Lies
By Neurotica
Sixteen
On Christmas Eve, Sirius and Remus walked through the Hogwarts halls in their best dress robes. Dumbledore had invited them to attend the Yule Ball, a traditional event in the Triwizard Tournament. It was mostly an excuse for the two of them to get away from Number Twelve and the Ministry for a night. Neither of them had done much else besides work since the attack on St Mungo's, and the Headmaster insisted they join in on the festivities.
"Remember our graduation ball, Moony?" Sirius asked.
Remus chuckled. "Not clearly. But I suppose that is due to the firewhiskey you and James 'accidentally' spilled into the punch."
"That was an accident," Sirius said earnestly. "It's not like we wanted to see McGonagall drunk. Although, I have to admit, that was an interesting sight. Never seen anything quite like that..."
"Well, just keep in mind that you are no longer a Hogwarts student, and your godson is in attendance."
"Are you trying to say Harry has never had firewhiskey?" Sirius said with a grin.
"If he has, I sure as hell didn't give it to him," Remus said, looking accusingly at his friend.
"Don't look at me like that," Sirius said. They approached the Great Hall doors and Sirius opened them. "After you, Mr. Moony," he said with a bow.
"Why thank you, Mr. Padfoot," Remus said with his own bow. He stood straight and looked into the hall. "Wow," he muttered.
Sirius turned and looked into the hall as well. The decorations were more magnificent than Sirius had ever seen them—probably due to the guests in attendance. The band, the Weird Sisters, Sirius recalled, were playing a lively tune while the students danced in their own best dress robes.
"Damn, we missed the feast," Sirius muttered as they entered the party.
"I'm sure Dumbledore will feed you if you promise not to get his students wasted," Remus said.
"Does that include the Slytherins?"
"Yes."
"What fun is that?"
Remus rolled his eyes, but smiled. Even after the last two weeks, he's the same old Padfoot, he thought.
"Good evening, boys," Dumbledore greeted them over the music.
"Good evening, Albus. How are things going so far?" Remus asked, shaking the Headmaster's hand.
"Very well, indeed, Remus. Help yourselves to refreshments. Oh, and Sirius, I will be monitoring the punch tonight," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.
Sirius laughed. "I'll be on my best behavior, sir —"
"Which isn't saying much," Remus muttered to Dumbledore.
"—Marauder's honor," Sirius finished with an elbow into Remus' arm.
Dumbledore winked at the pair of them and went to dance with Madame Maxime. "There's an odd pair," Remus said.
"I found an odder pair, Moony," Sirius said with a grin as he walked to a side table. Harry and Ron sat together sipping butterbeer. Ron was glaring out into the crowd while Harry shook his head knowingly.
"Hello, gentlemen," Sirius said, sitting beside his godson.
"Hey, Sirius. Hey, Remus," Harry smiled at his guardians.
Remus ruffled Harry's hair and sat next to Sirius. "Where're your dates?" he asked with a grin.
Harry flushed and muttered something.
"What was that, Harry?" Sirius asked, leaning closer to Harry.
"We don't have dates," Harry said a bit louder through clenched teeth.
"A Potter man without a date? Wow, never thought I would see the day," Sirius said in mock-disbelief.
"Shut up, Sirius," Harry said.
"Oh, come on, Harry. There's nothing wrong with going stag."
Remus and Harry groaned loudly. "Bad joke, Sirius. Really bad joke," Remus said, shaking his head.
"It wasn't that bad," Sirius muttered defensively.
"So where's Hermione?" Remus asked. He raised his eyebrows at the slight growl that emitted from Ron.
"She's here with Viktor Krum," Harry whispered to his guardians. "Ron's not too happy."
"She's here with Krum? Go, Hermione," Sirius said. He looked out into the crowd and spotted Krum, but didn't see any sign of the fourth year girl. "Where is she? Krum's dancing with someone else."
"Uh, no," Harry said, smirking. "That's Hermione."
Sirius choked on the butterbeer he'd stolen from Harry. "No way," he muttered. Looking closer, he realized it was, indeed, Harry's best friend. "Holy hell."
"She's only fourteen, Padfoot," Remus whispered jokingly.
"Shut it, Moony!"
Due to Barty Crouch's recent imprisonment, Percy Weasley had taken over in the judging if the Triwizard Tournament. Harry and Ron had been smart enough to duck out early to avoid listening to another of Percy's speeches about how he knew something was off about his former boss. Sirius and Remus, however, weren't as lucky. They were forced to endure twenty minutes of Percy. Both of them liked the third oldest Weasley son immensely, but there was only so much of him a person could take at a time.
They excused themselves when Hagrid began to cross the room to speak with them. Remus noticed immediately the Hogwarts groundskeeper had attempted to spruce himself up for the evening. Whether it was for the event, or for Madame Maxime (who Hagrid continued to glance at during their conversation), Remus wasn't sure. But it was nice to see Hagrid smiling so much.
