Chapter Twenty Six: For The Greater Good

The longer they stayed in Rome, the better it became. They went all over - and had an easier time of it than the muggles, because they would just apparate into the bigger tourist attractions and jump the queue. The Colosseum was even more amazing inside than it was out, the forum was fascinating - but there was absolutely no shade to be found anywhere and so they hurried through faster than they would have liked. The Mamertine prison was delightfully cool afterwards, though it was so small they could not stay in there for long.

They dragged it out for as long as they could, though, examining the face print in the wall that was said to be St. Peter's own.

'I don't think it's a real face print,' Sirius said, 'how could he get it in the stone?'

'Well, it was supposed to be a miracle.'

'Was St. Peter a wizard?' Sirius scrunched his nose up, 'wait - was Jesus a wizard?'

'Water into wine is a pretty easy charm when you know how.'

'Was Jesus just a muggle born wizard?'

'I don't know - I'm not even sure if he was real…'

'Well - what's the difference between magic and a miracle?'

'Marketing. You get burned at the stake for one and called a saint for the other.' He tugged on Sirius' hand, 'come on - back out into the sunshine.'

'Do we have to?'

'Yes -' he gave him a kiss. He felt the eyes of the old, muggle man who had let them into the prison on them … but the man didn't say anything, and Remus ignored his staring. 'Grazie, ' he said to the man, as they left.

'Praego, ' the man replied - keeping his eyes on them.

Now he knew to look out for it, he kept seeing other people like them. Other couples . Just - hidden among the crowds of everyone else - he would catch a flash of two men holding hands, or sitting just slightly too close together - one of them's hand on the other's leg. He even caught a glimpse of two girls kissing each other … He hadn't even considered that as a possibility until he saw it with his own eyes.

'It's a bit like the wizarding world, isn't it?' he said, one time - as two women in their fifties, wearing big boots and with severe haircuts, dashed across the street holding hands.

'How do you mean?'

'Well - there's people who are different - just hiding in plain sight among all the normal people. And you don't even realise they're there until you stop and look for them. And then they're everywhere. I'm beginning to think there might be more muggles like us than there are wizards full stop.'

Sirius grinned and squeezed Remus' hand, 'you know - the more time we spend in the muggle world, the more I think we wizards lead very sheltered lives. Come on ...'

They went everywhere; the Vatican, the Spanish Steps (there was an English tearoom there that they were very grateful for, after the disastrous loss of their own teabags), the Trevi Fountain, the Circus Maximus … But their absolute favourite place to go was up on the Palatine Hill - among the ruins of the palaces of the emperors, where they would take a punnet of strawberries and some chocolate and find a quiet, shady spot to just sit. They went there every day.

Today, they were in the shade of a cypress tree. Remus was sitting with his back leaning against it and Sirius lay sprawled on the ground, his head in Remus' lap. Remus stroked his hair absentmindedly, while Sirius read a guide book.

'You want a drink?' Remus asked - proffering the bottle of brown, fizzy, muggle drink they had bought. It was Coca-Cola today.

Sirius took a swig. 'I still don't see how that's different to that "Pepsi" stuff.'

'They taste completely different!' (He was lying - he couldn't taste a difference either.) 'You just have an unrefined palette.'

Sirius choked and spluttered mid drink. 'I have an unrefined palette?' he propped himself up on his elbow, so he was facing Remus - his expression one of mock outrage. 'I am the last living scion of an ancient and noble household - the very last Black - Toujours Pur . As pure blooded and aristocratic as they come. Who are you to call my palette unrefined? You half blood, son of a muggle, werewolf.'

'Oh, but you forget - they gave you muggle blood when you got splinched. You're no aristocratic son of ancient lineage now. You're even more common than me - and your palette has been blunted accordingly. Mudblood.'

'Halfbreed.'

They kissed.

'It tastes the same.'

'I know.'

