Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and am making no profit

Setting: This story starts a couple of weeks after the end of GoF, but after that goes a little AU.

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Chapter 14: Tears

Remus stumbled. "Damn it!" His hand had bashed across an inconvenient branch. Blood dripped to the forest floor.

It had occurred to him, on the way from the castle, that it would have made far more sense for James to be searching the Forbidden Forest right now, as he could become 'Prongs' and navigate this green death trap with far more agility than Remus could ever hope to achieve in human form. Also, as Remus was generally in wolf form when in the forest, his memories of landmarks were vague at best while James had superior human recall of the geography. Remus found himself irrationally annoyed with James for running off without thinking of this.

He got to his feet and scanned the foliage. Nothing. He'd only been searching for a few minutes, but already he felt it was fruitless; the forest was huge and Sirius was good at hiding.

He glanced at his dripping hand, from which pain was now emanating in waves, and hoped vaguely that Sirius might find him by scenting the blood. In wolf form, Remus himself would have scented it a mile away.

He then remembered, with a sense of foreboding, that Sirius was not the only creature in the Forbidden forest capable of scenting blood. He heard a snuffle behind him and whirled around, drawing his wand. When the snuffle was followed by a familiar high-pitched whine Remus relaxed and tucked the wand away with an embarrassed shake of his head.

Watery blue eyes regarded him soulfully from behind fringes of black fur. Remus had the distinct impression that had Sirius been in human form, he would have been crying.

He walked to the dog's side, slowly, as though Sirius were a stray that might bolt, and when he was close enough, twisted a hand into the thick fur and used the other to scratch behind the dog's drooping ears. Sirius inched himself forward to nuzzle Remus's side, mournfully hiding his face in his friend's t-shirt.

That Sirius was choosing to remain a dog rather than speak frightened Remus. Sirius was a natural talker who loved the sound of his own voice. Whatever had happened in the shack had traumatized Sirius into silence, and that was disturbing indeed.

Eventually, Sirius backed up a step and sat himself cross-legged on the grass. His eyes were red, his neck bowed, his hair mussed and he was refusing to look Remus in the eye, but at least he was human.

Remus sat opposite and waited, trying and failing to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Sirius was quietly considering his words, reining in emotions before he spoke. Sirius never considered his words.

"Harry doesn't know James," Sirius growled out finally.

"What do you mean?"

Sirius shook his head and sniffed back what might have been a sob. No further explanation was forthcoming.

A number of possibilities paraded around Remus's head: James is an undercover Auror; the war's still going on and he hasn't been able to return to his family. Harry was mixed up at birth: unlikely, but not impossible … James can't have died young … He can't have.

"How do you know?" he pressed. "Harry wouldn't have said that."

"He didn't know James's birthday," Sirius managed tightly.

Remus's mind quickly provided and dismissed several harmless reasons as to why a fifteen year old would not know his own father's birthday. "Are you sure - I mean did you ask - Did Harry say anything else?" Remus heard his voice echoing around the trees as it rose. He thought again of the dark creatures potentially lurking behind the trees and glanced about, chastised.

Sirius shook his head, his attention fixed firmly on his feet as he picked at his boots.

"Then why do you assume - ?" Remus couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't need to. He knew the conclusion Sirius had reached.

"It was the look on his face mostly," Sirius supplied, rushing his words now in an apparent effort to impede his tears. "He's so much like James, Remus; you can read him like a book."

Remus felt tears spring to his own eyes. He wasn't sure he believed this yet, but Sirius's conviction was a bad sign. "No," he said, unsure what he was denying exactly. A breeze blew by. It felt very slight, as though the forest should be providing them with something more appropriately dramatic. Birds twittered happily overhead.

"You'd think Harry would try to save him, wouldn't you?" Sirius commented. "You'd think, that if you could have a father like James, you'd want to save him from whatever it was that - "

"Maybe it's not that simple," Remus interrupted hotly, feeling a need to defend Harry who he was now feeling very sorry for. "Maybe James died from a heart attack, or something else that can't be prevented. Maybe he died saving someone's life!" He heard his voice rise again with hysteria, but felt no compulsion to lower it this time. "He could have died saving Lily! What if Harry saves James and ends up sacrificing the parent that actually raised him?! There are lots of possibilities Sirius, and don't forget, he's been here less than a day. If he's never even met James before - if he's he never - never -" he choked on his sentence, particularly horrified at his own repeated use of the word 'died'. "Did you find out anything about Wormtail?" he asked softly. "Why Harry - ?"

