"You're fucking joking." Dorcas glared round at her small cluster of friends. "You've got pretty questionable taste. That's not bloody funny!"
The tense silence was palpable, and Alice licked her lips nervously. "Dorcas-"
"What?" Dorcas snapped angrily, rounding on Alice with wild ferocity. "You've got some nerve – walking in here and blurting out to someone that they're a werewolf!"
Alice looked taken aback, and Lily was forced to finish the sentence. "Just how much do you remember of what happened?"
Opening her mouth Dorcas retorted, "I don't remember anything idiots!" before she blanched and mumbled something, which sounded rather like, "Maybe... maybe bits and pieces."
"What was that?" Lily matched Dorcas' ire with equal sternness.
"I said," Dorcas retorted, "Bits and pieces. It's not like," she continued furiously, "I've tried to memorise the exact feeling of jaws ripping into my flesh!"
"We never said anything about you trying to," Hermione stated, "We're just trying to establish how much you know!"
"I can remember" Dorcas began, building momentum, her voice rising in a crescendo, "Falling and thinking that I was going to die, and I can remember the feeling of my flesh being ripped out of my leg and hot breath on my neck."
Alice shuddered, shutting her eyes in horror, whilst Hermione winced and Lily flinched, taking a deep, soothing breath, regaining her equilibrium before she replied. "Thank you for that Dorcas." Lily said candidly.
"My pleasure," Dorcas smirked angrily. "Perhaps when I 'transform'" she said, forming quotation marks with her fingers, "We can repeat this happy little experiment with you, and see how you like it!"
"We were just trying to break the news to you gently!" Lily flushed, sounding torn between anger and hurt.
"Yeah well, you've not done a very good job so far!" Dorcas was puce coloured, close to spitting fire she was so angry.
"That's completely unfair, Dorcas and you know it!" Hermione interrupted angrily, firmly on Lily's side.
"Oh," Dorcas rounded on Hermione, her eyes flashing, "And I suppose you've conveniently forgotten, that the fact that I'm now a werewolf is entirely your fault!"
"How on earth is it entirely my fault? I didn't ask for-"
"That's enough!"
All three girls swivelled to face Alice – in their ire they had completely forgotten her presence. Alice's fists were clenched tightly, her face a curious mixture of crimson and sickly white and she glared at each of them, her lips a thin line.
"I can't believe you three! Dorcas's been bitten by a werewolf, and you're sitting here arguing!" Alice pointed an accusing finger towards them, and Hermione felt about three inches high, the first flashes of guilt creeping over her.
"What do you propose we do then?" Lily asked stiffly, unused to Alice's authority – Alice who was so normally unruffled and optimistic, unquestioning in her support for Lily.
"I don't know," Alice admitted tersely, palms raised heavenwards as she shrugged, "But I think anything's better than sitting around here arguing about stuff that's already happened."
"Great," Dorcas muttered, "So instead of arguing we sit around here being oh-so bloody productive!"
"Don't-" Alice prodded Dorcas in the chest, her face thoughtful and determined. "- We'll solve this somehow – just don't give up."
Alice's optimism, Hermione thought tiredly, was relentless, persistent until the end – and irritating to the extreme. It depended, she decided, on whether you thought that that kind of thing was false hope or a comfort. False hope was one of the worst cruelties imaginable – she just hoped Alice knew the difference.
Dorcas lolled against the back of her bed rail, frowning. Sunlight filtered softly through the window and in the distance the Quidditch pitch was just visible, the vague figures of players streaking around, tossing the Quaffle to one another. Dorcas snatched her wand from her bedside table, muttering "Obscuro." under her breath. The window clouded over, until only sunlight filtered through the fogged up surface.
"Nice spellwork."
Dorcas jerked around, her wand held out dead straight. "What d'you want Lupin?" she sighed, dropping her wand abruptly.
"I just came to see how you were." He flopped down awkwardly on a nearby bed, barely making eye contact with Dorcas.
"Whatever's bothering you just spit it out." Dorcas wasn't famed for her subtlety or her patience. "It's not as if I've got anything better to do." She remarked bitterly, casting her gaze upwards at the ceiling.
Instead of answering her unspoken question, Lupin glanced unseeing towards the window. "It's a bit cold today."
"Lupin." Dorcas growled impatiently, fixing him with a glare. "While discussing the weather is always enjoyable, I think I'd rather go and search for Crumple Horned Snorkacks."
Remus snorted, startling Dorcas into a grin – she'd made him laugh; well that was a first. "What on earth?" he asked, looking at her strangely.
Dorcas waved a hand at him, "Some weird Ravenclaw kept banging on about them a couple of years ago – it's s'posed to be this beast with a huge horn that lives in the depths of Borneo – no-one's ever seen one of course."
