A/N: This chapter picks up where the other left off. I realized, after rereading chapter 6, that it seemed unfinished (even though it was longer than usual), so instead of skipping ahead (which I have a bad habit of doing), I decided to take my time with this part of the story.
Also, there was a mistake - again! In the flashback, it reads August, 1975. It's actually August 1974. That's corrected in this chapter.
BTW, I hope this answers/satisfies rockstar-101's questions. Thanx for reviewing!
Disclaimer: It's so cold and depressing up here yet I've managed to keep my sanity. I still don't own HP. Just borrowing.
Chapter 7: A Light in the Darkness
"Wow," Sophie deadpanned, "that wasn't at all awkward."
Remus turned to see a mixture of embarrassment and mirth in her eyes. The image of Orion Black and a very naked woman had faded away, the memory evaporated from the pensieve.
"Imagine seeing it live," Sirius countered darkly, peering into the basin of the pensieve. "It's gone."
Remus, who'd shot him a warning look he hadn't caught, stepped closer and peered in, though he already knew it was empty. "It was left out too long," he commented, "I'm surprised it lasted so many years."
"Lucky for us, eh?" Sirius said snidely.
Sophie let out what Remus supposed was a chuckle, though it sounded oddly stilted.
Sirius tore his eyes away from the pedestal and fixed Sophie with a curious look, as if he'd just remembered she was there.
"Sophie," Remus addressed her, deciding instantly he didn't want her there, "maybe it's best if you go back to bed." He gave her a meaningful look and she seemed to understand, moving a little uncertainly at first, as if she wanted to protest but then leaving quietly from the room.
Remus could hear the distinctive squeak of floorboards from above as she walked back to her room. He stood listening as Sirius hovered around the room, leaning in cautiously towards the glass-fronted cabinets and examining the contents by the light of his borrowed wand.
"I'm pretty sure she's safely tucked in," Sirius commented after a moment, "come here."
Remus chose to ignore the snappish tone and joined his mate by a cabinet. He peered in and noticed the tiny glistening bottles, all lined up in rows, each bearing a label. Some of them were marked only with dates, others with names and still more with a form of shorthand which Remus supposed, from the dates attached, was Orion's writing.
Remus eyes fell on a bottle, marked 'DL '75', just as Sirius leaned in.
"Do you reckon?" he whispered, unsettled.
Remus nodded and Sirius reached in, carefully extracting the tiny bottle from the overflowing shelf. He turned back to the pensieve, and began to uncork the bottle.
"Wait." Remus, worried about keeping the integrity of the memory, searched his mind for a protective spell. He quickly remembered one and went to work.
Sirius waited for the last flourish of his wand before he pulled out the stopper and slowly poured the silvery liquid into the clean basin. Then he repeated his movements, pulling up the new memory. They watched as Orion's ghostly form rose up. His lips moved but they heard nothing, though even if they had, they probably never would have listened, as they were busy gaping at the other ghostly figure, the 'D.L.' on the label – Lord Voldemort.
"We need to get Dumbledore," Sirius stated, his eyes darkening at the sight of his father and the vile, evil wizard chatting soundlessly in front of them.
"I'll do it," Remus volunteered, a cold, clammy feeling coming over him.
He quickly stepped out of the secret room and towards the kitchen fireplace (the only safe connection to the floo network in the house so far), leaving his friend alone with the image of the man who ruined his life flickering before him in the dark.
Remus was exhausted. He hadn't slept for the past two nights, instead sitting up with Sirius talking the first night and spending the next exploring the almost empty house. Orion Black, Sirius' father, was somewhere in the large mansion, keeping out of their way, just as Sirius had promised.
Remus was grateful he'd seen the patriarch only once. Orion Black had insisted on meeting him and had sized him up with a look so cold and cutting, Remus felt himself simultaneously deflate and shrink three inches from the glare. It had been a short introduction and five truly terrifying minutes, Remus afraid all the while that Sirius' father would recognize him for what he was. But he hadn't. In those five minutes, Remus realized where his mate had gotten his own malicious mien (though he made sure not to mention it) and he also realized that Sirius, as good as he was at 'the look', still had a long way to go.
"Remus," came Sirius' voice from the other side of the room, "you awake?"
