Arch of Death - Chapter Three
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Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, and to all of you who are simply taking the time to read this. I was overwhelmed by the amount of responses this piece has received in such a short time, and I hope the pattern continues. I love hearing from you guys, and eventually, when I get the time, I will begin to write out individual responses. This chapter is a bit longer than the others, a bit more stuffed, and I do hope you enjoy. I will warn you; there will be a very mild hint of slash in this story. I'm a Remus/Sirius shipper, and while I will not make it detailed or throw it in your face, their relationship will play a bit of a role. They'll still be the same ol' Remus and Sirius, don't worry. I just believe that the canon characters have SOMETHING going on, something Harry has yet to discover, and I for one am all for it.

Aimée

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Harry sat between Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody, painfully aware of how everyone seated at the long wooden table was staring directly at him, most with no shame or attempt to hide their actions. Dumbledore was seated at the head of the table, and on either side of him was Mad-Eye and Severus Snape, who seemed intent on murdering Harry with a single glare.

Dumbledore had yet to call order at the meeting, and while Harry waited, he kept his eyes focused on his folded and trembling hands. He had been made aware of Sirius' appearance only an hour before, and the impact of such news had yet to fully sink into his brain. Remus' constant presence did little to help his state of mind, but Harry was thankful that he was willing to go to such lengths to make sure Harry was all right.

Finally, Dumbledore stood up slowly, unfolding his lithe body until he was at his full and formidable height. His blue eyes were no longer twinkling; instead, a sense of absolute seriousness settled throughout the room as all of the hushed conversation and whispering came to a halt.

"Welcome," he said in a strangely hoarse voice. It was then when Harry finally began to appreciate how the Headmaster was remaining strong, possibly only for Harry's sake and sanity. "I see many of you have noticed the new addition to our ranks."

There was no denying it now; every head in the room was now turned toward Harry, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

"I'm quite sure that Mr. Potter here needs no introduction," said Dumbledore quietly as he leaned forward slightly, supporting his lean body with his arms placed firmly atop the table. "I do, however, wish that all of you treat him with the respect he deserves, for none of us have managed to escape from Voldemort as many times as he. He is here to gain knowledge of the task set before him, as stated in the prophecy I confided within you all at the start of the summer. He is not go on missions and he is not to be compromised in any way; he is still our highest priority, and it is of the utmost importance that he be guarded at all times, no matter what his rank within the Order."

As Dumbledore paused to take in a deep breath, Harry shifted even further down within his seat. He knew that no matter how hard he denied it, he was still to play a vital role in the upcoming events that would eventually shape the future and destiny of the Wizarding world, but he was still very wary of that sound piece of knowledge. He had never asked for such a task to be placed upon him, and for the Headmaster to say these words with such ease, to tell them all that out of all of those who sat around the table—and perhaps the entire world—he was the most important; he was the one whom they must protect, even if it meant for them to sacrifice their lives.

He squirmed once more, wishing fiercely that the others turn away. He had already been responsible for the loss of many lives; he wasn't keen on bearing the burden of death for much longer, knowing that in the end, he would either become murder or victim. He needn't have anything else on his conscience, especially not the death of any member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Albus!" Mad-Eye spoke up, his electric-blue eye spinning wildly in its socket. "He's only a boy—and a straggly one at that. I bet he can barely transfigure a match, let alone cast the Killing Curse—"

"What he can and cannot do is not open for discussion, Alastor," said Dumbledore sharply. "He is to be trained by the Order, and we shall all help him develop the skills he needs to conquer Voldemort."

Harry, stinging slightly from the insult Mad-Eye had flung his way, finally dared to raise his head and meet the Headmaster's strong and steady gaze.

"How many O.W.L.s did you get, boy?" said Mad-Eye harshly, turning both his large blue and smaller black eye upon him.

"I don't see what O.W.L.s have to do—" Remus began, but Harry interrupted him.

"Nine," he said defiantly. "I got top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration—"

"And Potions," said a silky voice that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand straight. "Amazingly, Potter managed to achieve an 'O' in Potions, and thus fulfilling all of the requirements to head down the path to become an Auror."

Harry turned his head to face Severus Snape, a look of utter disbelief upon his face. While he himself had known of his miraculous potions grade—no doubt due to the lack of pressure placed upon him by his least-favorite teacher during the O.W.L. exams—he was shocked Snape had bothered to look into the matter.

Dumbledore clapped his hands gleefully. "I suppose that settles it then, doesn't it, Alastor? You yourself achieved only eight O.W.L.s back in your fifth year—"

"Fine," growled Mad-Eye. "Can we continue now, Dumbledore?"

"We may," said the Headmaster with an inclination of his head. "As I'm sure many of you are aware of, Sirius Black has been captured by the Ministry, and while I have been attempting to negotiate his freedom with the Minister, I do believe he feels it prudent to send Sirius back to Azkaban."