"Was that the one who believed in Wrackspurts?" Remus asked with a grin of his own.
"The one and the same I should think – Lyssa something?" Dorcas yawned. "C'mon Lupin – it's not like I've got all day."
Lupin took a deep breath. "How the hell am I meant to say this?" he muttered, picking at the bobbles under the sheet. Dorcas opened her mouth to chivvy him along, but shut it as he glanced up, continuing to talk. "If you interrupt me, I'll never get going," he remarked wryly. "Just - hear me out – and then, at the end, if you want to kill, hex or maim me, feel free to."
Dorcas frowned – what the hell was Lupin talking about? "Go on."
"I-" Lupin swallowed. " Dorcas – you remember that night? Well," he hurried on, before Dorcas could interrupt. "It's a long story, but basically, me, Sirius and Peter were there...James was in detention," he added, seeing Dorcas' questioning look. "I'm a – it's not – we're – they're our nicknames," he sighed resignedly. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs." He looked steadily at the floor and Dorcas felt comprehension dawning.
"But you're…Moony…it wasn't – it couldn't be-" she whispered in abject horror, recoiling in shock. Remus nodded once, eyes firmly fixed on the floor.
"It was you! Moony!" Dorcas whispered. "You're the werewolf? You bit me!" her voice was steadily rising, and she began to flush her customary shade of puce. "I don't understand you! Did you think I'd be receptive to this? Do you think I'd give you my forgiveness, and you could skip along merrily? Why the fuck are you even here?!" she brandished her wand, her hand trembling. "Get the hell out!"
Lupin clambered to his feet, looking at Dorcas sadly. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness." He told her, eyes old. "I just want to help. You'll need it soon enough."
"Lupin – I think you've fucking well helped enough already!" Dorcas snapped, her boiling anger close to overflowing. A bottle exploded beside her. "Help is the last thing I need from you! I should tell everyone what you are!"
"You can do that if you want," He replied quietly, backing away from her. "All I want to do is help you."
He backed away slowly, cautiously, although he didn't seem the slightest bit afraid. He hadn't reacted how she'd expected either – her friends had retorted angrily when she ranted at them, refusing to leave, but Lupin; he'd just nodded and gone – just like that. As he should do, the nastier part of her brain snapped, he'd turned her into a werewolf; this attitude was to be expected! A portion of her that had denied cynicism, knew that it wasn't his fault, steadily drowning her anger in pity. Dorcas fought it, feeling her anger was righteous but…it was then she realised something integral she'd been missing all along, something important…
"Wait." Dorcas muttered quietly, unaware that the word had slipped out, and then louder. "Wait Lupin - Remus." Lupin turned, startled at her use of his first name. "I – come back here."
Lupin approached cautiously, probably afraid of more bottles exploding, Dorcas thought. Summoning her strength, she wrestled down her anger to speak to him. "You're the last person on earth I want to see right now, if I'm honest," she told him bluntly. "But you're right. I do need your help – whether I like it or not."
Lupin half-smiled. "Thanks for the honesty."
"If I'm one thing," Dorcas said, "It's honest. Now – how the hell were Sirius and Peter with you?"
Their story was fascinating, if unbelievable – three fifth years had mastered magic that most grown wizards failed to manage. Would her friends do that for her? – she wondered, before realising that she would never ask them to, her pride far to great for her to bend - and besides, she couldn't just ask them to become illegal animagi for her, could she? She wondered how on earth Peter had managed it – he wasn't exactly stellar at Transfiguration – although, Alice had mentioned he was surprisingly adept at Ancient Runes.
"It took him a long time," Remus admitted. "And Sirius and James had to help him – they told me they thought he'd never be able to do it. They kept trying though – and eventually he was able to."
Dorcas frowned – it was a side of Potter and Black she'd never come across before. In public, Pettigrew tended to be shunned. "Did you know about it?" she asked, curiously.
"Merlin no!" Remus laughed. "I did start to suspect when Sirius sprouted a tail – but he just said a Slytherin'd hexed him."
Dorcas was deeply tempted to ask how Remus had been bitten, but was afraid to ask. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her – she'd never been able to bite her tongue. "Who – How – How were you-?"
"Bitten?" Remus finished bitterly. "No it's alright." He glanced at Dorcas, who twisted her wand guiltily. "You have a right to know. My Dad had a small disagreement with Fenrir Greyback – you've heard of him?"
Had she heard of him? Dorcas raised an eyebrow sceptically – Greyback was a notorious feral werewolf, an integral part of 'You-Know-Who's' army, both as a recruiter and a terror weapon. Werewolves weren't exactly the best army, as twenty-eight days of the month, they were normal human beings, and on the full moon, they weren't exactly controllable. However, as a terror weapon, there was none better. She nodded, urging Remus to continue.
