Chapter 3: Soul-Searching
Peter and Sirius strolled up the pathway to Hogwarts School, mulling over possible reasons for their summons. Anyone looking at them would have thought it a comfortable silence. Those viewers would not have seen the Marauders during their school days. If they had, they would have said that the silence was the awkward one of two friends who had drifted too far apart to truly reconcile. Oh, the two wizards were on perfectly good terms, but Peter had always been something of a tag-along to the group, even at school, and during the war – well, Sirius had never felt entirely comfortable around Peter after the war, unless someone else was there to balance them. Peter had done some… dangerous things during the war, and had trod the exceptionally thin line between Light and Dark. Sirius had always professed a more simplistic view of the difference between Light and Dark than his godson, and refused to listen when the idea of a 'middle-darkness' was voiced. Dark was dangerous. Light wasn't. It was that simple.
Perhaps it was just the lingering trauma of the torture, but whenever Sirius was around someone who trod that line, he felt that he could see in their eyes, How can I hurt this person? And given Peter's actions during the war…
They walked through the castle, barely acknowledging Filch, and sending Peeves cursing off into the distance with the handy spell that Remus had taught them in their fifth year, grinning at each other in a rare moment of mutual pleasure. Nostalgia was about the only area the two of them could absolutely agree with each other any more. They approached the gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office, and it moved aside as they drew near. Climbing the staircase, the door flew open just as Peter raised his hand to knock, drawing a snort of weary amusement from Sirius. The old headmaster had used that trick when they were students, and its effect was much less impressive now. Dumbledore smiled at them, beckoning them in with a sweep of his hands.
"Ah, welcome to you both! I trust your journey was satisfactory?"
Peter shrugged as he sat down, his cold blue eyes an unsettling contrast to Dumbledore's own twinkling eyes.
"Not too bad. Sirius spent a frankly unreasonable amount of time making sure his hair and robes matched, but other than that…"
Sirius smiled, appreciating the effort. With someone else around, it was as if there was a filter between Peter's perceived Darkness and himself. The friendship worked, for a time. He joined in the banter, knowing Albus would take his time getting to the heart of the matter in any case.
"Well at least I make the effort. You and Remus would have difficulty even spelling style."
Dumbledore chuckled, his beard quivering.
"Well, speaking as someone who has managed to set the trend for formalwear for several years now…"
Peter and Sirius looked at Dumbledore's robes, a stunning combination of brown and orange. They nodded dubiously, both privately thinking about the hazards of a long life spent around magic on your mental health.
"You like them? The only other person to comment has been Severus, and as you know, he isn't a fan of anything on the lighter side of the spectrum."
Peter smiled faintly, while Sirius's lip curled in familiar distaste.
"Now, to business. I have an urgent mission for you."
"A mission? What's going on?" Peter asked, concern colouring his voice.
"Nothing, at present. But I am sure I am not alone in thinking the events of the last two years are a co-incidence?"
The Marauders both nodded, and Sirius tensed nervously. Something bad was coming, he could tell.
"We are still no closer to discovering the culprit behind the diary, or indeed Quirrell's mysterious accomplice, if indeed they are different people. And given the rise in activity from the Winter Shades recently… Well, needless to say, I am rather concerned."
Peter nodded in understanding. Sirius remained still, waiting for the hammer to fall.
"During my enforced absence from the school a few months ago, I decided to take a holiday. Have either of you ever been to Albania?"
They shook their heads, looking at each other curiously.
"Well, I would like you to go there as soon as possible. It is my belief that it is there that we will locate Voldemort."
Sirius tensed again at the name. He noticed that Peter did as well, although the other wizard had long since schooled himself into only tensing his wand hand if the Dark Lord's name was mentioned in his hearing. Something to be proud of and envied he supposed. Then everything that Dumbledore had said registered.
"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
"That I think we can be sure of finding Voldemort somewhere in Albania, and I would like you to go and find out as much as you can. Given the breakout recently, it is imperative that we find him – if we can."
