THINGS FALL APART, PART V
By StickPegasus
A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I was on vacation and didn't have my computer with me. I wrote over vacation but couldn't post. ;) Thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed Part IV, even after my shameless plea on the message boards…
Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowling's. I've used some dialog from an overlapping scene in Prisoner of Azkaban, I'm sure you can spot it, and I do NOT claim it nor make money off of it, no matter how much I'd like to own it…
And now, without further ado…
"MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY!" Read that morning's Daily Prophet. Remus glanced at the byline, Rita Skeeter, and wondered what sort of scathing remarks she'd made in this edition. He rarely took her articles seriously. In fact, he was on the way to ignoring this one as he Summoned his teacup from the counter- until he saw the subheading.
"Ruthless murderer Sirius Black escapes Azkaban."
Remus choked violently on his tea and sent a mouthful splattering across the kitchen table. Not only did that detail shock him, it angered him as well. Sirius Black had been one of his closest friends. And he had been sent to Azkaban for the murder of his other best friends. He had been in league with Voldemort, and he had escaped. No person in wizard history had ever escaped Azkaban; no one was sane enough. All of the prisoners went mad within weeks- but Sirius had been in Azkaban for twelve years. And he had escaped.
Remus drew a shaky breath as he regained his composure. How could this be possible? How? How?! He wiped several drops of tea off of his newspaper and began to read the article.
"The Ministry of Magic has blundered once again. The highly dangerous criminal, Sirius Black, right hand man to You-Know-Who during the Reign of Darkness, slipped through the fingers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when he escaped from Azkaban last night. The magical community has been put on full alert.
"But alas, that is not the only bollix that the Ministry has made today. Now the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has asked the Muggle Prime Minister for assistance in apprehending Black.
"Black is believed to be armed and highly dangerous. Involving the muggle community would only endanger them. It is this reporter's firm belief that Black will not hesitate in killing again; after all, he killed twelve muggles and a wizard with a single curse before he was sent to Azkaban twelve years ago. Cornelius Fudge has declined comment, however unwisely, on that particular subject.
"Anyone with any knowledge of Black is asked to contact the Ministry offices immediately, by owl, so that any further poor decisions by the Minister may be averted."
Remus glanced at the photograph of Sirius, taken the day he had murdered Peter. He was between two Magical Law Enforcement wizards, and he was laughing, with no mirth in his deep black eyes. He appeared to be quite insane.
The caption beneath the photograph read: "No recent photographs have been taken of Black. He is described by Dr. Blithesbane, Director of Azkaban, as having long, stringy black hair, a very gaunt frame, and considerably more sunken features than in this photograph. Any information of his whereabouts should be immediately owled to the Ministry Office of Magical Law Enforcement."
Remus slowly laid his paper on the table and stared, still shocked, at the subheading. It seemed that Fudge had not yet figured out how he had managed to escape.
I should tell them he's an Animagus, Remus thought. But as he reached for parchment and a quill, he hesitated. That would mean telling the whole story, and how I was involved… and then Dumbledore would know I betrayed his trust… He clasped his hands together. He must have used Dark Magic he learned from Voldemort to escape. Yes, that's it. A Dark shield charm would have concealed him… and Voldemort would have some way to guard his right-hand man from dementors. Much more satisfied with this line of reasoning, Remus proceeded to clear up the spilled tea and pour himself another cup.
The next day, after breakfast, someone knocked on Remus's front door. Puzzled, he went to the door, and opened it to find Albus Dumbledore standing on his front porch. The elder man's beard twitched as his lips curved in to a smile, and his piercing blue eyes sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Hello, Remus," he said.
"P-Professor Dumbledore! What brings you here?" Remus asked, surprised.
"Actually, I came to ask a rather considerable favor of you, Remus. And please, call me Albus, you haven't been a student for over fifteen years!" The Headmaster's eyes sparkled jovially.
"Well, come in, then, sir; please," Remus held the door open and Dumbledore entered the house.
"I have to admit, Remus, I've had a difficult time finding you. You don't seem to stay put for long, do you?" He grinned.
"Well, no, sir- considering my circumstances, I try not to stay anywhere for long."
"Your –er- circumstances, as you call them," said Dumbledore pointedly, "are not as damning as you believe. I had hoped that you had overcome your attempts at self-degradation. God knows you get enough of it from others."
