(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.)

(Warning for readers under 13: Again, it's rated PG-13. You know the drill.)

"They knew!" James shouted as they tried to explain themselves to Dumbledore and Moody, "Somehow they knew that we were coming!"
"A spy, maybe?" Moody said, eyeing Dumbledore, "Do you believe that they would have found a spy?"
"It is a possibility," Dumbledore said, "I cannot think of a single person in the Order that would have given into the Dark side, though."
"We don't have time to talk," Moody said, grabbing his cloak, "We must go. Come on, Albus."
Sirius, who was still shaking from his chair, stood, but Moody shot a glare to him.
"Sit down, Black," Moody snarled, "You've already caused enough damage tonight."
Sirius, hurt, sat down without another argument, and stared at the man that he had grown to revere. The man didn't look back.
"We'll be back by morning," Moody said, as Dumbledore readied himself to touch the encyclopedia book, "If we aren't, call all of the members, and tell them that Minerva, Kingsley, and McKinnon are in charge now. Understood?"
"But you're coming back," Lily said, horrified, "You're . . ."
"There are never certanties to any situation, Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore said, and then Moody touched the book, "Stay here until our arrival."
And then they were gone.
Sirius, in his anger, made a cry like a wild animal, and threw a chair across the room. It clattered against the wall, and then dropped to the floor. James looked to him, his eyes wide.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked.
Sirius, who's face had grown stone cold, raised his eyes dangerously to look at him, and he balled his hands back into fists.
"That was my cousin," he said, "Bellatrix Black. My cousin."
There was a silence throughout the room, as everyone turned to stare at Sirius. Sirius never talked about his family anymore. It was just a given that no one said a word about any of the Blacks. But here he was, freely telling them that his cousin had become a Death Eater. And he was smarting inside, they could tell.
"Well, it is hard when our families get involved," Lily started.
"I don't give a damn about her!" Sirius barked, "I don't give a damn about any of them! But when they go out and start . . ."
He gave another cry, and threw another chair across the room. No laughter this time. No chuckles or smiles. Only pure distress.
"Could you stop that?" Lily said, coming closer, "Get a hold of yourself."
Sirius didn't answer, and swept out of the room, and flew up the spiraling staircase to the bedrooms upstairs. Lily went to follow him, but James stopped her.
"Just let him be alone," James said, "That's the best thing to do when he gets like that."
Remus entered the room, with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He was sipping it quietly. Everyone waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He only continued walking through the room, past James and Lily, and followed Sirius up the stairs.
"Moony, I wouldn't do that if I were you . . ." James said.
But Remus didn't say anything, and continued walking to the upstairs corridor. They heard his footsteps above them walk past Sirius's room, and continue down the hall to his own room. The faint shutting of a door was heard, and then silence again.
James and Lily took a seat, and looked to Peter, who was wringing his hands together very fast, and shaking.
"G-God," Peter said, "They almost . . . They . . ."
"But they didn't," James finished, and gave out a tired sigh, "How did they know?"
Lily shrugged, "I don't know."
"Do you really think someone could be a spy?" Peter asked, wringing his hands faster.
"I wouldn't be surprised," he answered, and Peter gave out a squeak.
"Well, who do you think . . ."

"I don't know," James said, "It's not any of us, that's for sure. And it couldn't be Moody or Dumbledore."
"What about Frank or Alice?" Lily asked.
"No," James said, "They would never join Voldemort. They've already gone face to face with him twice, and they almost killed him. And think of how many Death Eaters they've written off? It's not possible."
"Elphias?" Peter suggested.
"Maybe," James said, "It very well may be him. That would make sense, wouldn't it?"

