SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! I know there's been more time between chapters lately and I just want to say that that's because of a combination of my busy schedule and my dedication to this story. I would much rather write longer, really well-written chapters for you and have the wait for each one be longer than write short, hasty chapters every day. I hope you guys find that this one is worth the wait; I've been really eager to get to this point in the story!
As always, please R&R. Let me know what you like, dislike, anything!
April 1988.
Perhaps just because he was so excited at the prospect of getting Dumbledore's help, it only took Remus a couple of days to feel healthy again as opposed to a full week. He sent Mary an owl with a short letter explaining that he would be away for a couple of days again, but that he would love to meet with her as soon as he was back to go out for an actual meal (maybe Kingsley and some of the others could come too!).
His high spirits carried him straight to King's Cross station, where he passed through Platform 9 ¾ with an uncharacteristic spring in his step and then boarded the Hogwarts Express—unbeknownst to many, it actually ran fairly periodically throughout the year for visitors as well as students and staff should they need to make a quick trip elsewhere. It was surreal being back on the train after so many years, but walking down the narrow corridor was more sweet than bitter and more than anything, it felt comforting.
There were a couple of other passengers making the journey that day as well—a few compartments full of students Remus assumed were returning from taking the Easter holiday, a wizened old wizard, and a couple of witches who, by the way they were dressed, must be faculty or at the very least, Hogsmeade shop owners.
Remus sat in the compartment he always did when he was at school and could practically hear James, Sirius and Peter inside it with him, surrounded by sweet wrappers and laughing because one of them had eaten a rather unfortunate Bertie Bott's bean. He smiled to himself, refusing to let such fond memories go to waste in the wake of time and circumstance.
The train groaned and rumbled pleasantly under his feet as it careened through the countryside; he always loved the mechanical soundtrack of wheels and iron. He associated all the squeaking, hissing, and grating of metal on metal with going home to the only place he felt truly valued by other people, so while others found the cacophony of steam engine noise headache-inducing, Remus wished he could bottle it up to listen to whenever he pleased.
The train pulled into the station at 7 o'clock and Remus half-expected to hear Hagrid's trademark call of "Firs' years, this way!" but instead the small group of students skipped off to the carriages unprompted and Remus trailed behind, his drab suitcase in one hand and his cloak draped over the other in the cool spring evening air. He preferred walking to riding in a carriage alone anyway; he could use the time to plan out what he would say upon turning up outside Dumbledore's office unannounced. Besides, despite the grim reason for his visit, he very much wanted to see the scenery of the grounds he hadn't set foot on in so long.
" 'Scuse me, sir," Remus heard someone behind him say. He turned to see a boy of eleven or twelve standing at the edge of the platform wearing faded corduroy pants and a dark green cloak over a rather threadbare grey sweater. "I've missed the carriages as well." He looked expectant, as if it was Remus's job to tell him where to go.
"You just follow the path up to the castle same way you would normally," Remus replied patiently. The boy glanced again at the path and frowned. He clearly did not fancy the idea of walking through the woodsy path alone as night fell. Remus looked at him pityingly; escorting a worried second-year up to Hogwarts was not exactly on his night's agenda—in fact, he tried to stay away from children as much as possible—but he couldn't help but see a bit of his younger self in the shabby-looking boy and his face softened. "I'm going that way too; you can walk with me if you'd like."
The boy looked relieved and picked up his plain black traveling trunk, dragging it along the ground with considerable effort.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Remus said, and the boy almost toppled over at the sudden absence of the trunk's weight as it levitated behind him and started bobbing its way down the path.
"Cool, sir!" he exclaimed, his fears gone now that he was walking with someone who was clearly an experienced wizard. "I'm Liam by the way. Are you a professor?"
Remus didn't know how to introduce himself to someone so much younger than he was, let alone someone suddenly so talkative. "Um…Mr. Lupin," he said finally. The title tasted funny coming out of his mouth. "And no, I'm not. Just visiting."
"Why?"
Remus was beginning to regret offering to walk with the boy and he rubbed his temple momentarily before answering. "I have to speak to Professor Dumbledore."
"That's what every grown-up says. Dumbledore this and Dumbledore that. Why are you actually here?" Liam interrogated in a very James and Sirius-esque way.
