"Normal speech"
Thoughts
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.
Chapter 10: A Great and Terrible Thing
Fred could not sleep.
He stared at the dark canopy of his four poster bed, hating himself. He should never have let George go back to the Slytherin dungeons. Those damnable Death Eaters-in-training might be torturing him even now. They might be killing – No, Fred would not allow himself to think that.
It was all he could think about.
Around him, the Marauders' gentle snores mocked him from the otherwise silent room.
The Marauders. Had they created their map yet? If so, Fred could check it, could prove it George was still . . . .
Don't think about it. He's fine. I'd know if something happened.
As comforting as that thought was, Fred knew it was a lie. Mum and Dad had forced them through a ridiculous number of tests at Saint Mungo's when they were little, worried that their minds might actually be linked. Which would have been wicked, Fred and George agreed. It really was a shame it hadn't been the case. They were just so similar, so attuned to one another that people assumed they shared a single consciousness. But they didn't. He was no more psychically linked to George than he was to Percy.
Fred continued to stare at the curtains.
At last, he could not take it anymore. "Accio Marauder's Map," he whispered softly. A moment later, a familiar blank sheaf of parchment flew into his hand from across the room near where Remus slept. Tapping it gently with his wand, he whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
And Hogwarts revealed itself. Fred sought out the most important dot, and breathed out a soft sigh of relief. There is was, George's Weasley's dot, safe – or, at least, still active – in the bathroom of the one of the Slytherin dorms.
Wait.
George Weasley's dot.
Not Gustav Vassilyev's.
Damn it.
Do the Marauders already know? Fred wondered. No, surely they would have said something. But I need to make sure it stays that way. If they find out . . . .
Filch confiscated the Map at some point. Maybe I should make sure it "accidentally" falls into his hands?
The very idea of intentionally surrendering it to the caretaker tore at Fred. It had been hard enough to give the Map to Harry last year, and they knew that he would use it properly.
Then again, George and I found it in Filch's office, in a cabinet labeled "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous." This would just make sure history proceeds as it should, so the next generation – me and George and Harry – can benefit.
Fred watched as Snape's dot moved into the bathroom with George. Their dots were awfully close together. Fred held his breath, wondering what the ungrateful git was up to. At last, Snape's dot moved away. A few minutes later, George left the bathroom and returned to the dorm. The other boys' dots remained still, and Fred hoped that they were sleeping. He watched for another few minutes to reassure himself that George was okay, and then he tapped the parchment again with a murmured, "Mischief managed." It turned blank once more.
I should find a way to communicate with George from our dorms, just in case something does happen, Fred thought. He mentally added that to his and George's growing list of tasks. Tracking spell, camera, letters, transfigured gems.
"You done with that, mate?"
Fred jumped at the sound, nearly dropping the Map. He turned and saw a fully awake Sirius Black. Although the other boy's tone had been mind, the gray eyes gleamed expectantly.
"Er," Fred began. His eyes darted to the other three beds, but James, Peter, and Remus were still asleep.
"Don't worry, they can't hear us," Sirius said. Fred forced himself not to gulp nervously. Right, who would worry about being alone with You-Know-Who's right hand man? "You know an awful lot," Sirius continued. "An awful lot. About awful things, too, I'd guess."
"I don't know what you mean," Fred bluffed. Why aren't the others waking up? What did Black do to them?
Sirius snorted. "Really? And yet you summoned the Map by name and knew how to use it. Not something we've exactly shared, now is it, Frederick?"
And now Fred did gulp.
"I don't know what's going on with you and Dumbledore," Sirius said. "But I know you're a seer, and I know that you don't like me for something I haven't even done yet. Just – just tell me what it is, and I won't do it. No matter what you think you know, I'm not – I'm not evil. Not a Death Eater. Not a killer. I don't want to be. I'm not like that. I won't be." His voice shook as he spoke.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Fred replied, even as his mind raced. "I figured the Map out on my own. Got it from Filch's office earlier." That much at least was true, depending on how one defined "earlier."
"Didn't want to do it this way," Sirius muttered. He raised his wand. "Petrificulus totalus!"
Fred rolled to the side, dodging just in time. Raising his own wand, he cried, "Stupefy!" The jet of red light bounced off Sirius's hastily-raised shield. Sirius flicked his wand again, and this time Fred did not move quickly enough. His limbs froze.
"Sorry," Sirius said softly. "I really didn't want to do it this way." He reached into his book bag and removed a tiny vial. Fred's heart raced in his immobile body. He's going to poison me! "Just two drops should do it. Force you to answer, and to answer truthfully, but not just blurt out anything." He nodded, as if to himself. "That's all." With a murmured spell, the bedsheet wrapped around Fred like ropes, binding him to the bedpost.
The other boys continued to sleep.
With a small stopper, Sirius placed two drops of the clear potion in Fred's slightly open mouth. Then, he released the petrification.
Feodor spat at him. Sirius clenched his fists but did not otherwise react. It's fine. It's a fair response. But this is necessary, Sirius reminded himself. A moment later, Feodor's demeanor shifted. He looked suddenly calmer, and Sirius relaxed minutely.
"Why do you hate me?" Sirius asked.
"Because you're a murderer and a traitor."
"What?" Sirius asked. No, no, no.
"You're a murderer and a traitor," Fred repeated, his voice a dull monotone.
"Who'd I kill?" Sirius demanded. Please, let it all be a mistake.
"Peter Pettigrew. Twelve muggles. Maybe others."