Remus sat on his bed, feeling the warmth of the mug underneath his fingers. His room was so cold. Well, he guessed it wasn't his room anymore, due to the fact that he didn't live here . . .
But it still felt familiar.
The claw marks on the walls were still visible. He shuddered, and turned away from the wall to stare at the door. It was dark in the room, and the only light was coming from the moon outside, and the hall light under the door.
He had wanted to be alone.
He had just killed a life.
He had been thirty four, Frank had said. His name had been Sampson. Sampson had been raising his wand to kill Sirius, and he had just reacted with the only spell that came into his head.
Avada Kedavra.
Not Expelliramus. Not Crucio. Not even Imperio. But Avada Kedavra.
He set the hot chocolate mug down on the floor, and turned his body so that he could lay down in his bed. He couldn't cry for Sampson.
He hadn't known him.
But for that one second, the wolf had taken over, it seemed. The wolf inside had smelled fear and blood and flesh, and had shouted those words.
"That isn't possible," Remus said to himself, "You know that isn't possible, Remus. He's at bay."
So it had been himself. It had been his own choice to shout out those words. He couldn't blame the wolf for this one.
He closed his eyes. He knew that he was going to have another warped dream. He always had warped dreams when something was bothering him. The first two years of school, before his friends had found out what he was, he had had so many of them night upon night.
But he would rather take a dream now than reality. So he begged himself to go to sleep, and soon enough, he was finding himself standing in his old Defense Against the Dark Arts room. It was empty, and not a soul was there. Except for a man at the teacher's desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. For some reason, Remus couldn't see his face. But he knew who it was.
He knew who it always was.
It was June, yet again, haunting his dreams.
"Professor," Remus spoke, and the teacher turned to look at him. He still couldn't see his face.
"I killed someone tonight," Remus continued, "I killed him with my own words. I . . . I haven't ever hurt anyone before. And now I'm a murderer. That man had a family. He maybe even had someone that he loved. And I killed him. I guess that Klien was right. I am a monster."

"No, you are not," the voice came. It was raspier tonight, and higher. Not like Voldemort's, no. But it was softer and more understanding. Not like June's tone at all.
"How couldn't I be?" Remus asked, "I killed him! I . . ."
"Stuck with your friends," June said.
"But . . . but there must have been a different way to save him," Remus said, "Other than Avada Kedavra. I could have . . ."
"You chose a path," June continued writing, "And now you must follow that path. You cannot go back and choose another. You must continue forward, and learn from your mistake. Next time, a life will be spared."
Remus thought about this for a moment. Next time a life will be spared. Next time he wouldn't kill them. He would bring them in for trial. He would not kill them.
Next time, that he had someone on the ground in front of him, wand pointed at them, and they were begging for mercy . . . next time he would let them go.
"Yeah," Remus said, nodding, "Next time."
"I believe the bell has rung, Moony," June said, pointing to the door, "You are free to go."
Remus walked towards the door, but then stopped. Moony. He had called him Moony. June hadn't known about their nicknames. He had never called him that.
He turned back to look at the faceless teacher, and he narrowed his eyes. This man . . . who was he?
"You aren't Professor June, are you?" he asked.
The teacher kept writing, but shook his head, "No, I am not."

"Well, then who are you?" Remus asked.
And then he saw it. A large scar going the length of the teacher's hand. The teacher had tried to hide it underneath his sleeve, but it hadn't worked. He remembered that scar. It had come from a particularly bad night. The night before he came to Hogwarts. He had been in his room, when the wolf had scratched him clear across the hand. So deep that he knew that it would never heal. And it never did.
His eyes grew wide, and his mouth opened to say something. . .
"Hey, Remus?"
His eyes shot open, and saw Lily standing above him, holding her own mug of hot chocolate. She was smiling sympathetically as she sat down next to him, and he hoisted himself up off of the pillow to sit beside her.
Picking up his hot chocolate, he said, "You really are good at dueling."
Lily sighed, and nodded, "Thanks. So are you."
Remus didn't answer to this, and took a sip of his drink. He had had a dream about something. About June . . . and a scar . . .
It was becoming fainter every moment, like dreams sometimes do.
"Can I ask a question?" Lily asked, running her finger up and down her mug. Remus nodded, and then she said, "How did you meet James?"
"Well, it's sort of funny," he said, "I actually had to tutor him in Herbology."
"James needed a tutor?"
"Yeah," Remus said, "He needed someone to put him on the right track. And Sirius wasn't going to do that," he added with a laugh.
"So you've known him for a long time?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, "I guess so. As long as anyone else, I guess."

