AN: Sorry for the delay, it was a combination of the busy-ness of the season and a computer crash that wiped out a few chapters of my story. In retrospect, I like this rewritten chapter better anyway. Happy Holidays, whichever holiday you celebrate, and I post this story on the longest night here. We even got some snow tonight in my town, which doesn't happen often, so I'm feeling pretty festive here.
This situation with Sirius is somewhat of a plot hole in my opinion - why didn't Sirius protest? Why wasn't there a trial? It's actually a very horrible part of the stories if you think about it. This is the best way I could imagine the story.
Take care, stay safe, stay sane. I've found myself crying at random times by how much I miss my normal life, I see this as a sign that I need to write more.
Remus realized he was wasting time. He knew that he could only put off going to the quarantine ward for so long, yet still he found himself busying himself with bits and bobs on his desk, arranging and rearranging papers, and even cleaning off bits of debris. Finally, he realized he couldn't put it off any longer. He knew that deep, wiggling feeling of guilt in his stomach wasn't going to go away if his desk was clean and all the essays were graded. The fact that he failed Sirius and believed him guilty of betraying the Potters, well, that just showed his own bad character and cowardice. And he would have to face up to it, and face up to the man he betrayed by his disbelief. Tidying his desk would not help at all.
As Remus tucked his chair back under his desk and readied himself, he thought of that day once again, searching for some clue that he missed that he should have known that Sirius was innocent. Everyone was so joyful and excited at the fall of Voldemort – only those associated with the Potters were grieving. And Remus had the unique position of not only grieving for the Potters but also grieving for what he thought was the betrayal of his best friend Sirius and the death of Peter as well. It felt like his world had fallen apart as everyone else celebrated.
What did he miss? Dumbledore himself sadly told Remus what had happened. And everyone seemed to conclude it – Sirius was guilty. And then there was the most damning evidence of all – if Sirius had been innocent, why hadn't he protested his treatment? Reached out for help? Escaped? Remus didn't for one minute believe that even Azkaban could hold the wily marauder if he'd been wrongfully accused. So what did Remus miss?
Even as he asked this, though, he knew that it was just an exercise in trying to avoid the guilt. In the end, he had failed his friend – and Sirius and Harry had paid the price. If Remus had asked questions, or doubted, or seriously questioned others seemingly unquestioning belief that Sirius had gone bad, well, then things would have been different. And that was his greatest sin, the sin of accepting what he had been told. And for that, he knew, he had no real excuse. And for that, when Sirius would accuse him and say he could never forgive such a betrayal, he had no defense.
Sirius, on the other hand, was fretting himself.
"You said he was coming, right?" Sirius asked Harry again. "Right after class?"
"That's what he said," Harry confirmed. "It might take him a few minutes if he has some things to do, you know. He'll be here, he keeps his word."
"He barely recognized me when he saw me the other day," Sirius admitted. "I mean, I know prison may have changed me a bit . . ."
"I'm sure it was just the shock of seeing you," Harry tried to assure him. "I mean, you were kind of a mess – you sort of looked like a wild man from a book or something. You look much better now, all cleaned up."
"Do you think he hates me?" Sirius asked. "I mean, he thinks I've betrayed him all these years . . ."
"Dumbledore told him everything," Harry assured him. "He said Remus looked quite upset about it, and not the kind of upset that he hates you. I'll bet he feels bad he didn't know you were innocent for all those years."
"How was he supposed to know that?" Sirius scoffed. "Even Dumbledore thought I was guilty, and to be honest so did I – just not for the reasons that you all did."
"Well, you'll soon get to see for yourself because he's on his way," Harry told him, holding the map up for him to see. "See?"
"Well, I guess it's better to know," Sirius told himself, straitening his spine and mustering his courage. "If he hates me, he hates me."
"He's not going to hate you," Harry rolled his eyes. "Give the man some credit. Wasn't he one of your best friends in school?"
