Chapter Nineteen
'Dumbledore! Dumbledore! You can't let them do this!'
With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cast the memory of the frantic man, struggling against his chains, into the pensieve. The silver mist of memories swirled and - for a moment - the surface was entirely taken up with Sirius' desperate face. 'Not to Remus - please! Don't let them. Remus didn't know anything - please! He only followed me because I asked him to!'
In his office, Dumbledore shook his head. Tears glistened in his eyes. 'Then how I wish you had not asked him to -' he said again, this time softly, his head bowed with grief.
...
Yes, how much he wished that, if Sirius spoke the truth and Remus was guilty of nothing more than loving the wrong man, that Sirius had not been so foolish, so selfish as to drag his old friend down with him.
Even if Remus had been a Death Eater … Dumbledore was in little doubt that he had only joined to follow Sirius.
The way they had looked at each other, in the courtroom - the way they seemed to live, even in those most desperate moments, in a world of their own making - where there was no one but them and nothing else mattered... In any other circumstance it would have been beautiful to see. Now … he sighed deeply, now it just hurt.
Why - when they had something so pure, so perfect , so glistening … why would they throw it all away? Why would they risk what they had, gamble a future in each other's arms for the possibility of a bit more power under Voldemort?
...
Though in his aching heart, Dumbledore already knew the answer to his questions:
It was because they were in love.
They thought themselves untouchable, invincible - that the whole world could not hope to stand against them as long as they were together. It was how people in love always felt. Inevitably, they always found out they were wrong. The world did have such an upsetting habit of crashing down on you just when you were rising high … dropping you to the floor with a dose of cold, hard reality.
And today was the day that Sirius Black found out - like so many had done before him, like Dumbledore had done before him - that being a young man in love did not make you anywhere near as powerful as it made you feel. He was not invincible.
And now his life was ruined … and Remus' life was over - or would be soon enough.
...
Umbridge's satisfied face swirled to the top of the pensieve then. 'Hmp Hmm,' she sniffed, as she sentenced Remus to death.
How Dumbledore had hoped that his plea for clemency would be heard … but the bigotries of the wizarding world were too old, too deep seated. The truth was, Remus was a dead man from the moment Sirius asked him to run away with him.
And from their differing reactions to the sentence being read out - Remus pale but resigned, and Sirius fighting so desperately - it was clear that, secretly at least, Remus had always known that to be true. And yet he had run anyway. Better to spend one last week with Sirius, even hidden and hunted as they were, than to live a lifetime without him.
...
Sirius had not known what was to come though. It seemed that, even after all these years, he still did not understand what it was Remus lived with every day - the way people saw him, the way they treated him. He thought that - because he loved Remus - everyone else must too. That because he saw all that had been good and worthy in the boy, others would surely appreciate it as well.
That trial must have come as a most terrible shock for him.
And still he did not accept it. Though he didn't beg once for himself, never fought against his own sentence - his own wasted, ruined life - he had begged only for Remus. Remus was all that mattered to him, far more than himself…
...
Yes, Dumbledore understood that he had had the honour of witnessing true, deep and abiding love today … But love should never hurt this much. It was a wicked world where all that goodness could be twisted into so much pain.
...
Raising his wand to his temple again, he began the process of casting out and setting down his other unpleasant memories of the day. And this time, as he flicked his wand, the silver mist shifted and turned into the face of a young, harried looking woman.
The large, pale eyes of Petunia Dursley - Petunia Evans as was - stared up at him. 'What do you mean my sister is dead?' She asked. Her voice was high and sharp - angry but with something other hidden in there; the realisation that something precious she had considered lost long ago was now truly lost forever. 'She's been dead over two weeks? And nobody thought to tell me?'
...
Dumbledore bowed his head, not meeting those eyes - even in their misty form - and felt a stab of shame. It was true, in these past two weeks - when so much had been written and spoken and reported about the Potters … he had not once thought of Lily's family in the muggle world, save for how they could help him with his plans.
He had explained those plans to Petunia - to her large and angry husband … and Petunia had agreed to do what he asked. But her final words still cut him to the quick.