Seeing that Sirius looked barely capable of breathing at present, let alone speaking, Peter spoke.
"I can leave any time – but it won't be easy. Potentially dangerous as well."
Dumbledore frowned mildly at him.
"I am well aware of the possible dangers Peter. But I can think of no two people better suited to the task. Well, perhaps myself, in my younger days, but now… Best left to the younger generation I think."
Peter thought for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. Dumbledore smiled at him gratefully, then both wizards turned to Sirius. He hung his head slightly, his hair falling over his eyes, apparently trying to work past the fear. Then he looked up.
"Someone's got to find him. Better us than Rosier."
"Spoken like a true Marauder." Peter murmured, and Dumbledore gave a pleased nod. He was reaching for some more information when a silvery wolf burst through the wall, and Remus's Patronus began to tell them all about the Dementor in Diagon Alley. All thoughts of Albania were thrown from their minds.
It was the 1st of September, and Harry and his friends were on their way to Hogwarts. Ron was telling Hermione and Neville about the Dementor attack, with almost indecent enthusiasm. Harry and Ginny were sitting in silence, preferring not to think about it. By the end of Ron's tale, Hermione was pale with anger, while Neville merely looked gloomy.
"That's appalling!" Hermione cried out as Ron finished speaking. "How can the Ministry be that stupid? Why would they even employ creatures like that?"
"Because it's better to have them on our side than not. They could cause a lot of damage if we just let them run wild; Remus says there's no sure way to destroy them, and the only spell that can hurt them is incredibly difficult to cast. And hey, who cares about morality where Death Eaters are concerned?" Harry said, in tones of deep sarcasm.
Neville looked at him questioningly.
"Since when do you get sympathetic about Death Eaters?"
"I'm not. I just think there are more appropriate ways to punish them than slowly stripping them of everything that makes them human over several years. It's barbaric, and it takes us right down to their level."
"Some of them deserve it." Neville said flatly. There was no arguing with someone speaking like that. Harry and Ron both knew the reason Neville lived with his grandmother, although Hermione was looking on, uncharacteristically bewildered; they also knew that he thought, arguably with some justification, that Bellatrix Lestrange had got off lightly when she was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Looking at Harry uncomfortably, Ron began to steer the conversation in another direction.
"Yeah, well, they're horrible. I don't know precisely what it is they do, but I just felt awful. Like I couldn't remember what being happy felt like. And – this was weird – it was like I could see this spider in front of me. Merlin knows why."
"They make you relive your worst memories." Harry told him absently. He rather wished his friend would stop talking; the conversation was making him hear his mother's screams again.
"Seriously? Bloody hell that's nasty. Must have been when Fred… Well, anyway, not nice. Hey, Hermione, what do you think you'd remember?"
"It's hardly any of your – Ginny?"
The young redhead ran out of the compartment, slamming the door behind her. Harry glowered at Ron, incensed.
"Oh nice Ron. It's not as if she's had any particularly traumatic experiences in the last year or so is it?"
Ron went white. He stood to go after her, but Harry pushed him back down.
"I'll go. Don't want her throwing herself off the train do we?"
Harry walked down the corridor, looking into each of the compartments for Ginny. He eventually found her in an empty compartment near the Prefect's carriage, hunched up on the seat by the window. She sniffled as he walked in, locking the door with his wand. He sat next to her in silence for a minute or so, before she had calmed down enough to speak.
"Sorry. I just… I didn't like remembering it."
"Don't worry about it. Ron needs to think a little more carefully before he speaks sometimes. It was obvious that it affected you badly."
Ginny shrugged. Harry looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Do you mind if I ask what you saw when it attacked us?"
Ginny tensed.
"You don't have to, I just want to know if I can help." Harry told her hurriedly. She was silent for another moment, and then:
"Since you destroyed that diary I've been getting flashes of what happened while I was possessed. I keep remembering Mrs Norris, and the roosters. And when that Dementor appeared, I remembered Zach."