Sirius grinned, and lay back down with his head in Remus' lap once more. 'I don't ever want to leave here,' he said, after a while. 'The longer we stay, the harder it is to go. If it wasn't for Harry - and a looming war - I'd say let's never go home again. Let's just stay here until we get bored and then find another amazing muggle place to go and explore. We could travel the whole world - just the two of us - doing .. this - every day for the rest of our lives.'

Remus smiled wryly. 'But we lost our teabags.'

'Oh - yeah - we should go home.'

Smiling wider, Remus leaned down to kiss him, 'and there is the whole Harry and the looming war thing to contend with.'

'Yes - I've been thinking about that. About what we need to do.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah - at first I thought we should head back to Dumbledore - tell him what we know. But now I think that's a mistake. For a start - it would put him in an awkward position, if the two most wanted wizards in Britain just turned up on his doorstep. And he's done enough for us both already as it is.'

A shadow crossed his face, as he remembered the night he escaped from Hogwarts, and how close he had come to losing his soul. 'Besides,' he continued, shaking himself free of the memory, 'whatever Wormey and Voldemort are planning to do, we can assume it will involve very dark magic. Maybe even darker than the stuff they were up to back in the forest.'

'I suppose that's true.'

'And Dumbledore … I know he's a genius and everything - but he isn't a dark wizard. I'm sure he knows about some dark magic, of course he does, but … he isn't an expert. These are spells he might read about but would never, in a million years, consider trying. I think, when it comes down to it, that he might not be the best person to second guess what sort of magic Voldemort might perform in order to rise again. Or where he would go to do it. We need another dark wizard.'

Remus wrinkled his nose, 'what? Are you saying we should go speak to Lucius Malfoy or something?'

'Ha!' Sirius barked his laughter. 'That berk? - No! I doubt he has any better idea what Voldemort might be up to than we do. Plus he'd hand us over to the Ministry Hag before you can say "but you're the only real Death Eater here, you foul, poncy git".'

'Well that is quite a long sentence.'

Sirius laughed again - and hit Remus on the arm.

'Ow.'

'I'm being serious - we need a wizard of the same type of standing as Voldemort. One that was as dark as he was, has the same kind of power, the same kind of scope…'

'And - er - do you have any idea where we might find a wizard that fits that description? And one who won't just turn us into toads just for daring to stand in his presence?'

'Yeah - I do, actually. I was thinking - much as I don't ever want to leave here - maybe we should travel north… and stop off at Nurmengard.'

'Nurmengard?' Remus scrunched up his face… not understanding - and then it hit him. 'Grindelwald? You want us to stop off and talk to Grindelwald?'

'If anyone can second guess Voldemort's plans - it's him.'

'But - but - he's the most highly guarded prisoner in one of the most highly guarded wizarding prisons there is.'

'Hmmm- I wonder what that's like? Come on, Moony, if I can break out of Azkaban, I can break in to Nurmengard.'

'It will be dangerous.'

Sirius sat up, grinning. 'Incredibly dangerous. Maybe the most risky thing we've done so far - walking straight into a prison, forcing our way into a cell and making the dark wizard inside talk to us - all without the guards noticing - and then hoping we can just walk right back out again without sounding the alarm?'

'It's madness.'

'It's an ad-'

'Don't say it!'

'-venture.' He stole a swift kiss. 'What do you say?'

'Would you listen if I said "no"?'

'No.'

'Then I suppose I say "yes". Will we set out tomorrow?'

'We probably should…' They went quiet for a moment, watching the sun set over the Palatine Hill one last time. '... Though I don't want to go.'

...

The next day they apparated in short stages - from Rome to Arezzo and then from Arezzo to Venice, where they stopped for the rest of the day and stayed the night so Sirius could look at the canals. He stared at the streets made of water and the little boats going up and down them - like cars. 'Muggles are mental,' he said, his voice was awed, 'but in a totally brilliant way.'

