(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.)
Dumbledore's office was dark, and only one candle was placed on the Headmaster's desk. This candle illuminated the faces of Dumbledore, Frank, and Moody, all placed in front of James Potter. The latter two flanked the old man, standing on either side of his chair as they were the first day James was introduced to the Order. But this was an even more secretive situation than that of the Order recruitment. It was something that even he did not know of.
Dumbledore's face was tight, and he had that worn air about him once more. The only safe place left was Hogwarts, and that is why they had gathered there to speak of things that should never be spoken of.
"Tonight," Dumbledore said, "Our Headquarters were attacked."
James nodded, looking around to the darkness. The paintings had all been cleared out, and the windows were drawn. Nothing else could be seen.
"Do you know why our base was discovered?" the Headmaster asked, and James shook his head.
"No, I don't . . ."
"Because someone told Voldemort," he interrupted, "Because someone is untrustworthy."
James fell silent, and nodded, understanding. The spy. They were talking about that myth that one of them was a spy. Did they think it was him?
"Frank, Alastor," Dumbledore said, addressing the two that stood behind him, "Could you please leave us for a moment?"
Moody looked surprised, and Frank hurt. But without saying a word, they left as quietly as they had been there. The door shut behind them, and Dumbledore turned to James once more.
"James, I am going to tell you something that you will not want to hear," he said gravely, "But you have to listen. You have to take heed of my words."
"I understand," James said.
"There is a person that is here, with me," Dumbledore said, and James furrowed his brow. Had he finally lost it? "And he is here to speak to you about something that may interest your future plans. Now, you may not want to listen to him, but you must. By Merlin, you must."
James nodded, "All right. I'll listen."
And then the candle showed two faces. Behind Dumbledore's desk came another face. This one was darker and paler, and surrounded by black hair. The light was dim, but James would recognize that nose anywhere.
"Snape!" he spat, and stood, his wand ready. Snape didn't respond.
"James, sit down," Dumbledore said, and James didn't move a muscle.
"Headmaster, he's a Death Eater! He was in the fields that one night! I saw him! He's going to kill us . . ."
"I'm not the one you should be worried about, Potter," Snape hissed, and Dumbledore nodded.
"You must listen to him, James."
"I'll never listen to that slimeball!"
"Still on about schoolboy grudges, I see," Dumbledore sighed, and looked to Snape, "Both of you, I imagine. Well, I must do this the hard way, then."
Dumbledore raised his wand, and flicked it towards the chair. James felt his body collapse into the seat, and become frozen. He couldn't move! He was stuck!
"Headmaster!" he said.
"You must stay to hear this, James," Dumbledore only said, "It is of the upmost importance."
Snape hadn't aged a day since the night of the Lestrange union. He was just as slimy . . . just as dark as he was the day that they had last seen him.
"James, Severus is a spy of mine," Dumbledore explained as Snape took a seat next to Dumbledore. Every wrinkle in his face could be seen, exaggeratted by the candlelight, "He has been now for quite some time. But you cannot tell anyone this. Not even Sirius."
James didn't say anything. He just glared at his old enemy.
"He has heard things, James," Dumbledore said, "Things that you need to know."
"Do you remember Professor Klien?" Snape asked, looking right back at James. James was taken aback by the question, and he nodded.
"Do you remember how he recruited six students at the end of first year?" he plowed on, not caring if James remembered or not, "They all were called into his office in one night, to be told of the Death Eaters and the opportunities that awaited them."
"You would know," James snarled, "You were one of them."
Snape paused, and then smiled, "Oh, you ignorant little boy."
"Continue, Severus," Dumbledore pushed him on.
"Well, there were not only six recruits, but a seventh. That recruit was never found out," Snape said, "But we have good reason that it was a Gryffindor of the first year. They went to Klien's office on June the seventh of that year.
"The description that Mrs. Norris gave Filch was one of a smaller boy, with a Gryffindor robe. This boy seemed to be carrying a silky cloak with him that suspiciously resembled what one would call an Invisibility Cloak," Snape continued.
"Well, that could be anyone," James said.
"No," Snape said, "It could not," he took out a picture from his pocket, and smoothed it out. He showed it to James, and James's eyes widened. He now knew what this was about.
In the picture stood four boys, waving at the camera. They were eleven years of age, all wearing Gryffindor robes. In James's hands was the cloak that they had all cherished. Peter was next to Remus, waving frantically and laughing. Remus was giving Sirius a fatherly look as Sirius smacked James, and James massaged his arm.
"This boy," Snape said, pointing to James, "Was the only boy in the Gryffindor house that owned an Invisibility Cloak."
"What's your point?" James pressured him, "It wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking."
"We know it wasn't you, James," Dumbledore assured his guest, "You couldn't have been. We thought that it may have been you, when you did not sign the contract, but we have evidence that points to someone else."
"In the past three years," Snape plowed on, "There have been reports of secret details that the Order has not wanted disclosed to anyone but it's members. For example, the names of our members, where their families live, and the prophecy concerning your son. As soon as the prophecy was reported to the Dark Lord, there were other points in your life that no one would know but a close friend. Who was with the child at certain times. Where you were living. When you would be occupied," he paused, and looked back to the photograph, "Who you trusted.
"Tonight was just one of the examples of these small instances in which the wolf in sheep's clothing seems to sneak back to the den. Headquarters . . . somehow that secret was given away. And they entered."
"What are you saying?" James asked, and Dumbledore sat straighter.
"James," he said, "Someone has been watching every move you make for quite some time now. Someone close to you has been handing information to Voldemort."
James felt the room spin, and all he could do was look at that picture of the four of them. He knew what they meant by "someone close to you." His lifelong friends. The only people he thought he could trust. They had to be wrong. Somehow they had to be wrong.
"It's . . ."
"It makes sense," Snape said, "Who else would have been able to know that you and your wife would be out for the evening? Who would know so many things about you? Voldemort is not that powerful, Potter. Only a fool would believe otherwise."
"You're wrong," James said, shaking his head vigorously, "They . . . they're my family. My brothers . . . they would never . . ."
"We have reason to believe that we know who it is," Dumbledore said, "We know exactly who it is, actually."
Snape looked back to the photograph, and then to James, "Sirius Black showed the world that he was capable of murder during his sixth year at Hogwarts."
