Part One--Grace





It was so beautiful, so impossibly beautiful. Death grinned from its perch atop the shattered buildings, a red shroud over the small crumpled corpses and the blackened street. God, so much death, so much oblivion, so much beauty that it was painful. She smiled, even while she was crying, all the hate and rage and terror and unhappiness peaking inside of her, the sharp ache in her head and breast almost driving her to her knees. Right beside her, a Muggle girl beamed up from the pavement, bright crimson lips pulled back to show pearly teeth, almost a smile, almost a scream. Her hair was splayed out behind her, bright gold but still sprinkled with that omnipresent scarlet...she was exquisite in death; one hand gripped a bouquet of roses--a gift, perhaps, from the boy who lay next to her, neck twisted at an impossible angle. There was a bright, wet hole right where her middle should be.

She moved her hand over the girl's still-open blue eyes, closing them. And she looked up, the pain almost consuming her, trying to see who...who had done this...there had to be someone left to help...she had to do her job...

The cloaks were swishing away again. The screaming faded, slowly. She didn't lift her head out of her arms, merely crouched there, shuddering uncontrollably. Why had they come back? The guards only passed her way once every few days, and they never stood outside the bars like that, staring at her, studying her...

There were more steps on the flagstones of the tunnel outside her cell, again the swishing of robes...she moaned softly, clutching at her face...but the screaming never came...

"...does annual rounds of the Prison every year, Dumbledore, and I'm sure he found everything satisfactory...he never complained to me..."

"Fudge is not the sort of man to complain about the treatment of prisoners, Barlow." A mild, comfortable voice. "Even if they are...ah...not in the best shape."

Those were voices. Not screams, not the awful animal sounds that accompanied the visions, but voices...humans...

"Well, don't see why he should. They're hardened criminals, after all, not baby kittens. If they're treated badly, it's their own fault for doing what they did." There was a short pause. "Dumbledore, I don't know why you insisted on coming down here...these were the low-security cells, prisoners were held here pending trial...really, with You-Know-Who gone, there's no one left to be tried. I don't even think there's anyone left in these cells anymore..."

I'm here, she tried to say, but her throat froze up and all that came out was a faint, thin wail.

The steps stopped, abruptly.

"There is someone here," said the second voice, sharper now, almost urgent. The footsteps came faster, the first voice sputtering "But--but there can't be--"

The woman hugged her knees tighter, dread closing up her throat. What had she done? What if these people were just like the others? What if theirs were the voices she heard, late at night, when the world gabbled in her ears and she had to clutch her head, driving her nails deep into her own flesh, trying to force them away...the ones that drove her to throw herself against the stone walls, to beat her head against the walls in terror and desperation...

Someone was blocking the light of the torch, silhouetted against the bars of her cell. Someone...two people...

She whimpered in anguish. They were going to...going to...

"Who is this, Barlow?" the second voice snapped, echoing in her ears. "Lumos!"

There was a bright point of light...

"I...I don't know, Dumbledore...I thought there was no one left in these old cells..."

"Look at her, Barlow! She looks like a corpse...she must have been here for years...you don't even know who she is?"

"I'd--I'd have to check her papers--it could take weeks--"

"Papers," said the woman suddenly. This much she understood. Maybe these...these people could help her understand the message she had received..."I have a paper. It's important, I know it is, but I've forgotten why. Will you help me?"

The old man, possessor of the second voice, bent forward gently to her, smiling. He was important too, something told her...Dumbledore...there were things he needed to know...

She pulled herself forward, clutching her little parchment in one thin hand. She hadn't let go of it since obtaining it...the night before, or that morning, or a week ago...

The old man took it from her, gently. His hands were so warm...she hadn't felt warmth in so long...His face went pale, almost dangerous. "Barlow, this girl has been waiting to be released for fifteen years."

*

"Anika's still in Azkaban?!"

Remus Lupin paced furiously around Dumbledore's desk, running his hands distractedly through his graying hair. "I can't believe it...She was supposed to be held for a month, Dumbledore! A month, while they questioned Sirius...just to see if she'd been involved...What is she doing still in there?"

"They lost her papers, Remus." Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh. "And once all the other temporary prisoners were brought to trial or released, there wasn't even any record that she was still there...the dementors knew, of course, but she was just more meat to them."