Then, with a great deal of regret, they left Italy behind and apparated to a little town called Mayrhofen in the Austrian Tyrol. After the slightly sewagey stink of Venice, the crisp freshness of the mountain air made them almost lightheaded … But the town was small enough that they thought it unlikely there would be many (or any) wizards about - and therefore they were back to being cautious with their magic use, in case they alerted the authorities with their presence.

'Although we should be fine once we're within a few miles of Nurmengard,' Sirius said, 'they must use loads of magic on that place. No way some jobsworth at the Austrian Ministry would notice us using the milk summoning charm.'

'Let's just get there first.'

They caught a bus and travelled a few hours east to Schladming and then went on foot to the mountains just outside of the town, where they believed Nurmengard was hidden by many enchantments.

The going was tough, the terrain was rocky, the paths- such as they were, were winding and the earth was loose under foot. Although they were now wearing the muggle clothes they had bought in Italy - and not their heavy wizards robes - they still found themselves over hot and sweaty. Their faces were red - from both exertion and sunburn.

'Whatever that thing is - I wish we could use it,' Sirius said, pointing upwards where - inexplicably - little seats dangled from high wires, going up the mountain. 'Why have the muggles built it if it's not even in use?'

'Maybe they use it in winter - when the snow makes the paths impassable.'

'Why on earth would anyone want to come up here in winter?'

They found the answer to that question - sort of - when they passed a large billboard, it's picture was frozen and static - the way all muggle pictures were. It showed people in heavy winter gear and goggles, holding poles and with big planks of wood strapped to their feet.

'Sky- ing,' Sirius read the sign. 'What's skying?'

'Skeeing,' Remus corrected him, 'I think my mum mentioned it once.'

'What is it?'

He shrugged, 'something posh muggles do - my mum had never been. I think…' he wrinkled his nose and pointed to the picture, 'see those planks of wood on their feet? I think they use them to slide down the mountain.'

'What? You mean the people who live at the top?'

'No - I think people go up the mountain to slide back down it… they must use the dangling chairs to get to the top.'

'What?' Sirius burst out laughing. 'You're making that up! You're just teasing the clueless pureblood who doesn't know any better. No way - no way - do muggles strap wood to their feet and slide down a mountainside. That's the stupidest thing I ever…'

'We sledged down the hill at school when we were kids - is it really that different?'

'But - they're standing up when they do it.'

'Yes.'

'That's so dangerous!'

'Yes.'

'Brilliant!' He turned to Remus, his eyes shining. 'Can we come back in winter - when our names are cleared? Can we go skying?'

'Skeeing.'

'That too - can we, Moony?'

Remus started to laugh, 'well - as long as you're paying! Like I said, posh muggles do it. Not riff raff like me. And if you end up breaking your neck, put me down for a big "I told you so".'

'Totally mental,' Sirius breathed, in awestruck tones - shaking his head. Then, with a last, longing look at the billboard, he took hold of Remus' hand and started pulling him along the path, heading away from the muggle ski resorts and towards the more remote, inaccessible part of the alps - where the prison was more likely to be.

...

It was after several hours hard walking, huffing and puffing their way up the mountainside, that Sirius suddenly came to a stop and reached out with his hand and pressed against the thin air. 'You feel that?' he asked.

'What?'

'Muggle repelling charms - we're close.'

'Oh, thank God - can we apparate now?' He swiped at his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat.

'Yes - I think so.'

They gripped each other's arms, nodded at each other - and then twisted into nothingness, feeling the blackness and the pressure squeeze them until, with a loud popping sound, they arrived on a mountain ledge.

They were on one peak - but there were three others surrounding them, forming a sort of mountainous circle and, down in the middle, hidden away in the valley, loomed the forbidding, dark tower that was Nurmengard prison.

The boys peered over their ledge, looking down at it. It rose 500 feet in the air, and was made entirely of black rock - which shone darkly in the evening sun. It's long shadow streamed out eastwards, rippling across the ground like a creeping lethifold. Right at the top was one crooked tower, with a turret - and a little window that had bars on it.

There was a great doorway, with iron doors - and above that was inscribed the words 'For The Greater Good.'