James stared at Snape, and then back at the photograph. They were playing a joke on him. This couldn't be real . . . his best friend? His brother? Sirius? Padfoot? How could Sirius be a traitor? He had spent his entire life trying to go against his family's wishes, and he was part of the Order.
He thought Lily would turn before Sirius.
"But he saved me tonight!" James said, looking for some sort of something to hold onto, "He almost died for me!"
"Yes, Sirius was brave by putting on an act of courage," Dumbledore said, "Yet his spell was not strong enough to kill Voldemort. It was a weak one, actually. A stunt to put you off of your guard, I'm afraid."
"That's not true!" James argued, now starting in on Snape, "You . . . You always hated him! You were jealous of him! We humiliated you in school! That's why you're doing this!"
"James, Alastor believes it is Mr. Black as well," Dumbledore said, and James grew silent. His shoulders slumped, and he looked to his feet.
"We conferenced earlier this night," the old man said, "He says that Dolohov said something to him to make him believe that it is truly Black."
"His family has a history, Potter," Snape said, "And he knows everything about you."
"But he escaped the Death Eaters!" James said, "He escaped them . . . he saved Harry! How could that be . . ."
"Another stunt, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, "Do you have any proof that there were any Death Eaters that night at your house? Who was the only one to see them? Sirius was."
James didn't say a word, and just looked to the floor. There was nothing to say.
"Now James," Dumbledore said, "I must beg of you to go into hiding. The stakes are too high. I cannot afford . . ."
"I already am," he said, "I made the decision tonight."
Dumbledore's face relaxed, as if he had been expecting another fight between them, "Good," was all he said, and then Snape spoke.
"It would be good if you did not speak to any of your friends about it," he said, "I know that you all are very close to each other (the tone in which he said these words were mocking his fallen enemy), but this is your life we are talking about."
"Now," Dumbledore said, "Your father's old town is far away from the London limits. It is mostly occupied by Muggles in the present day. I propose you go there."
"Godric's Hollow?" James asked, and Dumbledore nodded, "Until when?" James added.
"Until the war is over," he informed him.
James nodded in agreement, "And we'll have a Secret Keeper?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said, "And I would be willing to take on the duty . . ."
"Sirius will be our Secret Keeper," James said, not waiting for Dumbledore to speak, "He's already thinking of going into hiding after this night."
"Are you that daft?" Snape said, his voice becoming louder, "Didn't you just hear what we said to you? Are you still that thick headed?"
"Sirius Black has given his blood for me," James said, "And I would trust him with my life. I trust him more than I do my own self."
"He'd kill you without another thought about it!" Snape said, standing to lean over James, "And yet you pledge loyalty to him! This is what friendship does to you, Potter! It blinds you!"
"Sirius would never become one of Voldemort's spies," James said, and Snape winced at the name of the Dark Lord, "He will be our Secret Keeper, and no one else."
"It is irresponsible of you to . . ."
"Oh, shut it, Snivelly," James spat, and Snape grew silent. The greasy man glared at him, and then took a seat in his chair.
"This is what I get," he said, looking to the Headmaster, "For trying to save his life."
"James, I do not think it wise to rely on friendship at the present moment," Dumbledore said, "Once a wizard goes to the Dark Side, frienship means nothing to them. They forget themselves, James. They do not care for anyone but themselves."
"But Sirius isn't on the Dark Side, is he," James defended his friend, "I would have known."
"What?" Snape snorted, "You think he would have told you?"
If James hadn't been chained to the chair at the present time, he would had stood and strangled that slimy little git. He would have killed him . . .
"I trust your judgement, James," Dumbledore said, and then lifted the spell from his captive, "I trust it better than my own. You know these boys. You know what they are capable of. You saw something good in each one of them with anyone else would have shunned them away. But I must beg you to reconsider."
"I won't," James said, "I choose him. We swore an oath, Headmaster. We swore that we'd die for each other. Someone messes with one of us, it messes with all of us. And everything that Sirius has done up to this point shows me that he has upheld that oath. Now I have to uphold it, too."
The two men in front of him looked at him, not saying a word.
"Headmaster," he said, almost pleading with the old man, "Haven't you ever had faith in someone . . . even something . . . that they would do the right thing? That, no matter what, they could not be wrong? I have faith in my friend. He's more than a friend to me. He is my family. And I would die for him, Headmaster. I would. Because I know he'd do the same for me. Can't you understand that?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding slowly, "I can."
The worn face smiled wisely at James, and Snape grew silent. Dumbledore continued nodding, until placing his hands on the desk, and looking to Snape.
"I know what you are speaking of," he said, not taking his eyes off of his spy. Snape didn't respond to the Headmaster's gaze, but just looked into the candlelight. Both men knew what he spoke of. Snape and Dumbledore didn't need to say anything else for both of them to understand the other.
"And I trust you, James," Dumbledore said, finally looking back towards him.
James nodded, and then the lights in the office were turned back on by an entering Frank and Moody. He couldn't remember walking back down the long steps and out of the office. He kept thinking about that photograph.
One of his friends was a traitor to them all. Someone had broken their oath.
And all he could think about was that little boy, punching him on the arm, forever to laugh in that little picture.
"They said what?" Sirius started, standing up in his chair. They were all assembled at his house, where James and his family were staying until arrangements could be made for their hiding place.
Remus was sprawled out in a chair, his arm over his eyes and trying to sleep. He hadn't slept for two nights, and now he was exhausted. Peter sat rigid on the couch, next to Lily. And James stood in the middle of the room, now facing Sirius. James had called them all together to talk with him, but none of them could have imagined what he had wanted to talk about.
"One of you is a traitor," James said, "A spy for Voldemort."
"That's dung," Remus muttered from his chair, half asleep, "Why would any of us want to go to the Dark Side?"
"And who do they think it is?" Sirius demanded. James couldn't look him in the eyes, and Sirius grew stiff, "Who, James? Who did they tell you it was?"
James didn't reply, but looked to Remus, "Everything points to one of you three."
"They think it's me, don't they?" Sirius pressed him.
"And I don't want to believe it, but I . . ."
"They think it's me, James. Just say it!"
"I can't really think of how else . . ."