The Headmaster had never seen his former student so furious. Remus's amber eyes burned dangerously, every line of his body tensed and ready for murder. "We've got to get her out of there...it's a wonder she's still alive...However did you find her?"

"I had a suspicion," said Dumbledore heavily. "I have contacts all over, and there was no sign of her on the Continent...I know Anika's good at staying low, but I was still not sure. Of course, she might have committed suicide, but...well. Did you hear about young Simon Branford?"

Remus creased his forehead, trying to remember. "Was he that boy who had his papers lost, or something? Just got released from Azkaban?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He was supposed to be there a week--he went at sixteen on charges of drug possession, to teach him a lesson--but they forgot about him. Forgot about him." Dumbledore's fists clenched momentarily, then released. He took a deep breath. "Fudge had it quieted down, of course. Public opinion is really turning against Azkaban, especially after Sirius--and Barty Crouch--but our esteemed Minister didn't want any riots in the streets." He smiled, grimly.

"What's that got to do with Ani?" asked Remus impatiently.

"I realized, hearing about Branford, that I had no idea if Ani'd even been released." He registered Remus's short intake of breath, but continued without pause. "If she was still in there, then I knew she had to have lost her papers...I had to give her a way to identify herself. One of my contacts works at the prison. I got him to slip a paper with the words Anika Donelan on it into the food headed for the low-security wing. If she held onto it...I'd know." He straightened. "My hunch paid off. I arranged for a tour of the prison--the entire prison, mind you, not just a round of the main building, the way Fudge does. I pretended I was just curious as to how Sirius escaped...I found her there."

"How are we going to get her out?"

"There's no evidence to hold her on." Dumbledore got up, moving over to Fawkes's cage, and stroked the bird's head meditatively. "Innocent until proven guilty...they'll have to let her go, Remus, they don't have a choice. I'm going to send you to collect her...she can't go to St. Mungo's, Voldemort is sure to find her--remember, he thinks she's dead too, or at least out of his reach--off fighting vampires in Romania, or something. Take her home. I'll send Poppy with you; it's the holidays, we can do without her here for a while. She'll be glad to have something to do." Dumbledore's hand paused on the phoenix's neck, and Fawkes's bright, jewel-like eyes burned into Remus's. "I'm going to have to ask you not to tell Sirius about this."

An expression of confusion crossed Remus's handsome face. "Wh-why not? He's thought she was dead for fifteen years...can you imagine what it'll mean to him to find out she's alive?"

Dumbledore grabbed his friend's forearm, an odd look hovering in those blue eyes, and a deep sadness. "Remus...she's not the Anika you once knew. She may never be the same. She was lucky...the dementors didn't come by her way often...but it was enough." Remus stared back at him, realizing with a sickening jolt what the man meant. "You know Sirius better even than I. He barely accepted losing Anika the first time. What do you think he would do, if he found out that he could have her back--and then he found out Dietrich Barlow and his dementors have been holding her prisoner for fifteen years, that they may well have driven her mad? That he'd lost her for a second time?"

Remus stared at the floor, and Dumbledore was reminded of the boy Remus had once been when he spoke again. "He'd blame himself, and then he'd kill Barlow. Or himself. Or both."

"None of which," Dumbledore snapped, "is much help to me, or to Sirius, or to Anika. I shall break the news to him myself, once it becomes clear just what sort of state she's in." The odd look entered his eyes again. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, Remus, but I want you to go to Azkaban for me. Take this--" He had been scribbling down a letter through the first half of their conversation, and he quickly signed it and handed it to Remus, who put it carefully in a pocket. "Show it to the ferryman at Port Gere, and then again to Barlow at the guardhouse. You'll be let in, and be able to get her out without all the paperwork and official bother. Good luck," and Dumbledore wasn't remotely smiling.

*

Remus strode down the torchlit halls, walking as fast as he could. Barlow--That stupid, incompetent rat! seethed Remus, raging inwardly--had warned him about running; it made the dementors suspicious. After only five minutes in this hellhole, Remus was already bewildered as to how Sirius had managed to make it through twelve years without going completely mad, even with his...particular powers. Up near the main building, there had been screaming and crying, snatches of old tunes and mindless gibbering...the heavy weight of the dementors' presence, always...

