Sirius flew high above the clouds. Anyone on the ground would be trying his best to avoid the awful storm that was blowing, but Sirius, seated once again on his motorcycle, flew dry. The moon shone down and all the stars were bright. Other than the bitter cold, the ride was pleasant.
He thought he knew where Pettigrew might be hiding. The spells that he and Jenny had labored over days ago, before the twins had been kidnapped, had given them a rough idea of Pettigrew's location, and he'd narrowed it down a bit more. Now he was headed toward Dunstanburgh Castle, a ruin in the north of England. Just the sort of place that Voldemort might use. I'll bet he'd like some magnificent old ruin to use as a base. He checked the compass he'd mounted on the bike so many years ago and adjusted his course slightly. Maybe I should have sent word to Jenny, somehow. But I don't want her to worry. Remus'll look out for her. Hour after hour, Sirius sped north.
"Well, I say, Severus, that's going a bit far." Cornelius Fudge and Severus Snape were alone in the Minister's office. Fudge had his usual 'puzzled puppy' look on his face. "I mean, surely you don't think she'd hurt her own children!"
"I hardly think that Anderson had anything to do with the kidnapping," Snape said smoothly. "But I am sure she was helping Black. I'd think that it was obvious to you, Minister. She and the werewolf both."
"There's hardly any proof, Severus," Fudge mumbled. "I spoke to them both shortly after Black escaped. Anderson offered to help us find Black. She was quite upset over his escape, and worried that he might come after her."
"She and Black were very close, you know, Minster," Snape said softly. "I believe that she had him at her home at some point in the past few months. What I think happened is that his master summoned him and he took the children –as insurance, you might say. And of course she wouldn't admit that she was helping him."
"I say, Severus, that's a bit hard on her. I'm sure she wouldn't do anything like that."
"Then why didn't she divorce him after he was sent to Azkaban?" Snape stared at the Minister, who shifted his gaze away uncomfortably. "For all these years, she's been practically a hermit, living in that old manor house with her children. I've spoken to people, the only visitor she ever had was Lupin, the werewolf. I'd say, Minister, that quite possible, the children have been raised to serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Oh, come now, Severus, come now. We never found anything linking Anderson to the –to that side."
"Except for Black, himself," Snape pointed out nastily.
"Well, you've got to understand –after all, from all accounts, she was very upset over the whole business. Of course, I wasn't Minister then, but my department was quite involved in the cover-up and cleanup afterwards…And Dumbledore vouches for her."
"I think everyone depends on Dumbledore a bit too much," Snape said icily. His face was composed, but his eyes were full of contempt for Fudge. The Minister, fortunately, did not notice. "No denying that he is a great wizard, but he is a bit –well, he's getting old. You can hardly blame him if he's beginning to lose mental capacities. Some of his recent decisions have hardly been as wise as they might have been. Look at the men he has selected for the Dark Arts post three years running at Hogwarts. And, frankly, he seemed more amused than anything else over the final escapade with Black last year."
"Perhaps you are correct," Fudge began. He shook his head. "Well, Severus, very nice talking to you, but I must go now, you understand." He held the door for Snape and followed him out of the room.
Tom, the barkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron was used to all manner of strange folk passing through. Between the hags, trolls, gnomes, dwarves and other creatures who popped in on their way to Diagon Alley, nothing would surprise him. So when a young girl came in one August afternoon, he didn't even blink, just asked if he could help her.
"I'm looking for a Jenny Anderson," the girl said. "I've been told she's staying here."
"That's right," Tom said. "She's in, too."
"I need to see her," the girl said. She fixed Tom with a steady stare. Somehow she commanded more respect than her fourteen or fifteen years automatically merited. Tom turned and went up the stairs. He knew that Jenny had gotten in an hour or so ago, having left early that morning. He didn't pry into his patrons' business, but he knew that Jenny was hardly a typical customer. He'd seen her picture in the papers, along with all sorts of stories about her… Still, she seemed a nice woman, if a bit distracted by the kidnapping of her children. Tom knocked on the door.
"Come in." Jenny was seated at the table near the window, writing something.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but there's a girl here to see you. She said she needed to see you. Didn't give her name."
"How old a girl?" Jenny asked.
"Oh, fourteen, fifteen, I'd say. Brown hair, lots of it…" Tom trailed off. Jenny frowned in thought.
