(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by copyrights.)

(Note from the author: Sorry for a very short chapter. But I wanted to make it count.)

"What do we do now, Albus?"
The Order had returned to Headquarters. All of them. People that Sirius hadn't even seen for months. People that weren't there to see three of his friends die. Three of his friends all at the same time . . .
He was sitting in the corner of the living room, away from the other members that were perched on their chairs in their straight rows. He was detached, and he could feel Moody's eye watching him from where he stood with Frank Longbottom, leaning up against the opposite wall.
Dumbledore stood in front of all of them, his eyes no longer sparkling. He sighed, and then put a hand up to his chin to think.
"I don't know what else we can do," he said.
"Well, do you think that he's going to try to get information out of them?" Frank asked.
Dumbledore shook his head, "No. Voldemort has taken a sort of interest in James Potter. I do not know what exactly this entails, but I would bet all of my earnings that he will try to recruit him. Or kill him, no matter what. Our spies say that James hurts his pride, and Tom was never one to let go of a grudge. But I do not believe he kidnapped him to kill him."
Sirius's head shot up, and looked at the old Headmaster.
"They're not dead?" he shouted.
"I do not know for sure, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said truthfully, "We can only hope."
"Well, then we have to get going!" Sirius said, standing up, "We have to save them!"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again with the light of the fireplace as Sirius grabbed his cloak, and Frank rushed forward.
"Now, Sirius," he started, "We can't risk more lives of the Order by trying to save . . ."
"They're alive!" Sirius barked, "They . . ." he looked back at the Order, a look of realization seeping onto his face.
"That's it? You're just letting him kill them?"
"Sirius," Marlene started, "There are sacrifices. We have all had them."
"Surely Alastor taught you that lesson," Elphias chortled.
Sirius glared at them, "NO!" he shouted, "NO! I'M NOT GIVING UP! THEY'RE OUT THERE! THEY'RE ALIVE! WE . . ."
"Stop your shouting, Mr. Black," Professor McGonagall said. Her face was very pale, and she had been toying with the hem of her robes for a while. She looked very sick.
"Whatever happened to protecting the innocent?" Sirius barked at Dumbledore, "Huh? Are they not innocent enough for you?!"

"Sirius . . ."
"Fine!" he said, and disappeared from the living room, sweeping into the hall, "I'll go by myself! James and Remus and I had a pact! And I'm not breaking it!"
"Where are you going?" Frank asked as Sirius opened the door.
"I'm going to find them," he retorted as he slammed the front door behind him.
It was cold in the night. The crickets were chirping loudly from the green grass below as Sirius stormed down the front pathway, and to the sidewalk. They were alive. And if no one else was going to do anything about it, he would go by himself.
"You know, there are faster ways of getting there."
Sirius stopped, and turned around to face a hunched figure on the house porch. He was leaning up against one of the columns, his arms crossed, and both of his eyes staring straight at him.
"What do you want," Sirius barked at Moody.
Moody sighed, and started down the porch steps, "You've really done it this time, Mr. Black. You really have."
"If you're not going to . . ."

"You saved my life," Moody cut him off, reaching the pavement, "And in doing so, you welded a bond between the two of us. Whether you like it or not, I'm forced to owe you my life."
Sirius stared at him. Was Moody . . . was he thanking him?
"What?" he said, unbelievingly.
"Antonin Dolohov," he started, folding his arms, "He was the one that was responsible for the death of Jonathon June. And then he went after his mother and father. He's a Russian wizard with poor teeth and even poorer temper. I had him in my grasp a few years ago, and I was going to haul him off to a speedy trial. He wanted me to kill him, but I couldn't. You know why?"
Sirius didn't answer, and let Moody continue his story.
"Because you're right," he said, his swiveling eye staring him straight on, "I am the one that they call merciful. I'm not a murderer, Mr. Black. I do not take pride in destroying a life when it could have been saved. Only when it is a necessity do I kill something that valuable and priceless."
Sirius nodded, "So you're going to help me get them back."
"I have to," Moody said, "I'm in debt to you, aren't I? I trust you to do the right thing."
And then he turned around, motioning for Sirius to follow him, "Now come on now, Mr. Black. You're not going to get anywhere by walking."
But Sirius was frozen to the spot. The last words that he had said to him rang through his head. He looked at the profile of the older Mad-Eye, now making his way up the stairs, taking a swig from his hip flask.
"I thought you said you'd never trust someone from my family," Sirius spoke up, and this comment made Moody turn around, and smile down at him.
"And I never will," he said simply.
There was a silence as Sirius stared at it, glaring. What did he mean by all this?
"You aren't from that family," he added, "I know that now."
Another silence as Sirius and Moody looked to each other, not moving, but only smiling.
"Now come on," the old Auror said, "I know where they would have taken them."