Remus, uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken, suddenly found the floor rather fascinating.
"But I digress," said Dumbledore. "I've come to ask your help."
Remus looked up and eyed his old headmaster questioningly.
"I'll get straight to the point. I need a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and I believe that you are a wonderful choice-"
"But sir, I'm a-"
"And that you will perform admirably. Your marks in that particular subject, as I recall, were phenomenal, and you've always had the ideal mentality for teaching." He paused for a moment, looking at Remus. "Would it help if I told you I won't take no for an answer?"
"Sir, I- I really can't-" he began.
"Of course you can! I know, for a fact, that you have no obligations here."
"That's not the problem- it's not safe," he said.
"Believe me, Remus, I am aware of your 'circumstances,' and had I thought that they would be a problem, I would not have come to you. Severus Snape can prepare the Wolfsbane Potion for you for the full moons."
"Wolfsbane Potion?"
"A rather new development. As I understand, it suppresses a werewolf's urge to kill. You'll be able to curl up in your office as a harmless wolf all night, and wait for the moon to wane. It seems that it helps you keep your mind."
Remus was surprised at this information. A way to control the wolf? But he still demurred. There were never any guarantees anymore…
"Remus… we need someone at Hogwarts who meets the qualifications. I can't think of anyone better for this job than you are."
"Don't you find it ironic, sir, that a Dark creature teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? I'm the very thing the students are learning to defend themselves from!"
"Remus, you are nearly the most calm, controlled person that I've ever met. Your self-control is remarkable. You were the first werewolf ever to go to Hogwarts, and I do not regret my decision to admit you. I've never doubted your ability.
"I need another strong hand on deck," he continued. "We have reason to believe that Sirius Black will try to enter Hogwarts-"
"Sirius?! Why?"
"It seems that he wants to get at Harry Potter. The guards have reported him talking in his sleep, very insistently, a bit before his escape. He kept saying 'He's at Hogwarts.'"
Remus's mouth went dry. Of course! Harry Potter would be old enough to go to Hogwarts by now…I would get to see him again… "And you think he… wants to… finish off the last Potter?"
"It seems that way." Dumbledore paused. "Although I always had a hard time accepting the fact that he would want to finish off the Potters," he added thoughtfully.
Remus nodded noncommittally to this; however, in his mind, a conflicting jumble of thoughts and emotions fought to break loose. He'd never honestly believed that Sirius had been working for Voldemort, or that he'd sold Lily and James to him, either. But there really wasn't any question, for he had been Secret Keeper…
"So?" asked Dumbledore.
"So… I don't know, sir, it's too much of a risk to the students."
"Sometimes risks have to be taken for the greater good. You have a gift for teaching, Remus, I know it's there. And the passion for learning. I have no doubt that you can do this."
"Well, all right, sir… but I'm still concerned."
"I knew you would be. That's why you're perfect for this position." Dumbledore's cobalt eyes twinkled brightly. "Seeing as how the moon is full on the 31st of August, you'll probably be more comfortable riding the Hogwarts Express on the First?"
Remus nodded.
"Good. I thought so. I also would feel more comfortable having you aboard… the dementors are bound to search the train for Sirius."
"All right, sir. I imagine, then, that I shall see you on the First?"
"Yes. Now, I'm afraid I must be going. I have some other business to attend to. I will see you later, Professor Lupin." Dumbledore grinned.
Remus had to admit, he liked the sound of "Professor Lupin." Especially coming from Dumbledore.
~*~
An enormous, shaggy black dog trotted south across the moor with incredible determination. One would think he had a purpose; that is, if dogs had purposes. Impossibly thin, nearly every bone in his body was visible. It was clear that he was utterly exhausted, his tongue lolled from beneath his sagging jowls and the lilt of his stride was gone.
Soon, he reached a wood, with a stream running through it. He glanced up and down for any sign of life, then sniffed the air. All clear. With a whirl of wizard's robes, the dog transformed in to an emaciated man. The effort took a lot out of him, and he sank to his knees before the water. He cupped his hands to drink from the stream, then splashed himself with water and scrubbed futilely at his filthy face and hands. He sighed deeply. It was such a relief to be here. No more claustrophobia. No more penetrating cold. And finally, finally, he could sit and just think about innocent nothing; for so long, his thoughts had been tainted by horrors that had made great gaping wounds in his mind. The wounds had not by any means begun to heal (he wondered how many years it would take before they began to scar over). But it was such a relief that the horror was no longer constant.
