The Last Night, Part 2

As Peter's mind held him back, his legs pushed him forward out of his hiding place. His heart and mind screamed as one, "No! Its wrong! Do not listen! Draw out your wand!" but his body refused to listen. His eyes filled with tears as Voldemort approached him.

"Well?" asked Lord Voldemort impatiently. "What do you have to say for yourself? What information do you have for me?"

"I'm sorry." he said, directing his answer at both Voldemort and his memory of James and Lily. He was not simply not strong enough to resist. His body was consumed with sorrow for the loss of his friends, until the memories of his childhood came flooding back to him. They had laughed at him, made fun of him, left him behind. He was not wanted. They had not even come for him when he asked for help. They wouldn't come for him, even though he held James' secret. They were on the wrong side, the weak side. It was time to become part of the stronger front.

He looked up at Lord Voldemort, his mind clear and made up. "I know where the Potters are... my Lord." A grin slowly spread across Voldemort's face as he gestured for Peter to continue.

Peter stepped back slightly, his faded blue eyes shifting uncomfortably. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. A voice that was his own, but broken by fear, distantly proclaimed, "James and Lily Potter are currently residing at number 7 Astbury, Godric's Hollow, Cheshire county, England along with their son Harry, an owl named Hereric, and Falki the cat."

Silence. Voldemort turned away from Peter to face the rest of the Death Eaters, his face alight with malicious glee. "Tonight shall be a night to remember!" Peter made his way into the ranks of Death Eaters, and Voldemort reached out and pressed two pale fingers onto his forearm, branding him with the Dark Mark. Peter opened his mouth in pain, but he knew that with this pain came acceptance and that was enough to silence him. He followed the rest of the Death Eaters as they rushed out of the forest, and for the first time he was not terrified when he saw one of them joyously release the Dark Mark into the sky in celebration of what was to come. For the first time, he felt as though he belonged.

Sirius quieted his motorcycle with a wave of his wand. He stepped off and strode over towards the door of Peter's house. It was not a large house by any account, but it suited Peter- a bachelor who lived alone. Sirius raised his fist and knocked briskly on the door. He waited a few moments with no response then knocked again. Silence greeted him, and Sirius swore despite himself. His raised his wand, muttered "Alohomora!" and banged the door open. "Peter!" he called, "Where are you? Why's Remus in such a tizzy?" Still silence, and Sirius swore again, "Damn it, Peter! Where are you?" he yelled as he made his way through the house. After not finding him in the bedroom, he ran through the house, quickly glancing in each of the rooms. Peter was nowhere to be found, but at the same time, Sirius could find no trace of a struggle. Everything was in its proper place, the dishes stacked and sitting in the cupboard, the bed made, the television turned off. Sirius searched for clues that might lead to his whereabouts, when suddenly a thought struck him. What if he'd been wrong...if Remus wasn't the informant... "James!" he cried quietly as he ran back for his bike, revving it with a quick wave of his wand. "I'm coming James!" he called as his bike drove off into the night, "Hold on, James. I'm coming."

Remus apparated in park's courtyard entrance. He stooped over for a second before beginning his search. Apparating tired him quickly, and he no longer had the strength that he'd had as a boy. He was constantly weary; the rigors of transforming into a werewolf zapped the last of his energy reserves. He traced his hand in the growing snow beneath his feet. The storm was worsening, there would be a solid foot by morning. When he finally glanced up, he gasped and fell to his knees. The Dark Mark was shining brightly in the sky. "Peter!" he breathed, reaching out with his hand. Though there was the possibility that the Death Eaters had taken someone else, he knew deep within him that Peter had been here. Inwardly, he felt sorrow for the loss of his friend, but only a single tear slipped down his cheek. He was too spent to cry. He climbed to his feet and combed the woods speedily, but he couldn't find any trace of a body. He couldn't find anything. He stood in the middle of a clearing, looking carefully around him. "What happened here?" he asked quietly, "I don't understand. They never hide their dead..." He shook his head to clear it, but no insight came to him. Was Peter alive? Had he been taken? Tortured? "Perhaps Dumbledore will understand." he mumbled, turning and setting off for the Order's headquarters, which was a few blocks away. He turned and looked back at the woods one last time. "Goodbye, Peter." he whispered, "I'm sorry. I...I tried."