Remus, who lay in a makeshift bed on the floor of his mate's bedroom, (where he'd slept since arriving, the guest bedroom he'd been shown to his first day there unused) considered not answering. If he did, Sirius would surely drag him out of bed. But if he didn't, Sirius might jump on him until he did and he really didn't fancy any Sirius-shaped bruises. He decided to answer.
"What is it, Padfoot?" he asked wearily. Considering the full moon was less than a week away, he really needed his sleep.
"I'll be fourteen in six minutes."
"Good for you."
"Wanna celebrate?"
He blinked his eyes open, the ceiling coming into focus. "Now?"
"No, next week!" came the sarcastic reply, "Of course now!"
Remus considered the request silently, knowing full well it wasn't a request but a declaration. Sirius would be dragging him out of bed any minute now.
"What are we doing?" he asked. He didn't even try to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
He heard the distinctive sound of squeaking bedsprings and Sirius was hovering over him a second later. "Come on," he said, flinging off Remus' covers unceremoniously, "It's a surprise!"
Remus knew he'd hate it. Before he had a chance to protest, he was being dragged down the stairs and towards a large solid door. A locked door.
"What's in there?" he whispered.
"My dad's study," Sirius answered, employing his wand in an odd way.
"What are you doing?"
"Picking the lock."
Remus had a bad feeling as he watched Sirius jam the end of his wand through what should have been a keyhole but wasn't. Sirius whispered under his breath and a moment later the door inched open.
"Come on."
Remus looked up and down the darkened corridor. "I don't think this is a good idea," he understated in a harsh whisper. He was now most definitely awake. "Your father's in the house, if he finds us…"
"He won't."
Sirius took him by the hand (Remus couldn't remember being handled so much in so little time) and pulled him into the dark room. He looked around, making out the large desk, a tall lamp in the corner and the imposing fireplace, which still had embers burning green. It was obvious his father had only just left and it made Remus very nervous.
"Aha!"
Remus turned, startled, as Sirius stood next to a low cabinet across the room, a full bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey in his hand. Shite, he thought. This is definitely a bad idea.
"Put that back!" he scolded in a harsh whisper, "What if your father notices it missing?"
Sirius' grey eyes shone mischievously in the dark. He shrugged, grabbed Remus by the shirt and pulled him out of the room, the bottle firmly gripped in the other hand. They made their way quietly back up the stairs to his mate's room, Remus holding his breath as they passed the third floor. He noticed a slow murmur of noise as they passed, the distinctive strip of light coming from underneath a bedroom door, and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock sitting on the third landing. As they walked by, Remus thought he heard a strange metallic grinding coming from inside. Suddenly, the glass door on the front of the clock popped open and bolts began to fly out.
"Oof!" Ouch!"
One after another, bolts and springs from inside the clock flew through the air, pinging off the walls, embedding into the shiny banister and into soft teenage skin. They ran up the stairs, Sirius shielding the bottle with his body, and getting a bolt to the skull for his trouble. They scrambled into the bedroom, terrified, then Sirius tapped his wand to the doorknob and Remus heard a soft click. They stood at the door, listening intently for any noise.
"Anything?" Sirius whispered, his eyes wide. He recognized the mixture of fear and excitement in them.
Remus closed his eyes and pressed his ear to the door. There was no sound – no footsteps on the stairs, and even the clock seemed to have stopped its assault.
"Nothing." He relaxed a little. "What the hell was that?"
Sirius grimaced. "Mother," he said in disgust. "Her way of keeping me in line."
Sirius disappeared around the corner towards the bathroom and returned with two glasses in one hand and bandages in the other.
"So, up for it?" he asked, holding out the bottle and shaking it seductively.
Remus knew he had a choice. He could refuse. He'd never had a drink before and wasn't about to start right under Orion Black's nose. He knew he had a choice but Sirius' stare told him differently.
"Fine," he relented, giving in easily, "just one." He reached out to grab the bandages. "Injuries first!"
Sirius smirked and poured the firewhiskey, the glasses looking more full than they should, while Remus bandaged his mate's arms, covered in small bloody welts, and his own injuries, which included, unluckily for him, an embedded bolt just above his collarbone. Sirius watched with fascination as Remus pulled it out with his bare hands, digging his fingers into his flesh, the shiny bolt making a sick squelching sound as he wrested it free from his body.
"Doesn't that hurt?" Sirius asked as Remus stuck a large bandage to the stinging wound.