Later in the evening, Sirius convinced McGonagall to dance with him. She seemed understandably reluctant—she'd seen Sirius dance before. But in the end, she agreed and rewarded Sirius with a rare laugh when he dipped her at the end of the song.
"And they say cats and dogs don't mix," Dumbledore said, chuckling, as he approached Remus.
Remus laughed. "I think Minerva has always had a soft spot for Sirius," he said, recalling the hug she gave Sirius years ago.
"I must agree," Dumbledore said with a smile. "And how is Sirius, by the way? He seems in high spirits tonight."
"He'll be okay, Albus. He hasn't gotten over Hestia's death by any means, but he'll manage," Remus said.
"Headmaster," said a voice from behind them. Snape paid Remus no attention as he leaned forward to whisper something to Dumbledore. The Headmaster nodded and whispered something back. Snape nodded once and swept quickly from the Great Hall, his robes billowing behind him.
"Sir?" Remus questioned quietly.
"He's been summoned," Dumbledore said in the same quiet voice.
Remus felt his stomach sink. The war hadn't stopped just because Hogwarts was hosting a ball, but Remus hoped at the very least, things would be normal for Christmas. Of course, nothing could possibly be normal in a world with Lord Voldemort, no matter how much they wanted it. They were in a war. It stopped for no man, or werewolf in this case.
"There is nothing we can do at the moment, Remus. Please, enjoy your evening," Dumbledore said before walking to Moody.
"What's going on?" Sirius asked, noticing Remus' troubled face.
"Tell you later," Remus responded. "Let's go find Harry and say good night."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "It's only ten-thirty, Remus," he said.
"I know, but I'm tired," Remus lied.
Sirius sighed and followed his friend out to the courtyard they'd last seen Harry and Ron head off to.
"So, I'm guessing Voldemort doesn't celebrate Christmas, then?" Sirius said later that night.
"I suppose not," Remus responded, stretching his arms above his head.
"You think something's going to happen soon?"
"Something's already happened, Sirius, it's just a matter of what will happen next," Remus said flatly.
The two friends sat in the upstairs sitting room enjoying a freshly opened bottle of firewhiskey Dung sent them for Christmas. They were waiting for word from Dumbledore about the Death Eater meeting that had taken place. If something was going to happen, they were sure to be contacted. But by two in the morning, they gave up on Dumbledore and enjoyed their Christmas morning.
That afternoon, Sirius and Remus were treated to a large Christmas dinner with all the trimmings courtesy of Molly Weasley. The rest of the Weasleys that weren't at Hogwarts joined them as well as Dung and Kingsley; Tonks arrived later in the evening for dessert. It was the first time in months that they'd gathered together at Number Twelve without a tense atmosphere surrounding them. Order business was not to be discussed, per Sirius; they all needed to relax in these times, or they would end up pulling out their hair from stress.
Sirius was trying to enjoy the time he had with his friends. Really, he was. But something was holding him back, and it didn't take a Legilimens to figure it out. Hestia had meant more to him than he'd ever told anybody, Hestia included. He supposed it could have been love, but he hadn't felt that for a woman since Hogwarts...
No, he wouldn't think about that; Christmas was supposed to be a happy time.
Hestia had become something he could count on to be there. If he didn't feel like sitting at home with Remus, he could go to her. It was so much more than casual sex, and they'd worked hard to keep their relationship a private one; it was easier to deal with each other in their own way without pressure from those around them. Both had been hesitant to label what they had for fear of being pushed apart. Hestia was so much like Sirius in that aspect; she didn't want to rush their relationship more than they had; if something happened and they decided, in the distant future, they wanted more, the other would be there. But Sirius had taken it for granted.
Then there was Remus and Harry. Sirius preferred his family—odd as they may seem to the outside world—to stick together. If he and Hestia had gotten married, Harry would probably have come to live with them, leaving Remus alone again. And Sirius couldn't do that to his friend.
Sirius shook his head. Since when did he ever think about something as complicated as marriage?
You've thought about it before, said a voice in the back of his head.
That was a long time ago, he thought back firmly to the voice.
"Sirius?" Tonks said from next to him.
Sirius started and turned to his cousin. "Huh? Sorry, zoned out for a minute," he said with a weak smile.
Tonks chuckled. "You all right?"
"I'm... no," he answered honestly.
Tonks raised an eyebrow. "No?"
Sirius shook his head. "No, Tonks, I'm miserable to be truthful," he said in a casual way only he could manage. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see how long it will take to drown myself in the shower."
Tonks raised her other eyebrow as he sat down his full glass of wine on the table and walked up the stairs. She wasn't sure if he was being serious or if he just needed some time alone.