Sirius grabbed James by the shoulders, and shook him, "Don't they? They told you it was me!"
"But I know it isn't you!" James shouted, and Sirius let go of him, surprised. James faced his old friend, and shrugged, "I know it isn't."
"Why not?" Remus asked, "How come you're so sure about him, but not about me or Peter?"
"Because I know him," James said, looking into Sirius's black eyes, "I know he wouldn't do anything like that."
"You know us, too!" Peter whined, "You've known us just as long!"
"Don't get worked up, Peter," Remus said, sitting up, "The great James Potter has spoken. He's always trusted Sirius over the rest of us."
"That's not true . . ." James started.
"Admit it, James," Remus said, starting in on him. He had had no sleep in the past forty eight hours. He was sick of this. He was sick of being blamed for everything wrong in Potter's life. He was sick of it all, "That's why you chose Sirius to be the Best Man, and Harry's godfather. That's why he was with Harry two nights ago, when the Death Eaters came."
"Remus . . ."
"That's why you never trusted us," Remus said, pointing to Peter and then himself, "We weren't good enough for you. Someone forbid that you actually befriend a werewolf. I'm sorry I was such a burden to you!"
"Remus, please!" Lily spoke up, Harry in her lap asleep, "You're going to wake the baby."
"I'm tired of it!" Remus shouted, standing from his spot, "I am nothing but a friend to you, and you have the audacity to accuse me of being a spy for Voldemort? I can't believe you, Potter!"
"Remus, just listen to him," Sirius tried to set a hand on his friend's shoulder. But Remus tore away from him, and glared at him.
"Don't touch me," he snarled, and then grabbed his moth eaten cloak from the chair, "I don't need to hear this."
As he headed for the door, Lily looked to her husband. James, sighing, turned to his old friend.
"Moony, please don't leave," he said, "We have to talk this out."
"No, James, we don't. You've already done enough talking for all five of us," Remus said, his voice growing softer. And then he slammed the door behind him.
Peter watched Remus leave, and then look back at James, "So who do you think it is?"
James, his eyes still glued to the door, shook his head, and then said, "I don't know, Wormtail. I really don't know."
It was later that night that Lily and James went to bed, Peter went home, and Sirius went to his own room. He had lived in the same house for a good year or two, and he had slept so many nights under this roof. But now, he couldn't. There was something wrong with everything that had happened.
One of his friends . . . one of James's friends . . . the traitor? The spy? Which one of them would have turned to Voldemort's side, when all any of them talked about was the end of the war?
A desperate one, Sirius thought to himself from his bed. He looked up at the ceiling, and spread his arms out across his pillows, A desperate person in need of the end of the war.
Dumbledore thought it was he himself. Well, how wrong Dumbledore was. This left two people. Peter and Remus.
Both had been very odd people, and yet . . . one of them bothered him immensly.
A cough came from outside in the living room, and Sirius sat up to look out the crack in his doorway. Someone was sitting on his couch, with a cup of water and a forlorn look on his face. He was still dressed in his day robes, and he was all alone. Sirius, grumbling, got out of his bed, dressed himself, and entered the small living room adjoining his room.
James turned to see who had awoken, and smiled sadly as Sirius came to sit next to him. His head still throbbed from the last night's battle, and he wore one of those Healing bandages over his forehead, as to make sure it healed correctly. The bandages brought memories of Remus and his use for them. Sirius shivered as he patted James on the back, and then leaned into his cushions.
"What's keeping you awake?" Sirius asked, and James shrugged.
"Everything," he said, and then sighed, "I was just thinking about when we were kids."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, "You remember when Remus was going to leave school? And I stopped him from walking out that door?"
"Yeah," Sirius said, with not the fondest taste in his mouth. It had been the time in which his boggart had turned into a werewolf, and their friend had packed his bags and was ready to ship out, "I remember."
"But we stopped him," James said, looking at his cup, "And he stayed with us. But tonight . . . I let him go."
"And why did you do that?"
James lowered his head in shame, and then took in a deep breath, "Because he was already gone."
Sirius nodded in agreement, and then put an arm around James, "I know, mate. I know."
"He's been gone for a while," he said, "I thought that we had him back when Harry was born, but then he slipped away again. And maybe it was partly my fault, and the things I said. I probably shouldn't have told him off like I did all those times. But there's something else. I know it. Something else is going on in his mind. And I don't know if it's the wolf, and that thing is taking over . . . or if it's something else."
"He's the spy," Sirius said, as if he was giving away some sort of fact of life, "He's the traitor."
James looked to Sirius, and shook his head, "No. No, not Remus."
"James, I usually don't look into dreams and foretelling and all that," he said, shifting in his stance to face him, "But I've had this one for a while now. It comes in different ways and different scenarios, but it's always the same. First, I thought maybe it was my stupidity, or my nerves, but they continued . . . James . . . I have this dream that Remus kills me. And they've been getting worse. First he just came into my room and cursed me. But then it turned into different things. And two nights ago, when the Death Eaters came . . . I had this dream that this person was marking Harry's door with a green X. And he was in the moon's light. And he was saying, 'It draws nearer,' over and over again. And I know it was Remus. I knew that person. It was him. I'm sure of it."
"That's just a dream, though," James said, "It doesn't mean anything."
"Harry's prophecy means something, doesn't it?" Sirius pointed out, and James buried his face in his hands.
"James, he's a werewolf. When we first met him, we were young. We didn't know any better. We thought he was a person. But he's not. The Ministry doesn't watch things like him for their jollies," Sirius sighed, and shook his head, "I don't want to believe it myself, but . . . he said those words to me. He said 'It draws nearer.' And he wasn't even aware of it. I think the wolf may be taking over somehow. I can't explain it myself, but you saw him tonight. He snapped at you. Remus isn't one to act like that. But we know the wolf. We know how it acts."
"Remus has always been in control."
"Has he?" Sirius asked, and James couldn't answer. So Sirius just continued, "And that night after your wedding, when we were coming home from that job in the sewers? He said to me, 'We're all the same.' He said that we were just the same as those murderers. His family hasn't been touched by the Death Eaters, even if he has Muggle connections. And most of all, that night . . . when you and Lily were taken to Dolohov's? Who led you in there? You said that Remus was calling to you from above. You just assumed that he was under the Imperius Curse. But did you ever find out for sure?"
