Lies

By Neurotica

Twenty-Seven

On a dark, gloomy, stormy afternoon, Remus and Sirius Apparated from the Burrow—where they'd left Harry—to the coast of a thundering sea. They were met by Albus Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the newly appointed Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones. Without exchanging more than a nod of a greeting, the six climbed into the magically enlarged wooden Muggle boat. With a tap of a wand (by whom, neither Sirius nor Remus was sure), they began to cross the sea.

As they neared their destination, Sirius' breath became shallow and raspy, and he began to tremble slightly. Remus looked at his best friend questioningly, but realized immediately what was happening: Sirius had only been out of Azkaban a few months, and the dementors continued to affect him.

"Sure you want to do this?" Remus muttered to Sirius so the others wouldn't hear, bending low on the pretense of tying his shoelaces.

"Yes," Sirius said firmly. The dementors wouldn't stop him from doing this. Sirius had never been so sure of anything in his life. He would see this. He had to see this. He owed it to Lily and James to see this. "You have chocolate?"

"Of course," Remus replied. He reached into his robes and pulled out a couple of chocolate frogs and handed them to Sirius.

Sirius muttered his thanks and began to open the chocolate. Out of habit, he glanced at the card he'd gotten. He felt his face muscles form a weak grin at the sight of Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. Sticking the card inside his cloak, Sirius began to munch on the frog. He felt a slight tingle of warmth move throughout his body as he swallowed the chocolate, knowing it wouldn't be enough to hold him over...

Before he was prepared, (could he ever be prepared for something like this?) the boat lightly hit the bank. Dumbledore stepped out of the boat first and onto the rocks, lending a hand to Minister Bones. Sighing and still shaking, Sirius stepped out next, followed by Remus, Moody, and Kingsley.

Bones greeted the wizard guard at the entrance of Azkaban Prison and led the group inside. The icy feeling of the prison hit Sirius like a tidal wave, causing him to waver a bit as he walked. Remus grasped his upper arm tightly, for his support as well as Sirius', and continued down the dark, stone corridors.

"In here." The wizard guard gestured uneasily. He knew what was going to happen in there... "They'll begin soon."

Bones nodded her thanks as she passed through the door the guard held open for them.

The room they'd gone into was a small one with six wooden chairs in a row in front of a wall with a large open rectangle in the center. To Remus, it looked like one of those Muggle movie theaters—all they were missing was the popcorn. He, however, would not have paid to see this show. Remus, like Sirius, felt he had to see this. It wouldn't be easy to witness, but Remus would do his best to see it through... It was finally time to see some justice—no matter how cruel it may be.

Sirius stood next to Remus and looked through the rectangle, shivering uncontrollably. There was a metal chair facing the observation room, and torches in the corners of the room. Soon it would all end. Soon he, Remus, and Harry could get on with their lives; put the last five years behind them, and finally be a family. Soon...

Sooner than expected, a door opened in the small room opposite the observers. The torches had gone out, though there was no breeze. A freezing cold penetrated their bones. Sirius felt himself go dizzy as four dementors entered, flanking a petrified Peter Pettigrew. He looked around the room wildly, finally spotting the group before him. The dementors placed Wormtail—He doesn't deserve that name... Sirius thought faintly—in the metal chair. Instantly, chains magically appeared, binding the prisoner's arms, giving him no chance at escape.

"PLEASE! Please, anything but this!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "Please, Sirius! Remus, don't let them do this!"

Sirius and Remus stared stonily back at their former friend.

"Peter Pettigrew!" Minister Bones shouted over Pettigrew's cries. "You have been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss by the highest court in our world. The heinous crimes you have committed against our world, and your own friends, are among the worst we have seen in years." Remus was sure Bones' speech was not a part of the usual execution of the Dementor's Kiss, but he made no move to stop her. "I can think of no other person in this prison who is more deserving of this punishment." Bones stepped back from the window and sat at Dumbledore's side, visibly shaking.

"Front and center, then, eh?" Sirius muttered grimly. He and Remus hadn't left the threshold of the door yet. Remus nodded stiffly and took a seat next to Kingsley, Sirius right beside him.

"When you're ready," Bones said to the dementors. Her voice shook.

Without acknowledgement of the order, the dementors moved in—one behind the chair, its dead hands on Pettigrew's shoulders. Two placed themselves on either side of Pettigrew, the last directly in front. Remus' breathing was coming to him in short, raspy spurts as Pettigrew began to scream even louder. Sirius, it seemed, had stopped breathing altogether. He was ghostly pale and wide-eyed.

