Happy New Year! (A little late, but that is my M.O.). I want to thank you all for your patience and reviews once again, kindly but insistently nudging me along. Life gets away from me a little during the holidays (starting in like... November), so I took this whole weekend to get my head back into the groove and actually write something. So, please enjoy this next installment!

-Cat

Chapter 21

Unknown/Known

Unknown

He was given food and water. But the delivery was arrhythmic. He could not count the days by when it appeared. Sometimes Pyrites would bring it. But more often, it would just materialize in the gloom, heels of bread and water bottles. Aging fruit. A cheese sandwich.

Sometimes Pyrites would come with no food at all. Overflowing with words and devoid of any concrete answers.

"Hello, Remus."

"Why haven't you killed me?" Remus rasped.

Pyrites' face molded itself into something gentle. "I'm sorry. I still have use for you. Besides, killing is such a waste, don't you think?"

As if Remus would respond. Time was stretched thin, into black strands of consciousness, broken by silver dreams that seemed more real than waking. He tried to hold on to them, afraid of the urgent need to fill his head with static instead of memory. He had no idea how long he had been here. Only that the first moon had not yet risen.

It frightened him that time was ceasing to matter.

"Do you know why you're useful?"

He didn't.

"I've watched you for a long time, Remus. The victory of the wizarding world was your greatest loss. Tragic. But… beautiful in a way."

The voice was low and narrative. Soothing like poison.

"What intrigues me about you is the way you continue to… hold on to things. How long are you planning on suffering the way that you do?"

"What does that mean?" Whispered. His throat was parched.

"Your grief makes you weak. There is no glory in weakness. Your love for them was a weakness. It made you soft, made you deny your true nature. And yet when you were free of them, you continued to dwindle in your loss. I know you're intelligent. You could be great, Lupin. You could have become more. Yet here we are."

"You're much more than this."

His brain lurched, struggled to pick them the threads, sort them into a pattern that made sense. But nothing made sense here, in this desolate place. He was not even certain this place existed. He was beginning to feel… distant. Like he was deep underground, miles beneath stone. Or so far above the atmosphere that the only other beings were the stars. And Pyrites.

"I used to be like you. I loved. I lost. I could never heal, until the Dark Lord opened my eyes. I didn't need to heal. I needed to transcend useless… attachments."

"Love is not something to overcome," Remus murmured. He did not even know why he was speaking to him. Perhaps to keep the poison from seeping past his guard.

"You seem very confident about that."

"What about Ileana?" Remus asked, remembered. "You loved her."

Pause.

"Yes. She was mine once. But she is gone. My friends deserted me. And I suffered, Lupin. But the Dark Lord… he knows abandonment. He showed me that finding a reason for death is pointless torment. The only power is in overcoming it."

"You can't bring him back," Remus whispered, without knowing if it was true. In the darkness, Pyrites' eyes glittered.

"I will restore him to his full power. And you will be trapped here until I do. Unattached. Then you can either join him or die. The choice is yours."

Pyrites stood then, his white hands like ghosts. Remus shifted, hearing the clank of chains when he moved. The iron on his wrists was ice cold.

"You never said why I was here."

The Death Eater's face stayed as blank as it always was, but the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. Softly mocking, eyes dead.

"You're an intelligent man, Lupin. Figure it out."

Then Pyrites swept away, steps loud on the stairs leading away from this nowhere. He crossed the floor above Remus' head, then all sound vanished, sucked into a vacuum. Remus knew by now that he would not hear another living soul until Pyrites returned. What frightened him was that he was almost desperate for that moment.

June 16, 1986

"He was going from his assigned exit from the Ministry to the apparation point. There were others with him, but we believe that he was the target. The ambush was scheduled for exactly when he got off work."

"How would they know? His schedule changes."

"They must have had someone watching," mused Nelson Hapley. His gaze went to the pile of Weasleys in the waiting room. "The question is, why Arthur Weasley?"

Sirius clenched his jaw and looked helplessly to where Harry was sitting next to Ron. He was mute and small in the large chair, his feet swinging above the ground. Ron was sniffling and Harry just watched, unsure how to comfort his friend. Fred and George were uncharacteristically silent. Percy was staring at the door, arm around Ginny. Molly had left with a healer through that same door about ten minutes ago.

