Lies
By Neurotica
Eleven
Harry stared through the window of his dormitory out into the dark night. Tonight was the full moon, and it had always been hard for him to sleep on such nights. Hermione had more than once suggested a sleeping potion from Madam Pomfrey, but Harry found that even with a potion he still couldn't sleep on full moon nights.
By most accounts, Harry had grown to lead a normal life. Well, unless one takes into account the whole Voldemort thing… Overall, he was a happy teenager. He had two guardians who would do anything and risk everything for his sake. He knew there were some people who doubted the abilities of two bachelors such as Sirius and Remus to raise a teenager, but Harry thought they had done a damn good job so far.
He received a letter from Sirius that morning at breakfast. It was the usual "hope you're keeping out of trouble"—though Harry knew he meant no such thing—"see you at Christmas" stuff Sirius had written since he started Hogwarts. What made this particular letter different from the others was that there was no postscript from Remus telling Harry to disregard any prank ideas Sirius had written. In fact, there was no mention of Remus in the entire letter. Harry hadn't heard from his surrogate godfather in two weeks—an unusually long time considering Remus and Sirius sent him letters via Hedwig at least twice a week. Harry had written back to Sirius inquiring about Remus, and was now anxiously awaiting a reply.
Sighing, the fourth year boy moved away from the window and tiptoed back to his bed. He could hear Ron's light snores from behind his bed curtains. Across the room, the same noise floated over from Neville's bed as Harry climbed into bed and felt his heavy eyelids close.
Three weeks.
It had been three bloody weeks since Sirius had seen hide or hair (pardon the pun) of Remus J. Lupin. No letters, no firecalls, nothing... Dumbledore hadn't even heard from him. The full moon had come and gone, and still no sign. Harry was growing suspicious and worried. Sirius, regardless of how much he wanted to, couldn't tell his godson where Remus had gone; what if the letter had been intercepted? So he told Harry that Remus had been incredibly busy recently, and had not had time to write any letters. Sirius could only hope that Remus was remaining busy and not lying dead in some foreign forest.
His assumptions about the Order of the Phoenix had been correct; it was reforming on a small scale to begin with. They didn't want to recruit too many new members at the moment. Their plan was to work with what they had and build from there. The first meeting would be held that night, in fact. There hadn't yet been anyone in the house besides its owner, but Sirius expected them soon.
Staring moodily at the wall opposite him, Sirius waited. That seemed to be the only thing he had been doing lately besides work...
He could hear the front door just fine from his seat in the drawing room as he contemplated ripping down the Black family tapestry for the twentieth time since his re-arrival in the house. The tapestry had put up a nice fight, though, and Sirius suspected his mother had put a sticking charm on the back of it. The Auror wondered how hard it would be just to blast the thing off the wall. He set down his now trademark glass of firewhiskey—he really needed to cut back on the stuff—took out his wand, and stood. The moment he steadied his aim perfectly to hit his mother's name, however, the front door creaked open.
"Damn," Sirius muttered. Perhaps later; it would be something to look forward to.
He walked to the entranceway and spotted the first arrivals of the night: Kingsley and Tonks. It had been Dumbledore's idea to bring Tonks to the meeting tonight. The young Auror was always willing to be of assistance, and they needed all the trustworthy Ministry employees they could find.
Signaling for them to remain quiet, Sirius led them through the house to the basement kitchen where the meeting would take place. He offered them a butterbeer and a seat as they exchanged small talk. Not long after, four more arrivals appeared in front of them by portkey. Dumbledore gave the three Aurors a smile; McGonagall a curt nod; Moody a grunt; and Snape scowled at the lot of them.
Dumbledore and McGonagall set themselves to conjuring chairs for the meeting while Sirius, Kingsley, and Moody went back up the stairs to wait for the others. Thirty minutes later, and without once setting off Mrs. Black, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher, and Arabella Figg arrived—each of them (Dung included) had their uses to the Order.