Down this wing, there was constant, absolute silence.

He almost ran, but the guard (human) next to him pulled him back, with a cautionary look. Remus pulled his sleeve free, impatiently, but moderated his pace. Dumbledore had said that Anika was in cell A-32...it couldn't be far...

The guard grabbed him, indicating with a gesture that their target was just ahead. Remus forced himself not to bolt towards what he knew was Anika's cell, kept himself firmly in check...as firmly as he could, at any rate...

They stopped, and Remus stopped with them. At first, he was sure there had been a mistake--the cell had to be empty, there was no sign of human life, not even the slightest tremor in a corner.

"Lumos!" he muttered, and the sudden beam of light from his wand illuminated the entire tiny cage. Remus drew a sudden, involuntary gasp.

The tiny, white-robed figure, cowering in the recesses of the cell...one hand was raised to her forehead, as though trying to block out the light of the wand...could it possibly be Anika?

She was almost skeletally thin...well, Ani had always been thin. But this woman looked so gaunt that it was sickening. Her eyes, deep shadows in that once-pretty face, watched him with so much fear that it made him almost physically ill, and her bony shoulders were hunched protectively around her face. There was no hint of recognition in those still-lovely eyes, no sparkle in her ravaged features...

"Ani," he managed through a throat that seemed to have closed up on him. "Ani. It's me, Remus...don't you remember?"

"Remus," she repeated. Her voice was as thin as her body, gentle and hopeless and cracked.

He snatched the keys from one of the guards nearest him and jammed it into the lock, fumbling with the rusty mechanism until finally there was an audible click. Barely even knowing what he was doing, he yanked the ancient iron bars open...they creaked loudly, echoing down the corridor, and the girl whimpered and pressed her hands against her ears, trying to shut out the unbearable sound. Remus rushed to her, fell to his knees, and held her tightly, forgetting that she had lost any memory of who he was, forgetting that she hadn't known human contact in fifteen years, forgetting...

He pulled back, searching her face for something...anything...

She scoured his face, her eyes still blank and vacant, and suddenly grabbed one of his wrists with a wasted hand. Turned her attention to his hand, studying it closely, running her spidery fingers along every line and furrow of his palm before turning it over, whispering them along his knuckles. He sat unmoving, mesmerized.

Anika suddenly looked back up at him, smiling that beautiful, angelic, empty smile. "Remus," she said again, and then put one hand up to his cheek, those horrible eyes running over his face. Her hands were like ice...colder than ice.

She was singing to herself, softly.

"Black-eyed dog, he calls at my door,

The black eyed dog he called for more
A black eyed dog he knew my name
A black eyed dog he knew my name
A black eyed dog
A black eyed dog.
I'm growing old and I wanna go home
I'm growing old and I don't wanna know
I'm growing old and I wanna go home.

"But that's not you," she said suddenly. "Who...wolf?"

"I'm going to take you home," he whispered in her ear, gently, trying desperately to keep his voice from breaking along with his heart. "Come on. We're getting out of here."

"Home?" she echoed, her brow wrinkling. "I'd forgotten..."

He tried to help her to her feet, but it soon became apparent that she could barely move by herself; her legs were too wasted, thin from malnourishment and abuse. There were bruises and cuts, caked blood and dirt over every inch of her body--were the wounds self-inflicted? It was a horrible thought--and she was so cold, everywhere, so cold--

Remus scooped her into his arms. She lay there, passive, heart beating frantically against his chest like a bird's. She's terrified of me, he realized in horror. She doesn't know who I am...

"I'm not scared," she said suddenly, in that soft, unrecognizable voice. "Home."

He stroked her hair gently, fighting back tears, and carried her through the tunnels toward the courtyard.

The moment the sunlight of the prison yard touched her eyes, she screamed as if blinded, dug herself deep into Remus's chest and screamed, over and over and over until he felt something wet on his robes and realized that she was crying, her face contorted with agony as the tears coursed over her cheeks.

*

Madam Pomfrey emerged from the master bedroom, her round, benign face betraying no expression. Remus, who hadn't even sat down since arriving at the cottage with his precious burden, rushed to her. "Is Ani--is she all right? What's happened to her?"