Nelson had accompanied the Weasleys and Sirius from the Burrow to St. Mungo's Hospital. Since they'd arrived, Sirius had been firing a manic series of hushed questions, trying to get an understanding of what had happened. Nelson, patient as always, answered steadily. Now, he followed Sirius' eyes to the Boy-Who-Lived and his mouth tightened.

"Witnesses?" Sirius whispered to draw attention away from his godson.

"Just the rest of the group that was attacked," Nelson replied, a line between his eyebrows. "Wilkie Twycross and Vasilia Edgecomb, from the Department of Magical Transportation, and Rudy Williamson. He's an auror trainee and managed to keep his head and call for back-up. I was with the reinforcements."

"And could you identify any of the attackers?"

"No. There were four of them, all in black and masked."

"Four?" Sirius repeated incredulously. He swallowed. "Anything to differentiate anyone?"

"One was missing a finger."

Sirius' teeth ground together. "You sure?"

"Positive."

The bland waiting room faded into the background while Sirius wrestled down conflicting memories. Peter, balding and swollen with gluttony, a man engorged on cowardice. Peter silently offering Sirius hot chocolate and a listening ear.

Beside him, Nelson shifted from foot to foot and Sirius briefly considered telling him everything. His round, open face was difficult to read as he surveyed the children. He was a fierce auror and would make a good ally. After this, the re-founding of the Order of the Phoenix was inevitable.

"This should have been over years ago," whispered Nelson suddenly. His cheeks were drawn and forehead creased. Sirius wondered if he was imagining his own daughter among the pile of Weasleys, waiting on news of their father. "It was almost like it used to be. Why would those Death Eaters attack now if they have nothing to fight for?"

Sirius blew out a long breath. "Maybe they do," he said solemnly. Nelson glanced in his direction.

"You seem to be accepting that far too easily," he stated.

"Do I?"

Nelson said nothing.

"The Ministry is blind. They've been ignoring this for years. Too many have paid the price."

Nelson was now watching him soberly. "You aren't just speaking about Arthur Weasley, are you?" he asked in an undertone.

"No," Sirius answered shortly. Tension hummed like a live wire between him and the other wizard.

But before either could speak again, the silence was breached by the arrival of Bill and Charlie, escorted by Minerva McGonagall. Charlie took one look at Ron sniffling in his chair and hurried in his direction. Bill marched straight to Sirius, his face very pale beneath shaggy red hair.

"Is he okay? Where's mum? Is she with him? Did they catch who-"

"We don't have any updates on your dad yet," Sirius interrupted, trying to sound comforting. "Your mum is with the healers now. And… no they didn't catch those responsible."

Bill's face turned stormy. "Why not?" he demanded.

"They've got some of the best aurors working on it," Sirius assured him, partly hating himself for delivering the old line from his days in the department. But he did not know how to do this, how to be the responsible one, a part of the family and not a cold investigator.

Wait… Part of the family? When had Arthur become something more like an older brother and not just a friend?

"The best thing you can do right now is be there for your brothers and sisters," said Minerva softly, sensing Sirius' discomfort. "They need their big brother right now, Bill."

Bill bit his lip, suddenly seeming very young, all awkward limbs and freckles. But when he turned to survey his siblings, his expression becoming determined and he went to sit next to Percy. Sirius could not help but notice how much Bill reminded him of James at that age. The rock of the Marauders.

"I never thought I'd see the day that you were the adult in the room, Black," said Minerva.

"Adult seems like an exaggeration."

"Well it is certainly hard to take you seriously with that mustache." She smirked softly.

"Bollocks," Sirius muttered, remembering the decoration the twins had added to his face. Minerva rolled her eyes and waved her wand in his direction. There was a slight prickling sensation as the drawings disappeared.

"I suppose that was amusing for you," he said to Nelson, who had conveniently not pointed it out. Nelson shrugged and chuckled.

Harry had scooted over to make room for Charlie and was now staring at the huddle of Weasleys with large green eyes. To anyone else, his expression would have been indiscernible. But Sirius recognized himself there. A child unaccustomed to family.

The door opened and Molly Weasley walked in. Before she could even draw a breath, a storm of questions were hurled at her by seven scrabbling gingers.

"Dad's going to be fine," she announced loudly over them. Her red-rimmed eyes were warm. There was a loud cheer that made Nelson jump. Sirius grinned broadly. "He can take visitors, but you have to be gentle, okay?"

