Hey guys, here's the next one… thanks for all the reviews so far! I'm glad you've enjoyed it: only a few chapters to go now.

Red. The Feathery ~ hope this was updated fast enough for you…? Thanks for your reviews ;)

Paffy ~ Here you go and no, Lupin does not die (but then you know that - and he's got to come back for Book 5!). Neither does anyone else. Yet.

~M~

Lupin, now he was back in his human form, had been looking increasingly uncomfortable chained up against the wall even before his short interrogation by Voldemort: Harry thought that his arms must have lost their circulation a long time ago, and the chains designed to hold him tight when he'd been a wolf were cutting into his skin. He glanced up as Peter approached.

"Hello, Peter," he said, in a friendly enough tone of voice considering the situation. Peter sneered at him, and Lupin's eyes widened as he saw the silver arm.

"Oh," he said. He looked strangely resigned.

Peter stopped just short of him, and stared him up and down, appraisingly.

"Remus," he said at last. Lupin said nothing, and gazed back evenly, holding his old friend's eye for a long time before Pettigrew finally tore his look away with an angry sneer: holding his silver hand high in front of him, he moved even closer.

"You should blame yourself," he spat at Lupin. "You should blame yourself for James's death – for my betrayal of him. I thank you – for forcing me to find better friends… a better master. And I plan to thank you properly, Remus; I plan to thank you properly."

Harry blinked at the odd exchange, still highly confused. He wondered what Peter could possibly be talking about. Beside him, Ron was staring at his ex-pet with such loathing that Harry could feel it radiating from him: he noticed Hermione had her hand grasped tightly round his wrist to prevent him from doing anything stupid. Good, thought Harry. Matters were complicated enough without Ron making them worse.

Lupin had still said nothing, and Peter carried on. "It was your fault," he said. "I just thought you should know, before I kill you. If James and Sirius and I hadn't ever become Animagi then none of this would ever have happened… if they hadn't felt so noble, if they hadn't felt sorry for you – then I would never have been discovered by my Lord Voldemort."

"Then why do you want to kill me?" asked Lupin. "I'd have thought that that's hardly the way to prove your loyalty to Voldemort… killing the man you say caused him to find you. I'd be careful, if I were you, Wormtail. You sound as though you'd rather he hadn't."

Pettigrew looked like he was struggling hard with himself not to punch Lupin. However, he mastered himself, and carried on.

"That isn't true," he snarled. "I know it, and my master knows it. I just want to make sure you're aware of your responsibility for James and Lily's deaths. If you hadn't been a werewolf – a freak – in the first place they'd still be alive now."

To Harry's dismay, Lupin seemed to accept these words. An expression of self-disgust had surfaced on his tired face, and Peter smiled exultantly. He brought his silver hand up close to Lupin's face, and touched him gently on the cheek.

Harry was not prepared for the result of this action. Lupin's head snapped sideways as though someone the size of Hagrid had struck him, and a deep purple graze blossomed across his cheekbone. Peter laughed hysterically, and tapped him again.

"What's he doing?" gasped Ron. "Why's he – what's wrong with – "

"It's silver," came Hermione's glum whisper. "Silver – werewolves are… they're allergic to it. A traditional 'cure' for a werewolf is a silver bullet. They can't bear the touch of it. I remember reading it when Snape set us that essay to do. Remember, back at the hut, when you were ill, Ron? Snape's experiment? He wouldn't stop fiddling with his buttons – they were silver."

Harry could only stare in horror as Peter continued to touch Lupin with his silver hand: for such a gentle action to have such a hideous effect was terrible to watch. Lupin was all but unconscious: Harry winced in sympathy as Pettigrew suddenly thumped him round the face as hard as he could – which, noted Harry, was a rather pathetic attempt – and his head whacked back hard against the stone wall.

"STOP IT!" he shouted, unable to contain himself any longer. Pettigrew jumped, but Voldemort turned to him, amused.

"I thought I told you to be quiet?" he said mildly. "Dear, dear, Potter… it seems I shall have to ask Peter to give you some lessons in obedience, as well as our tame werewolf there. Did you know, Harry, I could easily destroy him just like that?" He gave an elegant flick of his wrist and Harry heard Lupin gasp in agony. "But I won't," smiled Voldemort cheerfully. "I could kill any of your little friends, Potter. The wolf, the dog – " Sirius's body was flung upwards from the floor with another wave of Voldemort's wand – "My old, faithful, spy – " Snape gave such a howl of pain as he clutched at his left wrist that Harry's insides lurched at the sound.

Voldemort was still talking. "The gentle giant who was foolish enough not to take up my offer of employment," he continued, and Hagrid, though still unconscious, began to moan aloud. "Or your special friends, perhaps… the little witch has potential – perhaps I should recruit her…" Hermione, to Harry's surprise and admiration, spat at Voldemort and then let out a strangled choke as he pointed at her with his wand.

"No!" yelled Ron wildly, jumping in front of her, violently pulling his own wand from his robes and pointing it shakily at Voldemort. "Don't touch her."