He found that he would often, when he sat thinking, find his mind drifting back to that little cell, and he would torture himself with his own thoughts as he began to pace. He supposed, when he reflected upon this, that his mind was so accustomed to thinking this way that he's developed a horrible habit. Perhaps, when the scars began to form, that habit would break.
Dark clouds had begun to gather overhead; thunder growled in the distance; once the first fat drops of rain began to fall, Sirius began to look for a dry place to spend the night. He transformed once again in to the shaggy black dog and curled up beneath the broad branches of a tree, and as the rain fell in sheets around his sheltered spot, he fell exhaustedly asleep.
The rain fell in torrents as the night wore on, and beneath meager shelter, the dog slept fitfully. Even heavy exhaustion could not keep his nightmares away, his legs twitched, and he had begun to whine softly. His whimpers grew steadily louder, but were still drowned out by the storm. And the night wore on.
~*~
One bright morning in the middle of August, Ron Weasley strode down the hall from his bedroom, down the stairs, and in to the kitchen, where his mother was bustling about the stove. His pet rat, a hand-me-down from his brother Percy, sat lazily on his shoulder. As he pulled up a chair at the kitchen table, his mother handed him a plate of toast and marmalade. His father sat across from him a spoke a bright greeting from behind that morning's Daily Prophet.
Through a mouthful of toast, Ron thanked his mother and greeted his father. He could hear his brothers, Fred and George, outside, de-gnoming the garden. [They had passed an exploding wand off on Mrs. Weasley the evening before, and it had singed her favorite apron, so she sent them out to de-gnome early this morning.]
Ron munched his toast happily and his rat, Scabbers, scurried off his shoulder. Ron snuck him a bite of toast.
"Ron, don't feed that rat on my table!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. Ron had thought she hadn't seen, and at times like this, she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head.
Scabbers peered curiously at Mr. Weasley.
~*~
Peter chewed his not-so-secret bite of toast and walked across the table to snatch a peek at Mr. Weasley's newspaper.
"MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY!" it read. Hmm, he thought. Ah, Rita Skeeter. She is rather amusing. Then he read the subheading.
"Ruthless murderer Sirius Black escapes Azkaban!" Dear God. Oh no. This is it. I'm going to die. Sirius was going to come after him and kill him, like he'd tried to so many years before; only this time he knew Peter's tricks. And he was probably rather insane and… er… disgruntled, and would succeed. Damned Sirius, he was always bloody succeeding.
Peter didn't want to die. So he worried, and he waited; waited for Sirius to come and kill him.
~*~
The full moon on the night of the 31st of August was exceptionally hard on Remus, mainly because he was worried and angry about Sirius. When he woke after sunrise from a scant hour of sleep once the moon had set, Remus felt so sore and exhausted that he was contemplating just not going. But he'd made a promise, and he decided, in the end, that he should keep it; so he dragged his haggard body up from the floor, dressed, and gathered his things. He piled his frayed, patched robes in to his tattered briefcase and Apparated to London.
Crossing the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross brought back many memories that Remus had tried so hard to forget. Seeing the children boarding the Hogwarts Express, watching concerned parents bustling about… it made him feel like it was twenty years ago and he was off to school. But this time, it was different.
Remus discretely boarded the train and entered an empty compartment at the rear. He placed his old briefcase in the luggage rack and sat heavily in a seat below the window. In minutes, his exhaustion caught up with him, and he was fast asleep.
~*~
Sirius had traveled south very quickly. He knew it was nearly time for the Hogwarts Express to pick the students up at King's Cross, just a few days more, and he desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of his godson. His godson. Goodness. He hadn't seen him since that night, twelve years ago, when he'd taken him in his arms, weeping, and said goodbye… God. He hadn't been much of a godfather. And poor little Harry was, he assumed, still living with Petunia and old What's-his-name. Some godfather he was. Just one more thing in life for him to screw up.