"She's in a lot of pain, mentally and physically," said the nurse bitterly. "Suffering from just about everything a person can suffer from--I'm exaggerating, Remus," she added quickly, seeing the stricken look on Remus's face. "But that prison..." A dark look crossed Pomfrey's face, just for a moment. "Disgusting, the things that happen to people in there. Malnourishment, minor hypothermia, obviously superficial damage to the skin--" She ticked off every affliction on her fingers. "Sensory damage, from the sudden exposure to the outside world--" Remus flinched-- "and as for emotional damage...I can't even begin to imagine."

"Will she--will she ever--" He tried, barely able to force the words out. "Will she ever get her mind back?"

The sorrow in Madam Pomfrey's eyes as she looked at him almost drove him to the ground. "Remus..."

He waited.

"I don't know. I really don't know. There's nothing I can do about that kind of pain...nothing but wait, and see. Perhaps after she heals from some of this physical abuse, her mind will begin to recover."

"At--at worst?" he croaked.

"At worst," and the sorrow grew deeper, "she'll feel the torture she feels now for every moment of her life. That's what happens to victims exposed for too long to the Cruciatus Curse...they feel that forever, until the day they die...and they die soon."

Oh, God, Ani...

"She may, on the other hand, make an emotional recovery but not a mental one...in other words, she'll be happy, but she'll be like a child. You'll have to teach her everything all over again...she may not even be capable of learning it." Madam Pomfrey straightened, methodically massaging the small of her back. "She seems like she wants to see you, though...refused to take a sleeping potion, and all she'll say is 'Remus, Remus.' I've got to go back and tell Dumbledore...Would you..."

"Of course," he said quickly, crossing the floor of the cottage to the door of the bedroom and stepping inside.

She looked even smaller, lying there on the shabby mattress that served as Remus's bed, covered only by the thin sheet. Madam Pomfrey had given her a wash, and the tangled masses of blue-black hair had been painstakingly combed out. There was so much more of it than there had been when they were at school together, and after...it had been carefully kept shoulder-length, then, but now it spread out from behind her head like the rays of the sun, at least three feet long. She looked only slightly better, and her eyes were closed.

"Ani?" he said softly.

She opened them, and he realized with a jolt that they didn't reflect the light...they captured it, drew it in, made it part of themselves...the way Sirius's had, in those few months after his escape. "Remus."

He knelt by the mattress, taking her hand in his own.

She smiled, wearily. "I'm so tired..."

"Sleep, then. I'll get Madam Pomfrey."

"No!" Her hand tightened in his. "I have to talk to you...have to remember...please, it's important..."

She was talking in full, cognizant sentences. She couldn't remember everything, but she was forming sentences...Maybe, just maybe, she was going to be all right... "It's okay, Ani...I'm listening..." He noticed, bizarrely, that now that she was clean she had her old scent back, rather than the coppery, metallic smell that had singed his nostrils when first he'd seen her in the cell...Just the sort of thing a wolf would notice, he thought with grim humor.

Her eyes went briefly unfocused. "There's someone...behind me...it's cold...Voldemort. Voldemort!" All of a sudden she was panicking, clawing at the blankets as though trying to escape from someone. She was wearing one of Remus's old Muggle shirts; it was far too big for her. He grabbed her shoulders, holding her protectively. "Hush, Ani! Hush. You're safe. He doesn't know you're here."

She stared at him, face stark with terror. "He's coming back...I heard them...talking to each other...a plan...there's a plan...Harry Potter...the de....the de...."

"Hush," he said more forcefully, though his mind reeled at the mention of Harry. He missed the boy, though he'd seen him a few times since his teaching job... "Don't think about that now. You need to rest."

"No! No--" And then, slowly, her eyes slid back out of focus. "I...I don't...I..."

"It's all right..."

The vacant smile drifted back onto her face. "Yes..."

"Lie down, now. Drink this." He lifted the goblet of sleeping draft to her lips, and she drank it, dutifully. A moment later, her eyes closed, her fingers relaxed, and she sagged against him, her breathing peaceful and regular at last.

Arms shaking, he lowered her back onto the mat. Could she have heard the other prisoners talking?