"No?" said Voldemort, raising an amused eyebrow. "Very well. Maybe the ginger brat? Maybe you would like to see your best friend – now what would be amusing… maybe you would like to see your overprotective little best friend try and kill me? I'm sure he'd be delighted to… it could be quite interesting to observe…" He raised his wand hand to shoulder height, and pointed it at Ron, who stared defiantly back and looked very much as though he would dearly love to do exactly as Voldemort had suggested.

Harry clenched his fists at his sides. "Don't you dare," he said in a loud, clear voice. Voldemort laughed, and lowered his wand.

"Ah," he said. "I didn't think you'd like it. You see, Harry, I could kill each one of them… I could easily do that. But I'd like you to realise just how kind I can be, when the mood takes me… Now, I think the time has come for you and I to strike a little deal. Just how far are you prepared to go to save your companions' lives? How hard a bargain will you push? I have a proposition for you… See if it sounds attractive. I am willing to forego killing your friends in exchange for you. Give yourself up, Harry. Give yourself up like your noble, foolish parents did and I swear your friends will walk free. One life in exchange for six. Now, I can't say fairer than that."

Harry stared at him, the room spinning round his head. One life in exchange for six… yes… the odds were more than even: how easy it would be, just to give himself up with the knowledge that the others would live. Hardly realising what he was doing, he took a step towards Voldemort.

"Harry NO!" He stopped short at the sound of Ron's horrified shout.

"Stop!" That was Hermione, dragging herself up from the ground and lunging towards him as though to pull him back.

A choked cry came from Hagrid, evidently awake now: "Don't take another step, 'arry – don't move…"

"You're the only person who can stop Voldemort," said Sirius. "No one else has ever been able to. If he kills you – we're all lost."

"Do you really think he'd let us go, just like that?" added Remus Lupin hoarsely, despite Peter's attempts to quieten him.

Voldemort sneered at them all. "Think it over, Potter," he said. "Remember what I can do…" Again, he flicked his wand over Harry's crowd of friends and each one cried out loudly.

"Harry." Harry started in disbelief as Snape spoke. He couldn't remember ever having been addressed by his first name by the Potions master before in his life. "Harry – don't be so foolish," Snape gasped. "If it's a choice between us, and the rest of humanity… Don't be selfish."

Harry stood still, and thought. Don't be selfish… would he be classed selfish, in sacrificing himself, he wondered? What would be more selfish, saving his friends by dying; or saving the world – as everyone seemed to believe him capable of doing – by living? Harry let out a short and mirthless bark of laughter. The Boy who Lived. That was his job. He knew what he had to do – knew he had to give his friends' death sentence – knew he would hate himself for the rest of his life by doing so –

"Harry?" said Ron quietly. "It isn't worth it. Destroying Voldemort is more important than my life: don't do it – don't kill yourself. We need you. I'd rather die knowing Voldemort wasn't going to kill my family than walk out of here alive with you dead and him in power. Please, Harry. Don't do it."

"Ron's right, Harry," said Hermione. "This is more important than anything else. I don't mind – honestly I don't. None of us do. Please… please, don't do it."

Harry's face was screwed up in pain. What could he do… what could he do…

Voldemort, he suddenly realised, was looking just a little bit worried. Did he really think he couldn't kill Harry? He'd failed twice, but surely with his new power… Still. He couldn't do what the others were asking of him. Harry opened his mouth to offer himself, but somehow the words stuck in his throat, and he walked forwards again instead. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he knew that he had murdered his friends. That would make him as bad as Voldemort himself. Voldemort grinned maniacally as he approached.

And then, suddenly: "HARRY! STOP!" Sirius it seemed had decided to make Harry's decision for him. Somehow managing to free his feet and throwing himself forwards, he landed in front of Harry, blocking his way to Voldemort. With a roar of anger, the dark wizard pointed his wand at him.

"Think of your promise," reminded Sirius mockingly. "His life for ours… if you kill me, it won't stand. So go on: do it. Kill me."

"No!" said Harry, thrusting his way in front of his godfather. This was growing farcical. Ron and Hermione had run to join them: and Snape, and Hagrid. Voldemort was looking confused.

"You'll have to kill us before you kill him," announced Ron, determinedly. "D'you hear me? You'll have to kill us first."

Harry's head swam. It was happening again. His parents had given their lives to protect him, and now his friends were going to do it. No. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't right.

"Your logic seems to be slightly flawed," came Remus Lupin's voice.

"Shut up!" snarled Peter. There was a thump, a hiss from Lupin, followed by another thump and a cry of pain – this time from Pettigrew – and then Lupin continued, slightly breathlessly.

"It would work," he said, "If Harry was prepared to give himself up for us. Which he obviously is. But it won't work if we're all equally prepared to die for him."

"Which we are," added Sirius. "You don't seem to have the measure of human emotion very well covered, Voldemort."

"Nonsense!" bellowed Voldemort, enraged. "I'll kill you – I'll kill you all!"

"Now then," said a voice that hadn't been there a second before. "That would not be a very wise move."

Albus Dumbledore walked into the room smiling, and his wand was pointing straight at Voldemort.