"I'm really just meeting with the headmaster, sorry to disappoint you," Remus replied with a slight smile at the way Liam narrowed his eyes. He supposed the boy was trying to look tough and smart, but coming from such a young kid it was more amusing than anything.
Liam filled most of the walk with chatter about his family—he'd gone home to visit them because "Mum really missed me," though Remus suspected the feeling had probably been mutual—and the seemingly endless stream of commentary was a bit annoying but at least allowed Remus to looked around at the trees and signposts without having to say much himself.
He shushed Liam, however, as the castle came into view and his heart swelled so fast it almost hurt in his chest. Every window of the fortress was alight with myriad candles and lanterns inside, and there was a soft glow surrounding the dark silhouette of Hogwarts against the horizon.
"You said you went here?" Liam piped up.
"I did," Remus answered breathlessly, not looking away from those walls and turrets he knew so well. "Those were the best years of my life."
"Every grown-up says—"
"Yeah, I know," Remus cut Liam off abruptly, not wanting anything to interrupt his view of home. "Ever think maybe they say it because it's true? Come on."
The doors to the entrance hall opened themselves as the pair walked across the cobblestone courtyard. The fifteen-foot doors seemed to sigh as they clunked into place and Remus was happy to see that the interior of the castle, or at least what he could see of it so far, hadn't changed since he first set foot there. He didn't even mind that he stuck out like a sore thumb, a late-twenties alumnus who had about as much business stopping in at Hogwarts as a giant would have strolling into Flourish and Blotts.
He was home, and all around him ghosts of little memories played out where they had first happened—he could see himself, younger and a little more round-faced, sitting on the bench outside the Great Hall with Lily and quizzing her on Ancient Runes in the last minutes before their exam. Just to his left was the huge staircase he and James used to race each other up and down, until they each lost Gryffindor ten points for sliding down the banister. Being back was the happiest he'd felt in months, and he reasoned with himself that even if there was nothing Dumbledore could do to help Sirius, at least Remus could go home having experienced a little bit of reminiscent solace.
"There you are!"
Remus jumped at the sound of a stern voice he knew all too well. "Professor McGonagall?"
The tall, thin witch had just rounded the corner and stood stoically about ten feet away in the entrance hall. She had a few more wrinkles around her eyes and was dressed in tartan instead of her usual emerald robes, but otherwise she looked the same right down to her hat, which was as pointy and sharp-looking as ever.
"Mr. Lupin!" she said crisply, looking slightly surprised, but overall unbothered to see an old student standing before her at nearly eight o'clock on a Monday night. "I'll be with you in a moment." Remus smiled; her curt demeanor was the same and she waved him aside to attend to Liam, who was trying to hide behind his trunk under her hawk-like gaze. Remus laughed to himself; he'd been on the receiving end of that very look several times before, either for causing trouble with James and Sirius or for failing to step in and stop their antics.
"S-sorry, Professor, I missed the carriages!" Liam stammered.
McGonagall pursed her lips and peered down at the boy. "Then perhaps next time you will stay with other returning students instead of dawdling on the platform! Your Head of House has had quite a time trying to find you, as everyone else returned half an hour ago. Five points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Pettigrew."
Remus's heart plummeted to his stomach as Liam scampered off. Pettigrew? His head spun and he shook it; surely that had to be a coincidence. He racked his brains trying to remember whether Liam had mentioned anything about having a dead relative as they were walking up to the castle, but he had tried so hard to tune the boy out that he couldn't remember any details.
"Mr. Lupin," came McGonagall's voice, softer this time, and Remus blinked and met his former professor's eye with a warm smile. "May I ask what brings you to the castle with no notice?"
"Hello, Professor," he said sheepishly. He felt like a disobedient schoolboy again but didn't mind in the slightest. "I should have sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore, but this was a rather last minute plan…"
McGonagall's tight-lipped smile grew and she placed a hand on Remus's arm. She was almost as happy to see him as he was to see her; though she might not show it as clearly as other teachers, any time she got to speak with a former student from her house was a pleasure.
"I'm sure the headmaster can find time for you," she said.
"Thank you." He stooped to pick up his trunk at McGonagall's inviting nod towards the hallway that led to the rest of the castle. Remus found her words a little hard to believe after how rude (and intoxicated, he remembered with a grimace) he had been when he and Dumbledore last met, but he followed anyway. "I hope this isn't too much of an imposition."