Dumbledore had returned to his post at the window. Trepidation had settled in his heart, and dread had draped itself around his shoulders, making him shiver. Something was to happen tonight, but he did not know what. Suddenly, he saw a wiry person coming out of the darkness. The man paused for a moment and looked up towards Dumbledore's window, and Dumbledore immediately recognized Lupin. He fairly ran down the stairs, for he knew that Lupin brought bad news. He swung the door open, and Lupin walked in, eager to get away from the cold. His hollow expression told Dumbledore more than he needed to know. "Is it Peter, then? Where?"

Lupin glanced up at him, but his face held confusion as well as sorrow. "I think so...but it was so confusing. His mother told me he likes to go for walks in Bellivea Park, but when I got there...The Dark Mark was in the sky, but I could find no trace of a body."

Dumbledore frowned, "That's unusual...did you find any other signs?"

"No. Nothing. I don't understand, Professor."

"Neither do I. Wait here, and I shall see what I can do." Dumbledore turned away and strode up the stairs, muttering as he went. Lupin seated himself on the couch and waited for him to return. Suddenly, Hagrid, who had been sleeping earlier, rushed down the stairs. Lupin stood immediately, "What is it, Hagrid?"

He was crying, but he faced Lupin through his tears, "I'm sorry, Remus." he mumbled as he clasped one giant hand on Lupin's shoulder. "Dumbledore's jus' bin ter see me. It's... It's... Lily and James. Voldemort... he... he killed. . . ," his voice faded off and he went to look away, but Lupin collapsed in his arms. "Remus!" cried Hagrid in alarm, but Lupin was still conscious.

He stood unsteadily and looked back up at Hagrid. "I'm...I'm..." But he never did finish what he was trying to say. He pushed past Hagrid and tried to get up the stairs. But he tripped and fell on the landing. Hagrid watched him sorrowfully for a few minutes before leaving the building, having his own job to complete. As the door slammed shut behind him, Lupin clenched his hands in two tight fists. Tears were beyond him, his sorrow was too deep. He raised himself up against the wall, but could get no further. He was so tired...and yet his mind was spinning. Hatred, sorrow, despair, disbelief...the emotions flew through his mind. He felt as though he'd never be whole again. Dumbledore stopped before he came upon him, and his own eyes filled with tears. Lupin heard him on the stairs and glanced up at him. "Tell me it isn't true, Dumbledore. Please..."

Dumbledore hesitated before he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Remus. There was a large gathering of Death Eaters tonight, but no one ever imagined..." his voice shook slightly, and Lupin caught the anger in his tone.

Frustration clouded behind Lupin's eyes. "I'll kill him myself. I'll kill Sirius with my bare hands."

Dumbledore shook his head, "Don't get involved, Remus. I will deal with it myself. Stay here and wait for my direction."

"Don't get involved? DON'T GET INVOLVED? HE KILLED MY BEST FRIEND DUMBLEDORE!" roared Lupin, "HOW CAN I NOT GET INVOLVED? I can't, I won't just stand here and wait. I'm tired of playing the good boy."

Dumbledore hesitated before he replied, choosing his words carefully. "Remus, listen to me. Harry is still alive. We don't know how, or why. Voldemort may be gone, no one's sure yet. At any rate, the boy is still alive. I...I have to make arrangements for him. Now. Wait here, and I'll send word when there's news. I suggest you wake the others." He strode past him and closed the door curtly behind him.

Lupin was still on the ground. Voldemort gone? Harry alive? It didn't make sense. Why had Harry lived? There were so many that had died...Marlene, Benjy, Gideon, even James. Though some were arguably not the best wizards, there was no one superior to James. And the boy...he had survived. James was gone, but his child lived. How was it possible? He shook his head slowly. He was in shock and he knew it. He could not think clearly. He stood unsteadily and made his way up the stairs, to find that his yelling had already awoken the entire house. Five other wizards stood at the top of the stairs, all in their pajamas and slippers. "Who is it, Remus?" asked Emmeline Vance quietly.

