed his chance to renew the old friendship.
Remus let Sirius' head down, gently, and tried to contain his growing panic.
What will happen, he wondered morbidly. Will I at least kill him quickly?
Or will I, perhaps, just bite him?
The idea was an unexpected one. His wolf self was usually too overcome by bloodlust to think about creating companions for himself. But this was Sirius... Remus imagined having Sirius for a werewolf friend, running through the woods not with Padfoot (that overgrown puppy) but with an equal companion. Pure joy, pure pleasure: would it be anything like having Sirius for a lover?
At that image, guilt returned, and with it self-control. Remus leaned over Sirius for one last time, desperately trying to impress his mind with the idea that this one should not be killed. Perhaps the wolf would hear him, and understand.
A sudden shudder passed through Remus. The Change was beginning.
"I'm sorry, Sirius," he whispered..
Remus got up, and walked away, absurdly hoping to delay the attack by putting some distance between himself and his victim. As he removed his robe and tossed it away, he was struck by a further absurdity. Surely it was stupid to worry about tearing one's robe, when you may be about to tear your best friend...
He paused, realizing that a braver man than he might have tried to kill himself. Was there still time? But there were no means... The wall, perhaps? Could he bash his head against it?
At that very moment, he heard a low wolf-whistle.
He spun around.
Sirius, obviously awake, was suddenly grinning up at him.
"Nothing to be sorry about, Remus. You look great: honestly haven't changed in essentials at all."
As a man, Remus knew he should feel both relieved and exasperated. A wolf, however, is not so complicated. As the shudders of the Change took over his body, he felt a growing anger.
"How long have you..." he wanted to ask, but all that came out was a hideous growl which was answered by the sharp, insistent barking of a very large black dog.