"And Greyback swore revenge – but my Dad just laughed it off. The next full moon, I was outside – a friend of my parents had arrived at the door, and took me out for some flying. I guess they must've been under the imperius or polyjuiced or something – but in the end it was all the same - Greyback bit me." Remus' smile was somewhere between wry and sour. "I can't really remember the time before I was a werewolf."
Dorcas bit her lip, wishing she hadn't asked. "I'm sorry." She mumbled, but forcing herself to face him eye to eye.
"I've never known anything else really." Remus said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "D'you have the time?" he asked, looking out the window. "Do you mind if I-?" he gestured towards the window and Dorcas nodded with a sigh.
"I didn't want to see the Quidditch." She bit her lip. "I'd give anything to be out there playing."
"You can still play you know." Remus turned. "The only reason I don't is because I'm not exactly Dai Llewellyn!"
"You don't support the Caerphilly Catapults do you?" Dorcas gasped outraged, inwardly dancing around manically – she could still play! It shouldn't have weighed on her so heavily – and nor had it, at first – but eventually, it had sunk in. To be proved wrong, for once, had made her happy beyond belief and reason.
"Of course not," Remus denied, grinning. "Yeah – what's wrong with them?"
"How could you not support the Pride of Portree?" She asked, mouth agape.
"Are you sure that's not the Harpies?" he laughed, ducking as Dorcas took a swipe at him.
"Prides all the way!" She exclaimed. "So, come on genius – tell the time by the sun then."
Remus stood, peering out of the window, a hand shadowing his eyes – he looked exhausted, haunted even; would she end up looking like that every month? He twisted back round, glancing at the far wall. "It's about…half-six – I think?"
Dorcas smirked, flicking her wand. A fiery clock formed in the air for a split second, parting like smoke when Dorcas waved her wand again. "Quarter to, actually, but it was a pretty good guess." She was astounded – how could someone be that accurate, simply by looking at the sun?
"I'm cheating a little really." Remus attempted to smile, but it was rather strained. "At this time of year, there's always a shadow there on the door at about half-six."
You must spend a hell of a lot of time in here to know that, Dorcas thought, I hope to Merlin I won't.
"You'll probably end up spending a lot of time in the hospital wing." He muttered apologetically.
Just shatter all my hopes why don't you, she thought sourly, whilst outwardly merely replying, "Great, I can't wait to get in that quality time with the first years who've sprouted tentacles that day."
It was a motley crew that had assembled in the hospital wing that night; two teenagers – one exhausted, with deep bags below his eyes the other varying between frustrated and impatient in mood – a thin-lipped witch who held a handkerchief screwed up in her hands, a younger witch, who glanced around nervously, giving the teenagers pitying looks when she though no-one was looking and a woman dressed in a stiffly starched matron's outfit, who grasped a noxious concoction, rapping it with her fingers edgily.
"You're late Horace." McGonagall stated stiffly, glaring at Horace Slughorn, who panted heavily, his huge stomach heaving as he hunched over, attempting to catch his breath.
"Not entirely my fault Minerva," Horace's moustache twitched guiltily. "I – ah."
"Please don't bother searching for excuses Horace – I can smell the mead from here. Poppy?" McGonagall asked, turning to the nurse. "I don't suppose you have a sobering potion handy?"
"Oh come now Minerva," Horace interrupted, red-faced, both through embarrassment and intoxication. "I haven't drunk that much."
"You'll forgive me if I choose to distrust your observations on the matter." McGonagall said coolly.
"I'll go and get it." Poppy stood, "Horace – really!" she bustled off, her back rigid with disapproval.
"Dumbledore not here yet?" Sluhorn asked, heaving his bulk onto a stool that trembled precariously as he settled onto it. "The man's timekeeping is atrocious," he murmured, glancing at his wristwatch. "And Rosie had offered me another half-pint as well."
"Then it's just as well Dumbledore settled the meeting for now, or we'd still be here tomorrow." McGonagall noted primly, as Poppy hurried back, muttering under her breath about inebriated teachers and endangering students.
"Drink that down." Poppy pressed the vial into his hand, which Slughorn gazed at dazedly at first, then sharply examining the maker's seal, before sighing mournfully and drinking the potion.
"Not one of my own Poppy?" Slughorn sniffed, offended, clasping a clammy hand to his forehead. "I don't suppose you have a pain killer potion tucked away somewhere, Poppy m'dear."
McGonagall's lips puckered, her lips almost disappearing entirely with her disapproval, and her eyebrows almost flying away into her hair but she passed no comment. The two teenagers sat in stony silence, afraid that if they spoke, they would burst into laugher at Slughorn's dramatics.