The dementor in front of Pettigrew slowly removed its hood, revealing the back of a grayish, decaying head. It moved closer to its victim, bending to eye level. There was a muffled squeal as the dementor's jaw made contact with Pettigrew. The deathly silence that followed was enough to make anybody want to run, but not one of the observers could feel their legs.

Suddenly, a raspy sucking noise coming from the dementor filled their ears. Its cloaked body began to heave as it did its job, grasping Pettigrew's shoulders, pulling him out of the chair, the chains falling to the floor. Pettigrew began to convulse wildly, his wide eyes rolling into the back of his head, showing nothing but the whites.

There was a slight whimper from Remus' left. He turned to see Sirius, a look of pure terror on his face. That could have been him... Remus thought vaguely before turning back to the scene before him.

Finally, it seemed to be over. The dementor let Pettigrew fall back into the middle chair, moved its bony hands to replace its hood, and motioned for the other three dementors to follow it out of the room. As the door snapped shut, the torches burned back to life, filling the room with much needed warmth.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed. There were not many in the world who could claim to have seen a Dementor's Kiss, and if one had seen it, they didn't talk about it; this was nothing to brag about.

All eyes were on Peter Pettigrew. Bit by bit, they could see the whites of his eyes recede, now showing pale grey, formally blue, irises. Pettigrew's head rested on his shoulder, his mouth slightly open, his cheeks stained with dry tears.

Finally, Dumbledore stood. "There is no reason for us to remain," he said quietly to the others, drawing their attention away from Pettigrew. Remus slowly turned to his mentor. Never before had he seen Dumbledore so... so shaken. He'd always thought the Headmaster was immune to such things. But he, just like the others, seemed to have lost much of his former color.

"Right you are, Albus," Moody said just as quietly, standing and pulling Kingsley shakily from his chair. Bones got to her feet, still trembling terribly, and took Dumbledore's proffered arm for support as they left the room.

"Sirius?" Remus said hoarsely, still looking at Wormtail. He couldn't seem to get his legs to work.

"Mmm?" Sirius grunted, unable to form words at the moment.

"You all right?"

Sirius sniffed slightly, catching his breath. "I want to see Harry now," he whispered hoarsely.

Remus nodded slowly. "Me too." He stood, hoping his knees wouldn't give way, and helped Sirius do the same.

Silently, they left Azkaban Prison, took the Muggle boat back across the sea, and Apparated back to the Burrow.


Four sets of eyes—one grey, two blue, one brown—stared pensively at the kitchen table in Order Headquarters. Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, and Kingsley were each stuck inside their own memories of the scene they'd witnessed nearly nine years ago. It was nearing three in the morning, but none of the wizards felt the least bit drowsy.

"He was lying," Sirius whispered, his voice just as hoarse as he had been after Wormtail had received the Kiss. He looked hopefully at the others. "Right?"

Sirius and Kingsley had been immediately informed of what had occurred at the Department of Mysteries while they were out on their fake Death Eater mission. Sirius had nearly the same reaction as Remus—he, too, needed to find something solid to lean on, the closest thing being Kingsley.

"He wasn't lying," Remus said, not looking at his friend. "Dedalus confirmed it."

"But... how?" Kingsley asked weakly. "I know what I saw that day. And if that wasn't a soul being sucked out, I don't know what is."

"Maybe it didn't work," Sirius said, struggling for an explanation. "Maybe... maybe only half—or part—of Wormtail's soul was taken."

"No," Dumbledore said certainly. "The dementors would not have stopped until the process was completed."

"Then how the hell do you explain what happened tonight?" Sirius asked, his voice rising.

Dumbledore couldn't answer.

Remus rubbed his eyes roughly, not out of exhaustion, but to get the image of the Dementor's Kiss out of his head. There had to be a plausible explanation for what Dung and Dedalus had seen. Soulless people didn't just start acting of their own accord after nine years of doing nothing more than rocking back and forth in their Azkaban cell. They were shells, with only their brains and hearts to keep them alive. Sirius had told Remus on the rare occasions that he had to visit the prison what Wormtail was doing: nothing. There were days when he would hum tonelessly or pace his cell, but that was it.

Dementor's Kiss victims had no thoughts, no feelings to dwell on for the rest of their natural lives. There should be no desire to do anything, let alone attack hidden Order of the Phoenix members under Invisibility Cloaks. What would cause a soulless Wormtail to do... anything...? One thought came to Remus' mind, being the Dark Arts expert he was, but it was a long shot.

"Imperius..." he muttered aloud.

"What?" Sirius and Kingsley said.

Dumbledore sat straighter in his chair. "Go on," the Headmaster said.