"Got it!"

"Gentle's my middle name!"

"It's Gideon, you lying-"

"The 'G' stands for Gentle!"

"I thought it stood for Git?"

"Oi!"

"Can I see him first?!"

"QUIET!"

Silence settled at Minerva's stern shout. Bill and Charlie smirked, while the younger children wore various looks of alarm. Minerva gestured for Molly to speak. Molly smiled at her wearily.

"The healers say the family can all go at once if we promise not to overwhelm him. You will not act like hooligans in the recovery ward." Molly glared around at her chagrined offspring. "Now. Follow me. Quietly."

The Weasleys trooped out of the waiting room, the twins pushing at each other while Percy shushed them irritably. Bill carried Ginny and Charlie had Ron by the hand. Soon, the waiting room felt empty. Sirius went over to where Harry was standing uncertainly by the vacated chairs.

"How about a game of gobstones while we wait?" he offered quietly, pulling a bag of magical marbles from his pocket.

"Okay."

They played somberly. Sirius had one ear on Minerva's soft conversation with Nelson, then eventually Nelson left and Minerva settled into a chair with a copy of Witches Weekly. Sirius was distracted enough that he got squirted with ink twice in a row (plus his marble-shooting hand was still throbbing from its earlier encounter with a wall). Harry managed a half-hearted snicker the second time.

"Are you worried about Mr. Weasley?" Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged.

"It's okay to be scared. I was scared on the way here."

"But you're braver than me," whispered Harry.

Sirius snorted and adjusted his position on the floor so that his back was against the chairs and his legs were stretched out in front of him.

"Brave doesn't mean not scared," he said softly. Harry glanced at him quizzically.

"Why?"

"Because you have to be scared to be brave. Otherwise you're just stupid."

Harry's somber facade cracked into a tentative smile. He gathered the marbles in his small, pale hands and murmured, "I was scared. But I think I was brave too?"

"You sure were, Prongslet," said Sirius, ruffling the already messy black hair. "Should we walk around?" he suggested.

"Okay," said Harry, looking like he wanted to ask more but decided against it. He glanced towards the door where the Weasleys disappeared.

"We'll come right back and see Mr. Weasley when he's not drowning in people."

St. Mungo's had plenty to see as they wound their way through the floors. There was even a gift shop on the ground floor, filled with sweets and various get-well cards, balloons, and stuffed animals. Sirius got Harry three fat toffee balls and made him promise to save one for later. Harry promised and stuck the third in his pocket, the wrapper crinkling. With Harry's sticky fingers in his, they meandered past waiting rooms and patients, keeping to the floors with less volatile patients.

It wasn't until Sirius glanced at a directory that he remembered who else would be here. Shame curled hotly in his stomach that he had not thought of it before. Quickly coming to a decision he leaned down to his godson.

"Come on, Harry," he said. "There's something I need to do."

The Permanent Spell-Damage Ward was bright and clean. Compared to other parts of the hospital that Sirius had seen, it was less sterile and more… lived in. What he imagined a muggle nursing home would be like. Each bed had a permanent resident, surrounded by their possessions, and in very few cases, their loved ones. Sirius' gut clenched with sympathy for those with empty bedsides, muttering to themselves or staring about aimlessly. But at the far end of the ward, there were two visitors that Sirius recognized.

"Merlin's beard," he whispered, spotting the smaller of the visitors. "There's someone up ahead that you need to meet, Hare."

Harry walked close to him, clutching his pant leg nervously as he surveyed the people in the ward. As they approached, Sirius avoided looking at the occupants of the beds, instead focusing on the intimidating old woman wearing a dark green dress, purple threaded shawl, and clutching a vulture hat and a red handbag in one wizened hand.

"Mrs. Longbottom," he said in greeting, causing her to look up at him. Her eyes widened with surprise.

"Well, well, well," she exclaimed croakily. "If it isn't Sirius Black in the flesh. What are you doing here?"

"Er, visiting," Sirius answered, not sure if he should be defending himself or not.

"Good," Augusta Longbottom said firmly and unsmiling. Sirius felt a modicum of relief at her approval. "It's been too long since they've had any visitors besides myself. And this must be Harry."

Her stern visage finally cracked a smile. Then, from around her long forest-green skirts, she pulled another little boy with a round face and frothy blond hair. "Come now, Neville, they don't bite," she scolded.