James couldn't answer this either. There were a million things now pointing away from Sirius and to Remus. Remus was a werewolf. Remus had acted strangely for months. Remus had known all of the information given to Voldemort. He had known that they were going out that night. He had known that Sirius and Peter had been asked to watch Harry, and not him.
He had been aware of it.
He could have told Voldemort easily.
"What about Peter?" James said, "It could easily be him."
"That snivelling little rat?" Sirius laughed, "No. Peter'd be too scared of Voldemort to even come close to him. He'd wee his knickers before he could say anything to him. No, it's not Peter. He's weak. And think about it. If what they say is true, and this boy had an Invisibility Cloak with him, then think back to that year. Did Peter ever go anywhere without one of us?"
"No, not that I can think of," James said.
"He was afraid of the space under his bed, let alone the corridors outside," Sirius said, "No, he wouldn't have gone wandering off by himself. Remus, on the other hand, easily could have. He spent all of that time alone anyway, why not add an extra stroll down to Klien's office?"
"But Klien would never have let him join."
"Whoever said that Klien got to pick out who he wanted?" Sirius pointed out, "Voldemort hears there's a werewolf at school. He knows they're easily pursuaded. He orders Klien to talk to him. What, Klien's going to say no to the Dark Lord?"
"Then there's nothing else," James said, "That's all I can think of."
"He said it to me, James," Sirius said, "He said those words to me. And he looked at me in this cold, dark way. He said 'It draws nearer.'"
A cold shiver came up James's spine, and he gripped his cup. He closed his eyes, and then nodded.
"Then we're agreed," he said, "On who it is?"
"I think we are," Sirius said, and nodded.
That night, James had a dream of his own. It didn't include murderous werewolves, though. It was a calmer, more loving dream than the ones that Sirius had told him about. This dream took place in the Gryffindor Tower, on a particular afternoon in which Darryl Avery had entertained them by telling Professor McGonagall that they had stuck him on the Astronomy Tower. There had been truth in that statement . . .
The scene came back to him as real as the time it had been played out.
"You're talking nonsense, Mr. Avery," Professor McGonagall said, "Now clean yourself up, and get some new trousers on. Class starts in an hour."
The four boys' eyes drifted down to Darryl's pants. There was a large wet spot covering the front of them. Sirius gave out a "ah!" and James bit his lip to stop from laughing.
"Nice," Sirius commented as soon as Professor McGonagall had left.
"Just you wait," Darryl glared at Sirius, "Just you wait, Black! I'll see that you never forget this! I'll show you."
"What are you gonna do? Wee on me?" Sirius smiled his sly smile, and Darryl ran towards him, fist raised. But someone caught it in mid air, and forced Darryl away from him. It was Remus, and he looked ready to kill.
"Like Sirius said," he said in a calm voice, "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. Don't you touch him."
Darryl looked frightened for a moment, but then collected himself, and looked back at Remus's astounded friends. Then he whispered so only his captor could hear, "You just wait until they find out what you are, werewolf. Then we'll see who's singing all for one and one for all. They'll abandon you. I know it, and you know it."
Remus glared, and tightenend his grip on Darryl's wrist.
"Get out," he said, and then pushed him back onto his bed. Darryl was still smiling as he picked himself up and closed the door behind him.
The other three boys were still in shock as Remus sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and made his way to his trunk for clean clothes.
It had only been one time in a thousand in which Remus had stood by them. As the night drew on, James saw their Hogwarts days played out, as if they were racing forward through time. Finally, he reached one evening that he had never forgotten . . .
When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Sirius, Peter, and James opened the door to a surprising scene. There was Remus, dressed in his scarf and mittens, shutting and locking his trunk. His belongings were all gathered. He looked at them as they came in.
"Remus, what are you ."
"I'm leaving," he said quietly, and then took a handle on his trunk.
"And you weren't even going to say goodbye?" Peter asked.
"Wait, why are you going?" Sirius barked.
"Because I've decided that I wasn't fooling anyone," Remus said loudly, "Because . it's no use, and I'll always be . well, this just isn't the place for me anymore."
"You're out of your mind," James said, "We've been working for two years on that stupid Animagus spell, and you're just going to quit? This isn't like you!"
"Goodbye," Remus said, wheeling his trunk past them, but Sirius dangerously jumped in front of him, and slammed the door with a BANG. Remus looked at him, unsure, and then gritted his teeth, "Move, Sirius."
"No, I'm not letting you walk out of here," he said, "You are not going to let me push you out of this school."
"It's nothing about you," he retorted, and then went to move for the door, but Sirius violently pushed him back. Remus looked somewhat scared.
"Sirius!" James said, but Sirius wasn't listening.
"Look, Remus. Both you and I know that I can't change what I saw," he said, "I wish I could, but I can't. You want to truth, Lupin? I'm scared to death of that thing I saw that night. I can't lie. I'm scared. Yeah, that's right. Sirius Black is scared of something. But you gotta show me up. You have to prove to me that I'm wrong. You can't walk away from us like this."
Remus stared at him, and then gripped the handle on his trunk, "The world doesn't revolve around Sirius Black and James Potter. There are other things ."
"No they're isn't," Sirius said boldly.
"Professor McGonagall is scared of me. Why do you think she treats me so sweetly? Darryl thinks I'm some sort of monster! And you ."
"No one thinks you're a monster, Remus," James cut in, "If we thought that, do you really think that we would be sitting here, trying to get you to stay? Let alone trying to prepare ourselves to go down in that tunnel with you?"
Remus's grip on the trunk loosened, and then James said, "You keep thinking that we're gonna abandon you, Lupin. And what you're gonna end up doing is abandoning us out of that fear. You're not alone, Remus."
"But I am," he whispered.
"No," Sirius said, "No, you're not. Remember? Something messes with you, it's gotta mess with all of us, right? Isn't that what we agreed on?"
Remus looked at Sirius, and then at James, and finally at Peter.
"All for one and one for all, right?" Remus said weakly, and James smiled.
"Yeah, Lupin," he said, "All for one and one for all."
James grabbed his trunk, and pulled it back to his bed. And the dream faded away. Far away into the dreams of monsters and broken houses and marble staircases.