"It's only a thought," Remus began. "Voldemort is somehow controlling Wormtail with the Imperius Curse. If not him, then a Death Eater that was there tonight. At the Ministry, I mean."

"He can't be under Imperius," Sirius said. "He has no soul!"

"One does not need a soul to be controlled, Sirius," Dumbledore countered. "Pettigrew's brain still functions, though there is no mind to try to fight the curse. This would make it easier to control the subject. A child with little amount of magical education, who could cast the Imperius Curse, would be able to control Pettigrew."

"Oh," was all Sirius could bring himself to say. He looked across the table at Remus. His friend had his face buried in his hands.

"The dream," Remus muttered thickly through his hands.

"What dream?" Kingsley asked.

Remus lowered his hands and sighed. "Just after Azkaban was raided, Harry told me of a dream he'd had. Peter had been here, in this kitchen, with his back towards the door. Harry tapped him on the shoulder and... that's where it ended."

"And you forgot to tell me about this... why?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

Remus shrugged. "It didn't seem important at the time. Harry's scar hadn't hurt or anything."

"Maybe Pettigrew's being possessed by You-Know-Who," Kingsley said thoughtfully. "Think about it: The prophecy is about You-Know-Who and Harry, right? No one else can touch it unless one of them does first, right? So You-Know-Who possessed Pettigrew and went to the Department of Mysteries to get the prophecy."

"No, if that were the case, the Death Eaters wouldn't have Disapparated when they couldn't get through the door. Besides, why would Voldemort go through the trouble of possessing someone? He's got his body back, why not just walk right into the Ministry, kill everyone around, and steal the prophecy," Sirius said.

"Now who's being optimistic?" Remus muttered sarcastically.

"Both possession and the Imperius Curse are highly probable," Dumbledore said. "I believe, gentlemen, that we have solved the 'test subject' mystery."

"What test subject mystery?" Kingsley asked.

"Long story," Sirius and Remus said in unison. "You owe me a Butterbeer, Moony." Sirius smirked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "How can you..." he trailed off disbelievingly. "Never mind." No matter how grave the situation, Sirius still found the most idiotic way to crack a joke.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I must be off," he said, standing. "I'm sure Severus is waiting at the castle. Sleep well, boys."

Kingsley left shortly after Dumbledore, declining Sirius' offer to let him stay at Headquarters for the night. "I want my own bed tonight," he said, shivering slightly.

Silently, Sirius and Remus walked up the stairs to their bedrooms. They stared at one another, at a complete loss for words, for long moments before Remus muttered "good night" and went to his room.

Instead of going to his own room, Sirius crossed the hall and silently opened Harry's door. He entered, shut the door behind him, and leaned against the wall. Harry, as was usual at this time of night, sound asleep, his mouth partly open as he snored. Cautiously, so as to not wake his godson, Sirius moved towards the bed. His barefoot hit something soft, causing him to look down and smile softly. Lying next to Harry's bedside table was the stuffed stag the boy used to carry everywhere. Sirius reached down, picked it up, wiped a bit of dirt of the stag's back, and placed it in Harry's sleeping arms.

Sirius would tell Harry, whether Remus agreed to it or not, about Wormtail and the Department of Mysteries. There was no reason not to as far as Sirius could see, and for once, Harry should be informed as to what was happening around him. The more Harry knew, the easier it would be for him to defend himself if need be. Harry was the main target in this war—not one person in the Order could deny that fact—and things were hitting closer to home as the days went by. It could only be a matter of time before something came knocking on the front door of Number Twelve, forcing them to realize they were not immune to horror and misery. It happened last December at St. Mungo's, when Hestia Jones and her co-workers were murdered. War didn't always have a happy ending. That fact had been proved during the first war...

A burst of thunder caused Sirius to start, then laugh quietly at his obvious jumpiness.

Old friends who aren't supposed to have souls coming back bad causing mayhem will do that, Sirius thought wryly.

Sighing, Sirius reached out a hand to move Harry's jet-black hair away from his closed eyes. He ran a finger softly across the lightning bolt scar on his godson's forehead. Harry James Potter would be the one to eventually end this war. He hadn't asked to be the savior of the wizarding world, nor did he want it—that was one of the few things Sirius was sure of. It was, however, Harry's destiny. No matter how often Sirius tried to deny that Harry would ever have to face Voldemort on his own, without Sirius' or Remus' protection, he had to face it: Harry was their only hope in this war.

Sirius bent down and gently kissed Harry's forehead, just above the legendary scar. "Night, kid," he whispered. "Sweet dreams." He pulled Harry's blankets up further around the now fifteen-year-old, tucking him in—just as he had done when Harry was younger.