Remus looked up, and Sirius seemed to realize it was a stupid question. He shrugged and handed Remus a glass.
"Have you ever, I mean, before?" Remus asked uncertainly, fingering the crystal tumbler and wondering if his mate made this kind of thing a habit.
"Well, no," Sirius answered, fingering the long bandage on his arm, which had a long superficial cut down the side, "but there's always a first time." He dropped his hand and held up the glass with the other. "To me," he said and then downed the contents in one large gulp.
Remus watched as Sirius' face went from serene to panicked in a second. His eyes bulged out of his head and his face turned beet red as he shook his head violently. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, a shudder seizing his tall, slender frame.
"Excellent!"
He turned his watery eyes to Remus and watched him expectantly. Remus, hesitating, brought the glass up to his lips.
"Wait!" Sirius chided, "What about my toast?"
Remus cracked a smile, despite his nerves (and his injuries), and quickly thought up something fitting. "To my mate, Sirius Orion Black," he said with mock pomposity, "either the most courageous boy I've ever met," he paused a beat, "or the thickest!"
Sirius rolled his eyes and goaded him on to drink. Remus, feeling braver (or as thickheaded as his mate, he didn't know which) gulped down his glass of firewhiskey, choking mid-gulp at the burning sensation that seared down his throat and into his stomach. His body shuddered involuntarily as he gasped and coughed, the gash at his collarbone suddenly tingling with heat. He couldn't believe people actually liked this stuff.
"You okay, Moony?"
Remus blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes, and looked up to see a very amused Sirius peering at him through a curtain of disheveled black hair.
He didn't answer, only held out the glass, still half-full, towards his mate. Sirius leaned forward and filled the glass to the top and then poured himself another, all the while smiling widely.
Remus, in dire need of a glass of water (or a Time-Turner), thrust the glass back, the contents spilling over the side and onto his hand. "Take it, you git!" he wheezed, bent over from coughing.
Sirius eyed him then took the glass. "Is that any way to treat your mate on his birthday?" he asked, acting hurt.
The warm honey-coloured liquid dripped down his arm into his sleep shirt, stinging the nicks on his arm he hadn't noticed. Great, he thought, finally catching his breath, I look like I've been in a fight and now I smell like a pub. Mom's going to kill me. His mother had a way of sniffing out anything odd (like the smell of tobacco permeated into his winter cloak in third year). With her keen senses, it was like she was the werewolf, not him.
Remus didn't want to speak. He only glared.
"Fine," Sirius shrugged, "more for me." He quickly downed the contents of both glasses.
An hour later, Remus watched with building panic as Sirius sang a Gryffindor cheer at the top of his lungs while jumping up and down on his bed.
"Go! Go! Gryffindor! Mighty Lions, hear them roar!"
Remus was sure Sirius' father, only one floor down, would come up to investigate the noise at any moment.
"Sirius!" he begged, as frightening scenarios played in his mind, "Sirius, quit it! You'll get us killed!"
The last word seemed to have a sobering affect on his drunken mate. "Killed, Moony?" he repeated. "Who would do such a thing?" He stumbled off his four-poster, hit the floor and rolled towards Remus. "Oh, yeah."
"Sirius," he said looking down and trying not to laugh (despite his panic) at the sight of Sirius sprawled at his feet, "you've said yourself, many times, your father would throttle you if he found out half the stuff you do. He's right under us, you git, he could be up here any minute!"
The old house gave Remus a bad feeling, every shift and creak convincing him it was Orion Black stalking up the stairs to check on them.
"He can kiss my arse," Sirius said loudly into the antique rug, "I know what he's done. He can't tell me what to do anymore!"
Remus finally understood. This was Sirius dealing with the photographs.
He knelt down on the colourful rug and helped Sirius sit up. "Is this how you want to remember your fourteenth birthday?" he asked gently, "drunk because you're angry with your father?"
Sirius, whose eyes were a glassy grey, blinked and rubbed his head. "I hate 'm, Moony," he whispered, "I really fuckin' hate 'm."
"I know," he whispered back. He circled his arms around his mate's shoulders. "But don't let him ruin this weekend. Don't let him ruin our last day – your birthday. He's not worth it."
Sirius sighed heavily and leaned into him. He was quiet for a long time, until finally he broke the sobering silence.
"Moony," he whispered.
"What is it, mate?"
"I think I'm gonna be sick."