Sirius shook his head, blinking rapidly.

"What about Fred? Did you - ?"

"No!" Sirius burst out.

Remus closed his eyes and forced his breathing to a slower pace.

"What do we do with this, Remus?" asked Sirius; a child appealing to a parent.

"I don't know."

"We'll warn James," Sirius decided.

"Not unless we know how to prevent it," said Remus. "Would you want to know when you were going to die?"

"No," Sirius admitted. "You're right. We'll ask more questions, find out how to prevent it."

Remus considered. In the face James's death, did he still care about the timelines? Did they matter any more? Logic said yes. The part of Remus that depended on James's friendship said perhaps. The part that remembered the crazed violence of the wolf as James saved Snape from a gory end said no.

"Agreed."

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"So … what you're saying is … Scabbers was Peter?" Fred spoke slowly, getting his head around it.

"Yeah, but we've got to find Sirius," said Harry fretfully.

"Scabbers?" Fred repeated. "Scabbers? Scabbers that me and George used as a substitute quaffel when Ginny stole our real one to get us back for enlarging her ears? Scabbers?"

"Yes, but -"

"Is Peter?"

"Yes."

"Pettigrew?"

"Yes!"

"Huh." Fred leaned back on his heals. The world had gone mad, but for some reason he was feeling quite calm about it. He looked back at the distressed boy standing before him and finally managed to snap his attention back to the here and now. "Do you know where he went?"

"Pettigrew?" asked Harry, incredulously.

"No. Sirius."

"Oh. No, but we have to find him!"

"He's in the Forbidden Forest," said James, appearing unexpectedly nearby. "Moony's looking for him."

Harry stared at his father in horror, no doubt wondering how much James had just overheard. James didn't look too distressed though, just cautious, so Fred figured he couldn't have been there long.

James did, however, become very still as he took in Harry's expression. "Any idea why he might have run off like that?" he asked.

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few times with no words forthcoming, and Fred realized that he was going to have to field this one. However, since his brain seemed to be having trouble providing him with a suitable lie - Harry had barely outlined the real story of the marauders and Fred was still trying to grasp facts - he found himself pausing. He found himself doing the unthinkable and cursing the Marauders Map, undoubtedly the means by which James had found them so quickly.

"Sirius found out something about the future that he shouldn't have," he offered at last, settling for a portion of truth. Two, almost identical, faces turned to him, and for a moment, Fred wondered if this was what other people felt like when they saw him with George. The resemblance between the Potters really was uncanny. "Don't ask what it is James, we can't tell you."

"Sirius will," said James simply.

"Tell him not to," said Fred, his tone heavy with authority.

Harry winced, no doubt reflecting on how well Sirius would respond to being told what to do. James, however, looked to Harry, obviously trying hard to understand what was going on. "Something horrible will happen, won't it?" he said darkly. "Something that has you two - "

"We can't say," said Harry, miserably. "Please don't ask - Dad. Just don't."

The word 'Dad' came awkwardly and seemed to give James pause. Harry's fists were balled tensely as his eyes flicked from James to Fred. He seemed diminished somehow. Fragile. Fred hoped James would leave the questioning alone, if only to keep from burdening Harry further.

James seemed at a loss and Fred opened his mouth to speak - it being against his nature to let uncomfortable silences drift on - but before he'd uttered a word, James had stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his son. "I won't," he said softly. "I won't ask."

Harry screwed his eyes closed, his arms gripping James tightly, and Fred had the fleeting impression that he was holding in tears. They stood like that for a while, Fred fidgeting uncomfortably nearby, until James opened his eyes to fix Fred with an intent gaze over Harry's head.

Fred understood; James would not question Harry any further, but would have words with Fred later. Fred nodded in tacit agreement before walking away toward the castle. He was headed for an unused room on the fifth floor. James would find him later with the map. Fred needed to clear his head before later came.