"It surely is," McGonagall replied, "but what can one expect after your time here? You certainly had a knack for inconvenience, you and the others."
Her comment might have sounded a tad rude to anyone else, but Remus could see humor twinkling in her eyes behind her spectacles and smiled as well. He couldn't put his finger on why, but just speaking with Professor McGonagall made him feel even better, even if she was making digs about his antics at school. She was tangible proof there was more to Remus's life than a tiny flat and depression, and he loved that she still treated him the same, though with that added friendly dynamic between former teacher and student that obviously hadn't been forged yet when he was still at school.
"Here you are," she said as they stopped before the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Kneazle snout!"
The griffin statue sprung to life and ruffled its wings as she said the password, then moved aside to reveal the spiral stone staircase Remus had ascended many times when working with Dumbledore to iron out all the minutiae of where to go and what to do during his monthly transformations.
"Thank you, Professor," he said softly. She patted his arm again and he turned to go upstairs.
"Mr. Lupin!" McGonagall said again, and he turned over his shoulder. If he wasn't mistaken, he thought he could see tears brimming in her eyes. "It's good to see you," she said, smiling thinly again. It was one of the highest compliments Remus had ever received.
At first, Remus thought that McGonagall was mistaken and Dumbledore was elsewhere, for he didn't see the headmaster in his usual seat behind his desk when he walked in. The circular room was, as usual, full of silver instruments whizzing, spinning, and tittering on various stands and tables, and the portraits on the wall peered at him curiously, surely wondering who would come calling at such an odd hour.
A tall glass cabinet containing hundreds of small vials filled with what Remus could tell were memories spun lazily in the corner, and the flickering light of a dozen hovering candles bounced off the many facets of the glass. New to the office, Remus noticed, was a small sitting area to the left of the headmaster's huge desk. Two chintz chairs were situated so they faced each other across a small round table, upon which sat a teapot spewing puffs of orange steam. Upon closer inspection, Remus was bewildered to find that the two armchairs were actually having a conversation with each other in quiet, scratchy-sounding voices that seemed to come from the plush cushions themselves.
"I see you've noticed my Amicable Armchairs!" Dumbledore was standing in a dressing gown at the top of a spindly staircase in the back of the office. It had never occurred to Remus before, but the stairs probably led to where Dumbledore slept and Remus was struck with a vivid mental image of the old man sleeping with his feet sticking out from the end of the blankets, a pair of owl slippers on the floor next to his bed.
"Those were a gift from Bathilda Bagshot for my last birthday," Dumbledore continued. "I haven't decided yet whether I like them or not. What do you think?"
Remus was taken aback; he hadn't expected Dumbledore's first question to be about his opinion of enchanted furniture.
"Erm…a bit unnerving," he said honestly, and one of the chairs huffed "now really!" in an offended voice.
"Yes, I suppose you're right. Despite the name, they're not the most highly sought-after household item," Dumbledore mused as he came down the steps. "I've caught them talking behind my back several times." He sat behind his desk and motioned for Remus to sit as well, smiling serenely. He conjured a chair similar to his own velvety throne and Remus sank into the cushions, a bit jittery now that he was actually in front of the man who could make or break his plan to help Sirius.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming," Remus said. "I know it's unexpected."
"On the contrary, this is quite convenient," Dumbledore smiled. "I was just about to head to sleep, but had a persistent itch in my left foot that kept me awake and I'm rather glad to have something to do to keep my mind off of it."
Remus laughed quietly, not sure whether Dumbledore was being facetious. "I only just got in on the train," he explained.
"Yes, Fawkes told me!" said the headmaster, gazing fondly at the phoenix that was now snoozing on its perch next to them. "He's rather keen and quite perceptive of arrivals to the castle. Tell me, did the Pettigrew boy find his way back all right?"
Remus's heart stuttered again upon hearing that name and he nodded, his mouth dry. "I walked up with him. Sir, his last name, Pettigrew…is that any relation to—" he couldn't say Peter's name, but Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap and nodded once to show that he understood.
"Second cousins," he said calmly. "They never met." Remus nodded and swallowed thickly, not sure whether this information made him feel better or worse.
"Sorry, sir, I was just wondering."
"Not to worry, to wonder is one of my favorite hobbies! A most useful one, in many cases. Speaking of which, I must address the hippogriff in the room and wonder myself what did bring you here tonight."