"Let her come up," she said finally, standing and putting the paper she had been writing on into a drawer. "Thank you, Tom." He nodded and left. Five minutes later, another knock sounded. Once again, Jenny said "Come in." This time it was the girl. She held something in her hand. She looked at Jenny for a long moment before coming in.
"Exactly who are you?" Jenny asked. She didn't even try to be polite; it had been a very long day already, between arguing with the Minister of Magic, eluding press hounds, and trying to get in touch with Remus, she was exhausted. Of course, the fact that it had been two weeks since the kidnapping and there were still no leads didn't help her.
"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said. Jenny stared at her, trying to remember where she had heard that name. She couldn't. "I came –well, it's complicated. I'm a Muggle-born, but I get the papers delivered, and I read about your children being kidnapped." Jenny stared at the girl. Was she here to ask rude questions? If so, she'd be out before she could blink. I do not have time for this today, she thought. Hermione was still speaking. "You're Sirius Black's wife, aren't you?"
"That's right," Jenny said shortly. "I don't see why that would matter to you, though, and I really-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I'm saying this all wrong. Anyway –er, have you possibly spoken with Professor Lupin in the last month or so?" Jenny was feeling very bewildered. Then, suddenly, she remembered.
"Of course, Hermione," she said, mostly to herself. "You were there with Harry and helped get Sirius out."
"Yes, I was. Oh, but Harry didn't tell Professor Lupin that. How did you know?"
"Sirius told me himself." Jenny allowed herself a small smile. Hermione looked very relieved.
"Oh, good, then he's okay. Ron and I have been wondering –we haven't been in touch with Harry at all, and we only knew that Sirius hadn't been recaptured, because it would have been all over the papers. I wanted to write to Professor Lupin, but we couldn't find where he was staying."
"Not surprising. He was at my house until a few weeks ago, and since them I haven't heard much from him." Jenny sighed. "So you came to find out whether I knew that Sirius was innocent?"
"I though you might know, but I did want to make sure," Hermione agreed. "Because I'm sure he had nothing to do with the kidnapping." She frowned a bit. "I was a bit surprised when I heard –about you and your children, that is. No one mentioned that…" she trailed off.
"I wasn't advertising the fact that I married Sirius, was I?" Jenny said dryly. "And since he didn't know about the twins until he showed up at my house, he could hardly have been expected to tell you." She grinned a little wryly.
"I see," Hermione said. "Anyway," she held up an envelope and pushed it at Jenny. "I got this the other day. There was a letter that instructed me to give this package to you." Jenny took the envelope and ripped it open.
Dear Jenny,
How nice it is to be able to write to you again. I must say, it's a shame your husband won't take your advice any better now than twelve years ago. You'd think his time in Azkaban might have lent him more wisdom. I've learned that he's still looking for me. Perhaps I was wrong to think that he'd care more about his children than about clearing his name, but surely you could have persuaded him to listen to you? Your children are fine now, but if he keeps on…
By the way, my master thinks highly of your children. He'd like to keep them here, but will return them if you wish. Just as long as he has Sirius' word that he'll not come after us. And yours too, of course. If you do, he'll allow you and Sirius and your children to live in peace.
I'll get in touch with you soon for your answer –and might I recommend that it is yes? My master doesn't like being refused. The Potters learned that too late. Can you learn from their mistake? Just to keep your hopes from getting too high, this letter will burst into flame within ten minutes of you reading it, so don't even bother trying to show it to, say, Fudge. Not that he'd believe you anyway. And your traps were far too obvious, by the way.
Sincerely,
Peter
Jenny slowly put the letter down. True to Pettigrew's word, it burst into flame. Hermione gave a little gasp. Jenny had quite forgotten the girl was in the room. Now she looked back at Hermione.
"I don't suppose that was good news," Hermione stated, her face pale.
"No. How did you get your hands on that, anyway?"
"An owl left it at my house. I was wondering why anyone who wanted to send you a letter didn't just post it to you."
Jenny allowed herself a bitter laugh.
"Because he knew very well that I had spells in place to trap any owls he might send me. I was hoping to get a lead on where he is from the owl."
"It was just a normal owl, brown, nothing unusual about it," Hermione said. "I didn't even think of detaining it."
"No reason why you should have." Jenny stared at the tiny heap of ash. "Blast. I wish I knew what to do."
"It –it was from whoever kidnapped your children?" Hermione guessed.
