Changes, Part 2

They argued and plotted as they walked down the long tunnel, Sirius' voice tinged with nervousness, Remus' with the same. At last dim light became visible and they stopped directly under the Willow. The storm had ceased, but the sun would set soon. Remus took a deep breath, studying his friend's emaciated features in the dark, cast in harsh relief by the few spears of daylight lancing into the tunnel.

"Ready?" he asked. Sirius nodded, his eyes big in his skull. Remus pulled his wand and used it to conjure a length of cord. Sheathing it again, he looked at Sirius uncertainly, then embraced him before turning him by his shoulders. Deft fingers trailed down his arms to catch his wrists and bind them together behind him. The cord was smooth in his hands and Sirius' wrists only bone and a rapid pulse covered with skin as he wound it around them, tucking the theatre-style release knot out of sight. Guiding Sirius' fingers, he showed him the hidden loop and made sure it could be reached if something went wrong. Had he not been in contact with Sirius' skin the entire time, he might have missed the slight trembling of his muscles and the way his breathing seemed a bit too controlled. Finished, he squeezed Sirius' shoulder.

"You all right?" he asked. Awkwardly, Sirius turned to face him. In the spackled light filtering through the willow's roots, Remus could see him swallow and nod, his eyes now showing the whites all the way around.

"Just a bit scared." He replied tightly. Remus embraced him again, gently stroking the back of his head until he relaxed and rested it on his shoulder, his breathing gradually becoming less laboured.

"Bad memories?" He asked, now stroking Sirius' temple with his thumb, feeling the other's lungs hitch at the words.

"Yeah."

"You're going to make me look very, very, bad, you know." He commented, forcing a chuckle out of his friend. "Like a complete and utter arse." The chuckle became a shaky laugh and he feigned affectionate indignation.

"Remus." Sirius' suddenly sober voice jolted him out of his play-acting. Sirius had raised his head and was looking at him with that slightly sad look that he was coming to realize was a permanent part of him now.

"Yes?" he asked, equally sober, cradling his friend's face in his palms. Sirius closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to lock with his.

"I know… I know that we will encounter things during this act which will require you to behave… differently towards me." Remus grimaced and bowed his head. Sirius met his forehead with his own and pushed it up again. "I want you to know now that I forgive you anything that might occur." Feeling shocks run through him, Remus' hands fell to his sides and he opened his mouth to deny that he would ever… but Sirius shook his head, sunken eyes intense and bright in the dark. "I want to get this done, Remus. No matter the cost."

Now it was Remus' turn to swallow and nod, whispering, "All right," in consent. "No matter the cost." He repeated, and snorted. "That's the reason the Blacks kept getting put in Slytherin, you know." Sirius raised an eyebrow at him and Remus shook his head. "Not because you were all evil, but because you were ruthless. And the best of you," he said, smiling and tugging on a tangled lock of Sirius' hair, "got put in Gryffindor. Because sometimes," here he glanced towards the entrance, "it takes great courage to be ruthless."

Sirius silently placed his cheek against Remus' own for a moment, then used it to push him towards the entrance, prodding with his forehead. Remus took a deep breath and drew his wand, winding his fingers in hair he'd been caressing only a few minutes before, his grip tightening in the matted strands as they neared the surface.

They encountered trouble almost immediately. The weather was rotten and classes were over for the day, so there were no students about, but Dementors patrolled the borders of the Forbidden Forest and sensed them as soon as they emerged from the tunnel. They were halfway to the castle when Sirius cried out and stumbled, fear making his eyes roll. Nothing for it. Remus threw him to the sodden ground and turned to face the things, pointing his wand at them. "No closer!" he shouted. They couldn't see, but the rush of extra fear from Sirius at the rough treatment must have convinced them of something, for they stopped.

He could hear him in the mud and grass in front of him, sobbing "No, no, no…"

The dementor in the lead spoke, its voice hoarse to match its death-rattle breath. "You… Dark." Remus felt a shiver pass down his spine at the words. They could be talked to. What's more, because he was a werewolf - they assumed he would parley with them. The dementor lifted a scabbed finger and pointed to Sirius, who lay on his side, knees drawn up to his chest. "Give… promised… ours." Remus stiffened at the words. He knew Fudge had authorized the Kiss if Sirius should be found, 'regardless of circumstance,' but he'd be damned if he'd abide by that decree. Keeping his wand steadily pointed at the group, he said firmly,

"No." If dementors could show surprise or anger, he was certain they would have. "Dumbledore wishes to speak with him." Even if he doesn't know it yet, Remus amended in his mind. Dumbledore's name gave the things pause, but not enough. He hadn't wanted to use the spell because it would attract attention, but they were moving forward, challenging him. He raised his wand at the advancing dementors and drew on his memories, shouting "Expecto patronum!"