Dumbledore stood before them and began the meeting. "I would first like to thank you all for joining me this evening, and thank you to Sirius for allowing us use of his home." Dumbledore paused and sighed. "It is only a matter of time, my friends, before Lord Voldemort attempts to return once more. I am sure that all of you remember—some more clearly than others—the events eight years ago. Though mistakes were made that night, Voldemort did not reach his goal." The old wizard's lips twitched slightly as he thought of Sirius' rash actions with Voldemort's cauldron. "With the cooperation from the Ministry, and the help of all of you present, we can once again prevent Voldemort's return."
Sirius' ears prickled and he turned his head towards the kitchen door at the top of the steps. It had been closed before the meeting had begun—Sirius had made sure of it. But now he could see a small shadow standing in the cracked door. He stood suddenly, startling those around him. "Excuse me for a moment," he muttered. Sirius moved quickly up the stairs, grabbed Kreacher by the scruff of his neck, and threw him into the drawing room. Without a word to the disgruntled house-elf, Sirius closed the door, locked it with a spell, and went back to the meeting.
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling when Sirius sat down, and he received a few questioning glances from the others present. "We have a bit of an infestation problem," Sirius explained. "My apologies, Albus, please continue."
Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Thank you for that, Sirius. At the moment, Voldemort's location is unknown. Remus Lupin—" Sirius sat up straighter in his seat. "—has been sent to explore places Voldemort once called his hideouts. Along with that mission, he is also gone to speak with various werewolf councils. While I have not heard from him—" Sirius rolled his eyes in frustration. "—I expect him back within the coming weeks." The headmaster went on to explain the roles each member of the Order would play, and with everyone's agreement, they set a meeting for two weeks later.
The house was once again empty two hours later—some of those attending the meeting stayed back to chat for a while. Once they had left, Sirius returned to the drawing room to have his own little chat with Kreacher about eavesdropping.
Remus waited patiently in the back of a dark little Romanian pub. It was nicer than many of the others he had visited over the last two weeks—which wasn't saying too much. Sipping on his glass of brandy, he thought over the events of his mission so far.
He had spoken with fifteen werewolf packs across the world. Only seven of them would meet with him; the others threatened his life for intruding upon their business in such a way. Remus had tried to explain that he wasn't intruding, only inquiring, but the packs wouldn't listen to him. One pack had actually sent one of their own to fight Remus. Hours later, Remus limped from the pack's land, leaving the other werewolf in very bad shape.
The Alpha males who would listen to Remus did so suspiciously. He learned that there had been another English wizard who had been in contact with them as well. This wizard was explaining the exact opposite of what Remus was saying to them. While Remus told them the Ministries would not intrude upon their private sanctuaries, the other wizard told them that if they joined his cause they would gain respect and rights they had long since been denied. Remus told them he knew the other two wizards and their cause very well, and that they would be used as weapons, not allies. Most werewolf packs, Remus learned, preferred to live in peace, others did not. Thankfully for his cause, Remus was able to convince five of the seven packs he had spoken with to remain neutral in any war that may erupt.
He spent the full moon in a dark forest that reminded him of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. With the use of his Wolfsbane Potion, Remus remained alert and clear-minded in case of an attack from any foe that could have been following him.
One of the pack leaders told Remus of an intelligent young man who had visited them months back. The man, also from England, had been studying the Dark Arts. Unlike a Death Eater, he was more interested in the Defense aspect of the subject, much like Remus. Quirrell was his name, and Remus vaguely recalled it from his days in school. The man had been four years below the Marauders, Ravenclaw if he remembered correctly.
Remus had contacted Quirrell and was now waiting for him in the Romanian pub. At long last, the wooden door Remus could clearly see from his seat opened, allowing the rain storm that had been pounding on the small town to be seen. A tall man wearing a cloak, the hood covering his head to either protect him from the storm or hide his identity entered. Remus, acting on intuition, reached into his own cloak for his wand. The man quickly crossed the bar and ordered a drink. Finally, he lowered the hood of his cloak and Remus released his wand. The man looked tired and drawn, but pleased to be in from the storm. He turned and looked around the pub. Taking his drink from the counter, he made his way to Remus' table.
"Lupin?" he questioned.
"Quirrell?"