Remus scrambled for something to say that could ease them towards talking about Sirius rather than just bringing it up right away.
"Well," he said, as something else did occur to him, "last week was the full moon. And…my transformation was the worst it's ever been, pain-wise, I mean. It was different, I'd never felt anything like it before, and I actually—" he didn't want to say he fainted, that made him sound so weak— "lost consciousness from it, for a whole night. I didn't want to go to St. Mungo's and ask about it, for obvious reasons, but I thought maybe you might know why that happened?"
If any part of what Remus had said alarmed the headmaster, he didn't show it.
"It is not uncommon for a werewolf's symptoms to fluctuate throughout their lifespan, especially if they are prone to other infections and have a weak immune system," Dumbledore explained, but Remus knew all that already. "Was it a lasting pain?"
"Not really, it happened right after I transformed. Usually it all stops and I just start…running around, but it was like someone hit the top of my head with a hatchet or something and after it stopped, I blacked out and woke up as myself again the next morning. That's never happened before," he repeated.
"Well," said Dumbledore, "it is possible for traumatic events or exposure to Dark magic to augment symptoms as well. It was a werewolf named Lycaon in the 1600s who discovered this, and began hiding out with purveyors of Black Magic in order to, for lack of a better word, absorb that power for himself. But he was a very troubled, sick being; you are not."
"I'm not so sure," Remus mumbled.
"Since your Order missions, you haven't had any contact with any kind of Dark forces, correct? No cursed objects, old Death Eater stomping grounds, or Dark creatures?"
Remus was silent as he sat in his chair staring fixatedly at a chip in the wood of Dumbledore's desk. His mind was back in Azkaban, where he'd spent two whole hours surrounded by fortified walls and dementors, which everyone knew were one of the foulest creatures in existence. Was two hours enough time, though, to have such a drastic effect on him? The visit was surely difficult and horrific, but Remus wouldn't classify it as traumatic, necessarily. Dumbledore's words had him thinking that maybe he should.
"Remus? Is there something you wish to tell me?" Remus looked up at Dumbledore, who was staring at him with those sharp blue eyes. He had once started a rumor about Dumbledore's eyes in third year—that they were so piercing that if he ever took off his glasses and made eye contact with another person, their own eyes would shrivel up. It was childish, but at the time he thought it was quite the laugh when no one would look at their own headmaster for a whole month.
"The Christmas you came to see me in the pub, the night you gave me those pictures—I was in a really bad place, sir, and I eventually realized I had to do something to get out of that slump." Calling it a slump was the understatement of the century, Remus thought, and even Dumbledore seemed to smirk a little at that word choice. "It took a few years to get myself together, but once I did I, uh, came across some money and," he took a deep breath, "I made a visit to Azkaban."
Dumbledore blinked and straightened up a little bit, which was as surprised as he ever acted. After a long pause, he spoke. "So you've controlled your drinking, then?"
Remus was baffled; that was all Dumbledore took away? "I—yes, but…sir, did you hear what I just said?"
"I'm glad to hear it; drunken debauchery looks good on only a lucky few people. Oh, Remus, I confess I am not all that surprised," he sighed. "Should I ever find myself in your position, I would likely do the same thing."
"Thank you," Remus said, still in shock that Dumbledore approved of what he had done.
"I'm sure I already know, but I'd like to hear it in your words: why elect to visit such a terrible place?"
Remus blanched a little; it was now or never. "Sirius Black, sir. I was so upset over Lily and James for so long that I decided confronting him in his cell and hearing him confess what he did would be the only thing that would give me closure. So I went to see him." Dumbledore said nothing, so Remus continued, his heart beating fast. It was one thing to admit to visiting a criminal in hopes of hearing some remorse, but another to suggest that such a notorious prisoner might be completely innocent. "Professor Dumbledore, he's dying in there. I know him well, and he always puts on a brave face, but it was really, really horrible."
"Forgive me, Remus, but it almost sounds as though you feel sorry for Sirius." Dumbledore sounded nervous and Remus could feel his face involuntarily tightening and his lips starting to shake, and he willed himself not to start crying. He felt sorrier about failing to see the truth about that night in Godric's Hollow than he'd ever felt in his life, even more than when he'd killed a farmer's entire herd of sheep after running too far away during the first full moon after he left Hogwarts.