Harry put his arm around her, staying silent. Zacharias Smith. A rather strange Hufflepuff student who had died the previous year; the Basilisk commanded by Tom Riddle-as-Ginny had chased him off the grand staircase, resulting in the young boy suffering grievous injuries, from which he had not recovered.
"It wasn't your fault Gin-"
"I know that Harry! But it's still a bloody awful memory!"
Harry went silent for a moment, somewhat nonplussed by this. Last time they had spoken about Zacharias, Ginny had blamed herself for his death. He had expected remnants of that blame to remain, but Ginny was apparently made of far stronger stuff than he had believed. As he sat there, Ginny shook herself, sitting up straight. She looked at Harry, a concerned look on her face.
"What about you? If you don't mind me asking…"
Harry swallowed.
"I – I heard my mum. Just before she was… You know."
Ginny gasped, and clasped Harry's hand tightly. He carried on speaking, without emotion or inflection.
"I could hear her screaming, and fighting him… and he just laughed at her… I really hate him. I really do."
"Well, you've already beaten him. There isn't a lot more you can do to work that hate off you know."
Harry gave her a small smile.
"Guess not. I might actually have to live a full, successful and well-rounded life, instead of wasting it in an obsessive quest."
"Poor you."
Harry shivered as their carriage passed through the gate to the school grounds. For a moment, it had felt unnervingly like a wave of ice water had just washed over them, and his returning good mood dimmed slightly. He saw the others wince as well, which worried him slightly. However, it faded within seconds, and he put it to the back of his mind. Ron was waxing lyrical about the upcoming feast; he claimed to be starving, despite the mountain of chocolate and sweets he had worked his way through on the train. He had generously donated some to Ginny by way of apology, unaware that she had already forgiven him. Still, he hadn't complained when she had told him, giggling. Hermione had been rather vocal while Harry and Ginny where out of the compartment, and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat anytime soon.
They walked into the hall, waving at people they knew. Harry caught sight of Theodore Nott sitting at the Slytherin table; the pale boy looked up, and scowled. Harry turned away, rolling his eyes. As he looked around the hall, he saw Remus sitting at the staff table, and he grinned, giving him an encouraging wave. The Marauder was sitting next to Snape for some reason; the Potions Master did not look very happy about the arrangement. He was looking at Remus in hatred – and was that a hint of fear? Harry supposed the staff would know about Remus being a werewolf. Actually, hadn't he said something about Snape brewing the Wolfsbane potion for him? Maybe the greasy wizard didn't like werewolves very much.
Silence fell over the hall for the Sorting; the Hat's song made no more sense than it ever did to Harry's ears, but at least it had a good voice. After Dumbledore's opening few words ("Effervescent, incandescent, mellifluous, and coruscating" this year for some reason) the feast got underway. Much of the conversation revolved, unsurprisingly, around the escape of Evan Rosier. Nothing had been heard about him for weeks now, which was almost as worrying as if he'd been constantly in the news. At least then people could have made a guess at what he planned to do. Actually, Harry could make a fairly good guess, although not one he cared to share with his friends. He had a feeling that mentioning Voldemort's continued existence would be a very effective conversation killer. Despite the messages from Voldemort that had been burned into the castle walls last year, most people still believed him dead.
As the feast drew to a close, Dumbledore stood up, his hands spread in welcome. Silence fell quickly, and all eyes turned to face him. He smiled benevolently at them, before beginning his speech.
"Welcome, welcome all of you, to another year at Hogwarts. Welcome especially to those of you joining us for the first time. I most sincerely hope that you are all ready to enjoy a successful and educational year with us!
"As always, there are some introductions to be made and notices to be given out. As some of you no doubt know, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, retired at the end of the previous year to enjoy some well earned quality time with the few undamaged parts of his body left; I am sure we all wish him the very best. Taking his place will be our very own Rubeus Hagrid!"