Lily shifted, and then said quietly, "When I see you four, together . . . its just like I'm looking at brothers. That was something that I never had with any of my friends. I don't really understand it . . . but its sort of cool, you know?"
"We all miss Elise, Lily," Remus said simply, and Lily, surprised, looked at him, and then solmemnly nodded.
"Yeah, I know," she said, and then took a drink of her cup, "God, sometimes I wonder if we really are all going to get out of this alive. I mean, if a life can be killed that easily . . ." she stopped, and then shook her head, "If I die," she said, "You have to promise me something, all right?"
Remus looked at her, "You're not going to die, Lily."
"Just make me this promise," she said, staring right at him now, "That you'll take care of James. That you'll make sure he's all right and lives a healthy and happy life. Okay?"
"Lily . . ."
"Please, Remus," she said, "I can trust in you."
Remus sighed, ran a free hand through his hair, and then nodded, "Yeah. Of course I will. But that's not going to happen."
There was a commotion from downstairs, and then shouting and hollering.
"Damn little punks!" Moody's voice growled through the hallways, "Thinking that they own the world!"
Remus and Lily ran out of the room, down the corridor, and down the stairs. James and Peter was helping Frank and Alice to their chairs in the living room. They both looked exhausted, but unscathed miraculously. Dumbledore had not returned. Moody didn't seem upset, though. So it may have been the case that he had waited for officials or some other obligation.
"What happened?" Lily asked, coming to Alice's aid. Alice pulled away from her, saying that she was fine.
"The monitor of the entire rally . . . dead," Moody said, shooting a deadly look to Remus, "An important suspect dead. Did I not teach you anything, Lupin?"
"He was going to kill Sirius . . ."
"And Black deserves to be dead!" Moody shouted, "Giving away your position like that for his own personal issues! You both are disappointments to me! The only one that did the sensible thing was Pettigrew, which is a first!"
Peter jumped at his name, and then gave a shaky smile to Moody.
"Oh, stop grinning like a dolt," Moody snarled, "You don't do the right thing to get accilades! You do it because it's right! They could have been dead because of you two! They could have been dead, Lupin! And where's Black . . . I'd like to have a few choice words with him as well . . ."
"That was his cousin, Moody," James said, as he helped Frank to his feet.
"It doesn't matter, James," Frank said, "We all make sacrifices in this war. We all have a personal story. It does not interfere with our work, though. Under no circumstances does it."
"I believe that not two . . . but THREE of you . . . were sleeping through training," Moody barked.
"They were going to kill him," Remus said again.
"AND THEY SHOULD HAVE!" Moody shouted, and the room went quiet. The four youngest members stared at him in dismay, and he even looked disgusted with himself. He stalked out of the room, with Remus glaring at him, and then they heard him run up the stairs to where Sirius was hiding, muttering something that sounded like, "Stupid boy."
"Six of them got away," Frank said, "Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Lucius, and Severus. And then another was was unidentified. All of the other ones are in our custody now. They will either be placed into Azkaban, or given trials. Most likely given trials."
"With Crouch?" James asked.
"They're underage," Frank said, "Unless we want the entire wizarding world down our backs, we should probably at least issue them some sort of court appearance."
Remus was still sitting in the corner as Frank explained all of this to his three friends. He couldn't think anymore. He knew that he had done the right thing. They had made a pact with each other. They were going to save each other, no matter what the outcome. They were all going to survive.
That's what it was supposed to be about. That's what they had made that pact about.
Forever alive, right? Isn't that what it was all about?
According to Moody, it wasn't.
According to Moody, Sirius should have been dead as they spoke. But he couldn't ever let that happen.
The dream kept bouncing in the back of his head. He couldn't exactly remember it. But he remembered a scar.
A very familiar scar.