Most of his happy memories included Sirius, and he'd had trouble with this spell since that fateful Halloween - the few times he'd actually had to use it, because the memories were marred with the bitterness of betrayal. He'd had to scrape the bottom of his mental barrel for something he could use, but now he found he didn't have to.

A burst of white silver rushed from his wand and formed itself into a huge dog which leaped over Sirius and charged, snarling at the dementors. They fell away, leaving him alone and the dog circled back, stopping to nuzzle Sirius' face before returning to Remus, who stared at it in bewilderment until it dissolved away. Patroni never approached anyone except their casters, but for the one they approached in benevolence, the effect was almost as good as chocolate. Sirius' cries had ceased, but he was still shaking.

Remus wanted more than anything to try to comfort him, but the spell and the dementors had surely attracted attention, and if they weren't before, people would certainly be watching now. He couldn't afford to do anything which had the remotest chance of being construed as sympathetic. Instead he reached down and grabbed Sirius' upper arm, hauling him to his feet one-handed and giving him a shove towards the great wooden doors.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on his former students. "Remus, what…?"

"Bastard paid me a visit," he seethed, jerking his head towards the Shrieking Shack, "in Hogsmeade."

This was the final test, fooling Albus Dumbledore. Many would have said it was impossible. In order to even come close, he first had to convince both himself and Sirius of the matter. The headmaster was an accomplished Legilimens, and while he would not invade their minds, he'd been reading people more than a century before either of them had been born. Anger Remus could do; anger was something he had in abundance at the moment - he simply had to redirect it.

The wolf in him was still dangerously close to the surface this day after the full moon. It battered at his skull and demanded to be let loose. It was hard, oh so hard to keep it in check even when the moon was new, but today Sirius had asked him to do whatever he found necessary.

No matter the cost.

So he slammed his oldest friend face-first up against one of the hardwood doors, and yanked his head back by the hair. He stared coldly into Sirius' eyes, which were widened in real fear, and made his own snap with anger. Blood was welling in a fresh cut on his cheek where it'd hit the wood. "I wanted to ask him a few questions before handing him over to the dementors, Headmaster," he snarled, and viciously tightened his grip on Sirius' hair, causing him to cry out.

He had given the wolf free reign and it relished the freedom. To bystanders who didn't know better, it translated into sadism to rival Snape's, rather than mere bloodlust from the normally mild Defence teacher. But Albus did know better, and he didn't have to go very far before he felt a gnarled hand grip his shoulder firmly and heard the headmaster say in a hard voice,

"That's enough, Remus."

Perfect.

Even in his play-acting, that tone wilted his fury and he quailed, reluctant to earn Dumbledore's disapproval. He sighed, trying to appear put-out. "May I suggest a more private venue, Sir?" he asked respectfully.

Dumbledore appeared to consider the request and nodded, gesturing for Remus to follow with Sirius, who drooped in his grip and kept his head bowed. As they walked, the headmaster pulled a small mirror from inside his robe and quietly spoke into it.

"Alastor Moody."

The glass swirled with fog and cleared, revealing their mentor's face and spinning blue eye. "Moody here," he growled. If Sirius heard his old mentor's greeting, he gave no indication of it.

"Alastor," Dumbledore's voice was grave, "I need you at Hogwarts. We've found Black."

"Merlin," he sighed, "You know I'm no good for this, Albus. I'm too emotionally involved." Their Mentor said the phrase as if it were a disease.

"I know," Dumbledore replied, glancing at Remus. "We all are."

"Albus, the man was my student!"

"And mine," he reminded him gently, lowering his voice, but Remus could still pick out the words. "Alastor…" the headmaster suddenly looked tired. "Remus found him." By this time they had reached the stone gargoyle and the statue moved aside at a word from Dumbledore.

"Oh." Moody sounded as though he'd been struck. "All right," he consented. "Let me in by the floo?"

"Alastor, one more thing." By this time they'd reached the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Albus?"

