Something wasn't right.
Remus ran the facts through his head over and over again. Sirius had been the Secret-Keeper, which meant that Dumbledore, James, Lily, and everyone else who was in the Order and privy to the situation had trusted him. Sirius had tricked everyone into thinking he was a friend, including Remus. And, in spite of his betrayal, Voldemort had been defeated.
Something wasn't right. And when something wasn't right, Remus had learned, it was best to go talk to Dumbledore.
And so Remus found himself in Hogwarts, knocking on the door to Dumbledore's office. "Enter," invited a voice from within. Remus complied.
The room was large, and it seemed, as usual, to be filled with light. Late afternoon sun streamed in from the windows, bouncing off the many magical tools that sat on various tables and shelves. In the center of the room sat Dumbledore's desk, complete with the headmaster himself. Dumbledore was dressed in dark red, velvety robes today—robes that almost seemed to match the phoenix that stood on a perch next to the desk. All in all, the room was far too cheerful to suit Remus' mood.
"Remus! Come in and sit down," said Dumbledore, looking up and clearing the desk of papers he had been poring over with a sweep of his wand, "What can I do for you today?" Dumbledore's usual, twinkling demeanor was only slightly disturbed by the resigned look he had in his eyes—Remus suspected Dumbledore knew what this meeting was about.
"Well," Remus began slowly, "It's about Lily and James. And about Sirius." Almost three full weeks had passed, and still Remus felt an enormous mix of emotions every time he said Sirius' name. He was sad, and frustrated, and angry. He missed Sirius, but at the same time Remus was embarrassed to bring him up—whenever he did, he felt like he was reminding people of an enormous mistake he had made.
Dumbledore's eyes were piercing. "You still cannot make head or tail of why he did what he did," the headmaster said simply.
"Correct," said Remus, "I just don't know what to think. It doesn't make any sense."
Dumbledore sighed. "I thought you might come to me about this. You are too smart a man and Sirius meant too much to you for you to simply accept something like this at face value. Sirius betrayed us all that night, and it would seem—based on what we knew of Sirius' ideals—that he betrayed himself as well."
Remus nodded, wondering where Dumbledore was going to go with this.
"I have been expecting you, and I have thought a great deal about how to say what I am about to say to you," said Dumbledore, "I'm afraid this is the best I can do. Sometimes," he sighed, "we fail to think critically about those we love. We think that they feel one way because that is the way we want them to feel, but often, with closer scrutiny, we find that they are not, in fact, who we think they are. Many fine witches and wizards—including myself, as a matter of fact—have been victim to this. In all likelihood," Dumbledore continued, "Sirius was simply doing what he thought was best for mankind. His priorities had simply become…confused."
Remus furrowed his brow and nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, Professor," he said, "when did you…"
"Make the same mistake?" finished Dumbledore. Remus nodded. "A long time ago. Years before you were born. I found myself won over by a beautiful face and some very fascinating ideas that, when put into practice, were much different than I expected. I almost made the mistake of not facing my error in judgment, in fact," he said, "But in the end, he who clouded my vision wound up in a jail cell, too."
Remus made a concerted effort not to let his mouth fall open. "Grindelwald?"
Dumbledore smiled. "As you can see, the man I made the mistake of trusting did much worse than the man you made the mistake of trusting."
Remus nodded dumbly. He had been given a lot to think about. "Thank you, Professor," he said.
"Any time, Remus," said Dumbledore, summoning the papers back to his desk with another wave of his wand. Remus stood up and began walking towards the door when he realized there had been something he had forgotten to ask. He turned back around. "Oh, and Professor?" he said.
Dumbledore looked up. "Yes?"
"There's no way Sirius could have…known what was going to happen, is there? I mean, he couldn't have led Voldemort to Lily and James knowing it would destroy him?"
Dumbledore looked sad. "No, Remus," he said, "I'm afraid no one could have predicted what happened that night."
Remus nodded again. "I didn't think so," he said, "It was just a thought."