Sophie awoke the next day to the sleep-deprived faces of Sirius and her father. They'd spent the early hours of morning in the secret room, poring over memories. She'd known, because she'd heard them murmuring for hours, with long quiet pauses she guessed had something to do with another discovery. Of course, they hadn't shared anything with her at breakfast, only the news that Dumbledore would be there later that afternoon. Sophie, for her part, did her best not to ask too many questions. She was curious, but from the little she'd seen in the room and the dark, ominous feeling that had stolen over her as they stood in the semi-darkness of the long forgotten room, she really didn't want to know what they'd found.
When she'd returned to her room, the rasping noises had subsided but the ominous feeling lingered. It was odd, and it reminded her of the feeling she used to get from some of the werewolves in the pack back in Ireland. Something about them had made her uneasy yet pulled at her dark side like a magnet. It was the same feeling she'd had last night. It was the same feeling that had lingered all day.
"Sophie?"
She whirled around towards the familiar voice, causing a cloud of dust to rise up into the air of a cavernous bedroom on the third floor.
"Professor!" she exclaimed, truly surprised to see her old Head of House, Minerva McGonagall standing in the old, dark mansion.
Professor McGonagall greeted her with a thin smile. "I see Mr. Black has put you to work," she commented, taking in Sophie's dust-covered, grimy appearance.
"We're getting a few rooms ready for the Weasleys," she answered, still excited by the news that her mates and their family would be making Headquarters their home for the summer. She was even glad to hear that Hermione Granger would be joining them.
"Oh, yes, I heard," she said, sounding a little disapproving. Sophie remembered that she always sounded that way when it came to Fred and George. "It should be an interesting summer with the lot of them here," she went on, taking a turn around the room, "Those friends of yours, the twins, should get along very well with their host."
Sophie thought it an odd thing to say but didn't ask the Professor to elaborate. "Are you here with the Headmaster?" she asked instead.
"Hmm," she hummed distractedly, staring for a moment at rune-covered object permanently stuck to the top of a chest of drawers, "Whose room was this?"
Sophie recognized a few of the characters (something about blood and royalty) on the strange vase-like object, which Sirius had tried - and failed - to get rid of that morning. "It was Sirius' mother's," she answered, still waiting for an answer to her question.
McGonagall studied the piece a moment longer, made a small sound of disgust and gave her attention back to Sophie.
"I'm actually here for a reason, Miss Lupin," she said, diving into her cloak pocket. She extracted an official-looking envelope. "Your results," she announced, stretching out her hand.
Sophie felt a wave of excitement come over her, followed by a wave of nausea.
"Go on," her former Transfiguration professor urged, "Let's see how well you've done."
Sophie reached out a shaking hand and took the envelope. It was the moment she'd been waiting for, the moment she'd dreamed of and looked forward to since leaving Hogwarts a year ago. Taking a deep breath, she broke the seal and unfolded the thick parchment. As her eyes skimmed the page, she couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh.
"Eight," she said, looking up at McGonagall, "Eight 'O's." Sophie had qualified for all her subjects.
"Congratulations, my dear," came a voice from the doorway. Dumbledore was standing at the threshold, her father and Sirius to either side of him.
Sophie smiled as her father pulled her into a hug. "I never had any doubts," he whispered, a genuine smile lighting up his pale, drawn face.
When Sophie pulled away from her father, she noticed the others with glasses in their hands. Sirius conjured two more and thrust them into her and her father's hands.
"Cheers," he said, lifting his glass. The others did the same.
"Thanks," she mumbled, trying to subdue her delight. She was now a fully licensed, practicing witch.
Sirius gulped down the liquid, while the others took small sips. Sophie put the glass to her lips and took a small sip as well. She expected burning but was pleasantly surprised by the smoothness of the bitter-tasting liquid. Definitely not firewhiskey, she noted.
"There's only one thing left to say," Dumbledore added, taking another sip.
Sophie looked at him expectantly.
"Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."
The next chapter may or may not deal with Sophie's ominous feeling (still trying to figure that one out) and not to worry, Sirius may have some good news of his own very soon...
I'm getting alot of hits but little reviews, so taking a cue from other writers, anyone who leaves a review (one word will do - as long as it's not a nasty one) will get a drunken Sirius serenading them at the top of his lungs :) - "Go! Go! Gryffindor! Mighty lions, hear them roar!"