Or worse, had she heard the dementors?

There was a sharp scratching at his door.

He turned, surprised and worried. No one ever came down to his little house on the moors; he lived there for that very reason.

Closing the door softly behind him, he padded across the floor of the shabby living room and drew back the chain bolt at the top of the door, peering through the crack. At first, he could see no one--then he looked down and saw, on the doorstep--

"Padfoot?" he hissed, casting a glance to the left and right, half-afraid someone could see him. "What are you doing here?"

The huge black dog barked, pushing its head against the door in an obvious appeal to get inside.

"No!" whispered Remus desperately, pushing at his friend's head, trying to force him back outside. "Nonononono. Go away. You're not supposed to be here!"

The dog gave him a very reproachful look, then slipped nimbly under his arm and darted into the living room, where it remained, looking very smug.

Remus slammed the door and glared at the dog. "Sirius, you can't be here now!" He'll see Ani, he thought, panicking. He'll see Ani and he'll either get totally the wrong idea or he'll go completely mad and either way he just can't be here now!

The dog was stretching out its paws, which were rapidly becoming too long to be paws, the snout shrinking into its face, the fur atop its head growing into a wild, shoulder-length shock of jet-black hair.

Sirius Black smiled his trademark crooked smile, and stood up. "Try to contain your enthusiasm, Moony."

"What are you doing here?" hissed Remus, edging surreptitiously in front of the door that led to Anika's room.

"On the run from the law," said Sirius dramatically. "They've got the mountains staked out for me. Didn't you tell me I could lie low here?"

"Of course, but you should have warned me--Dumbledore doesn't want--I mean--now is a really bad time, Padfoot--"

Sirius raised one eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, Moony, I'd swear you were hiding something from me. Honestly, I don't care how many floozies are sleeping in your room right now, and I'll try to ignore the smells of expensive wine and massage oil...Remus, I haven't eaten in six days. Would a piece of toast be such a sacrifice for an old friend?"

"Stop being so goddamned stubborn!" I can't kick him out, he'll get caught, and what am I going to do about Ani? "All right, just...just stay where you are!"

Sirius looked severely offended. "The fact that you don't trust me with...whatever it is...makes me very sad. I shall nonetheless attempt to live up to your disgustingly low expectations."

"Good of you," said Remus, and he backed into the kitchen, keeping one distrustful eye on his friend.

Sirius had every intention of staying put, but his dog-senses kept niggling him. There's a smell a smell a smell, said Padfoot excitedly, poking the back of his mind with its wet, cold nose. A new smell, an old smell, a confusing smell. Let's go dig for it. Come on come on come on, come find the smell. Come play. Oh it's a smell, a smell, come and see! Come and smell!

Usually it was easy to quiet the canine side of his mind, but today it seemed particularly insistent, and before he even knew what was going on the change was taking over his body and Padfoot was in control.

How did that happen? wondered Sirius, slightly bewildered, and he was about to change back to his human self when he smelled what Padfoot had first smelled: a delicious sweet-salty tang, emanating from under Remus's bedroom door.

It was too enticing to resist. He crept forward, poking at the door; it fell open easily under his touch, and he stole into the room, dog-senses in an uproar. Smell smell smell smell oh wonderful smell! What is it what is it?

He padded towards the bed, ears pricked up and nose twitching madly, and then he poked his head over it.

Smell smell smell smell rain and wind and ocean, storm-waves and fresh as the air off the bay oh it's so beautiful who--?

Padfoot faded as Sirius threw off the dog-body like a wet cloak, desperate to see who this was, who this lovely delicious scent could be--

At first, he didn't recognize her...

...and then she opened her eyes.

It was fifteen years of grief and guilt and self-hatred hitting him all at once--and at the same time it was fifteen years of love so violent it choked him, a part of his soul that had been sealed away from the rest of him throwing off its bonds and stepping into the light for the first time in years.