"Wouldn't you feel sorry seeing your best friend like that? I mean, regardless of what he's been imprisoned for?"
"I'm sure that I would," said the headmaster weakly. He rested his head in his hands, leaning on his elbows and rubbing his temples for a moment like a parent whose child had just asked a difficult question he did not want to answer. He looked older than he had even just a few moments ago. "May I ask you something?"
Remus nodded.
"Did you show him the pictures I gave you?"
Remus opened his mouth to tell Dumbledore that yes, he had, when suddenly a sickening thought occurred to him and he looked across the desk with mounting shock and horror. It was no accident that Dumbledore had given Remus a photo showing Peter in Godric's Hollow.
"You know?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"Yes," said Dumbledore wearily. "I know Sirius is innocent."
Remus was sure his head would simply fall off from how fast it was spinning. He started to get tunnel vision as the gravity of Dumbledore's words pulled at him and made him feel heavy and dizzy, and as he got to his feet he immediately stumbled and had to grip the desk for support. He should be happy he wasn't the only one who knew Sirius was wrongfully arrested, but all he felt was betrayal. Dumbledore had known all along, and chose to keep Sirius's innocence secret from not only Remus, but the Wizarding world and the entire Ministry of Magic instead of using his influence to help him. That, Remus thought, was a crime in itself.
Dumbledore stood and circled around the desk, but Remus flinched away when he tried to help him regain his footing.
"Don't," Remus said icily. He turned and stomped to the other side of the office, knocking over a table of Sneakoscopes in the process. "Why didn't you tell me?" he finally asked. His voice was quiet but shook with fury. "WHY DIDN'T YOU?!" he roared, whirling around with his wand in hand.
Dumbledore was standing ten feet away, one hand half outstretched in some kind of effort to appease the livid young man before him. "I didn't think it was in your best interests."
"Oh yeah, how'd you figure that one? I'd love to know," Remus said scathingly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Dumbledore had given him—or more accurately, planted on him—the pictures of the Potters only a couple of months after James and Lily died. Had he really known for seven years that it was Peter who should be in Sirius's place and done nothing about it?
"You have every right to be angry with me. I am truly sorry—"
"That's not good enough. I have every right to know exactly why you sat on this information for over half a decade!"
"Will you let me explain, then?" Dumbledore asked. "I'll admit that I was afraid," he said before Remus could cut him off again. "The night James and Lily were killed, Godric's Hollow housed magic known to few people and understood by even fewer. I was as shocked and confused as anyone, as I, after all, helped the Potters assign their Secret Keeper. And I, like everyone else, antagonized Sirius Black after what happened because I believed him to be the one they entrusted, as we planned."
Remus fisted his hands in his hair and tugged; every word that spilled from Dumbledore's mouth was like a drop of boiling water splashing onto his skin and burning him bit by bit.
"Before I Apparated to Harry Potter's aunt and uncle's house to deliver him, I waited to make sure that Sirius Black was caught and arrested. As soon as I saw that the Aurors had restrained him, I meant to leave, but—" Dumbledore paused as if he had lost his train of thought. "I trust you know by now that I am a rather skilled Legilimens. Under the proper circumstances, I can view another person's cognitive layers—"
"I know what Legilimency is!" Remus shouted. He didn't care about Dumbledore's talents, he just wanted to know why this man, who was said to be one of the greatest wizards of all time, would act so utterly stupid.
"—and accurately interpret their mind's contents," he finished. "Like any learned magical skill, it is not so easily mastered as it is explained. As the Aurors brought Sirius by, he looked at me and he had the wherewithal to let his guard down enough to allow me to see what had really happened as it played out in his mind. It was as if he was imploring me to see the truth, and I did. James and Lily never told me they switched Secret Keepers," Dumbledore said, and his voice was heavy with genuine sadness. "But I saw it in that moment."
"So you're telling me that you can read a man's mind in two seconds and understand he's innocent, but the Ministry can't provide a hired Legilimens to do the same thing and clear his name?!"
Dumbledore shook his head. "The administration wouldn't allow it. It was enough of a melee already that night; between James and Lily, Voldemort's perceived downfall, and Harry's survival, no one wanted to hear that there was any gray area or doubt about what transpired. The Ministry wanted it wrapped up, over and done with and written down for history's sake, because everyone had had enough darkness at that point to last them a lifetime. They would rather hail the boy who lived than debate the culpability of his godfather."