"I'm a little out of practice of people doing anything but hating me," Sirius admitted quietly, looking down. "School seems about a million years ago."
"Your self-pity is giving me a headache," Snape intruded on the conversation. "I am surprised by your lack of faith in your former comrade. But perhaps I shouldn't be, you knew him better than I. I assume by your actions that he was the most judgmental and rejecting of the marauders."
"Well actually . . ." Sirius admitted reluctantly.
"And obviously he never forgave even the smallest of infractions, insisting on revenge and retribution instead."
"Well, obviously . . ." Sirius looked away.
"Apply some logic and for Merlin's sake quit these maudlin musings," he growled. "Are all Gryffindors this pathetic?"
Sirius, surprisingly cheered by Snape's sneering comfort, did feel better. Remus hadn't ever really been one to condemn, he had actually been very logical and kind most of the time. The only time they ever really had a falling out was that time with Snape – and even then he had forgiven him relatively quickly when he realized Sirius was genuinely remorseful. The same thing could happen again.
"Harry?" They heard Remus' voice announce himself. "How are you feeling?"
"Still don't have Dragon Pox," he grinned. "Hi Professor, good to see you."
"Professor Snape, you are well?" he asked courteously.
"I am," he answered curtly. "But I doubt I'm the one you're here to see. Come around the side there and you can see him through a barrier."
Remus gulped and obeyed, going to the window indicated. When he looked through the window, he found himself face to face with Sirius Black. Skinny, haggard, scarred, but much more recognizable than last time – and definitely his childhood friend Sirius Black. Their eyes locked for a moment of intense gaze.
"I'm sorry . . ." they both began at the same time.
Suddenly, Sirius began to laugh, realizing that all of his fears were unfounded – this was the Remus he remembered, the man who had been the boy who had turned the Hufflepuffs eggs blue. Why had he been so scared of this man's censure? Remus saw the reaction, and began to have that reaction himself – this wasn't a scary and condemning Sirius, this was the Sirius who had filled up the Slytherin Quidditch teams' shoes with flobberworms. He found himself laughing as well, reveling in the relief and the abandon that he felt in seeing his friend well and out of prison.
"Remus," Sirius gasped, trying to breathe from laughing. "How did you get so old?"
"You're no spring chicken yourself," Remus laughed back. "When's the last time you looked in a mirror?"
"Well, there's no beauty treatments in prison," Sirius laughed, and his ease about it somehow made it easier for Remus to acknowledge.
"Well, my monthly issue doesn't exactly lend itself to aging well either," Remus laughed back.
"What a pair we are," Sirius wiped his eyes. "Two old has-beens, relying on the mercy of our old mortal enemy and the underaged son of our dead comrade to get our comrade who betrayed us?"
"Professor Snape's not really our mortal enemy anymore . . ." Remus protested.
"I don't mind," Snape chimed in. "I think any change in mortal enemy status needs to be approved by the subject of the status."
"I'm glad to see that the first meeting is over," Dumbledore smiled, entering the hallway. "It is good to see at least some of the marauders together again."
"And let me be clear that I am not one," Snape intoned. "Yes, I am somehow signed up for this insane plot to help catch Pettigrew, but I am not some sort of ersatz marauder."
"Would never dream of it, mate," Sirius grinned. "We wouldn't want to risk your reputation as the bad cop."
Snape, suddenly very uncomfortable at the sudden familiarity, decided to get this conversation back onto familiar ground. "We need a plan for Pettigrew," he said firmly. "All else hinges on that."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "We can continue with the food program, but I'm afraid it's possible that our capture of Sirius may have tipped him off."
"There was an interesting part of the story that Sirius told," Snape reflected. "He said in the aftermath of the Potter's death, he followed Pettigrew to several places before catching up with him, and one of those places was back to the Potter's house. Is that correct?"
"You were listening?" Sirius asked, shocked.
"Of course I was," Snape rolled his eyes. "Haven't you figured out by now how much of that interrogation was set up by me?"
"Why did you set me up like that?"