The man nodded and sat in front of Remus. "Hell of a storm out there. Not supposed to let up for another week, they say," Quirrell said. Remus noted a long scar running from just below his chin all the way down his neck, the rest hidden by his robe. Quirrell must have sensed Remus' look. "Long story," he muttered uneasily, pulling his cloak tighter to help hide the scar. Quirrell sipped his drink while Remus ordered another brandy.
Once the two men had exchanged small talk (weather, things about the town itself), Quirrell asked, "So what brings you all the way out here, Mr. Lupin? Last I heard you were teaching at Hogwarts."
Remus smiled slightly. "Not anymore, actually. And please, call me Remus." Quirrell nodded. Remus leaned slightly over the table, not wanting the other patrons of the pub to overhear their conversation. "What do you know about Lord Voldemort?"
Quirrell jumped visibly, showing that he had indeed grown up knowing who and what Voldemort was. He looked around the pub before speaking. "Well," he started slowly. "I know he's been around these parts, or at least his lackey has been. But other than that..." He shrugged.
Remus nodded. "Have you heard anything strange around here? Mysterious deaths or disappearances, or the like?"
Quirrell sighed and thought. "Not around here, no. But there was a woman I met at an inn in Albania. I knew her from back home. We were supposed to meet for breakfast before she went home the next morning, only she never showed up."
"What was her name?"
"Bertha Jorkins."
Harry was walking through a forest. His trusty Firebolt was over his left shoulder, and he still had on his Quidditch robes. The sun was shining high above the trees, but the large leaves provided him with plenty of shade. A stream was running along the path as he walked, the water crystal clear.
The scene reminded him of dreams he'd had when he was younger with a stag, wolf, and a dog. Those always took place at night, though, and on the full moon.
He took a sharp right, away from the bubbling stream, and further into the woods. He un-shouldered his broomstick and mounted it before flying straight up through the trees.
Night had fallen. He flew through the black sky, through the stars and the moon.
Up ahead, Harry could see a large castle, loads bigger than Hogwarts. But it didn't have the same feel as Hogwarts; the trees weren't full and green like his school's, but dead. The grass was brown and dry. He could feel the coldness; it sent a shiver to his very soul.
Figures in long, black, hooded cloaks floated eerily in front of the castle's entrance. Harry descended and touched the strangely cool, damp grass. His broomstick had disappeared; Harry didn't take any notice.
He cautiously walked to the entrance of the stone castle where he could hear the rattling breathing of the cloaked figures, could smell their putrid breath, could feel their bony hands as they attempted to deny entrance.
Harry crossed the threshold of the castle and found himself not in a stony entranceway but a cozy looking sitting room. A fire was burning in the fireplace; he could feel its warmth. The room looked vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't remember ever being in a place such as this. A picture on a wall showed a redheaded woman with emerald green eyes standing beside a tall man with black untidy hair.
Harry smiled at the picture and moved on through the house. Up the stairs, the location was once again different.
Or maybe it wasn't...
He was outside again, standing on what could have once been a very beautiful, well kept lawn. Yellow "caution" tape surrounded the yard, and a large sign declared the area condemned. It seemed a shame to Harry that such a place could be condemned; it was quite pretty.
Two figures were in the middle of the rubble. One was tall with long tangled, dirty, blond hair. The other seemed to be a bundle of robes at first look, but upon closer examination, Harry found it to be a very ugly idea of a baby. The blond man stood before a large cauldron, and dropped the "baby" inside of it. Harry could hear the thunk as it hit the bottom. The man moved to the side of the once-house and picked up a phial of potion. The liquid inside was dark red. The man poured the phial into the cauldron, and said an incantation Harry couldn't make out. The sky—the already black sky—was filled with swirls of dark blue. A matching dark blue lightning bolt struck the cauldron.
Harry found himself hoping, praying that whatever had been put into that cauldron was long dead. It was not to be so.
A hazy mist filled the area, filled Harry's lungs, causing him to cough and choke. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. When he raised his head, the blond man was no longer alone.
Harry's worst nightmare had appeared before his very eyes. Lord Voldemort raised his wand in Harry's direction, and with a snake-like grin, he shouted, "Crucio!"