Sirius's knees buckled. He fell to the floor. "Why? Why would I do that?"
"Because you're a Death Eater," Feodor replied. "Peter confronted you. You killed him."
Sirius glanced at Peter's sleeping form. How could he kill Peter? Peter, who might not be the strongest wizard, but who was definitely one of the truest. Peter, who had been the first to forgive him after that horrible mistake with the Shrieking Shack. Peter, who wore his heart on his sleeve. Peter, who worshipped him and James.
He turned back to Feodor. "No. I wouldn't. I'd die before I became a Death Eater. I'd never betray my friends."
Just like you'd never betray your family? reminded the voice of his conscience.
Feodor said nothing. Sirius realized that he had not actually asked a question. The difference between two drops and three, I guess. "What happens to me?" he whispered, cradling his head in his hands.
"You were the best man at the Potters' wedding. They made you their son's godfather. You were their secret keeper," Feodor replied, his voice still that dull monotone. "They didn't realize you were You-Know-Who's right-hand. You told him where they were. He killed them. He tried to kill Harry. He failed. Hagrid came. You fled. Peter found you. He confronted you. You killed him and twelve muggles with a single curse. All that was left was Peter's finger. He earned an Order of Merlin. You were sentenced to Azkaban. You escaped somehow, using unknown dark magic. You tried to kill Harry. You slashed the Fat Lady's portrait. You attacked my brother with a knife. You are on the run from the Ministry."
Sirius looked up, eyes wide with horror. "No, no, that can't be right. You're lying!" Feodor said nothing. "Tell me you're lying! Please! Why aren't you telling me the truth?"
"I am telling you the truth," Fred said. Right, the veritaserum. Maybe Slughorn got it wrong? Maybe it was a bad batch?
Sirius knew that he was grasping at straws. He began to sob into his shaking hands. "Please," he begged, "what can I do to change it? How do I change that future?"
"I do not know."
"But that means there's a chance, right? A chance that I could change it?" Sirius asked desperately.
"Yes."
"Okay," Sirius said to himself. "Okay. I'll make sure this doesn't happen. Not that I can see how it happened. You're sure it's me, not Regulus?"
"Yes."
"And Regulus, does he become a Death Eater in your messed up future?"
"I do not know."
"What about Moony?" Sirius had not intended to ask about the others, but he rationalized that the more he knew, the better he could prevent the nightmare from happening.
"He does not become a Death Eater."
"No, that's not what I – never mind. It doesn't matter anyway. I won't let that future happen." Sirius shook his head. "Right. Well, better deal with you. The books say the veritaserum'll wear off on its own in a couple of hours, which is good, since I don't have the antidote on me." He took the Map from where it had fallen on the floor, and then cast the same sleep spell on Feodor that he had used on the others. He restored the bedsheets to their original form, and then murmured, "Obliviate." Guess it's a good thing after all that Mother insisted that any child of hers learn that spell.
Returning to his bed, Sirius found himself unable to sleep. He stared at Peter's sleeping form for hours, thinking over what he had learned from Feodor. I won't kill you, Pete. I won't. I'll make sure you're safe. I promise.
When Fred awoke, he felt vaguely disoriented. He frowned, trying to figure out why. He shook his head. It was probably nothing.
At breakfast, Fred poured syrup over a stack of pancakes and ate absently. He nodded distractedly at George as he entered the Great Hall. His twin gave a small, encouraging half-smile and nodded back. Fred watched as Snape rose from his seat at the Slytherin table and hissed something in George's ear before exiting the room. Fred saw his twin's shoulders tense momentarily, and Fred felt an slight wave of confused unease. He shook his head and returned to his breakfast.
When they met in the empty classroom after breakfast, George blurted, "I told Snape about the compass charm project."
"What?" Fred exclaimed. "Why'd you go and do that?"
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! But he didn't believe the story we came up with when I went back last night. And of course he's the is His sort of paranoid nutter who refuses to believe you don't have some hidden agenda for helping him out."
The room was spinning. "You helped him out? With Dumbledore, you mean?" he asked weakly.
"Um, Fred? You okay?" George asked.
"Just a bit dizzy." Fred leaned heavily against a desk. He blinked. The room stabilized.
"Fred," George said, sounding unusually concerned. "Do you remember what happened yesterday?"
"Sure," Fred said slowly, wondering if George was playing some kind of trick. "We met that cool Hufflepuff prefect, went to Filch's office on purpose to look up detention records, had Potions, and met with Dumbledore. Why?"
"And that's it?"
"George, what are you getting at?"
"Fred, that's not the last thing that happened. I went to Gryffindor Tower after dinner and –"
Fred fainted.
A/N:
Nothing in the books makes it sound like memory charms are restricted in and of themselves, so they would probably not be classified as dark arts. Yes, they can be used illegally (as Lockhart did), but it seems that the wizarding world treats obliviates like we treat knives. Yes, you can use a knife to stab someone, but you can also use a knife to chop vegetables. Only the former is illegal.
And memory charms are difficult to cast properly under emotional conditions. Crouch Sr. – a very competent wizard by all accounts – badly overdid the charm on Bertha Jorkins when she discovered his secret. Sirius – even if he mastered it when he originally learned it – was decidedly not at his best when he cast it on Fred.
As for why Sirius was more upset over Peter than James, James might be his best friend, but Peter (and Remus) are still very close friends. There's an emotional difference between hearing that you betray a friend and get him killed (James) and hearing that you personally murder a friend (Peter).
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