"My sincerest apologies, for my lateness." Dumbledore strode in through the door, gracing Dorcas and Remus with a smile to relieve the tension, and a quick perfunctory nod to the remainder of the group.
Silence persisted throughout the room for a heartbeat, before Dorcas broke it, unable to contain her impatience any longer, anxious to know the outcome of Dumbledore's conferences and decision-making, but simultaneously dreading the discussion, as it was something she'd dearly love to avoid. However, her own confrontational nature had never allowed her to shy away from the truth – however much she detested it. "Dumbledore – sir – have you reached a decision?"
McGonagall frowned at her impatience, Pomona glancing sympathetically towards the two. "I have drawn my own conclusions – yes." Dumbledore nodded once before continuing. "Do you wish to hear them? They may require some small revisions, if you help me."
"Now – Pomona, Horace and Poppy – if you could begin the necessary preparations for the required potions without me?" Dumbledore asked, without taking his gaze off the two teenagers. Professor Sprout looked somewhat puzzled at this request and both Slughorn and Madam Pomfrey looked put out, although there was a slight difference – Slughorn disappointed at being refused the satisfaction of his insatiable curiosity and taste for gossip, and Poppy annoyed for having an extra workload. Still all three left without complaint, as the first niggling suspicion – that Dumbledore had not informed everyone of all the details, that he alone knew the entire tale of the sorry affair – began to worm their way into Dorcas' mind.
"Now Remus," Dumbledore began, his fingers steepled. "A crucial element lies within this question; otherwise I may be forced to make alternative arrangements – although I am sure that we will be able to make the circumstances work."
Remus nodded uncertainly and Dorcas frowned, perplexed, her eyes darting towards Professor McGonagall, who appeared equally baffled. "After several days contemplation, and sleepless nights on the matter, I have come to a conclusion which I hope," he nodded to both of them. "You will both find satisfactory. Baring in mind the logistics of the situation, it seems impossible for us to create fortifications – such as the Shack – in time for the next full moon."
"But why? Sir." Dorcas interrupted, belatedly tagging 'sir' to the end of the question.
"Preparations such as the willow, the tunnel and the shack itself are all rather time consuming," Dumbledore informed her, "Are particularly conspicuous and a treaty must be drawn up with the centaurs before we can begin to prepare anything that encroaches on the forest."
"Why?" Dorcas frowned, ignoring McGonagall's disapproving stare. "Surely we can just build something in the forest if we want to? How could the centaurs stop us?"
Dumbledore looked slightly disappointed, as though Dorcas had fallen short of his expectations. "Because in doing so we would wreak havoc with years of negotiation with the centaurs – we have their good will; for the moment. Building something in the forest would certainly jeopardize our relationship - you must remember that is not only our forest but also theirs. And as for what they could do! The centaurs could persuade the less intelligent creatures to reject us, making the forest hostile to any person entering – and also the grounds – and much more besides; I do not doubt their intelligence or resourcefulness – and neither should you."
Dorcas gave a perfunctory nod, feeling thoroughly chastised. "Thus, as we cannot make other arrangements, I propose that we undertake this enterprise in controlled circumstances."
"Controlled circumstances?" Dorcas was stumped – as was Remus, by the frustrated look on his face. "How on earth d'you get controlled circumstances with two werewolves for Circe's sake?"
"You are both aware that werewolves are only a danger to humans – unlike their wolven brethren – and other creatures can interact with them, within reason?" Dumbledore asked patiently.
"Oh!" Remus, at least, seemed to have grasped what Dumbledore was talking about. "Sir – are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"If I could read your thought Remus, I might be able to answer that – as it is, you will have to enlighten the rest of us," Dumbledore sounded a trifle amused, but his eyes still lacked their usual twinkle and the serious undertone in his voice had not gone.
"Well," Remus began slowly, thinking through each sentence, each phrase carefully. "Is your idea – that we transform, accompanied…by animagi?"
There was a tantalizing pause, which hung in the air, before McGonagall spoke, seemingly forgetting Dorcas and Remus' presences entirely." Surely not Albus?" She glanced worriedly at him. "It's far too risky – it would jeopardise the lives of -" she tailed off as Dumbledore gave her look which clearly said, let me finish.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said firmly. "Considering three students have spent the last eight full moons in the company of a werewolf and nothing has gone amiss, we know it can be done safely."
A moment of clarity arrived for Dorcas and instantly, the pieces fell into place, understanding Dumbledore's idea. "Besides, Minerva," Dumbledore was saying as Remus pinched Dorcas, startling her from her reverie, who in return, kicked him, hard enough to make his eyes water. Particularly juvenile, she knew – but she couldn't resist. "You'll be there as well, I hope."