Remus wanted to spit in Dumbledore's face; he was talking as if Remus hadn't lived through that time himself. Of course they wanted peace, but since when did that mean throwing people in Azkaban without a second thought? Yet you blamed Sirius too, without a doubt, a voice in his head reminded him, but he pushed it aside.
"Why keep quiet? You didn't think knowing my best mate was innocent might have helped me cope considering my other two were murdered?"
"I knew you would eventually figure it out yourself; that's why I gave you the pictures. But telling you then would have ruined you."
"And this doesn't ruin me? It doesn't ruin him?! You're letting a man suffer in Azkaban because if I knew he was innocent it might have hurt my feelings? No," Remus said vehemently, pointing an accusatory finger at Dumbledore, who had opened his mouth to speak. "You think you're so wise. You think you know better than anyone else involved in a situation because you've lived longer, but your experience doesn't mean you get to decide other people's! You're despicable," he spat.
"You're right."
"You—what?"
"I said, you are right. I have a horrible tendency to think too far ahead down the wrong path, and it seems it's happened again. I did not want to inflict the pain of knowing Sirius was suffering without reason on you because you were already hurting so much. I feared it would break you, but I failed to consider that not knowing would have even worse consequences."
"Consequences," Remus scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was still shaking and forced himself to take measured breaths. He was furious at Dumbledore for keeping this all a secret, at the Ministry for refusing to give Sirius any kind of trial (They could have given him Veritaserum and been done with the affair in minutes, he thought in despair), and at himself as always. Survivor's guilt, the Muggles called it.
"I want him freed."
"I have tried, do not for a second think that I haven't."
"Try harder."
"I've ordered a summons from Azkaban every year since his arrest, Remus, at great risk to my own reputation. Seven times I have been denied."
"So your reputation's more important than his?" Remus cried out. He couldn't believe that Dumbledore would even say such a thing.
The headmaster didn't have a response to that, and he closed his eyes briefly, realizing how insensitive that comment must have sounded. "Regardless of anyone's reputation," he said, earning himself another glare from Remus, "the Ministry refuses to budge and I will not stoop to such low levels as placing them under the Imperius Curse to get my way," he finished in a low voice, and Remus started and flushed red—that exact idea had just occurred to him in his desperation.
Remus heaved in a heavy breath and sat down in his chair again, exhausted by the whole conversation. "Does Sirius know about all of this?"
"No," Dumbledore answered, and Remus stifled an anguished cry. "I have not been permitted to communicate with him at all, and frankly I am astounded you were allowed to visit, especially considering your condition."
"I'm not on the Registry," Remus said defiantly. "And it had bloody well stay that way."
"Of course. I want you to know," Dumbledore said slowly, "that I did not take knowledge of Sirius's innocence lightly. I even showed the Minister herself the picture of Harry on the broom. Unfortunately, not everyone knows Sirius or Peter as you and I do, and she would not take what was essentially just my word over the testimonies of all the witnesses from that night."
Remus shook his head. It was a very small comfort to know that Dumbledore had at least tried to free Sirius, but he could not forgive the man for keeping him in the dark all these years. He could have been helping, he could have at the very least had hope, something he greatly needed every day.
"There's got to be another way. My friend Mary works at the Ministry and I can ask her how to put in a request for re-examination or something. You can't expect me to just sit here while my friend is trapped in a cell! Can't you at least track Peter down? He's an unregistered Animagus, a rat!"
"I am aware, and as such the Trace used to locate active Animagi will be useless." Remus wanted to scream in frustration; every idea he had was being shut down and he couldn't help but think that Dumbledore didn't really care if Sirius was free or in shackles, alive or dead.
"Is there really nothing I can do? I'm proving him innocent with or without your help, sir, but with would be easier."
Dumbledore looked Remus over, contemplating his course of action. He wanted to believe as Remus did that there was hope for Sirius, but he could not drop everything to help and Remus surely would not be able to reach the people he would need to in order to have any chance of success. There was only one thing he could think to do that might help, but it would require a great deal of luck.
"Lilija Mistaj. She's an Undetectable who works in the Ministry—a private investigator, if you will, with a particular proclivity for finding runaways. I'll be frank: you cannot afford her. But," Dumbledore lowered his voice, "she's been known to take a black market bribe or two."