"What's going on?" Remus asked. He'd watched Sirius leave their small party and was starting to worry for his friend's sanity; he hadn't even finished his wine.
"He's going to see if he can drown himself in the shower," Tonks said.
Remus sighed. "Well, Happy Christmas," he said sarcastically. "I guess this is the end of the party."
Once he'd seen everybody out of the house, and thanked Molly profusely for the meal, Remus started up the stairs to find Sirius. None of the showers were running, and every bedroom in the house seemed empty. He came upon the attic door, noticing the door was slightly ajar. Thinking it was probably just Kreacher hiding again, Remus made to close the door. That was before he heard the weak, cracking voice of his best friend. He started up the stairs quickly, and heard the voice growing a bit louder—not that that was saying much...
"R-r-riddikulus," Sirius muttered quietly, staring into a corner.
Remus turned and stopped dead in his tracks. James Potter was lying in the middle of the floor in front of Sirius, blood flowing freely from his head. Crack Lily. Crack Harry. Crack Remus. Crack—
Remus' face was emotionless as he watched Voldemort materialize on top of what had once been an old trunk. Now it was a pile of dead Order members. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hestia, Molly, Arthur, Dung, Tonks, Kingsley, they were all dead.
"NO!" Sirius cried. "Riddikulus," he tried again. Crack—
Sirius was hunched over two bodies: Remus and Harry.
Remus couldn't take anymore. "Riddikulus!" he said loudly and firmly. The Boggart was shattered into tiny pieces and eventually faded away into nothing. Jolting himself from his thoughts, Remus moved to kneel beside Sirius. His friend had his knees pulled to his chest, and he was shaking. "Sirius, it was just a Boggart," he said softly.
Sirius sniffed. "Just a Boggart..." he muttered.
"Just a Boggart," Remus repeated, rubbing Sirius' back comfortingly.
Sirius choked out a laugh. "Some Auror I am, eh? Can't even deal with a bloody Boggart on my own," he said.
"It happens, mate. Remember the flesh-eating slug in Lily and James' basement? Lily was screaming bloody murder while we were all upstairs. Peter was the first to get to her, and it turned into half slug, half Kneazle. Remember that?" Remus said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.
Sirius laughed. "Yeah... I never understood the Kneazle thing, though..." he said thoughtfully.
"I think he was bitten by one as a kid or something," Remus said. It wasn't often that they could talk about Peter Pettigrew so lightly. Sirius and Remus despised the man with every fiber of their being, but after he'd received the Dementor's Kiss, they decided he'd had enough punishment, and they could move on.
"Do you remember James' Boggart?" Sirius asked with a half-grin.
Remus smiled. "How could I forget? How in the bloody hell did he come to fear rabid teddy bears?"
"No idea." Sirius laughed.
"So why were you up here in the first place?" Remus asked quietly.
Sirius' smile faded and he sighed. "I was looking for some pictures. But it can wait; I need a drink."
Remus chuckled as Sirius stood from the floor and helped him up. Before leaving the attic, Remus turned and looked at the spot the Boggart had last been in. It had just been a Boggart this time, but how long before something more horrific happened to them?
Welcome to war, Moony, he thought wryly before joining Sirius.
Harry was once again wandering the Hogwarts corridors late at night. This time, however, he'd decided to go out without Ron and Hermione. For the first year since he'd started Hogwarts, Harry remained at the school for Christmas, thus spending the day without his guardians.
Sirius and Remus had contacted him via the two-way mirrors early in the day to wish him a happy Christmas and to see if he'd enjoyed the gifts they'd gotten him. Sirius sent him a brand-new wizard chess set (his last set had been beaten to dust by Ron), and Remus bought him a set of Defense books he'd been interested in. Harry had always enjoyed the subject. He supposed it was partly because of his past, but mostly from growing up with Remus.
Harry exited the large Hogwarts doors easily and moved stealthily through the snow across the grounds to the lake. The last time he'd had a late night excursion across Hogwarts grounds, he reminisced as he sat down on a bench, he'd been kidnapped by Wormtail, beaten, and nearly killed. It probably wasn't a smart thing for him to be doing now that Voldemort had fully returned, but living with Sirius the majority of his life gave him a sense of recklessness many didn't possess.
So far, the war with Lord Voldemort was already tough for Harry to deal with. Hestia Jones had become a part of Harry's family over the years he'd known her, and now she was gone. According to Remus, Sirius was "dealing with it." What that meant exactly, Harry wasn't sure. Every time he'd talked to his godfather since her death, he seemed as normal as he could ever be.
Harry never experienced death firsthand as far as he could remember. His parents were murdered when he was a year old, and he only knew them through photographs and stories from his guardians. His aunt and uncle had also been murdered when he was six, but he didn't think much of them anyway. Not to mention he hadn't even been told about it until he was ten years old. Unfortunately for the fourth year, he would most likely have to get used to seeing people die. It was a part of war, after all.