McGonagall arrowed her eyes at Dumbledore, "That's presuming I am willing to be there Albus." Her gaze flickered momentarily on the students for a second, before she focussed on Dumbledore once more, eyes intent.
"As I said," Dumbledore replied, with a small note of amusement and a sly wink at Dorcas and Remus. "I hope."
"And where would this…experiment," McGonagall emphasized 'experiment' drawing it out, and leaving everyone else in no doubt as to her views on the matter. "Be?"
"I propose the Shack – unless there is some particular objection to it as such?" Dumbledore said, "Using an extension charm, of course." He added, nodding at Remus, who had opened his mouth to interrupt.
"So, Dumbledore – sir – what is this crucial element?" Remus asked, baffled, but it was Dorcas who replied.
"It's simple – it's not going to be safe if you reject me – wolves don't always accept others into their pack – that's the important point. You might even chase me off 'your territory'." Dorcas interrupted, with a half-smile and heavily lidded eyes – by Merlin she was tired!
Dumbledore smiled, pleased with her intuition, which hadn't been apparent earlier. "Spot on Dorcas – and so I put the question to you Remus – do you think that, on the full moon, you will reject Dorcas?"
Remus frowned, deep in thought, and Dorcas caught a glimpse of what Remus might be like in twenty years, standing proud, with lines abundant perhaps, but laughter lines most evident. It faded as quickly as it came, as if it had never been, as Dorcas blinked, a stream of tears flooding one eye. She rubbed it, grinding her knuckle against her eyelid, although she knew (as she had been told time and time again) that doing so would in fact make her eyes water more.
"I think," Remus had begun and Dorcas forced herself to listen, blinking rapidly in an effort to stay awake. "That, that kind of decision is up to the pack leader…and, I'm no longer the pack leader." Remus shook slightly, like a cow casting away an irksome fly, which it couldn't evade. "Sirius – Black – is."
"But he's expelled!" McGonagall interjected, frowning. "How will that work? Must we reinstate him?"
Dorcas gasped at this unexpected development, shocked, that this had happened – Black had been expelled? Hermione and Lily had said that Dumbledore had decided to expel no-one. Had they been misinformed, or had Dumbledore merely changed his mind? And did he deserve that? Even Snape hadn't been punished that harshly, and a hefty portion of the blame for this affair was his…Dorcas' fingers curled around her wand and she resisted the urge to hex something. She'd disliked Black – that much was certain – he'd teased her mercilessly about her height since first year, hexed people for fun and she'd even been made a werewolf because of him…but she was still alive because of him – the only reason her heart was still beating, that she was still having these thoughts was because of him.
Something in her had changed – she noted – but then, this sort of situation did have the slight drawback of forcing you to grow up quickly. Remus' influence was particularly evident, she decided - talking with Remus before had cooled her anger towards the whole affair. Remus was like that, she supposed, his presence was soothing – would she be like that one day? – Dorcas suppressed a snort, sensing it would be slightly inappropriate, but inwardly, she guffawed at the notion. Still, although she'd dearly love to curse Black to hell and back again (and possibly several more times for good luck), a burning ire, which she thought she would possess for many years, searing her soul but she also felt pity for him. Pity – being where and who she was, this was perhaps the most stunning revelation of the night. Nobody – not even Dorcas herself – would have expected this emotion from Dorcas – extreme rages and frozen, wooden calm perhaps, but not pity – never pity.
"I suppose," Dumbledore began almost hesitantly, and if Dorcas didn't know better, she would've sworn that Dumbledore was surprised – shocked even. "That we shall have to do something about that."
The Hogshead, Sirius had quickly discovered, was an interesting place, if you weren't inclined to be shocked at the clientele nor its squalor. Aberforth, the barkeep, was a taciturn man, reticent and surly the majority of the time, cutting the rest. Still, it was a good place to distract yourself, despite its close proximity to Hogwarts. He rubbed a dirty glass half-heartedly with a cloth, but the dirt was compressed into the veins of the glass, deep cracks that should have drink slopping out of its sides by all rights.
The Ministry hadn't been to snap his wand yet – that was some small mercy. A large muggle bridge just outside of London had exploded the other day, hurling debris and soot up to a mile into the air and littering its surroundings with rubble – a Deatheater attack no doubt, but at any rate, it meant Sirius was safe – for the moment.
He'd contemplated running away at one point – transforming and taking off into the wilds, but he knew he couldn't do that – his pride, the only thing he had left, and it was severely depleted, wouldn't allow him, nor would his sense of honour – he would except the outcome no matter what. The dreaded howler from the Potters hadn't arrived either, but it was only a matter of time – after his expulsion was made public, it would be only a matter of seconds – he'd have disappointed them so much, he thought. It had never mattered to him before now, but then again, you can only be expelled once.