The night was dark, most everyone in town was asleep. But as he trotted along Magnolia Crescent, he heard a commotion. There was a kid with messy black hair dragging a trunk and… an owl down the street. He crept closer to get a better look, and when he saw the kid's face, he almost passed out. It was a miniature version of James… but with Lily's stunningly green eyes. God. It was he. James' and Lily's son… dear God…
As he fought to keep at bay those brutal memories of that night twelve years ago, Harry turned and spotted him. Startled, he fell over his trunk, and just as he fell to the ground, the Knight Bus appeared behind him. Sirius watched him get on, then watched the bus until it was completely out of sight.
He had to get to Peter, before Peter got to Harry. He had to do something right, for once. He'd had enough of letting people down.
~*~
Peter slept on in Ron's breast pocket while all the excitement of leaving for Hogwarts bustled about him. He really didn't notice much of anything, he was so tired. He hadn't slept well since he'd heard about Sirius, and his nerves were completely shot. He'd lost quite a bit of weight. Not to mention that damned cat of Hermione's was trying to eat him… perhaps it worked for Sirius.
When he woke, he poked his little rat face out and peeked around at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and- someone else he didn't know. A sleeping man, haggard… he wondered whom it was, adults didn't usually ride the train. He looked closer at the exhausted man's face, at the dark circles beneath his eyes… Jesus Christ, it was Remus. God, if he noticed, if he remembered… Remus knew what he looked like as a rat…
He retreated to the security of Ron's pocket.
~*~
Remus woke abruptly when the train stopped moving. For a moment or so, he was quite disoriented, all the confusion in the compartment threw him off. As he gathered his bearings, he realized that they could not possibly be at Hogwarts yet, so this must be what Dumbledore had warned him about. Dementors.
"Quiet!" he said, in a sleep-roughened voice. "Stay where you are," he added absently to the students around him. He quickly conjured a handful of flickering blue flames, which illuminated several confused faces. He was about to reach a hand out and open the door when he felt the unmistakable chill of a dementor's presence. As he drew his wand, the door slid open, and a dementor glided inside.
The compartment grew deathly cold as the dementor extended a scabbed hand. Remus heard the students gasp, felt the shiver go through them, and then heard a loud thud. He pointed his wand at the dementor and said, "none of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go."
Nothing happened. The dementor turned its hooded face from student to student, its breath rattled beneath the inky black hood, slowly. Remus raised his wand again, more adamantly this time, and summoned all of his strength and resolve to focus on something happy. "Expecto patronum," he murmured. A silvery cloud sprang from the tip of his wand and hovered in front of the dementor, which backed out of the door, turned, and left.
A moment later, the lights flickered back on. One of the students had collapsed, and two were bent closely over him. He had unruly black hair and- a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. It couldn't be… could it?
One of the students crouching over him slapped his face and shouted, "Harry!"
God. It was he. As Remus stepped closer, he got a good look at his face. He was the absolute spitting image of James. The resemblance was so uncanny that it made Remus gasp.
Seeing this child made Remus feel thirteen again. When he had the greatest friends anyone could ever have asked for… When he was accepted, loved… Then he shook his head roughly. Those times are over. Never again. He blinked, hard, forcing the stinging sensation away from his eyes.
One of the other students shook Harry roughly and his eyes flickered open. There were those remarkable green eyes, just like Lily's… Stop it! He dug in his coat pocket for a bar of chocolate and busied himself breaking it for the children. He handed each of them a piece.
"Eat it. It'll help," he told them. "I need to go speak to the driver." He left the compartment.
His thoughts were spinning viciously inside his head. He really hadn't needed to see the driver… everything was under control… But seeing Harry left such an incredible ache in his heart. And while he was out, he may as well write to McGonagall and tell her what had happened. He looks so much like his father… I remember when we used to- Stop it! Those times are over…
Remus reached the conductor's quarters quickly and asked if there had been any more problems. There hadn't.
"Do you mind if I owl ahead to Hogwarts? One of the students has taken ill," Remus said, "he's all right now."
The conductor felt very uncomfortable around Remus for some reason he couldn't place, but he said, "Go right ahead, there's parchment and an owl in the next car."
Remus thanked the conductor and walked to the next car, reaching in to his cloak for a quill. He wrote a quick note to Professor McGonagall and told her what had happened. A sharp pang went through his heart as he wrote the words "Harry Potter," then he harshly scolded himself for letting it affect him so. It's been twelve years. You've put it behind you. He made his way tentatively back to the compartment.
"I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know," he grinned.