'How small we must seem to you,' she had said - and the woman in the pensieve took up her words. 'How little and unimportant our lives must seem to those who have magic. My sister is dead, Professor - and you consider me so beneath your regard that I don't even get a letter about it. And now you want me to take in her son, who you say is in danger. If that is true, then taking him in puts us in danger. Having him here puts my son in danger. But what does my son, without magic - what does his safety compare to the importance of my sister's magical boy? What does my baby matter to someone like you? You tell me this … this Voldemort hated people like us, that you fought against him because it was right … and then you bring all this danger into our home, and tell us we have no choice but to accept it for the good of your world. Our safety means nothing to you, my losing a sister means nothing to you - all that matters to you is how you can use us. Tell me, then, professor - how exactly are you different to Voldemort?'
...
And though Dumbledore wanted to protest that he wished no harm upon this family, or any muggles - that they did matter to him and he abhorred everything Voldemort stood for - he couldn't help but feel, deep in his soul, that it was the this one woman - with her large, pale eyes and no magic - who had cut straight to the heart of his deepest fears about himself.
The delivery owl arrived not long after the sun had risen, swooping in through the open window, depositing the paper on the table, scooping up the knut left out for it and then flying off again.
Wormtail waited a minute or so, to make sure it was well and truly gone, before he broke out from the cover of the armchair and scuttled up the table leg to read the headlines.
Although his tiny heart in his little rat chest always beat at four times its normal, human speed - this morning it was thrumming, vibrating inside of him - going so quickly that one beat was not distinct from the other … and even as a rat, he felt breathless and lightheaded.
He skittered across the wooden surface and then crunched down onto the heavy paper, before settling down under the headline in order to read it.
Life for Black. Death for Lupin
The headline screamed. He felt himself relax a little, his heart slowing down. Though he still did not transform back into his human self - not quite yet, not until he read the whole thing and was sure he was safe.
He pitter pattered across the newspaper, reading each line and then scuttling back to the left hand side to the start on the new one until finally he was done.
...
Dramatic scenes from the courtroom unfolded last night, as Death Eater, Sirius Black, and his pet werewolf, Remus Lupin, were sentenced respectively to life imprisonment in Azkaban and death at the next full moon. Your fearless reporter (Rita Skeeter - ever with an eagle eye on the legal proceedings of the land) was there to get the full scoop.
The trial was presided over by member of the wizengamot, Dolores Umbridge - taking over Barty Crouch's usual role (and we have questions as to why he was not up to performing this particular task himself) and we heard from witnesses Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody.
Things started off smoothly enough with the charges being read against the two prisoners. Dumbledore then testified that Black was the Potter's secret keeper and was, therefore, the only one who could have sold the young couple to You Know Who … incontrovertible evidence of Black's guilt.
Severus Snape (see page 2 for our featured article on this dark hippogriff!) explained to the court how it was he was able to hunt down the two traitors. He provided evidence that they had been plotting this since they had been at school and revealed that they even jokingly referred to Lupin as "Moony" - revelling in his being a dark creature with the ability to kill innocent people with one swipe of his savage paw.
Finally Mad Eye Moody (see page 14 for how he really lost that eye!) told the court that he had found young Harry Potter - the boy who lived - upstairs in the cottage the traitors were calling home, while the men themselves were downstairs and in a state of undress. That they were the kidnappers was now beyond reasonable doubt.
So far - so ordinary. There were moments of chaos when both men plead not guilty and a rather amusing moment where the werewolf attempted to defend Black by revealing the identity of the "real" secret keeper - only to be struck dumb by a silencing charm before he could speak. Seeing him unable to form words, like the animal he truly is, was cause for no small amount of amusement amongst the spectators. Whichever poor soul the maddened beast intended to name in the place of his Death Eater master can rest easy knowing that our system will not allow dark creatures to make baseless accusations against innocent people.
The real excitement all kicked off, however, after the sentencing. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Black and "Moony" spent much of the trial looking only at each other (making this reporter, for one, wonder once again about those rumours of the way they were found and arrested).
Although surely they must have understood the seriousness of their situation (Black at least, for all Dumbledore's protestations we do not know fully the extent that the beast can comprehend human speech and law … and as for Dumbledore - read the article on page 52: Corruption at Hogwarts? A Conspiracy to Cover up Murder) the sentencing still seemed to come as something of a shock.