"Boy." Aberforth was gruff at the best of times, and it had taken Sirius a while to get used to the smell of goat that followed him about. "Get over 'ere. You've got a message."
"I don't want it." Sirius didn't want any contact with anyone else – Merlin knew, it could only be bad.
"Now boy!" Aberforth barked and Sirius scuttled over, red-faced, but unwilling to bait the wizard. Aberforth had turned him into a goat on his first night here, and Sirius wasn't willing to run the risk again. A grubby letter was thrust into his hands, which Sirius, after a moment's hesitation, tore open, unable to contain his anxiety.
"What's it say?" Aberforth asked, plainly curious, after Sirius had scanned the page a few times.
"Dumbledore wants to meet me," Sirius glanced up, confused, angry and afraid. "He wants to make a deal." Aberforth's face closed up at the mention of Dumbledore, and with a heavy grunt, he spun around, stalking back behind the bar.
"Well, c'mon boy!" he snapped, after Sirius had scrawled a reply on the back, attaching it to the owl Aberforth had chucked at him. "Come 'n help me serve the customers!"
Hermione glanced up as Lily threw a book down in frustration, squawking, "We've been looking through the library for days, and there's nothing, nothing at all! This is useless!" She folded her arms over her chest, glaring angrily at the pile of books that lay in front of her, as though they'd committed some grave offence.
"There's got to be something!" Hermione argued back, carefully marking her place in the book she was looking through, and shutting it. "Surely!"
Alice blew upwards, levitating her fringe. "It doesn't make sense," She agreed. "You'd have thought there'd at least be one idea for a solution in here."
"It's not a lack of information that's the problem," Hermione frowned. "We've found plenty of those – it's just we haven't found any viable solutions."
A thought nagged the back of Hermione's mind, swirling and eddying in the deepest depths of her mind, difficult to reach and even more difficult to ignore. There were methods, things she'd heard – in the future of course…Wolfsbane – that had been invented by Marcus Belby in 1987, but she didn't want to make it herself – to steal his life's work was just wrong, whichever way you put it, and besides, she'd never made it before – suppose she got it wrong?...however, was there anything wrong with simply…speeding up the progress? She could contact him; give him a few notes and ideas. Thank Morgana that Belby was already reasonably well known – that would give her an excuse for writing to him…but there was something else, something she should know, but couldn't quite grasp – it was there she knew, just waiting to emerge, and when it did – she would be waiting.
Sirius clutched a bottle of butterbeer, in a small shop, down a side street in Hogsmede, which he'd never seen before. He would have liked something a little stronger before meeting Dumbledore – a couple of hundred firewhiskys perhaps. Being drunk out of his mind was a state that currently seemed rather appealing.
The waitress – who looked at least forty, had bad teeth and peroxide blonde hair – had winked at him as he'd ordered, and Sirius perhaps out of sheer habit or nerve, had encouraged her – and now as she kept popping over to him 'to see how he was', bending low and giving him an eyeful of cleavage, which although he could appreciate, was hardly in the mood to.
"Sorry, love," he winked cheekily. "The mood's just not there today."
"Maybe another time," the waitress looked him over again.
"Maybe." He nodded, dismissing her, before turning back to stare into his butterbeer, and nearly jumping out of his skin. Dumbledore stood before him.
"Enjoying yourself?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow disdainfully.
"Not really," Sirius replied truthfully, wishing that Dumbledore would tell they were going elsewhere.
"Just a minute." He strode over to the waitress, muttering something that Sirius couldn't hear, a quick and whispered conversation, which was over before Sirius knew it, Dumbledore returning and hauling him to his feet with surprising strength, as Sirius slopped butterbeer everywhere. "Penelope's a rather good friend of mine – there's a room where we can discuss this in private." Dumbledore said stiffly slipping under the counter, as Sirius tried not to clear a pretty disturbing mental image. He watched, his anxiety growing, as Dumbledore yanked a tattered poster of an old band off the wall, tapping the empty space with his wand three times. Sirius watched flabbergasted as the wall shifted, rippling underneath to form a door – just as it had Diagon Alley.
"Well come on then." Dumbledore strode through the door and Sirius hurried after him, clutching his wand tightly for comfort. The room was revealed to be of a much grander order than the café, with comfy chairs and drapes, which reminded Sirius of his own home, stifling and oppressive in its splendour. Dumbledore settled himself at the head of a table gesturing for Sirius to join him.