Dumbledore's office was dark, and only one candle was placed on the Headmaster's desk. This candle illuminated the faces of Dumbledore, Frank, and Moody, all placed in front of James Potter. The latter two flanked the old man, standing on either side of his chair as they were the first day James was introduced to the Order. But this was an even more secretive situation than that of the Order recruitment. It was something that even he did not know of.
Dumbledore's face was tight, and he had that worn air about him once more. The only safe place left was Hogwarts, and that is why they had gathered there to speak of things that should never be spoken of.
"Tonight," Dumbledore said, "Our Headquarters were attacked."
James nodded, looking around to the darkness. The paintings had all been cleared out, and the windows were drawn. Nothing else could be seen.
"Do you know why our base was discovered?" the Headmaster asked, and James shook his head.
"No, I don't . . ."
"Because someone told Voldemort," he interrupted, "Because someone is untrustworthy."
James fell silent, and nodded, understanding. The spy. They were talking about that myth that one of them was a spy. Did they think it was him?
"Frank, Alastor," Dumbledore said, addressing the two that stood behind him, "Could you please leave us for a moment?"
Moody looked surprised, and Frank hurt. But without saying a word, they left as quietly as they had been there. The door shut behind them, and Dumbledore turned to James once more.
"James, I am going to tell you something that you will not want to hear," he said gravely, "But you have to listen. You have to take heed of my words."
"I understand," James said.
"There is a person that is here, with me," Dumbledore said, and James furrowed his brow. Had he finally lost it? "And he is here to speak to you about something that may interest your future plans. Now, you may not want to listen to him, but you must. By Merlin, you must."
James nodded, "All right. I'll listen."
And then the candle showed two faces. Behind Dumbledore's desk came another face. This one was darker and paler, and surrounded by black hair. The light was dim, but James would recognize that nose anywhere.
"Snape!" he spat, and stood, his wand ready. Snape didn't respond.
"James, sit down," Dumbledore said, and James didn't move a muscle.
"Headmaster, he's a Death Eater! He was in the fields that one night! I saw him! He's going to kill us . . ."
"I'm not the one you should be worried about, Potter," Snape hissed, and Dumbledore nodded.
"You must listen to him, James."
"I'll never listen to that slimeball!"
"Still on about schoolboy grudges, I see," Dumbledore sighed, and looked to Snape, "Both of you, I imagine. Well, I must do this the hard way, then."
Dumbledore raised his wand, and flicked it towards the chair. James felt his body collapse into the seat, and become frozen. He couldn't move! He was stuck!
"Headmaster!" he said.
"You must stay to hear this, James," Dumbledore only said, "It is of the upmost importance."
Snape hadn't aged a day since the night of the Lestrange union. He was just as slimy . . . just as dark as he was the day that they had last seen him.
"James, Severus is a spy of mine," Dumbledore explained as Snape took a seat next to Dumbledore. Every wrinkle in his face could be seen, exaggeratted by the candlelight, "He has been now for quite some time. But you cannot tell anyone this. Not even Sirius."
James didn't say anything. He just glared at his old enemy.
"He has heard things, James," Dumbledore said, "Things that you need to know."
"Do you remember Professor Klien?" Snape asked, looking right back at James. James was taken aback by the question, and he nodded.
"Do you remember how he recruited six students at the end of first year?" he plowed on, not caring if James remembered or not, "They all were called into his office in one night, to be told of the Death Eaters and the opportunities that awaited them."
"You would know," James snarled, "You were one of them."
Snape paused, and then smiled, "Oh, you ignorant little boy."
"Continue, Severus," Dumbledore pushed him on.
"Well, there were not only six recruits, but a seventh. That recruit was never found out," Snape said, "But we have good reason that it was a Gryffindor of the first year. They went to Klien's office on June the seventh of that year.
"The description that Mrs. Norris gave Filch was one of a smaller boy, with a Gryffindor robe. This boy seemed to be carrying a silky cloak with him that suspiciously resembled what one would call an Invisibility Cloak," Snape continued.
"Well, that could be anyone," James said.
"No," Snape said, "It could not," he took out a picture from his pocket, and smoothed it out. He showed it to James, and James's eyes widened. He now knew what this was about.
In the picture stood four boys, waving at the camera. They were eleven years of age, all wearing Gryffindor robes. In James's hands was the cloak that they had all cherished. Peter was next to Remus, waving frantically and laughing. Remus was giving Sirius a fatherly look as Sirius smacked James, and James massaged his arm.
"This boy," Snape said, pointing to James, "Was the only boy in the Gryffindor house that owned an Invisibility Cloak."
"What's your point?" James pressured him, "It wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking."
"We know it wasn't you, James," Dumbledore assured his guest, "You couldn't have been. We thought that it may have been you, when you did not sign the contract, but we have evidence that points to someone else."
"In the past three years," Snape plowed on, "There have been reports of secret details that the Order has not wanted disclosed to anyone but it's members. For example, the names of our members, where their families live, and the prophecy concerning your son. As soon as the prophecy was reported to the Dark Lord, there were other points in your life that no one would know but a close friend. Who was with the child at certain times. Where you were living. When you would be occupied," he paused, and looked back to the photograph, "Who you trusted.
"Tonight was just one of the examples of these small instances in which the wolf in sheep's clothing seems to sneak back to the den. Headquarters . . . somehow that secret was given away. And they entered."
"What are you saying?" James asked, and Dumbledore sat straighter.
"James," he said, "Someone has been watching every move you make for quite some time now. Someone close to you has been handing information to Voldemort."
James felt the room spin, and all he could do was look at that picture of the four of them. He knew what they meant by "someone close to you." His lifelong friends. The only people he thought he could trust. They had to be wrong. Somehow they had to be wrong.
"It's . . ."
"It makes sense," Snape said, "Who else would have been able to know that you and your wife would be out for the evening? Who would know so many things about you? Voldemort is not that powerful, Potter. Only a fool would believe otherwise."
"You're wrong," James said, shaking his head vigorously, "They . . . they're my family. My brothers . . . they would never . . ."
"We have reason to believe that we know who it is," Dumbledore said, "We know exactly who it is, actually."
Snape looked back to the photograph, and then to James, "Sirius Black showed the world that he was capable of murder during his sixth year at Hogwarts."