He was completely unable to speak, no sound issuing from his dry lips as he stared, disbelieving, at her. There was something about her, about the curves and planes of that familiar-and-yet-so-far-away face that twisted and jumbled his mind, making the words he so longed to say shy and turn away inches from his lips--even the feelings he longed to feel danced just out of reach as he gasped for breath, reaching out for her--

But then her eyes were wide with fear and rage and betrayal, and before he could react she had flung out one hand--

"Not again!" she screamed, and her face was twisted into something entirely unrecognizable--lightning, bluer than an August sky, blasted from her fingertips, slamming into his body and throwing him against the opposite wall.

He gasped in pain, smashing into the floor and feeling something in his bones crack. She was clutching at the sheets, screaming "No, no, no!"

*

Remus exploded into the room in a whirl of splinters and wind, screaming inwardly, That idiot! I told him not to, I told him--

Anika stared up at him with those light-twisted eyes, crying "He's come back for me...he's going to kill me..."

Remus shot Sirius a look of total rage--and then realized that his friend was grimacing with pain, twisted on the floor as if he had been attacked. "Sirius! What happened?"

"Couldn't help it..." Sirius felt blood rushing past his ears in a frenzy, filling his mind with the dull roar. "The dog smelled her, and I had to follow...Came in here and she...shot lightning at me...Remus, you found her?"

Remus rushed over to Anika, grabbing her freezing hands in his own. "It's all right, Ani, no one's going to hurt you..."

"He killed Lily and James!" screamed Anika, shivering violently in his hands. "He killed Peter! Lily James Peter oh god..."

"He didn't kill them," said Remus softly, soothingly. "He was framed, Ani, it was Peter killed them...Sirius was innocent...they put him in Azkaban, but he was innocent..."

"So was I innocent," said Anika without emotion.

Sirius stared from Remus to Ani, and then back to Remus. "Remus...what's happened to her? She looks half-dead..." His face grew tight, drawn, and so angry that it was agonizing to look at. "If you've hurt her, Remus..."

"She spent fifteen years in Azkaban, Sirius," said Remus quietly, supporting the trembling Anika with one arm. "She was supposed to spend a month there, to keep her from doing anything rash...and to be a witness at your trial, and as a suspected collaborator...but they lost her papers, and you never had a trial...she's been in there ever since..."

What little color was in Sirius's face had drained away, leaving him as pale as ice, his eyes intense dark stars in his white skin. "She...she's been in Azkaban?"

"I have," said Anika unexpectedly, and as Remus whipped around to stare at her, he realized that the blankness was wiped from her eyes, and that they shone with a sort of reverse light, bitter and angry. "Yes."

Sirius stared up at her, shivering. "Ani..."

"Don't speak to me," she whispered in a voice trembling with rage. "How dare you speak to me?" Her voice was building, slowly, to a scream as she rose out of the bed, throwing Remus's arm aside with unexpected force. "You killed them! You killed me! You--"

Something snapped in her spine, and she shuddered and went very still for a moment, the whites of her eyes showing, round and pale--and a moment later she was slumped back onto the bed, her eyes hazy and unfocused. "I...but...it's cold, Remus..." and she stared up at him with the petulant, shallow glare of a thwarted child. "Where's Mama?"

"She's dead," croaked Remus.

The flash of a grin lit Anika's face, and she turned her head with a birdlike twitch to Sirius, smiling at him oddly through a face twisted at an unnatural angle. "Good. She's stayed that way, then. Who are you?"

Sirius shot a desperate glance at Remus, and then gulped and looked back at Anika, reaching out one old-man-hand towards her. "I'm..."

"Don't answer," she said suddenly, twisting her head further to the side and running her long hands over the rough blanket. "I don't want to know."

Remus felt himself crumple inside; he stared at Sirius, but his friend was slumped against the wall as if in pain, listening to the soft, merciless voice.

"Is it winter yet? I thought it was summer, for the dog star is high--look, do you see it?--but I think I was wrong." There was a very long silence; then suddenly she broke her gaze with Sirius and stared down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers. "Go away now. All of you...go away...I can't speak anymore. Go."

Sirius had dragged himself to his feet and was staring at her, rigid, a muscle in his cheek twitching. "Remus..."

"Go," said Anika, and she smiled again, burrowing into the blankets. "If you come back I'll kill myself."

Sirius fled, Remus not far behind him.

Anika, alone in the room, giggled and flicked out her tongue, a low, guttural, animal growl rising behind the tiny laugh.