"I'm not going to bother dredging up in detail every reason you were expelled, Sirius." Dumbledore began, and he frowned as Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. "As we both know precisely why you were. However circumstances have arisen which I must discuss with you." Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh, and the anxiety in Sirius' chest tightened. "Your foolishness, your betrayal of your friend's trust for a prank, caused your expulsion. However," he continued, and Sirius leant forward hopefully. "I am willing to allow you back to Hogwarts – on several conditions. You must be present for Dorcas' transformation, and all subsequent ones, I should think – Remus will be able to lend her his experience and comfort – but without the pack leader there-"
"He may chase her away." Sirius finished, understanding Dumbledore's meaning. "And as I'm the pack leader you need me there to accept her."
"Correct. Secondly, you must obey Minerva's instructions to the letter on the night – one toe out of line, and your expulsion will be final. You shall receive a different punishment in school of course…Finally; it is my wish for you to join the Order when you leave school." Dumbledore interlocked his finger and sat back, calmly awaiting Sirius' reply.
Sirius was enthused – a return to Hogwarts and he could join the Order, the elite fighting against Dumbledore? It sounded too good to be true. He didn't pause to think that perhaps it was, instead jumping at the chance to return to Hogwarts – a hope he'd given up cherishing." What do I have to do?"
"You will report to the Order the conditions within the school, regarding House enmities, particular problems and suspect Deatheaters. However, your main duty is to detail every nook and cranny of the castle and make it defensible."
Sirius listened, drinking in Dumbledore's words, before he frowned. "But Voldemort wouldn't attack Hogwarts…would he?"
Dumbledore gave him a penetrating look and Sirius started. But why would Voldemort want to attack Hogwarts? What possibly could lie at Hogwarts for him?
"For the moment you don't need to know – suffice to say that a possibility exists. You wouldn't be working on your own of course – Mister Snape will be aiding you in this."
"What?" Sirius spluttered, jumping to his feet. "Dumbledore - Snape and I have hated each other since day one - you can't possibly expect -" his voice tailed off under Dumbledore's pointed look, but Sirius rallied his spirits and continued, "You don't understand sir - Snivelly - Snape, is the most revolting piece of Deatheater trash to ever surface from it's lair!"
"If you don't refrain from these accusations then I am afraid I will be forced to withdraw my offer entirely. I am aware that you both harbour a dislike for one another Sirius, and I am not expecting you to like one another. I am asking you to work together."
Sirius was dumbstruck – in hell would he work and be polite to Snape of all people – it was an impossible task. Dumbledore had truly gone off his rocker. He quickly amended that last thought as Dumbledore fixed his piercing gaze on Sirius, who gulped, but stood his ground. He could not work with Snape – he would not –
"I am asking you both to behave as adults and co-operate – is that truly too great a task?" Dumbledore asked, "Neither can do this task on your own, and a partner will help."
Sirius slumped, "And I can't go back to Hogwarts otherwise?" he asked, knowing the answer before Dumbledore said it – yes. It was almost worth not going back to Hogwarts, if he had to work with Snivelly of all people!
"No, I'm afraid not." Dumbledore looked stern, "Are you willing to accept these terms?"
Am I willing to accept them? - Sirius thought, eyeing Dumbledore thoughtfully. To work alongside Snape was a painful, unbearable thought, but if he couldn't return to Hogwarts otherwise…he couldn't imagine a life expelled from Hogwarts, didn't want to. He pictured the disgrace, the embarrassment and the shame from all he knew and many he didn't. Was it worth it? – he wouldn't see James if he didn't attend Hogwarts – or worse still, he would see him in the holidays, when James came home, subject to anger and icy treatment, and be forced to watch as James grew into a real wizard, whilst he watched from the sidelines – he couldn't live with that. "I accept. How do we seal the agreement?"
"An Unbreakable Vow, should suffice, I think." Dumbledore leant forward. "Have you weighed your every thought, every possible outcome?"
An Unbreakable Vow? Sirius' confidence in proceeding faltered momentarily – he'd heard about Unbreakable Vows – if you broke one, you died – was it worth forming one in order to return to Hogwarts? He remembered his fate if he didn't return with a wince – even an Unbreakable Vow was worth that. He nodded, eager to escape Dumbledore's piercing gaze and disapproving tones, to walk back into Hogwarts and return home – Unbreakable Vow or no. "Very well then," Dumbledore replied. "Penelope?" he called, and after a slight pause, the waitress entered the room.
"Sweet Circe I hate this!" Penelope waved at Sirius who watched, astonished as she stuck her tongue out and wriggled her nose, concentrating, straining as if to remember something. Her face shifted and changed under her skin, wrinkles evaporating, skin rippling, almost bursting through the seams and Sirius flinched. A few seconds later a younger woman stood before him, her hands on her hips as she frowned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Everything still here?" she asked.