Remus nodded fervently and wrote down the witch's name on a spare bit of parchment. At this point, he would write to a flobberworm if it showed any interest in helping free Sirius. Then, he remembered Sirius's plea just before Remus had to leave the cell. Don't go telling anyone about this. The last thing either of us needs is attention right now. Remus had already disregarded the first part of that request by telling Dumbledore, but the fact remained that Sirius didn't want Remus's help, not yet. Suddenly conflicted, Remus stuffed the parchment into the pocket of his robes, figuring he'd rather be safe than sorry in case he did need an official's help.
Just then, the door to Dumbledore's office flew open and bounced of the wall with a resounding clang. Remus and Dumbledore both jumped nearly a foot at the sudden intrusion, and Fawkes awoke with an affronted squawk.
Severus Snape was standing in the doorway. Remus hadn't seen him since their Hogwarts days, but he had heard he'd started teaching at Hogwarts and couldn't help but feel a coil of reproach tighten in his stomach. Snape's eyes flicked towards Remus for a split second, but he acted as though the latter was not there as he addressed Dumbledore.
"My apologies, I wasn't aware I was interrupting," Snape sneered. "Professor, there's been an urgent owl from the Ministry."
"By all means, enlighten us, Professor," Dumbledore said with a smile as if Snape hadn't walked into one of the tensest exchanges he'd ever had.
Snape entered the room with a swish of his black cloak and handed Dumbledore a very official looking envelope. The seal on it had been broken and Remus could tell that Snape already knew what the letter said. He tried to look over the desk himself, but Dumbledore tilted the parchment away so he could not see.
"News hasn't reached the Prophet yet, but have no doubt, this is tomorrow's front page headline," Snape remarked dubiously as Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses and began reading.
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly when he reached the bottom of the memo. "I will call a meeting with the Heads of Houses momentarily, you may wait outside."
Snape didn't look happy to be excluded after delivering what, from the look on Dumbledore's face, seemed to be distressing news, but he nodded anyway and exited the office with a lingering scowl at Remus that harbored years of unaddressed hatred. As soon as the door slammed shut again, Remus swiveled and faced Dumbledore, glaring at him menacingly.
"If you keep this a secret from me too, sir, I swear I'll—"
"Sirius has escaped," Dumbledore said hollowly, handing the parchment over.
"WHAT?" Remus snatched it from the headmaster's hand, his eyes whizzing so fast across the lines of tiny script that he had to reread the words three times before he gathered their full meaning.
TO: Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
It is with great necessity and regret that I must inform you that sometime between ten and two o'clock last night, Azkaban Prisoner #3484-1031, Sirius Black, escaped the prison and is now classified as a fugitive on the run. Minister Bagnold and my team of Aurors are doing all we can to ensure his swift recapture, but find it imperative that the staff of the school are properly informed before news reaches the public. Take any and all measures to ensure the safety of the school and its students first and foremost. Guards are available on your request.
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Head of the Auror Office
"I must meet with my staff," Dumbledore said urgently, getting up and disappearing up the staircase in the back.
Remus was speechless, and his heart pounded in his chest. Mind you, I'm going to get out of here, Sirius had said. And now he had, only a couple of weeks later. Remus wanted to jump for joy and slap Sirius across the face at the same time; escaping like this would only make him look even guiltier, not to mention it could condemn Remus himself as well! How had he even done it? Dumbledore reappeared dressed in day wear a moment later and Remus shot to his feet.
"Tell them what you told me," he begged, but he already knew the headmaster wouldn't. "Please."
Dumbledore looked Remus in the eye for what felt like ages, and in that look Remus could see sadness, anger, fear, and guilt rolled into one pained expression. He knew those feelings all too well and felt a rush of understanding for the position Dumbledore was in and what he could (and could not) do. The headmaster gripped Remus's arm tightly as if that would make his next words more audible.
"I have no doubt Sirius will try to find you. You must be careful when he does."
"Professor, what—?"
"I cannot be the one to save Sirius," he whispered cryptically. "Only you can do that."
Dun dun dunnnnnnnn. What'd you think? Were Dumbledore's actions justified, or do you think he was in the wrong? More importantly, WHERE IS SIRIUS?
Stay tuned for the next chapter; I'll likely have it up around this time next week!
-C