"I need Veritaserum and one of your recording talismans," he said grimly, pushing open the door. There was a pause. Then,

"Surely Professor Snape…" Dumbledore shook his head, gesturing for them to sit. Remus shoved Sirius down in a wingchair, mud and all. Then he collapsed in the one opposite, glaring at him. Sirius glared right back, trading evil look for evil look.

"I do not want to bring Severus into this, Alastor. For several reasons." Going to the mantle, he pressed his palm to its centre and muttered a few words. "The floo is ready, my friend." A moment later Moody was brushing soot from his robes while his magical eye inspected the occupants of the room through the back of his head. It lingered on Sirius, studying him, and Sirius broke his glaring match with Remus to stare at the man who'd been his Mentor in the Aurors. The two older men conversed in low tones by the hearth, both voices sounding unhappy.

"…I don't like this, Albus," Moody rumbled, handing him a small bottle and pendant.

"No more do I, Alastor. But…" he paused, blue eyes sweeping the room and pinning Remus where he sat. "I believe it may be necessary." Then, a touch lighter as if forced, "If only for our sanity."

Remus stood and crossed to where Sirius was slumped against the side of his chair. Reaching down, he grabbed his friend's chin in a bone-crushing grip, forcing it up. Giving him a cold look, he said in a low deadly voice,

"Don't worry about me, Headmaster. I lost mine twelve years ago." Maybe he had, he mused. No sane person addressed Dumbledore in that tone. He glanced up, seeing only concern on the old man's face. "May we begin?" he asked.

His teachers exchanged a glance, then Moody growled, "I'll do it," and took the vial back from Dumbledore. "You hold him, Lupin."

Remus knew there was no need to, but he kept up the act to the end, maintaining his grip on Sirius' jaw and pinching his nose until his mouth dropped open. Moody quickly dosed him and Remus pressed up, closing Sirius' mouth and forcing him to swallow. He held it closed with both hands as Sirius' stomach rebelled, trying to reject the poison. Remus held his gaze coldly, silently informing him that he would make him choke on his own bile should he, in fact, give in to his body's demands. Sirius' breath whistled through his nose in short, fast bursts, his face white under the grime and mud. When he was sure Sirius could keep the serum down, he let go and stepped back, waiting.

Sirius' head fell forward onto his chest, his mouth open and gasping, the vertebrae in his spine jutting out in harsh relief. Beside him, Moody cursed and turned away, going to stand with Dumbledore, who muttered an incantation over the talisman.

When Sirius finally raised his head, his eyes were glazed. At last Remus moved forward and knelt in front of him, reaching up to cup his abused face with gentle hands, steadying him. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, but it was such an absolutely unthreatening gesture (save for its significance) that neither man moved to stop him, the silence in the room heavy and thick.

"Padfoot," he whispered, stroking his temples with his thumbs. Sirius blinked slowly; Moody had given him a light dose to start. Behind him, the auror shifted restlessly, his prosthetic grinding into the floor. He raised his voice to be heard clearly.

"What is your full name?" he asked formally for the talisman's benefit. It was standard Ministry procedure, exactly as Moody himself had taught him. He remembered it flawlessly - no one could fault him for that. Aurors followed a strict pattern and set of rules in questioning because the Truth Serum caused seizures if it was fought or could not produce an answer. This was why they were careful to only ask questions that could be answered.

"Sirius Orion Black." He answered immediately, then firmly, "Padfoot." Remus fought a smile. It was true, if optional. He'd become 'Padfoot' in their fifth year, and had stayed so for the rest of his life. The name was as much a part of him as that which he'd been given at birth.

"What is your birth date?"

"March thirteenth, nineteen sixty." Remus hated the next part, but had to say it. He slowly moved his hands down to Sirius' shoulders, his thumbs continuing their soothing motion on the shrunken muscles there.

"Sirius Orion Black, you are under the influence of Veritaserum and therefore compelled to speak against your will. Anything you say can and will be used either against or for you in a court of law. Do you in good faith consent to hear questioning?" It was a mere formality, normally, but useful for record-keeping. No one would actually stop if refused, and the answer was usually a resounding, 'No!' But he doubted any interrogator had ever said it while on their knees before a prisoner. Sirius' expression was still glazed, but there was something warm in it when he said,

"I do."

"Sirius, were you Secret keeper for James and Lily Potter?"