"You appear to have retained everything this time. Sirius, meet Penelope." Dumbledore introduced them without smiling, but an amused gleam lingered in his eyes. Sirius almost flushed – embarrassed, but recovered his equilibrium and his confidence, quickly.
"Sorry about before," He apologised, "If I'd been aware-"
"But you weren't." Penelope extended a hand. "I'm Pen."
"Are you-" Sirius asked, unsure of whether he was asking if she was a member of the Order, or how she did that. Fortunately, Penelope – Pen – seemed to have anticipated those questions.
"I'm a member of the Order – yes. Unfortunately I'm stuck as a liaison for the moment," She grimaced, leaving Sirius in no doubt as to her opinion on that. "And I'm also a metamorphmagus – it means I can change my appearance at will – so no, I'm not really forty – I'm thirty one in January. You'll be reporting to me."
Sirius grinned. "So you can change your appearance to – anything? That could make for some interesting times -" he broke off as Pen flashed him an irritated glance
"Mhmm." Pen nodded, and her white blonde bob shrunk rapidly into her skull, turning a noxious shade of green, before spiking itself into a Mohican. A few seconds later, she changed it back, concentrating furiously her tongue poking out of her mouth. "You needed me sir?"
"We need to form an Unbreakable Vow." Dumbledore nodded. "Would you be our Bonder, Pen?"
"Not a problem." Pen withdrew her wand, giving it a quick flick. "Looks okay – I haven't done one of these in a while."
Sirius grasped Dumbledore's right hand, watching apprehensively as Pen lowered her wand to the link between the joined hands. After a brief pause, it was Dumbledore who spoke.
"Do you, Sirius, consent to watch over, and accept Dorcas during her transformation?"
"I will," said Sirius, and a thin fork of brilliant flame issued from Pen's wand, twining it's way around their linked hands.
"Will you accept, and follow Minerva's orders during the night of the full moon, whilst she accompanies, to the best of your ability?"
"I will," Sirius said, watching entranced, as another flame of tongue wound from the wand, interlinking with the first to form a delicate, fiery chain.
"Will you join the Order as a full member, upon leaving Hogwarts, and whilst in Hogwarts, strengthen its defences and discover as many aspects of the school as possible?"
"I will."
"And will you, Sirius Black, co-operate with Severus Snape, and aid him and accept his aid, in your work, to the best of your ability?"
There was a momentary pause, as Sirius struggled with the idea. Pen stared down at him, confused, whilst opposite him, Dumbledore looked on solemnly. "I will."
A final fiery tendril crept from the wand, linking the others and binding Sirius inextricably, to Dumbledore, to the Order and to the Light.
A/N: So for this chapter, I forced myself to sit down and make myself see where this story was going, which resulted in several changes, which may have been apparent in this chapter - the upside being I now (pretty much) know precisely where it's going (although it may be subject to change)!
Anyway, thanks so much everyone for all the ideas and advice on the last chapter: I have come up with my plan, I haven't quite revealed it yet...but feel free to guess!
As always, thanks to everyone who's read this fic so far, added me to your alerts etc. but as always especially my reviewers, whose reviews keep me going and make me aspire to be a better writer!
LotL101: Your review about Dorcas' reaction inspired the opening (well, majority) of this chapter, so a huge thank you - as this chapter wouldn't be like this without you!
WuHaoNi: The future will be coming soon, I promise (possibly even in the next chapter), as I haven't shown enough of it recently, but unfortunately, these last chapters have been really dominated by the events in the past. However, I hope I'll be able to include it soon!
Miss.Moonstar: I really liked that idea, but I felt it was a little overused, but to be truthful, I'd almost forgotten about Wolfsbane, so thanks to you (and Thread Magic) I've included it - although whether Belby will reply must wait to be seen...
MoonNightLover: I'd love to make them animagi, but my thoughts on this are concrete - but I can't tell you as it'll spoil stuff! However, I can say, that if they do become animagi, it'll take them a long time (several years), so that might put them off a little.
Aly Martin: Suggestions don't matter particuarly, I'm just glad to know that people read this and are happy with it (as that makes me happy that I'm doing a decent job on this!)
suisei no mitsukai: Wow, you practically went through all the pro's and con's I did - and I have to admit, one of your thoughts really influenced this chapter ('asking for a fight') so a HUGE thank you there! I'm really flattered that you're reading my story, especially because of all the pitfalls of time-travel fics, and as I said before, I haven't abandoned the future (or Enid) - they've simply had to take a backseat for a while, as the events in the past take centre stage, but the next chapter, should (hopefully) include it.
Thread Magic: As I mentioned before, my thoughts on Wolfsbane hadn't really evolved that much, but I decided to include it in the end, so thank you, and hopefully you like this update!
Enough of my rambling !