Black had to be forcibly removed from the courtroom - screaming and shouting at Dumbledore. He spat in Umbridge's face and called her all manner of nasty names. Suggesting he did not quite understand what had happened, the wolf went rather more quietly.
But Black's outburst does once again raise questions of the nature of their relationship. Was it simply affection between a master and his monstrous pet? Or is there something darker, more bestial in what these two traitors have been getting up to on their time on the run? And what on earth might they have exposed poor baby Harry to, while they held him hostage in their dark and twisted love nest?
The two prisoners have since been transferred to Azkaban. This will be the last we hear of Black - though the wolf's execution is set for the next full moon, which is 25 days from now.
...
His heart rate back to its more normal 400 a minute, Wormtail reached the end of the article, scuttled back down the table leg and transformed back into Peter.
...
So … old Moony had tried to tell the truth and been silenced had he? And from the sounds of things the pair of them were finished. Over. No one would ever hear from them ever again.
Peter was safe.
...
Feeling much better, he made himself a cup of tea and some crumpets and settled down in the armchair to read the rest of the paper.
Far away, things were just about as bad as they had ever been for his oldest friends - and getting worse by the moment.
Following their removal from court, they had been taken away in their chains by the aurors and apparated - four aurors to a prisoner - to the coast.
...
The smell of the salt, the spray shooting into the air, the cries of the gulls and the iron grey waves crashing against the rocks reminded them all too painfully of what they had left behind just a few short hours ago. Of all they had lost. Their home together. Their life together. Their future.
Standing on the cliffside, this could be the very cliffs in front of their house on Herm and they could be standing there, two lovers with everything to look forward to … except for the aurors, and the clinking of heavy chains and the small rowing boat that was making its way inexorably towards them.
They were each gripped tightly by their captors, but were still standing close - able to see and speak to each other. And faced with nothing left but these last few moments together, they threw all caution to the wind - not caring what the aurors heard or what of themselves they exposed … or whether or not it would end up in an issue of the Daily Prophet they would never read.
'Remus - they can't … I won't let them do that to you.'
Remus only smiled sadly. 'You're just a prisoner now, Padfoot. You can't stop them. You have no power.'
'I will stop them - I will…' his voice was fierce with determination. But then his eyes filled with tears and his shoulders began to shake as he fought back the sobs. 'I'm sorry. I should never have asked you to come with me. I wouldn't have asked if I'd known …'
'I'm glad you asked me, Sirius. I am. I will treasure each moment we had together until I am dead and then I will go right on treasuring them some more. I would rather die now, knowing you loved me - than live my whole life without you.'
'But how am I supposed to live without you?'
'I'll never really leave you, Sirius. Just like James hasn't.'
...
They looked at each other. Remus felt like he was trying to memorise Sirius' face - every laughter line, every elegantly misplaced hair, the bow of his lips, the way his grey eyes went suddenly, uncharacteristically soft every time they looked at him, Remus. Especially that last one. He wanted to freeze this moment, store it in his heart … so when they were separated, and that separation would be happening so frighteningly soon, he would always have Sirius with him. Would always have something to hold on to, even as the count down to the day he would die began.
He wondered what Sirius was thinking, as he looked back - wondered what he saw. One thing he did know, in every fibre of his being, was that when Sirius looked at him he saw someone worth loving - a man, and not a monster or a beast or an animal. And that was all that mattered, really, in the end. Love was all that mattered, really, in the end. And Remus had Sirius' love … He wasn't lying, or trying to make his friend feel better when he said he would rather be where he was now, than living alone having never known how Sirius felt about him.
He would not give up his memories of the night before for anything. Would happily die a thousand deaths rather than forgo that one night he had spent in Sirius' arms.
The silence grew large between them, their staring became hungry and breathless. 'I love you,' Remus said gently.
...
But then came the sound of oars splashing in the water - and the little row boat was almost upon them.
Dawlish, the auror gave him a shake. 'Well here's your ride, lover boys. Save those soft words for the dementors - they'll enjoy them.'
...
The boat rowed up to a short pier - and Sirius was led by his group of aurors towards it. There were two figures in the boat, dark and tall and robed … Remus had never seen anything like them before.