"You do know, Mr. Potter, that it is long past curfew and quite cold out here," said a quiet voice from behind him.
Harry jumped and turned to face Albus Dumbledore. He began to stutter what would have surely been a long-winded excuse, but Dumbledore help up a hand to stop his progress.
"No need to explain, Harry. I believe I understand very well the need for a late night stroll in the snow," Dumbledore said with his twinkling eyes. "But we should perhaps move indoors. It would not be beneficial to either of us to explain to Madam Pomfrey—or to your very overprotective guardians for that matter—why you have come down with hypothermia."
Harry smiled and followed the Headmaster towards the school, and up to his office.
"Hello, Fawkes." Harry smiled as he sat across from Dumbledore's desk. The phoenix flew from his perch and landed on Harry's knee.
Dumbledore placed a cup of hot chocolate before Harry and sat across from him. "Fawkes has always been quite fond of you, Harry. Since the moment you first met, there has been a bond between the two of you that even I cannot match."
"Why is that, sir?" Harry asked curiously, stroking Fawkes' feathers.
Dumbledore sighed and regarded Harry and Fawkes thoughtfully for a moment, as if struggling with a decision. "I believe your wand contains a feather from a phoenix, am I correct?" Harry nodded. "The feather in your wand was not taken from any old phoenix, Harry. It was given to Mr. Ollivander by Fawkes. And I believe my phoenix has always known that you would be the second wand's owner."
Harry's mouth dropped open as he looked from Dumbledore's smiling face to Fawkes. "It came from Fawkes?" Harry whispered in disbelief.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said.
Harry's brow furrowed as he thought back to the day he purchased his wand. Sirius and Remus told him he had to get it on his own; it was the way of all the Marauders—and Lily—had gotten their first wands. After five tries with different wands, Ollivander finally found the one that worked for Harry (holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches). "Curious," the old man had said. "Very curious." When Harry inquired as to what was curious, Ollivander explained about Voldemort sharing the same wand core as Harry, from the same phoenix.
"Professor," he said slowly. "Does that mean Voldemort's wand has Fawkes' feather as well?"
Dumbledore looked deep into Harry's green eyes—Lily's eyes, he thought—as if trying to see into Harry's very soul. "That is what it means, Harry, yes," he said softly.
"Oh," Harry said. That would make the two wands brothers…
"However, it is the manner in which the wand is used that makes the difference," Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort chose many years ago to use his wand for evil. He's done things, Harry, that neither you nor I would ever dream of doing. You, on the other hand, have the power to decide in which direction you wish to move."
"But the prophecy," Harry said. "I have to kill Voldemort in order to live..."
"That is true." Dumbledore sighed. "That path was chosen for you before you were born. In order to defeat Voldemort, you must do something you may be rather reluctant to do. I've said this to many people, Harry, your mother and father included: War sometimes forces us into situations we would rather not be in. We must choose to be strong, or to crumble in fear of our enemies.
"Your parents were two of the strongest people I ever had the honor and pleasure to meet. They were stubborn in their beliefs of good and evil. Lord Voldemort tried, on three occasions, to persuade them to join him. They refused, of course, and in the end they were murdered. Death is a senseless thing, Harry, but a lesson to be learned from Lily and James Potter is that death can be the ultimate defiance. Neither of them wanted to die that night; they wanted to see you grow up to become the man they'd always hoped you would be.
"What I am trying to say is this, Harry: Do not fear death; you will forget to live. Stand up for what you believe in, and in the end, good will prevail over the evil. Most of all, Harry, stand with your friends and family through it all. They will guide you in the right direction whether you notice it at the time or not. Do you understand what I'm saying, Harry?"
Harry nodded, feeling a lump building in his throat. "Yes, sir," he whispered hoarsely.
"Good," Dumbledore said simply. "Now, I believe our cocoa is growing cold, so why don't you head back to Gryffindor Tower with that magnificent map you possess, and get some sleep."
Harry looked away from Fawkes, surprised. "How'd you know about the map?" he blurted.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I know a lot more than I let on, Harry. Now, off you trot."
Harry left the Headmaster's office with a new respect for Dumbledore. Ever since he'd met the old man at the age of five, he'd enjoyed spending time with him. Far beyond just being a Headmaster to him, Harry felt as if Dumbledore as the grandfather he never knew. Sure he was a little strange at times, but Harry had grown used to it over the years, and had come to love it about him.
Like always, Dumbledore had been correct; as long as Harry chose the correct path, he could end the war. As long as he had his friends and family beside him, he could defeat Voldemort. For the first time since he learned of the Prophecy, Harry believed he could do anything. He wouldn't allow his friends and family could suffer if he could help it.