"Yes, Pettigrew," Jenny spat grimly.
"Pettigrew?" Hermione asked, blanching. "I –I knew it wasn't Sirius, but I didn't know it was him." Jenny looked away.
"Pettigrew doesn't want Sirius going after him. That's why he's kidnapped my children." She sat down and put her head in her hands. "I don't know where Sirius is, or Remus either. I don't know where Pettigrew is, or I'd go after him. I don't know what to do." She spoke so quietly that Hermione could hardly hear.
"Can I do anything?" she asked. Jenny didn't look up, but she bit her lip.
"I don't know," she sighed. "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore, then I'll try to get in touch with Sirius." She looked at Hermione. "And then I'm going home. I'm not staying here, that's for sure. So if you get another letter for me, you'll have to come to my house."
"If I do get another letter, I'll catch the owl," Hermione promised.
"You probably won't," Jenny said, getting to her feet. She walked over to the table, pulled out a pen and parchment, and began to write. "Now that you know what's going on, Pettigrew will be unlikely to use you as a courier."
"I'll let Ron know, too," Hermione said. "That way he can keep his eyes out.
"Thank you," Jenny said, turning once more to Hermione. She handed the girl the parchment. "That's where I live, on that paper, so if you get another letter, you will know where to find me. And please tell Harry everything. Let him know –tell him that when we get Sirius off, he'll have a place in my home, if he wants it."
"He'll want it, I'm sure."
"He would have had a place, for all these years, except for the Ministry." Jenny smiled sadly. "But whatever happens, I hope to see him soon. My friends' son… I hear he looks like James."
"That's what everyone says," Hermione agreed.
"My son, he does resemble his father, but not that much. And at least he's got more sense. Usually." Hermione wasn't really sure Jenny had been talking to her at all. She turned and walked to the door, turning as she took the knob. Jenny was still staring into space. Hermione thought about saying something else, but just went out and downstairs.
Jenny stared around the entrance hall of her home. It all seemed foreign to her. It's far too quiet, she thought. For the first time in twelve years she was alone in the house. Of course the twins hadn't spent every minute of every day in the house, but they had had a presence in the house, even if they weren't physically there. She felt lost. I've been happy in this house, she realized. The time she'd spent with her children… those few, wonderful months that she and Sirius had spent as newlyweds… somehow it seemed that those things had happened somewhere else.
She went upstairs while pondering what Dumbledore had told her. They still had no leads on Pettigrew. She'd told shim everything that had been in the letter. His eyes had lost their customary sparkle and he looked very serious.
"I don't have to tell you how bad this situation is," he'd said. "Voldemort has his own plans, and we don't know what they are. He could do anything, and we can't stop him. Not yet, anyway. Not until we know where he is or what he's up to." Jenny had nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. She had cried a lot in the past few weeks, more than since after the Potters had died. Dumbledore's words didn't give her any reassurance, but she did appreciate that he told her the exact truth.
"I don't know where Sirius is, and Remus left again too," she had told him. "So I can't give them Pettigrew's message, even if I thought that was the best thing to do." She took a deep breath to keep from weeping, and clenched her hands into fists. "And –Sirius would never do what Pettigrew asks, not even for the children. And neither would I." She looked away from Dumbledore, eyes blurred with the tears she could no longer hold back. "I swore, when –when my friends died – that no matter what, if Voldemort ever returned, I would help stop him. Even if it cost my life. I've agonized over it these past three nights, thinking about what I'd say. If it was just my life, it would be easy, but the children –oh, my babies." She bit her lip, trying to pull herself together. A spot of blood appeared. "But I will not help Voldemort. And I can't say that I won't try to stop him, because it's not true."
"Voldemort knows that most of his enemies are honorable people," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Can you imagine one of us trusting that Voldemort would keep his word?"
"Of course not," Jenny said, shaking her head. A lock of her hair fell into her face, but she didn't brush it aside. "But if I gave my word, I would keep it. So would Sirius."
"Voldemort knows that," Dumbledore repeated. "I'm sure he thinks that is one of our weaknesses. But it is one of our strengths."
"Yes," Jenny said. "But what good will that do us?"
"I don't know."
Now, standing in her home, Jenny thought again about her decision. "But I won't let it come to that," she told herself. She'd come home, not to wait for news, as she'd told Fudge she was going to do, but to go and find her children.