Neville Longbottom looked at Sirius dubiously with puppy brown eyes. Sirius tried to make himself look less... well, less vampiric for lack of a better word. He'd only met Frank and Alice's son on a few occasions. There was no place for infants in a war, and the war was what had all of Sirius' focus until Azkaban. But he was painfully aware of how close Neville had come from having the same fate as Harry. The children of the prophecy were meeting for the first time.

"Hullo, Neville. I'm an old friend of your mum and dad's," Sirius said with a smile. "And this here is Harry. You two are almost exactly the same age."

"Oh," whispered Neville shyly.

Harry, with a furtive glance at Sirius, copied his toothy smile. "Hullo, Neville," he repeated with the same gusto as Sirius. "My name is Harry Potter." Augusta looked between them with a frown puckering her forehead.

"He's taking after you," she stated, as if she were not sure it was a good thing.

"He's more like his dad, trust me."

"Was there really a difference? Frank used to tell me stories..." she trailed away, her gaze drawn back to her son.

Finally, Sirius turned to Frank and Alice. Or the shades of them. He swallowed. Frank was inert in his bed. Ever calm and confident, Sirius had never seen someone so... devoid of anything. Alice sat up on hers, bare feet as sickly pale as the linoleum floor. She seemed better than her husband, if Sirius could call it that. Frank had already been tortured for days before Alice had been caught. She rocked gently back and forth without any particular rhythm, as if she were in a boat lost at sea. As she stared around with glassy eyes, she twisted something brightly colored in her bony hands.

Sirius had been faced with every variation of madness in Azkaban, but never in people he considered his friends.

Slowly, he became aware of Augusta's steady watch over him. He loosened his clenched teeth to say... anything. But could not think of anything except, "She's so... child-like."

"Hmph," huffed Augusta, while sighing heavily through her nose. "You were all children."

A crack of emotion in the woman's hard voice ended her statement like walking over a cliff. She inhaled and clutched her vulture hat tighter.

"And now... an entire generation lost. Dead or... worse." She paused to glance at Harry and Neville. They had overcome their shyness and were exploring the ward together, Neville clearly showing Harry his favorite spots. Sirius wondered how often the shy boy was confronted with this stark reality.

"This recent breakout," Augusta interrupted suddenly. "Are things going to get worse?"

Sirius unstuck his tongue to answer, "I hope not." But as he thought of Arthur downstairs, he knew that it was already worse.

"They can't get worse. We need more time."

"You don't believe he's gone for good then?" Sirius asked, surprised.

"I've never been accused of being an optimist. He's still out there, biding his time. And Merlin help our children when he returns."

"Yeah."

Merlin and God and anyone else. Suddenly, instead of two little boys playing in a white hospital ward, he saw the hope of the wizarding world.

"Yes, Alice dear?"

Sirius' neck snapped around. Alice was standing now, humming softly to herself as she tottered towards them. Sirius hated how bent her back was, how she still seemed to tremble with aftershocks. When she reached them, she held out her open palm to him. Sitting on the transparent skin, covering cracks and spider veins, was a Drooble's bubble gum wrapper. Sirius stared down at the offering.

"You have to take it," Augusta explained with a tone of resignation.

Sirius did.

"Thank you," he said to Alice, feeling the waxy paper crinkle between his fingers. She was shuffling away, her mother-in-law watching mournfully.

"She does that. I don't... I never know what it means."

"Only the wrappers?" Sirius asked quietly.

"No. Sometimes the candy too. Rarely. I'm sorry, you don't have to keep it-"

"I want to." Something was dawning on him. Something… incredible. "Do Alice and Frank get any visitors besides yourself?"

"Not that I know of," Augusta answered quizzically. "A few Order members during the first year but… they stopped coming after a while."

"Is there a regular healer on duty here?"

"A few. Fergus Hummel, Genie Applebee, Debra Delwittle, Polly Sandwick…why?"

"I'm… testing a theory. Any of them here today?"

"Yes, Genie is. Genie!"

Excitement growing, Sirius saw a middle-aged woman approaching. She looked rather tired, but there were laugh lines around her mouth. She skirted around Harry and Neville, with a spark of recognition for the Boy-Who-Lived. When she continued towards them, Sirius could tell she now knew him as well.

"Genie, this is Sirius Black," Augusta introduced.