James stared at Snape, and then back at the photograph. They were playing a joke on him. This couldn't be real . . . his best friend? His brother? Sirius? Padfoot? How could Sirius be a traitor? He had spent his entire life trying to go against his family's wishes, and he was part of the Order.
He thought Lily would turn before Sirius.
"But he saved me tonight!" James said, looking for some sort of something to hold onto, "He almost died for me!"
"Yes, Sirius was brave by putting on an act of courage," Dumbledore said, "Yet his spell was not strong enough to kill Voldemort. It was a weak one, actually. A stunt to put you off of your guard, I'm afraid."
"That's not true!" James argued, now starting in on Snape, "You . . . You always hated him! You were jealous of him! We humiliated you in school! That's why you're doing this!"
"James, Alastor believes it is Mr. Black as well," Dumbledore said, and James grew silent. His shoulders slumped, and he looked to his feet.
"We conferenced earlier this night," the old man said, "He says that Dolohov said something to him to make him believe that it is truly Black."
"His family has a history, Potter," Snape said, "And he knows everything about you."
"But he escaped the Death Eaters!" James said, "He escaped them . . . he saved Harry! How could that be . . ."
"Another stunt, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, "Do you have any proof that there were any Death Eaters that night at your house? Who was the only one to see them? Sirius was."
James didn't say a word, and just looked to the floor. There was nothing to say.
"Now James," Dumbledore said, "I must beg of you to go into hiding. The stakes are too high. I cannot afford . . ."
"I already am," he said, "I made the decision tonight."
Dumbledore's face relaxed, as if he had been expecting another fight between them, "Good," was all he said, and then Snape spoke.
"It would be good if you did not speak to any of your friends about it," he said, "I know that you all are very close to each other (the tone in which he said these words were mocking his fallen enemy), but this is your life we are talking about."
"Now," Dumbledore said, "Your father's old town is far away from the London limits. It is mostly occupied by Muggles in the present day. I propose you go there."
"Godric's Hollow?" James asked, and Dumbledore nodded, "Until when?" James added.
"Until the war is over," he informed him.
James nodded in agreement, "And we'll have a Secret Keeper?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said, "And I would be willing to take on the duty . . ."
"Sirius will be our Secret Keeper," James said, not waiting for Dumbledore to speak, "He's already thinking of going into hiding after this night."
"Are you that daft?" Snape said, his voice becoming louder, "Didn't you just hear what we said to you? Are you still that thick headed?"
"Sirius Black has given his blood for me," James said, "And I would trust him with my life. I trust him more than I do my own self."
"He'd kill you without another thought about it!" Snape said, standing to lean over James, "And yet you pledge loyalty to him! This is what friendship does to you, Potter! It blinds you!"
"Sirius would never become one of Voldemort's spies," James said, and Snape winced at the name of the Dark Lord, "He will be our Secret Keeper, and no one else."
"It is irresponsible of you to . . ."
"Oh, shut it, Snivelly," James spat, and Snape grew silent. The greasy man glared at him, and then took a seat in his chair.
"This is what I get," he said, looking to the Headmaster, "For trying to save his life."
"James, I do not think it wise to rely on friendship at the present moment," Dumbledore said, "Once a wizard goes to the Dark Side, frienship means nothing to them. They forget themselves, James. They do not care for anyone but themselves."
"But Sirius isn't on the Dark Side, is he," James defended his friend, "I would have known."
"What?" Snape snorted, "You think he would have told you?"
If James hadn't been chained to the chair at the present time, he would had stood and strangled that slimy little git. He would have killed him . . .
"I trust your judgement, James," Dumbledore said, and then lifted the spell from his captive, "I trust it better than my own. You know these boys. You know what they are capable of. You saw something good in each one of them with anyone else would have shunned them away. But I must beg you to reconsider."
"I won't," James said, "I choose him. We swore an oath, Headmaster. We swore that we'd die for each other. Someone messes with one of us, it messes with all of us. And everything that Sirius has done up to this point shows me that he has upheld that oath. Now I have to uphold it, too."
The two men in front of him looked at him, not saying a word.
"Headmaster," he said, almost pleading with the old man, "Haven't you ever had faith in someone . . . even something . . . that they would do the right thing? That, no matter what, they could not be wrong? I have faith in my friend. He's more than a friend to me. He is my family. And I would die for him, Headmaster. I would. Because I know he'd do the same for me. Can't you understand that?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding slowly, "I can."
The worn face smiled wisely at James, and Snape grew silent. Dumbledore continued nodding, until placing his hands on the desk, and looking to Snape.
"I know what you are speaking of," he said, not taking his eyes off of his spy. Snape didn't respond to the Headmaster's gaze, but just looked into the candlelight. Both men knew what he spoke of. Snape and Dumbledore didn't need to say anything else for both of them to understand the other.
"And I trust you, James," Dumbledore said, finally looking back towards him.
James nodded, and then the lights in the office were turned back on by an entering Frank and Moody. He couldn't remember walking back down the long steps and out of the office. He kept thinking about that photograph.
One of his friends was a traitor to them all. Someone had broken their oath.
And all he could think about was that little boy, punching him on the arm, forever to laugh in that little picture.
"They said what?" Sirius started, standing up in his chair. They were all assembled at his house, where James and his family were staying until arrangements could be made for their hiding place.
Remus was sprawled out in a chair, his arm over his eyes and trying to sleep. He hadn't slept for two nights, and now he was exhausted. Peter sat rigid on the couch, next to Lily. And James stood in the middle of the room, now facing Sirius. James had called them all together to talk with him, but none of them could have imagined what he had wanted to talk about.
"One of you is a traitor," James said, "A spy for Voldemort."
"That's dung," Remus muttered from his chair, half asleep, "Why would any of us want to go to the Dark Side?"
"And who do they think it is?" Sirius demanded. James couldn't look him in the eyes, and Sirius grew stiff, "Who, James? Who did they tell you it was?"
James didn't reply, but looked to Remus, "Everything points to one of you three."
"They think it's me, don't they?" Sirius pressed him.
"And I don't want to believe it, but I . . ."
"They think it's me, James. Just say it!"
"I can't really think of how else . . ."