There was a roar of applause, although mainly from the Gryffindors. Harry himself felt some reservations; Hagrid was brilliant with animals, and one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, but a teacher? This was the man – well, half-giant – who had tried to raise a dragon in his wooden house the previous year. Fortunately, Dumbledore had taken steps to remove it before any damage was caused. Still, they were probably still safer with Hagrid than any of the DADA teachers they had had so far, so he shouldn't complain.
"And, as has become customary, I must also welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin!"
Harry clapped so hard he thought he would injure his hands, as did the Weasley's, all of whom had met Remus many times before. Harry could see him smile shyly as the other Gryffindors followed their lead. Dumbledore began to speak again.
"Yes, welcome, and let us hope that you have more stamina than your predecessors! In notices, I have one very serious message for you all. I have no doubt that you have all heard by now of Evan Rosier, recently escaped from Azkaban. The Ministry feels that there is a risk that he will try and attack Hogwarts – personally, I disagree, and even if he were to try, it would be a pointless effort. However, the Ministry has decreed that Hogwarts, and indeed the village of Hogsmeade, will be patrolled until further notice by the Dementors of Azkaban. Some of you will have heard about the incident in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago; this should impress the danger on all of you. Dementors have no concept of mercy, or of understanding. Their movements are restricted, but if you stray into their path then they will hurt you. I must therefore urge you all to take the rules about curfew and the Forbidden Forest in the utmost seriousness. Do not take these creatures lightly."
There was a deep hush across the hall. Many of the lower years looked terrified, and Harry noticed a newly-sorted Ravenclaw quietly crying; the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang, was comforting her. Dumbledore smiled.
"However, you should not let such dark tidings cloud your minds too much! Misery can always be dispelled by light…"
With a wave of his hand, the hundreds of candles floating above their heads flared brightly. Fire streamed from candle to candle, leaping into the air and forming strange and wonderful shapes. Laughter began to trickle around the hall, and Dumbledore sat down. As the students began to leave the hall for their respective dormitories, Hermione suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
"I just realised; I don't know what subject's we're all doing! I'm doing all the basics obviously, and I'll be doing Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Divination, Muggle Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures. What about you?"
Harry frowned.
"Hermione, that's all the subjects you can take until NEWT level. Why – how – are you taking all of those?"
"Because they're all very interesting, you never know which ones you'll need in the future! And I've worked it all out with McGonagall, don't worry. What about you?"
"Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Divination."
Neville looked at him, puzzled.
"Harry, you don't believe in divination…"
"True. But I've heard about Trelawney, apparently she's single-handedly turned it into the easiest subject in the school. I'm not one to turn down an easy option when it presents itself."
"That's a very bad attitude Harry!"
"Hermione, I have enough difficulty with Muggle maths, so Arithmancy is definitely out. And Muggle Studies is a joke – besides which, I live with Muggles. Why do I need to learn about them? So do you for that matter, why are you taking it?"
"Well, I think the Wizarding perspective is very interesting… But you're still being irresponsible Harry!"
"All the skills I'm likely to need I can learn in the basic classes up until NEWT level Hermione. Why make life more difficult for myself? I just want a nice, quiet year this time. My biggest problem is going to be homework or Quidditch, I haven't decided which yet."
Hermione didn't seem too impressed with this answer, but she said nothing. The Gryffindors sat in the common room till midnight catching up with the people they hadn't seen over the summer, before slowly trailing off to bed. Harry settled down for a peaceful night's sleep. Before he drifted off, he clutched a good luck charm he had picked up a few years ago. It was debatable whether they really worked, but nevertheless, he held it tightly, concentrating heavily on the idea of a peaceful, safe year. He fell asleep knowing that he had done all he could, and quietly confident.
A/N: Sorry not much happens; transition chapters are sometimes necessary though. More action next time I promise! Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.