She changed into warmer clothes and pulled out her bad-weather cloak. It might be cold where she was going. Then she went down to the broom closet. She glanced at her broom and smiled. "Maybe Lily was right and I should have gotten a new one," she murmured, "but I think my old one will still serve." She remembered how well it had served her when she played Quidditch all those years ago and sighed.
Ten minutes later, she was above the clouds and heading north. The first thing she had to do was find Sirius or Remus. Fortunately, she knew where to start looking.
"James," I called quietly. It was dark, of course; the dungeons were lit only when Pettigrew or one of his men came down. My brother mumbled something. "James!" I said louder.
"What?" he asked grumpily.
"I'm trying to figure out how long we've been in here. Help me think."
"How can we guess?" James grumbled. "They've fed us eighteen times and it hasn't been enough. Maybe a day between meals, maybe less."
"So a couple of weeks, at a guess," I said. "I wonder where Mum and Dad are now."
"Looking for us," James said firmly. "All right, now that I'm awake, what are we going to do?"
"Since we still can't escape or get word to our parents, nothing," I said, sitting myself on the floor.
"I mean, how are we going to occupy ourselves so we don't go nuts?"
"Not chess. You can visualize the board but I can't."
"Fine," he said. "Riddles?"
"We've both asked every riddle we know in the past however long," I grumbled, crossing my arms.
"Then let's tell stories," he said.
"Well, give me a few minutes to think of one," I said.
"Got one yet?" he asked a while later.
"No. The only ones I can think of are about people being held prisoner by ogres, or chained to rocks for eternity, or starved to death by wicked stepmothers."
"Come on. Think of the ones Mum told us when we were younger."
"Like about the young princess who was kidnapped by an evil Muggle and rescued by a wizard on a Nimbus 2000?" I asked sarcastically. "No, I don't think that I want to think about that sort of story."
"Fine, no stories then," James said sharply. "Let's just sit here and count our toes and go slowly more insane, until we lose our minds and-"
"Oh, shut up!" I yelled crossly. "This is all your fault. If you'd listened to that centaur, we might have escaped."
"Oh yeah?" he retorted. "What about if you had told me about the centaur so I might have believed her?"
"Sure, blame it on me! Say it wasn't your fault." We were right next to the bars between us now, yelling at each other's face, invisible in the inky darkness. James shoved me, hard, and I flew back into the wall.
"Ouch!" I yelled.
"Oh, Lily," James said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten mad. Are you all right?"
"Yeah," I said, getting up from the ground. "Hey, what's that?"
"What?" James asked interestedly.
"Where my boot hit the wall, there's a little crack now. I can see light!" I got down on my knees. "It's some sort of window or something that was bricked up. The mortar's falling to bits, that's what I knocked out."
"Can you get any more out?"
"I think so." I began to chip at it as best as I could with my hands, but that was futile. So I took off my boot and started trying to knock out the mortar with the heel. That worked a little better. Five minutes later, I'd removed enough mortar to get a brick loose.
While I had been working, James had apparently moved closer to the bars than ever.
"I can see light!" He called as I got the brick out. A hole opened up, big enough to see through. I got down on my stomach and peered out. The wall seemed to be quite thick, but I thought that I might be able to get my arm through it if the hole was just a bit larger.
It was day outside, but cloudy, so it didn't take long for my eyes to adjust to the light. "James," I said, "wherever we are, it's high up. I can see down for ages. Maybe this isn't really a dungeon, maybe it just looks like one."
"What do you see outside?" James demanded.
"Well, wherever we are, it's pretty wild. I don't see any other buildings, just land. It's pretty chilly, too." I shivered as a breeze touched my face. "I can see the sky pretty well –hey, what's that? Is it? Oh –James, I can't believe this!"
Let the flames begin! I am feeling rather sadistic today, so you get one of my best cliffhangers yet! Hehehe! And * gryn * for those who know what I mean.
I'm sorry, I will try to keep that side under control. Standard disclaimer: All characters mentioned in the Harry Potter books belong to Ms. Joanne Kathleen Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Books, possibly Warner Brothers, and not me. I don't claim anyone except the characters I created. I think you can tell who they are. Please do not take anything I have created without asking first. Please nobody sue me, I'm trying to save up to go to Europe in a few years. Besides, my government's taken most of it… grumble… I just did my taxes… I hate the IRS.