Lupin looked up at them, their saddened faces. Truly, the name did not matter, for they were all brothers and sisters in this war. "J...James and Lily." he gulped quietly.

Emmeline glanced up at the ceiling, her eyes filling with tears. "Why did it have to be a family with a child? The poor lad didn't even have a chance to live." Dedalus Diggle reached up and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's not entirely true," started Remus, and the others stared at him. "According to Hagrid, Harry survived. It-- it appears that Voldemort did not. Dumbledore's gone to sort it out. We're to stay here and wait word."

Emmeline's face sparked with silvery tears, but her confusion was clear even through her sorrow. "But how? He's alive? You-Know-Who's gone? Remus, what are you talking about?"

Amidst her questions, Lupin felt the impact of the night's events hit him like a load of bricks. He stumbled tiredly. "I don't know Emmeline. I don't know anything." He pushed past them, desperate for sleep and solitude. Dedalus started after him, but Emmeline held him back. "Let him be. I shouldn't have questioned him. He needs to sort himself out before he'll be able to answer us."

Lupin fell onto the first bed he passed. He lay there quietly, thinking about what had just happened. It was over, but at such a terrible price. Was it worth it? "No, Remus, don't think that. It will never be worth it." he scolded himself. He reached out into the space above him, as though he was trying to reach heaven and pull James back. "But he can't come back. He can't come back..." his voice faded off as he dropped slowly into slumber.

Sirius landed his bike with a dull thump in the snow and dismounted, his heart not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Thought the Dark Mark was conspicuously absent, the house had mostly collapsed, and only frame around the front door was still intact. He saw rustling inside, and his heart leapt. "James!" he called gleefully, "You're alright!"

But as he approached the door, it became clear that the figure was anybody but James. He was too tall, and too wide..."Hagrid?" asked Sirius. "But, I don't understand...what happened? What are you doing here?"

Hagrid was shifting rubble. "Harry's somewhere in this mess. The lil' tyke might be still alive." His voice was rough and dry, worn out from tears.

Sirius stood rooted to the spot, his eyes widening in disbelief. "But if Harry's alive, then surely James is! Where is he, Hagrid? Have they moved him to St. Mungo's already?"

Hagrid lifted his face to Sirius', and he saw the hope glimmering in his eyes. It almost broke his heart to speak, "He's, he's gone, Sirius. I found him near the door, and Lily near the bedroom. 'Ranged 'em best I could." He pointed over towards the edge of the yard, where two bodies lay, each covered with a sheet.

Sirius didn't reply, but ran over to his lost friend. "James!" he cried silently as he hugged the body to his chest. "No, James, no..." he whispered, folding back the sheet to find the all-too familiar look of shock. He raised a shaking hand and closed James' eyes, "I'm so sorry... I should come sooner James. I should have been the secret-keeper. I should...I should..." his voice faded out, and Hagrid reached down and placed one large hand on his shoulder. "Per'aps I shouldn' be sayin' this now, Sirius, but 'tain't all lost. Harry's still 'ere." As if to back up Hagrid's claim, a tiny cry issued forth from the bundle of blankets under Hagrid's left arm. Sirius glanced up, and Hagrid handed a swaddled Harry down to him. Sirius laid James down gently on the ground and hugged Harry close to his chest. "He looks just like his Dad." he said quietly.

Hagrid nodded in agreement, " 'Cept for the eyes. He's got Lily's eyes."

"That he does." Sirius swept the blanket back off his head and gasped, "What is that, Hagrid? What happened to him? Will he be alright?"

Hagrid nodded, "Far as I can tell. It's from Voldemort no doubt. It's a mys'try 'ow Harry survived. Even looks like You-Know-Who's gone."