"I know." Healer Applebee shook his hand warmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black."

"Sirius, please."

"Sirius, then. You are a friend of Alice and Frank's?"

"Yes," Sirius answered, taking note of the present tense that the healer used. He was definitely starting to like her. "I've finally made it 'round to visit."

"It's always a joy to have visitors on the permanent ward," said Healer Applebee with a smile. In the background, Harry and Neville were giggling. "Especially children. Lifts everyone's spirits, I think."

"You took note of the visitors Alice and Frank had?"

Healer Applebee hesitated. "I didn't write them down…"

"Was there ever a man, kind of sickly looking, young, but still going a little gray?" he blurted in a rush.

"I-yes." She looked rather shocked. "Yes. He came a few times."

"Did he?" Sirius said faintly, amazed that he was right.

"First was immediately after they were admitted. Albus Dumbledore was here and spoke with him for a little while."

That would have been about three weeks after Halloween. "Was he… did he seem okay?"

"That day? No. Not at all," the Healer sighed, her eyes distant. "But he seemed better when he returned months later."

"He returned? Did Alice give him anything?"

"A half-empty box of Every Flavor Beans," answered the Healer promptly. "I remember because he asked me about it."

Sirius felt like there were little explosions going off inside his head. He gestured for her to continue while his tongue remembered how to function.

"I saw him several more times that year, through autumn. Stopped abruptly after that. He was never one for conversation, but he was always polite. It's odd, most people are quite-well-put off by this ward," sighed Genie. She scanned her patients with a wistful frown. "I think the suffering makes them uncomfortable. It's very visible here."

Sirius showed his agreement with a quick nod.

"But he seemed to find it comforting, being with Alice and Frank. He was relaxed here. It's nice to not have to hide all the time, don't you think?"

Sirius gave Genie Applebee a sharp look, walls slamming down suddenly. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his tone bland.

"Only that we're all a little bit broken. Funny, how we spend an awful lot of energy trying to prove otherwise. Anyway, he seemed to understand that."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed hoarsely. He studied Augusta. She was now seated with Alice, who was once more rocking in place on her bed. The springs squeaked rhythmically beneath her. But Augusta did not move to stop her daughter-in-law, only spoke a little louder about Neville's latest accomplishment (something involving lemon meringue pie and further proof that Neville did indeed exhibit signs of magical ability).

"I didn't see him for a long, long time after that," Genie continued after a minute. "Not until… oh, it must have been December last year?"

"What?!"

Healer Applebee glanced at him sharply at his exclamation. Sirius barely noticed. His heart was still remembering how to beat. Breathlessly, he stumbled over his next few words. "He was-you saw him here? Just-he was here?"

"Yes he was." She paused, her brow knitting. "Who is he? Should I have told someone?"

"No," Sirius replied quickly. "No. He… he's a close friend. He's been missing."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't realize-"

"You wouldn't have. The paper wouldn't have published anything." Bitterness crept onto his tongue as he said it. Merlin, he could have known so much sooner if the Daily Prophet gave even a smidgeon of a damn about missing werewolves.

"Well. It was a strange visit. A couple weeks before Christmas. I had the night shift and it must have been the wee hours of the morning that I stumbled across him. He was right there, by the window." She gestured to the magical window with the sun streaming through empty space. "It was way past visiting hours, but he looked quite ill so I figured he had snuck out of another ward."

Sirius highly doubted this. Much more likely was that Remus had somehow flouted hospital security measures.

"Anyway, I was very startled as you might imagine. He was very apologetic, but he didn't seem quite… quite the same as before?" She was chewing her lip now, the quizzical line between her eyebrows permanent. "I mean he was older, obviously."

"What did he say?"

"Not much. Just that he was sorry for sneaking in. Didn't explain why he'd come in the middle of the night, but he did say something strange. He asked if anything had changed, and I said no. Then he said, 'Alice knows her attacker.' Funny thing to say, don't you think? Not that she knew. She knows. Present tense." As she spoke, Genie's gaze wandered tenderly to the wispy head of her patient.

"Alice knows," Sirius repeated softly, trying the phrase in his mouth.

"Of course, I said they were in Azkaban. But he said 'Not all of them.' Then he turned to leave."

"Did he name anyone?" Sirius asked, his voice lowering with intensity.