Sirius felt a shiver go down his spine. Looking at this place… it cut a little too close to home. 'It was nice of him to write that in English for us,' he joked, to try and cover his discomfort.

'I think it's enchanted - I think everyone sees it in their mother tongue.'

Sirius frowned, 'really? Do you see it in Welsh?'

'Mother. Not Mother's. In their native language - and to be clear, my mum's first language was English as well. She spoke a bit of Welsh - she wasn't fluent.'

'I was joking.'

'No - you weren't.'

'So … we have to break into that.' He nodded at the dark tower.

'Yes it is rather a bit daunting now we can see it, isn't it?' Remus replied mildly.

'Shh - look!' Sirius hissed, grabbing hold of Remus' arm and pointing down into the valley, where a whole troupe of guards were marching towards the iron door. The boys lowered themselves to the ground, keeping hidden.

The guards marched in pairs, they wore long coats with military epaulettes and large, fuzzy bearskin hats held on with a chin strap. They carried long spears and their feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm making the ground shake.

'At least they're less terrifying than the dementors,' Remus said, '... easier to impersonate too.'

Sirius stared after the guards, watching them disappear inside the iron doors … When the last one had vanished, the doors slammed by themselves - and the clang reverberated through the valley, bouncing off the mountainsides. The earth trembled and more than a few stones worked loose and tumbled downwards. Sirius had frozen - staring down at the doors, and suddenly all the light had left his eyes and they looked deadened, his expression was closed.

'Padfoot?' Remus said, gently.

Sirius didn't react.

'Sirius?' He put his hand on Sirius' arm.

Sirius - jumped. He shook himself. 'Moony? What?' He glanced at Remus, and then it seemed like his eyes were magnetically drawn to the prison, and were pulled back there - and he was still again.

'Sirius - are you OK?'

'I…'

'It's reminding you of Azkaban, isn't it? Now you can see it. It's like being back.'

Sirius nodded slowly. And then looked surprised as Remus wrapped his arms around him and held him. 'You don't have to go down there - I can find a way in by myself,' Remus said, his voice was still gentle.

'What if you get trapped? What if you can't get back out again?'

'I won't.'

'I can't let you go in there alone. I'm not leaving you with a chance of getting stuck in a place like that forever … all alone. It's … you don't know what that's like.'

'No - I don't. But if it's too much for you…'

'This was my idea.'

'And you can change your mind.'

Sirius stared down at the prison, his brow had furrowed, his breathing was shallow and it seemed for all the world like he was in some form of terrible pain. Only the pain was not physical. And then, with great effort, he wrenched his eyes away and looked at Remus instead. He shook his head. 'No - I'm going in. We're both in this together - we don't ever leave the other one alone. That's when disasters happen.'

'We are stronger together.'

'We both go in together. We both get out together or …'

'We both get stuck in there forever together? That won't happen, I promise.' He squeezed Sirius tighter and kissed him. 'Like you said - you got out of Azkaban, you can get into Nurmengard - and back out again. Those guards are only wizards. It's not like we have dementors to contend with.'

'You're right,' he took a deep breath, stiffened his spine, and nodded. 'Let's find a way in.'

Slowly, they got to their feet and crept down from their ledge, heading down towards the valley. One of the iron doors creaked open, and they both hit the floor and watched closely to see what would happen.

Two guards came marching out. The boys gripped each other and held their breath .. the guards came closer, they were walking right towards them, right underneath where the two of them were hidden.

They waited … and waited … and then - at the right moment - Sirius pointed his wand and muttered 'diffindo'. He severed the branch from an overhanging tree, it groaned and creaked and then plummeted to earth. The two guards looked up in alarm, cried out - and then were knocked unconscious by the falling branch.

The pair of them hurried down to the valley floor and over to the downed guards. Keeping an eye on the tower, they stripped the guards of their coats, hats, keyrings and spears and put them on themselves. And then - marching in step - they headed towards the iron door.

'That was easy,' Remus muttered.