Harry awoke with a start. Every bone in his body ached, there was a loud humming in his ears, and he couldn't see. He tried to raise his arm, but found it impossible. He was trembling. As minutes wore on, the humming turned to voices, startled voices.
He felt someone near him. Someone touching his face, removing something from over his eyes. Harry saw the blurry outlines of Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore. He tried to speak, but his throat burned.
"Poppy?" Dumbledore said quietly. "Would you excuse us, please?"
Pomfrey looked as if she was going to argue for a minute, but at the look on the Headmaster's face, she pursed her lips and walked to her office. The moment she disappeared from sight, Harry somehow found his voice.
"Voldemort's back," he croaked before passing out once more.
Remus walked tiredly across Hogwarts grounds. It was a bright Saturday afternoon two weeks before Halloween. He was eager to get to Dumbledore's office, finish their meeting, and sleep for the next six months. He'd been gone for a month with no communication whatsoever with his family. Sirius would undoubtedly be upset, but Remus found he didn't care much at the moment. He'd deal with it later.
There were a number of students on the grounds that day, and in the distance, Remus could see a few playing Quidditch. None of them looked like Harry. He walked up the stairs, through the doors, turned the familiar corner, and ran right into the last person he expected to see so soon.
Sirius looked as tired as Remus felt. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. "Remus," Sirius said, shocked.
"Hello, Sirius. What are you doing here?" Remus asked. He hadn't meant for the question to come out as rude as it probably had, but exhaustion had a way of making things sound different.
"You haven't heard..." Sirius said, staring at Remus as if he had never seen anything like him before. He sighed and began to drag Remus down the hall.
"Sirius, I am very glad to see you, but I need to speak with Dumbledore," Remus said, following his friend.
"This is more important than werewolf councils, Remus," Sirius said flatly. Remus raised his eyebrows. His friend glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Don't look so surprised; I came to talk to Dumbledore the day you left."
Remus decided he would figure it out later, and realized where they were headed. "Why are we going to the hospital wing?" There could be only one reason Sirius would take him there. "Is something wrong with Harry?" he asked, concerned.
"You could say that, yeah," Sirius muttered.
They entered the hospital wing to find Pomfrey standing over Harry. He was either unconscious or asleep, Remus couldn't be sure. They approached his bed and Remus thought he looked fine. He was a bit pale, but otherwise completely healthy... He looked at one of the potions Pomfrey was holding: Dreamless Sleep potion.
Remus sighed. "Another dream?"
Sirius nodded. He began to explain the events of the night before. Ron and the other fourth year boys were suddenly awoken by Harry's screams. He'd been thrashing around in his bed, and they could not calm him. One of the boys had gone for McGonagall. After calming him, she brought Harry down to the hospital wing. Dumbledore had spoken with Harry twice since his arrival. The first time he was very incoherent. But the second time, Dumbledore had discovered what the dream had been about.
"It happened at Godric's Hollow. Dumbledore went out there right after he talked with Harry the second time, right before he called me. There're scorch marks that were caused by a cauldron, fresh footprints, all of it. It happened, Remus," Sirius finished, looking more tired than Remus had ever seen him.
Once Remus digested the information, he looked at Sirius. "Why Godric's Hollow?"
Sirius could only shrug.
The two wizards sat in chairs at Harry's bedside and waited for him to wake. A house-elf brought them both lunch, though neither could eat. Pomfrey reentered and half-heartedly threatened them both if they didn't sleep; they weren't tired.
Finally, late into the night, Harry woke. He seemed relieved to see the only two faces he wanted to see after one of his nightmares finally next to him. After his guardians made sure he got some food into his stomach, Harry told them his dream in detail. He told them how real it felt as he passed the dementors at the castle entrance, the warmth of the fire, the sky, and the lightning, and about Voldemort. How real it felt when Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse on him.
Remus sat back in his chair after Harry's explanation. Madam Pomfrey rushed back in and urged the boy to sleep once again. It was happening sooner than they had expected, they hadn't even gotten the chance to prepare.
Lord Voldemort had risen once again.