This news was met with murmurs of disbelief and voices filled with fear. Harry glanced to his right and saw Remus stiffen slightly, his eyes downcast and knuckles white.

"How did this happen?" said Kingsley Shacklebolt in a low rumble. "I thought Sirius was dead."

"We all did," said Dumbledore gently, his eyes flickering briefly to where Harry and Remus sat. "However, we have all been mistaken; the world in which Sirius fell is what we and the Ministry believes to be the Afterlife, and we are not entirely certain as to how Sirius escaped. There are a number of possibilities—"

"The Afterlife doesn't allow the living to enter," said Snape in a voice so low Harry could barely make out his words. "While the veil does in fact mark the border between the living and the dead, it is my belief that Black was unable to get much further. Time is non-existent in death, so it is entirely possible that is why this has not happened until now."

The entire room had turned their gazes from Harry to Snape, and Harry was staring at his Potions professor—for another two years, it seemed—along with the others.

"The Dark Lord had many of his most loyal servants well-versed in the exact meaning and function of Death," continued Snape in the same tone. "It is what he fears most, and he is a firm believer that knowledge can stop reality from happening, even if it is destined to occur."

With these words, his fathomless dark eyes rose and met Harry's, and for an instant Harry felt a crackle of power and sense of familiarity pass between them. For a moment, Harry thought he saw astonishment appeared upon Snape's sallow features, but he blinked and saw that Snape looked as he always did: menacing and disturbingly unclean.

"So Sirius wasn't dead when he fell through the veil?" asked Harry in a small voice he was immediately ashamed of hearing.

"No, Harry," said Dumbledore kindly as he turned toward him. "Bellatrix Lestrange did not kill Sirius."

Harry forced himself to remember that terrible night in the Department of Mysteries, when he had been so sure he had lost his godfather and the only person he had ever loved as a father. His mind was still swimming with the news of Sirius' survival, and although he had been captured by the Ministry, Harry was certain they would bring him back. Fear curled up inside him, ready to strike at any moment, but he subdued his apprehension, refusing to believe anything but the best could result. He had to see Sirius again; he simply had to.

"Do we have a plan?" asked Nymphadora Tonks, her spiky hair a violent shade of the brightest blue Harry had ever seen.

"We're working on one," admitted Dumbledore in a tired voice. "Harry here is the only person among us who has ever had the chance to see Peter Pettigrew—Wormtail, Voldemort's faithful servant and for whose crimes Sirius was framed. He is the only one who can give a true account of Wormtail's involvement and survival, and possibly relay a testimony from Wormtail himself."

"The only way Fudge would believe him is if Potter was given Veritaserum," mumbled Snape, his eyes darting to meet Harry's once again, and for the second time Harry felt a crackle of power snap between them.

"That, I fear, is correct, Severus," said Dumbledore with an immensely heavy sigh. He then turned toward Harry, his clear blue eyes asking a thousand questions, but his words only speaking one. "Are you willing to go through this in order to free Sirius, Harry? They may ask you things you would never willingly give the answers to; your freedom of speech will be abandoned, and you will be able to speak only the truth, no matter how disjointed or unrealistic it may be. You will have absolutely no control over your actions, and I fear the effects of Veritaserum can be—unpredictable at best."

Harry stared at Dumbledore for a long moment, trying to comprehend how the headmaster could even conceive of the notion that Harry would not do such a thing to save his godfather's life.

"Headmaster," Harry began in a shaky but firm voice. "I don't care what I have to do—I'd fight Voldemort an infinite number of times if it meant bringing Sirius back."

"That's the spirit," said Mad-Eye softly, his electric blue eye turning to rest on Harry. There was silence, an overwhelming silence that filled the air for a moment, before a soft voice to the right of Harry spoke up.

"Albus," said Remus quietly. "Harry isn't the only one who has seen Wormtail return."

Dumbledore's calm eyes turned upon the werewolf, as if seeing him for the first time.

"I would be willing to give testimony," said Remus with a hint of steal. "I don't care about any decree against my kind—if there's anything I can do—"

"We know, Remus," said Dumbledore kindly. "And I assure you, if Cornelius Fudge is willing to accept your testimony, I promise you will give it. I will do everything in my power to make this happen, Remus, but unfortunately we do not have the luxury of relying on the Minister's acceptance of werewolves and the grounds in which he is willing to listen to one's testimony. I am sorry, but while the ministry remains firmly against your kind, we must go with Harry."

Harry watched as Remus nodded tightly, his hands clenched into fists as he raised his amber eyes to gaze into Harry's. For a brief moment, Harry felt the pain Remus was going through; he had, after all, lost his best friend and the last of the original Marauders. At that moment, Harry felt more compassion for Remus than he had for anyone else in his entire life, and his resolve strengthened.

He was going to save Sirius, no matter what it took.