"No." Behind him, Moody shifted again and lost his balance, his wooden leg slipping on the stone. Dumbledore steadied him and guided him to a chair near Remus, then sat wearily behind his desk, staring into space. The silence in the room had gone from heavy to stunned. The two were closer now, and he only had to turn a little to see their bewildered faces.

"Who was, Sirius?" he asked calmly, reaching around his friend to pull on the loop at his wrists, drawing his hands forward and massaging them. Sirius hissed when he felt the blood return. Neither professor nor auror protested Remus' actions.

"Peter." It was eerie, hearing that name from Sirius' lips without reflecting the muted anger that played across his face. Moody buried his grizzled head in his hands.

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?" It was difficult keeping the venom out of his own voice when he said the name.

"No." Moody's head snapped up, both eyes, magical and natural staring at his former student. The auror asked his next question for him, his voice strangled, as if he were afraid to hear the answer.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes," Sirius replied. The beginnings of fear washed over their Mentor's face and he leaned forward, asking urgently,

"Do you know where he is?"

"With Ron Weasley in Gryffindor Tower." This made no sense to Moody, and if it hadn't been for the Truth Serum and the monotone, Remus was sure Moody would have thought Sirius was pulling his leg. He decided it was time to intervene.

"I think you'd better show them the article, Padfoot." Sirius nodded and produced the clipping, holding it out in one claw-like hand. His mouth moved awkwardly to form words without the Serum's prompting.

"Peter is… the rat." Moody looked up from the picture, his brow furrowing into deep creases. Sirius tried again.

"He is… animagus."

"Pettigrew, an animagus?" he asked incredulously even though years of experience with Veritaserum testified to the truth of it. Sirius seemed to come to a decision.

"Yes. Like me… like Prongs," he said with difficulty. Moody didn't have to ask who 'Prongs,' was, he'd trained him also. Then he looked up.

"You called him 'Wormtail,'" he said sharply, understanding dawning on his face. Sirius nodded.

"Yes."

Moody stood abruptly, his hand resting lightly on Remus' shoulder for support while he got his balance. Sirius watched him warily as their Mentor pulled out another potion, this one as dark and cloudy as the other had been clear. Unbelieving relief showed on his face when it was pressed into his hands, and he simply held it for a moment before they began to shake.

"Just one more thing, Alastor," Remus said, gently taking the glass vial from him before he could drop it and setting it on the floor for the moment. Sirius gave him a questioning look as he wrapped his fingers around his friend's. With his own gaze he captured Sirius' and asked,

"Padfoot, was James' death your fault?"

Sirius' eyes grew wide and he tensed, his throat working. Remus could feel his hands try to curl into fists and his muscles begin to jump. He'd known this was dangerous, as well as foul play, but he felt it had to be done. Sirius had blamed himself for too long. He abandoned the effort to control the clenching hands and grabbed his elbows, pinning his forearms with his own as he began to thrash. His mouth was moving, trying to force out the 'yes' he wholeheartedly believed to be true.

"Sirius," Remus said, "Let the potion answer, or you'll hurt yourself." Never mind that it was he who had asked the question. It could be answered, and the Serum would force him to, eventually.

Sirius' head rolled to face him, and after a moment he gasped, "No."

Gradually his muscles relaxed and he stared at his tight fists, drawing the fingers back one by one to reveal deep crescent marks in his palms. Blood welled in them from bent nails that badly needed trimming and mixed with the dirt, causing him to wince as it stung.

"Now do you believe me, Padfoot?" he asked softly, but Sirius heard him and didn't try to fight the potion this time.

"Yes." Remus smiled. He might catch hell from his friend for this later, but it was worth it.

"I think we can use that antidote now," he said, picking up the vial and uncorking it, giving it back and guiding him while he drank it. This one was far more benevolent and there was no gagging as it took effect. Rather, he looked like a man on his deathbed making a miraculous recovery as they watched.

While the potion worked, Remus Summoned clean washcloths from Dumbledore's loo and wet them with water from the teapot which always sat in pride of place on the headmaster's desk. Gently he cleaned the cut he had inflicted on the other Marauder's face and moved on to his hands, removing all traces of the blood. Then he got up stiffly, hearing his bones creak.

Moody had been holding a quiet conversation with Dumbledore while this happened. Once he had heard the Headmaster call out, "Come in!" and someone enter, then cross the room behind him, and now the group turned back to their former students. Remus moved to the chair he'd occupied earlier and sank into its depths, finally allowing the exhaustion he felt to line his features.

Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, his body was insisting (very persuasively) that he not move from that spot for A Very Long Time. But people had seen him bring Sirius into the castle, and he could only hope that the gossip sure to reach Peter also carried news of his treatment. A chill ran through him. If he thought Sirius was out of the way, then he might attempt… but no. He hadn't before, and he wouldn't with Moony around to recognize him - or he hoped he wouldn't.

In Gryffindor tower, two house elves entered the third-year boys' dorm, talking animatedly. Wormtail rolled over on Ron's pillow and pricked his ears to listen. He'd found house elves were an excellent source of information. They chattered freely when no humans were about and made the business of those they served their own. While the students were at classes and meals, the elves' high, piping voices often filled the tower. Tonight was no different. One of the elves set his armful of wood by the fire and began to feed it, talking all the while.

"Abie heard Dobby say that Professor Remus Lupin captured Mr. Sirius Black." Wormtail shivered and sat up, listening intently now. The other elf frowned.

"Dobby says lots of bad things, Abie."

Abie shook his head. "Dobby likes Mr. Harry Potter, Grumby. Dobby wants him to be safe." The repetition of names was annoying, Peter sighed, but at least one always knew whom the elves were discussing.

Grumby gestured, and dust rose from furniture and floor to form a roiling ball over the elf's palm. He concentrated, and it drew in on itself until it disappeared with a soft "Pop!" when he snapped his fingers.

Abie continued, undeterred. "Dobby said Professor Remus Lupin was very mean to Mr. Sirius Black." Hope rose within Peter; perhaps he'd get through this year after all. It certainly didn't sound like Remus was going to listen to anything the other might say.

Grumby glanced toward the open door, through which footsteps from below could be heard. "Is Abie done? Grumby and Abie must go." Abie nodded and with a pop! they were gone.

In the Great Hall, Minerva glanced once more at Albus' empty chair. Dinner was almost over and still he had not appeared. Nor had Lupin, for that matter. Whispers floated through the Hall, speculation formed between bent heads over pumpkin pastries, chattering and casting their own not-so-surreptitious glances towards the High Table. She was worried. Albus usually said when he was going to miss dinner. Had something happened? The rumourmongers seemed to think it had. Abruptly she folded her napkin and stood.

Swift steps carried her out of the hall to the headmaster's office where the gargoyle admitted her. As the stairs travelled upwards she thought she could hear voices above her on the other side of the door. When they slowed and came to a halt, she was able to hear enough to identify them. One was Albus', certainly, but the other possessed Alastor Moody's gravel tones. What on earth was he doing here? The possibilities filled her with dread.

As sometimes happened before she could raise her hand to knock, Dumbledore's voice bid her enter. She pushed open the heavy oak door and was met with a strange sight. Remus was kneeling in front of a man she recognized with a shock as Sirius Black, gently swabbing away fresh blood with a white cloth, murmuring soothing words when the other man flinched at the pressure on a purpling bruise.

Feeling bewildered, she sought out Albus' gaze with a raised eyebrow. He gave her a sad smile and beckoned her to join he and Moody by the hearth, where quietly he filled her in. Grieved, she watched Remus finish cleaning his friend's cuts and lay the richly-stained cloth on the floor. He stood slowly, like an old man, and then collapsed into a nearby chair.

Moody spoke gruffly, uncomfortable in the silence.

"Well, boys… it seems we've a rat to catch." Remus looked up wearily. The man was a Gryffindor, but he knew where his limits were and he'd never done so much the day after the full moon.

"I don't think I'm in any shape to go anywhere else tonight," he said. Minerva turned to Moody.

"I can go," she said. Alastor considered her thoughtfully. Only ten years his senior, she could have been an auror herself, had she cared to. She lacked nothing in the sheer magical power required for the career; she had that in spades. For this job, however, he couldn't have asked for better.

They spent a few minutes plotting - or arguing - depending on one's point of view, and then McGonagall left with Moody to track down Ronald Weasley.

Sirius didn't like staying behind, nor did he like it when his old Mentor called him a 'complication.' But stay he did, and a short time later, Moody and McGonagall returned. McGonagall had Changed and was carrying Wormtail by the scruff of his neck, an expression of impossible distaste on her feline features. Moody had his wand trained on the struggling rat, wary lest he Change.