Sirius grabbed James by the shoulders, and shook him, "Don't they? They told you it was me!"
"But I know it isn't you!" James shouted, and Sirius let go of him, surprised. James faced his old friend, and shrugged, "I know it isn't."
"Why not?" Remus asked, "How come you're so sure about him, but not about me or Peter?"
"Because I know him," James said, looking into Sirius's black eyes, "I know he wouldn't do anything like that."
"You know us, too!" Peter whined, "You've known us just as long!"
"Don't get worked up, Peter," Remus said, sitting up, "The great James Potter has spoken. He's always trusted Sirius over the rest of us."
"That's not true . . ." James started.
"Admit it, James," Remus said, starting in on him. He had had no sleep in the past forty eight hours. He was sick of this. He was sick of being blamed for everything wrong in Potter's life. He was sick of it all, "That's why you chose Sirius to be the Best Man, and Harry's godfather. That's why he was with Harry two nights ago, when the Death Eaters came."
"Remus . . ."
"That's why you never trusted us," Remus said, pointing to Peter and then himself, "We weren't good enough for you. Someone forbid that you actually befriend a werewolf. I'm sorry I was such a burden to you!"
"Remus, please!" Lily spoke up, Harry in her lap asleep, "You're going to wake the baby."
"I'm tired of it!" Remus shouted, standing from his spot, "I am nothing but a friend to you, and you have the audacity to accuse me of being a spy for Voldemort? I can't believe you, Potter!"
"Remus, just listen to him," Sirius tried to set a hand on his friend's shoulder. But Remus tore away from him, and glared at him.
"Don't touch me," he snarled, and then grabbed his moth eaten cloak from the chair, "I don't need to hear this."
As he headed for the door, Lily looked to her husband. James, sighing, turned to his old friend.
"Moony, please don't leave," he said, "We have to talk this out."
"No, James, we don't. You've already done enough talking for all five of us," Remus said, his voice growing softer. And then he slammed the door behind him.
Peter watched Remus leave, and then look back at James, "So who do you think it is?"
James, his eyes still glued to the door, shook his head, and then said, "I don't know, Wormtail. I really don't know."
It was later that night that Lily and James went to bed, Peter went home, and Sirius went to his own room. He had lived in the same house for a good year or two, and he had slept so many nights under this roof. But now, he couldn't. There was something wrong with everything that had happened.
One of his friends . . . one of James's friends . . . the traitor? The spy? Which one of them would have turned to Voldemort's side, when all any of them talked about was the end of the war?
A desperate one, Sirius thought to himself from his bed. He looked up at the ceiling, and spread his arms out across his pillows, A desperate person in need of the end of the war.
Dumbledore thought it was he himself. Well, how wrong Dumbledore was. This left two people. Peter and Remus.
Both had been very odd people, and yet . . . one of them bothered him immensly.
A cough came from outside in the living room, and Sirius sat up to look out the crack in his doorway. Someone was sitting on his couch, with a cup of water and a forlorn look on his face. He was still dressed in his day robes, and he was all alone. Sirius, grumbling, got out of his bed, dressed himself, and entered the small living room adjoining his room.
James turned to see who had awoken, and smiled sadly as Sirius came to sit next to him. His head still throbbed from the last night's battle, and he wore one of those Healing bandages over his forehead, as to make sure it healed correctly. The bandages brought memories of Remus and his use for them. Sirius shivered as he patted James on the back, and then leaned into his cushions.
"What's keeping you awake?" Sirius asked, and James shrugged.
"Everything," he said, and then sighed, "I was just thinking about when we were kids."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, "You remember when Remus was going to leave school? And I stopped him from walking out that door?"
"Yeah," Sirius said, with not the fondest taste in his mouth. It had been the time in which his boggart had turned into a werewolf, and their friend had packed his bags and was ready to ship out, "I remember."
"But we stopped him," James said, looking at his cup, "And he stayed with us. But tonight . . . I let him go."
"And why did you do that?"
James lowered his head in shame, and then took in a deep breath, "Because he was already gone."
Sirius nodded in agreement, and then put an arm around James, "I know, mate. I know."
"He's been gone for a while," he said, "I thought that we had him back when Harry was born, but then he slipped away again. And maybe it was partly my fault, and the things I said. I probably shouldn't have told him off like I did all those times. But there's something else. I know it. Something else is going on in his mind. And I don't know if it's the wolf, and that thing is taking over . . . or if it's something else."
"He's the spy," Sirius said, as if he was giving away some sort of fact of life, "He's the traitor."
James looked to Sirius, and shook his head, "No. No, not Remus."
"James, I usually don't look into dreams and foretelling and all that," he said, shifting in his stance to face him, "But I've had this one for a while now. It comes in different ways and different scenarios, but it's always the same. First, I thought maybe it was my stupidity, or my nerves, but they continued . . . James . . . I have this dream that Remus kills me. And they've been getting worse. First he just came into my room and cursed me. But then it turned into different things. And two nights ago, when the Death Eaters came . . . I had this dream that this person was marking Harry's door with a green X. And he was in the moon's light. And he was saying, 'It draws nearer,' over and over again. And I know it was Remus. I knew that person. It was him. I'm sure of it."
"That's just a dream, though," James said, "It doesn't mean anything."
"Harry's prophecy means something, doesn't it?" Sirius pointed out, and James buried his face in his hands.
"James, he's a werewolf. When we first met him, we were young. We didn't know any better. We thought he was a person. But he's not. The Ministry doesn't watch things like him for their jollies," Sirius sighed, and shook his head, "I don't want to believe it myself, but . . . he said those words to me. He said 'It draws nearer.' And he wasn't even aware of it. I think the wolf may be taking over somehow. I can't explain it myself, but you saw him tonight. He snapped at you. Remus isn't one to act like that. But we know the wolf. We know how it acts."
"Remus has always been in control."
"Has he?" Sirius asked, and James couldn't answer. So Sirius just continued, "And that night after your wedding, when we were coming home from that job in the sewers? He said to me, 'We're all the same.' He said that we were just the same as those murderers. His family hasn't been touched by the Death Eaters, even if he has Muggle connections. And most of all, that night . . . when you and Lily were taken to Dolohov's? Who led you in there? You said that Remus was calling to you from above. You just assumed that he was under the Imperius Curse. But did you ever find out for sure?"