"Gone?" asked Sirius hollowly. Sirius noticed that there was no Dark Mark ominously floating over the cottage. He held the little child still tighter, as if trying to find the power within him, "And he's just a child..."

"Don't un'erstand it meself. Jus' followin' Dumbledore's orders. He seemed to 'ave thought summat like this would 'appen tonight."

"What are you talking about, Hagrid?"

"Dumbledore sent me 'ere to collect Harry. He's to go to his aunt's and uncle's, an wait fer' the res' o' Dumbledore's orders."

Sirius stood up and looked Hagrid in the eye. "What are you talking about? Give Harry to me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather I'll look after him--"

Hagrid shook his head, "Don't do this, Sirius. Not tonight you can', and you know it. He'll be safe with me 'n Dumbledore, at least fer tonight, until we figure it all out. He's ter go ter his aunt 'n uncle in the mornin', but if you jus' talk ter Dumbledore tomorrow, I'm sure he'll explain it ter yeh."

Sirius started to protest, but then he realized the direness of his own situation. He was believed to be the Secret Keeper. He would be hunted...and Harry would not be safe with him. He looked down at Harry one last time. Hagrid was right, Harry would be safe with him. His hand brushed his cheek gently, and Harry smiled. He leaned down and kissed him softly on the cheek before handing him back to Hagrid. "Take my bike, Hagrid. It'll be faster than the Underground. I won't be needing it anymore." For his mind was made up. He glanced back at James and Lily, and he knew what he had to do. He had to make things right again. A life for a life.

"Are yeh sure, Sirius? 'Dunno when I'll be able ter return..."

"Take it, Hagrid. And hurry, the Muggles will be here any minute now. They're looking out their windows." His voice was harsh, and it startled Hagrid.

"You alright, Sirius?"

"I'm...fine, Hagrid." He looked up Hagrid, anger written in his brows, "I'll be fine. Take Harry and go." Hagrid shook his head and turned away. Grief did strange things to people, he knew that just as well as anyone. He'd been unimaginably angry when his Dad had died. He wrapped Harry up securely in his coat and mounted the bike. Sirius still sat by James and Lily, but as Hagrid revved the engine, he looked up at him one last time. "Are you sure you know how to use it?" he asked, referring to the bike.

"Aye." replied Hagrid, "I'll manage."

Sirius nodded. It was not the first time Hagrid had tried his bike, after all. "Goodbye, Hagrid." he said. Hagrid was puzzled, for Sirius's voice had an odd sort of finality to it. He felt as though they'd never meet again.

"Goodbye, Sirius." he called as he rode off into the night. Sirius stood and dusted the snow off his robes. He walked away from James for the last time. He went to make things right, even if it cost him his own life. Not that it mattered anymore.

The snow had finally stopped falling. It was white and uniquely beautiful, and yet at the same time, cold and deadly. But the silence of the scene was interrupted as Peter trudged heavily through the snow. Tears floated in his eyes, but he fought them back. Voldemort was gone, and he had betrayed the Potter's for the last time. For there was nothing else to betray. Although a small part of him refused to accept responsibility for their death, most of him was awash with grief. Even if he had used them for protection, even if their relationship had been shaky at times...the bond of friendship had still held them together. He paused for a moment, glancing back over the busy London street. People left their houses, whistling as they left for work, their children skipping and laughing as they waited for the bus. A single tear ran down his face. "I'm sorry, James. Lily. And most of all, to you, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger." He turned around and continued his trek down the street. But it was done. He had admitted his grief, and the fear that had gripped him throughout most of his life was slowly taking hold over him again. Sirius would come for him. So would the other Death Eaters. Both thought him responsible for the death of their idols. His hands shook slightly as he continued down the street. If only he could find Dumbledore before Sirius tracked him down. Dumbledore, softhearted fool that he was, would believe him. In Dumbledore's mind, Sirius was the Potter's Secret-Keeper. Yes, that was what he would do. He would look for Dumbledore, careful to avoid any alleys where someone could pounce on him unsuspected. He quickened his pace. He did not have much time...