He was then taken down to the pier and put into the stern. As he got closer to the robed figures he suddenly felt … he suddenly felt like all the warmth and love and laughter had gone from the world. He felt that he was empty, hollowed out of any happiness or joy and all that was left was this freezing, screaming fog of misery. And through that fog he could hear the howl of a wolf, and the pain of sharp teeth tearing into his flesh and just behind that the sinking feeling of realising Sirius had believed him to be the traitor. He felt the same greyness he had just this morning, but now magnified a thousand fold … colder, harsher, emptier … this was pure, distilled misery and it filled up every atom of himself.
So, this was the monstrous power of the dementors of Azkaban … to make someone remember everything bad, feel nothing but the cold and lose any semblance of joy. This was why people always spoke of them in such hushed and fearful whispers. And this would be how he felt until he died … this would be how Sirius felt forever.
...
Thrown into the back of the boat, beside Sirius, he tried to move as close to him as possible - try and steal some warmth from him as there was now none inside of himself. Although they were still shackled, they gripped hands, and glanced at one another … there was a flicker of rosiness in the grey … and then just as suddenly it was gone. And the grey was all encompassing, smothering, and Sirius hand was not making things better - his eyes were not soft anymore and Remus felt like he was suddenly starved of oxygen, like he was drowning … though all he was really starved of was hope and happiness.
...
The boat began to row away, the shore grew distant and surrounded by the grey of the waves and the grey of the sky and the grey inside of himself, Remus felt like he had slipped into some awful nightmare world - where he was already dead and just didn't know it yet.
And Sirius' hand was doing nothing to warm him, to comfort him. When Sirius had meant warmth and comfort since long before they had ever spoken up. He tried to fight the greyness … to remember themselves as boys, with James, carefree and careless and before any of this had happened. He screwed his eyes up and imagined the great hall at Hogwarts, the glowing candles and the loaded platters of the start of term feast and the feeling of friendship … But that too was dragged out of him, sucked right out of his soul and only loneliness and the memory of waking up alone on the hard floor, covered in cuts he had inflicted on himself in the night, were left in its place.
Again and again, every happy thought he tried to form would be taken from him - as if the dementors had reached through his chest and pulled it straight from his heart. And they would be replaced instead with darkness, the memory of pain, or suffering - all the bad feelings he had ever experienced all at once. In the end, he realised it was better if he stopped trying. If he didn't think happy thoughts then they couldn't be taken - and so he just let himself sink into the darkness.
...
He had no idea how long this grey boat ride of misery lasted - but it lasted long enough for him to give into his worst memories of loneliness, unhappiness and shame; from his father crying with horror at what his son now was; to being locked in a cell with no clothes on while the toad witch stared at him; to the moment in Dumbledore's office with Snape staring at him, his lip curled in disgust, as he swore to keep Remus' secret from the other children.
And then, through the freezing fog and greyness, a fortress-like building built on a rock suddenly rose through the mist. The walls crumbled, there were bars on the windows - but other than that they were open to the elements; the wind, and spray and cold sea air. It was dark and forbidding and - even through his emptiness - Remus felt a sense of dread rise inside himself.
...
The boat landed on what was … he supposed … a form of beach, a shallow rocky shelf - that was just as grey and jagged and miserable as everything else. And then their monstrous guards rose up - not got to their feet - Remus had the strangest feeling they did not have feet, that they were floating.
A scabrous, stinking hand of rotting flesh reached out and grabbed his arm and he fought the urge to be sick, the waves of nausea rolling over him - leaving him light headed and dizzy, his stomach churning over and over. He was pulled to his feet, and led across the beach, the pebbles crunching under foot. He was aware of Sirius being pulled along by the other dementor, just behind him.
...
There was absolutely no comfort from Sirius' presence any more. They might as well be strangers, have never have met before this moment. Even mere feet apart, they were both completely alone - locked in their separate prisons of suffering and misery that their minds had already become.
They followed the path up to the fortress and then the door loomed in front of them, wide and cavernous, swallowing them whole.
The doors swung shut as they passed through, clanging together with the sound of striking iron - and the outside world, and all that was good, was cut off from them forever and they were trapped inside the horror of their new home.
Two more prisoners for Azkaban.