"I was investigating you of course," Snape told him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I was trying to determine whether you were the murdering death eater everyone believed or if you were actually innocent of what you had been accused. I enlisted Mr. Potter to help me with it, as I knew that you would be more apt to trust him with confidences than me, especially if you were innocent."
"So it was all one big game to see if I was innocent?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Snape answered pugnaciously. "Your explanations, your reasoning, and your self-sacrificing protection of your Godson all formed a picture that convinced me of your innocence."
"Why Snape, that's almost a compliment," Sirius blinked.
"I am willing to judge without prejudice," he intoned, implying it to be a singular ability.
"What was so interesting about him going back to the Potter's residence, Professor Snape?" Remus asked, feeling like he needed to intervene in what could quickly escalate.
"There has been a few things unaccounted for in the disappearance of the dark Lord," Snape told him, recognizing the redirection. "In the midst of the relief and the celebrating the ministry hasn't followed up on many of these things. But those of us that were . . . less celebratory at the time and who did not believe the Dark Lord to be killed have collected more data. One of the things that went missing at the time was his wand."
"So you think Pettigrew took it and hid it?" Remus asked.
"We have always suspected a Deatheater did it," Dumbledore told them. "It has always been a bit of a mystery. How would a deatheater have known in time that Voldemort would not have been successful in such a routine mission? But the wand was gone before I got there."
"Are you sure the wand wouldn't have been destroyed?" Harry asked.
"Wands aren't destroyed like that," Dumbledore answered. "It should have been left there. But a follower of Voldemort's would have wanted it to save for when he would come back."
"Hence another way of potentially flushing Pettigrew out," Snape told them. "If he believes we are tracking down the wand, he may come out of hiding to rescue it."
"But to do that Sirius will have to remember every detail of that night," Dumbledore told him. "Especially what happened after he went to the Potter's house that night."
"There was only one place he went to after the Potters," Sirius told him. "He went to Diagon Alley. Then he went straight to the muggle street where I cornered him."
"Or where he cornered you," Snape corrected.
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, confused.
"Very convenient place for him to have cornered you," Snape observed. "I think it was intentional that he met you there."
"I suppose," Sirius conceded. "He needed to confront me on a muggle street so there wouldn't be magical interference, and he could get away easier. The muggles could remember what he yelled."
"And the body count as well as his own, well, dismemberment would horrify the aurors enough to make them believe in your guilt," Snape nodded.
"We never thought of Peter as the brains of the operation," Sirius shook his head.
"It would not have worked as well but for one thing," Dumbledore said, his piercing blue eyes trained on Sirius. "Your utter and complete despair. Fudge was the first Auror there, if you remember. Do you know what convinced him the most of your guilt, beyond the horror of the scene?"
"I was laughing like a maniac," Sirius grimaced. "I don't know what came over me. I had just seen my friend killed, and Peter doing that thing to get away . . . I don't know, I just lost it. I fell to my knees and laughed, even as they restrained me and took my wand."
"You laughed?" Harry asked, confused.
"Sometimes people have that reaction to emotionally intense situations," Snape explained. "More than once I have had someone recount a story of horror where they have laughed because that is the only way their brain could process the trauma."
Dumbledore nodded. "Severus is right. But for people who don't understand that, it makes people look guilty."
"And me being half out of my mind with grief and guilt anyway didn't help matters much either," Sirius quietly admitted.
"So how do we find a wand in Hogsmeade?" Remus asked. "This is truly the proverbial needle in the haystack."
"Maybe not," Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I shall have to think about this more."
"You forget, as well, headmaster, that the key lay not in actually finding the wand but in making Pettigrew think that we will," Snape told him. "We may not actually have to find it to make this subterfuge work."
"Yes, yes, of course," Dumbledore agreed. "But to take his wand, well, that would definitely be an advantage we can't pass up, now isn't it? No wizard likes to lose his wand."
"And a faithful servant will protect it with his life," Snape said, folding his arms thoughtfully.