But the healer shook her head sadly. "No. Just said that he couldn't prove anything. That no one would believe his word. Then he was gone. Never saw him again. I did order a battery of new cognitive tests for Alice. Discreetly, mind you," she added, under her breath. Her eyes flickered to the elderly Longbottom matriarch. "No need to raise anyone's hopes. Good thing too, nothing came of it. But I do wonder… what would make him think she knew?"

"No idea," lied Sirius grimly.

"So you're saying," said Minerva McGonagall in an undertone. "That Alice Longbottom gave Remus a box of Every Flavor Beans and somehow this means that Pyrites organized the attack on her and her husband and plans to resurrect You-Know-Who?"

"Why is it that my reasoning always sounds ridiculous when you say it?"

"Black."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Sirius."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying!" Sirius threw his hands up in the air for emphasis. A few people in the waiting room shot curious glances his direction. He lowered his voice, zeroing in on Minerva. "Look, the box was full of gold beans. I only tried one, but I bet they all tasted disgusting. It's fool's gold! Like pyrite! The rock, not the name. He had to have been there when they were torturing the Longbottoms."

"That's a lot of logical leaps to make for someone in the permanent ward," Minerva muttered.

"I don't think there's much logic to it," Sirius replied quickly, his thoughts stewing in the euphoria of discovery. "Her brain is making connections without her control, possibly without her even knowing. Things that maybe she thought of just before she lost her mind. Then they got scrambled, but for whatever reason, she clung onto that one thing and she needed to tell someone."

"Or she doesn't like the yellow ones."

"So she collected them into a box and gave them to someone else?" Sirius hissed. "Trust me, Bertie Bott's boxes on average have about two to three yellow beans, and of those, one to two taste horrible. She had to take the time to put them together… 'Alice knows'... What else could she know? Do you think the number of beans matters? There were six-"

"Why in the name of Merlin do you know the average number of beans of certain colors off the top of your head?"

"Not important. Answer my question. Do you think the number of beans-"

"Sirius Black?"

A healer was standing in the door to the waiting room expectantly.

"That's me," Sirius said, standing.

"Arthur Weasley is requesting you and Mr. Harry Potter in his rooms." To her credit, the healer did not stare at Harry longer than was necessary. Harry shyly hurried to Sirius' side from where he'd been playing with the gobstones. "If you would follow me."

"We're coming," said Sirius. He turned back to McGonagall. "Tell Dumbledore what I said. And that Remus was here. And ask him about the number of beans."

Minerva huffed.

"Tell him," Sirius insisted. "Please." Finally, the professor nodded. Sirius grinned, then he took Harry's hand and exited the waiting room.

They were brought to a long, stark room divided by pale green curtains. The occupied beds were hidden from view, until they came to one where the curtains were pulled back. A Magical Law Enforcement officer was standing sentinel outside. At least the Ministry seemed to be taking this attack seriously. When they entered, Sirius was surprised to find only Molly sitting by the bedside with little Ginny in her lap.

"The boys went to the gift shop," Molly explained wearily. "They were bothering the other patients."

Sirius' lifted a corner of his mouth and looked to the bed. Arthur's face was bloodless and there was deep purple bruising around his closed eyes. Limp red hair was plastered to his forehead, the contrast making him look ghoulish. Sirius swallowed. He wanted to say that he did not look like he was going to be okay as Molly had said. But Harry's fingers was tightening on his, so he kept his mouth shut.

"He fell asleep. He was awake just minutes ago," Molly murmured. One hand absently stroked Ginny's hair. The other was clutching Arthur's. "The healers say the bruising from oxygen loss, but I didn't really follow the rest. He'll need to stay for several days under observation. There's more treatment too, but they said they'd send someone to explain…I just… I don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"Why Arthur? Is it because of Pettigrew? Or Pyrites? Or is it because we've taken you and Harry in-" She cut herself off suddenly. Sirius grimaced, hoping that went over Harry's head.

"We can talk about it later," he said firmly, sitting down on Arthur's other side.

Molly hummed apologetically.

"What, um… what did Dumbledore want to talk about earlier?"

Sirius found himself captivated by the rise and fall of Arthur's chest beneath the starched sheets. The excitement from earlier had vanished, replaced by a memory of the dead like a premonition. He knew too well the consequences of what was coming.

"I'm here to talk to you about the Order of the Phoenix."

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Review please?