'Getting into a prison is never the hard part,' Sirius replied darkly.

...

As they walked through the door, Remus felt Sirius stiffen up again, and he reached out and took his hand - glad that the capacious sleeves of their coats could hide what he was doing. He gave his hand a squeeze, 'you OK?'

Sirius nodded, swallowing hard - and they stepped further inside.

It was very dark in the prison, the entrance chamber was windowless - and the iron door clanged shut behind them, making a sound that made Sirius shudder from head to foot. Remus squeezed his hand again.

Flaming torches hung on the wall - but the smoke just added to the thickness of the dark, and the light did little to penetrate the gloom. They walked through an archway, out of the antechamber and into the prison proper. Cells lined the walls - prisoners were visible, huddled in the dark behind the bars, muttering to themselves.

A staircase spiralled upward. They stared at it. 'I heard he was right at the top,' Remus said.

'So we go up.'

Down the corridor, they heard the sounds of boots - and decided now was not the time to hang around thinking things through, and headed upwards. Their hearts hammered in their chests but they made themselves march in time - as if they were just a pair of guards, going about their duty.

The stairs wound round and round, hundreds of feet up, to a dizzying height… there was a sheer drop on one side - and the higher they went the narrower the stairs got.

And then from above them came the sounds of footsteps tramping down towards them. There was no room for everyone on the staircase, and the boys glanced at each other in alarm and then pressed themselves against the wall, shrinking as far back as possible and hoping to stay hidden in the shadows. At least the gloom and their hats disguised their faces.

Two guards came down the other way. 'Gefangener auf dem Weg nach unten,' one of the guards said as he passed.

'Danke,' Remus said.

The guards moved further away. 'What did he say?' Sirius hissed.

'No idea,' Remus shrugged.

But they got their answer, when there were more footsteps overhead. Three sets this time - one was shuffling and reluctant - and came with a clanking of chains. And two guards appeared, flanking a prisoner.

Even in the dark it was clear to see the prisoner was emaciated, filthy and unkempt. His eyes were dead - the way Sirius' had looked when he had stared down at Nurmengard. He was mumbling and moaning and sobbing softly to himself, while the guards ignored him and dragged him downward by his elbows.

Pressed against the wall, Remus felt Sirius wobble beside him, like his knees were buckling - as if he was going faint - and he gripped tighter hold of him. 'We won't get trapped here,' he promised, keeping his voice low. 'That will never be you again.'

Once the guards and their prisoner were out of sight and earshot, they started climbing again - once more winding their way higher and higher right the way to the top.

Eventually, there were no more stairs - they came out on a narrow landing. There was one slit of a window right at the end - it was barred, though there was no need. 500 feet in the air, no one was escaping through there - even if they were thin enough to squeeze out of it. It did allow for a weak shaft of sunlight to fall into the hallway, though, the first they had seen since they had been swallowed inside the prison. Dust motes danced in the pale beam - their movement only highlighting the eerie stillness of the rest of this place.

The light fell on a thick wooden door, the only one on the landing. The door was locked, and no doubt 'alohomora' would not get them anywhere - but they had keys and, as quickly and as quietly as they could, set about finding the right one.

The door creaked open, and they were met with another flight of stairs, leading up into the pitch black. The walls pressed in on either side. They crept up. They must be in the turret now.

There was a final door at the top, thick and metal and with a barred window in it. Once again, they rooted through the keyring until they found the correct key and then unlocked the door.

Sirius' breath was ragged, as the door pushed inward - and Remus gripped his hand all the tighter, giving it a comforting squeeze, as they stepped inside the dank little cell at the very top of the tower.

It had thick stone walls that dripped slime, and a narrow rickety bed and nothing else. There was what looked like a heap of rags lying on the bed, but then the rags stirred … the sign of life revealing there was a body hidden somewhere in those rags - a man. The man got to his feet ... and the architect of Nurmengard himself peered at the pair of them. 'You boys aren't real prison guards,' Gellert Grindelwald said.