James couldn't answer this either. There were a million things now pointing away from Sirius and to Remus. Remus was a werewolf. Remus had acted strangely for months. Remus had known all of the information given to Voldemort. He had known that they were going out that night. He had known that Sirius and Peter had been asked to watch Harry, and not him.
He had been aware of it.
He could have told Voldemort easily.
"What about Peter?" James said, "It could easily be him."
"That snivelling little rat?" Sirius laughed, "No. Peter'd be too scared of Voldemort to even come close to him. He'd wee his knickers before he could say anything to him. No, it's not Peter. He's weak. And think about it. If what they say is true, and this boy had an Invisibility Cloak with him, then think back to that year. Did Peter ever go anywhere without one of us?"
"No, not that I can think of," James said.
"He was afraid of the space under his bed, let alone the corridors outside," Sirius said, "No, he wouldn't have gone wandering off by himself. Remus, on the other hand, easily could have. He spent all of that time alone anyway, why not add an extra stroll down to Klien's office?"
"But Klien would never have let him join."
"Whoever said that Klien got to pick out who he wanted?" Sirius pointed out, "Voldemort hears there's a werewolf at school. He knows they're easily pursuaded. He orders Klien to talk to him. What, Klien's going to say no to the Dark Lord?"
"Then there's nothing else," James said, "That's all I can think of."
"He said it to me, James," Sirius said, "He said those words to me. And he looked at me in this cold, dark way. He said 'It draws nearer.'"
A cold shiver came up James's spine, and he gripped his cup. He closed his eyes, and then nodded.
"Then we're agreed," he said, "On who it is?"
"I think we are," Sirius said, and nodded.
That night, James had a dream of his own. It didn't include murderous werewolves, though. It was a calmer, more loving dream than the ones that Sirius had told him about. This dream took place in the Gryffindor Tower, on a particular afternoon in which Darryl Avery had entertained them by telling Professor McGonagall that they had stuck him on the Astronomy Tower. There had been truth in that statement . . .
The scene came back to him as real as the time it had been played out.
"You're talking nonsense, Mr. Avery," Professor McGonagall said, "Now clean yourself up, and get some new trousers on. Class starts in an hour."
The four boys' eyes drifted down to Darryl's pants. There was a large wet spot covering the front of them. Sirius gave out a "ah!" and James bit his lip to stop from laughing.
"Nice," Sirius commented as soon as Professor McGonagall had left.
"Just you wait," Darryl glared at Sirius, "Just you wait, Black! I'll see that you never forget this! I'll show you."
"What are you gonna do? Wee on me?" Sirius smiled his sly smile, and Darryl ran towards him, fist raised. But someone caught it in mid air, and forced Darryl away from him. It was Remus, and he looked ready to kill.
"Like Sirius said," he said in a calm voice, "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. Don't you touch him."
Darryl looked frightened for a moment, but then collected himself, and looked back at Remus's astounded friends. Then he whispered so only his captor could hear, "You just wait until they find out what you are, werewolf. Then we'll see who's singing all for one and one for all. They'll abandon you. I know it, and you know it."
Remus glared, and tightenend his grip on Darryl's wrist.
"Get out," he said, and then pushed him back onto his bed. Darryl was still smiling as he picked himself up and closed the door behind him.
The other three boys were still in shock as Remus sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and made his way to his trunk for clean clothes.
It had only been one time in a thousand in which Remus had stood by them. As the night drew on, James saw their Hogwarts days played out, as if they were racing forward through time. Finally, he reached one evening that he had never forgotten . . .
When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Sirius, Peter, and James opened the door to a surprising scene. There was Remus, dressed in his scarf and mittens, shutting and locking his trunk. His belongings were all gathered. He looked at them as they came in.
"Remus, what are you ."
"I'm leaving," he said quietly, and then took a handle on his trunk.
"And you weren't even going to say goodbye?" Peter asked.
"Wait, why are you going?" Sirius barked.
"Because I've decided that I wasn't fooling anyone," Remus said loudly, "Because . it's no use, and I'll always be . well, this just isn't the place for me anymore."
"You're out of your mind," James said, "We've been working for two years on that stupid Animagus spell, and you're just going to quit? This isn't like you!"
"Goodbye," Remus said, wheeling his trunk past them, but Sirius dangerously jumped in front of him, and slammed the door with a BANG. Remus looked at him, unsure, and then gritted his teeth, "Move, Sirius."
"No, I'm not letting you walk out of here," he said, "You are not going to let me push you out of this school."
"It's nothing about you," he retorted, and then went to move for the door, but Sirius violently pushed him back. Remus looked somewhat scared.
"Sirius!" James said, but Sirius wasn't listening.
"Look, Remus. Both you and I know that I can't change what I saw," he said, "I wish I could, but I can't. You want to truth, Lupin? I'm scared to death of that thing I saw that night. I can't lie. I'm scared. Yeah, that's right. Sirius Black is scared of something. But you gotta show me up. You have to prove to me that I'm wrong. You can't walk away from us like this."
Remus stared at him, and then gripped the handle on his trunk, "The world doesn't revolve around Sirius Black and James Potter. There are other things ."
"No they're isn't," Sirius said boldly.
"Professor McGonagall is scared of me. Why do you think she treats me so sweetly? Darryl thinks I'm some sort of monster! And you ."
"No one thinks you're a monster, Remus," James cut in, "If we thought that, do you really think that we would be sitting here, trying to get you to stay? Let alone trying to prepare ourselves to go down in that tunnel with you?"
Remus's grip on the trunk loosened, and then James said, "You keep thinking that we're gonna abandon you, Lupin. And what you're gonna end up doing is abandoning us out of that fear. You're not alone, Remus."
"But I am," he whispered.
"No," Sirius said, "No, you're not. Remember? Something messes with you, it's gotta mess with all of us, right? Isn't that what we agreed on?"
Remus looked at Sirius, and then at James, and finally at Peter.
"All for one and one for all, right?" Remus said weakly, and James smiled.
"Yeah, Lupin," he said, "All for one and one for all."
James grabbed his trunk, and pulled it back to his bed. And the dream faded away. Far away into the dreams of monsters and broken houses and marble staircases.