Too tired to walk back down the hall, Sirius pulled out Harry's desk chair, sat, and buried his head in his folded arms.


Remus sat down with a groan the next afternoon on the sofa in the library. He'd woken only moments ago to find all of Number Twelve empty. A note on the kitchen counter informed him that Molly had taken the kids to Diagon Alley to meet Hermione's parents—she would be going to France with them in the coming days. Arthur and Sirius both had to go into the Ministry early that morning.

Any other time, Remus would have felt bad for sleeping in late—normally, he was awake and ready for the day at the crack of dawn. But after last night he couldn't care less about not seeing everybody for breakfast. Not to mention he hadn't slept well the night before. His dreams were full of confusing images featuring James, Lily, Harry, Sirius, Peter, and Naomi. A few times he'd woken, drenched in cold sweat, but not remembering what he'd been dreaming about.

Now that he was awake, he could remember one of the more disturbing dreams: Remus, Sirius, and Harry were standing in front of James and Lily's home at Godric's Hollow, waiting for the couple to answer the door. Instead, Peter and Naomi walked from the backyard together. Both of their forearms were red with the Dark Mark. Both grinned evilly. Both pointed their wands at Sirius, Harry, and Remus. In unison, both spoke the fateful Killing Curse. Before Remus could move forward and save his family, the bright green jets of light sped towards them, catching Sirius and Harry square in their chests.

Remus stared pensively out the window of the library. He wouldn't let it happen...

He started a bit as he heard the muffled hoot of an owl. Turning back to the door, Remus spotted a small brown owl, a letter in its beak, soar into the room, and land on the arm of the sofa.

"Who're you after?" Remus asked the animal.

The owl dropped the letter, letting it fall between Remus' knee and the sofa, and flew back out of the room with another hoot. Hesitantly, Remus reached down and picked up the letter. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered flatly, looking from the handwriting on the parchment to the door the owl had just left through. He reached for his wand, touched the letter with the tip, and started to recite the burning charm. He stopped, though, as his curiosity got the best of him.

Curiosity killed the cat, you know, said a voice in the back of Remus' mind.

Well, I'm safe then, Remus thought back dryly, opening the letter.


Sirius sat tiredly between Kingsley and Dumbledore in Minister Bones' office. His neck and back were both quite stiff after a night of sleeping at Harry's desk—he made a mental note not to do that again anytime soon. The moment he'd arrived in Auror Headquarters, Tonks ambushed him with a note from the Minister herself. He was to find Shacklebolt and report to her office immediately.

Topics of the early morning meeting varied from Voldemort, to the safety of Hogwarts, and of course, Peter Pettigrew. Dumbledore had explained the theories Remus and Kingsley had come up with the night before while Bones, feeling the same as the others who'd witnessed the Dementor's Kiss, listened raptly.

Once the usual subjects had been exhausted, and after a large lunch provided by the Ministry house-elves, Dumbledore kindly asked Kingsley to return to Headquarters—he wished to speak with Sirius and Bones alone. With a raised, tired eyebrow, Sirius watched his second-in-command leave the office.

"Sirius," Dumbledore began, "we must discuss the prophecy."

Sirius resisted the urge to groan loudly and childishly. Instead, he nodded. "What about it, Albus?"

Dumbledore exchanged a swift glance with Bones. "Amelia and I were discussing its fate before you and Kingsley arrived."

"You were discussing the fate of a prophecy," Sirius repeated slowly, wondering exactly where this was leading.

"I'm sorry to say it, but it's just not safe here," Bones said, looking wary. "Dumbledore wishes to move it to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts," Sirius repeated again. "Didn't we just discuss Hogwarts' safety? While I know Hogwarts is the safest place around—especially with you there, Albus—are you sure that's a good idea?"

For some reason, unbeknownst to Sirius, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Do you have another idea in mind, Sirius?"

"Destroy it," Sirius said promptly. "It's just a record, right? You know what's in the prophecy. As do I, Remus, and Harry. Get rid of it. That way Voldemort can't get it."

Sirius could have sworn he saw Dumbledore's lips twitch. "If I can guarantee its safety, would you agree to moving the prophecy to Hogwarts?"

"Harry would have to move it, wouldn't he?"

"He would, yes."

Sirius sighed. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to have the prophecy in his hands. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true—the last thing he wanted was for Voldemort to have it, but he still didn't want Harry anywhere near it. If something were to happen to Harry and his guard (for there would be a guard—a large one, in fact), and they were ambushed by Death Eaters, the enemy could steal the prophecy and hand it over to Voldemort. "Are you going to ask Remus?" Sirius asked, postponing the moment he would have to answer Dumbledore.

"You are Harry's legal guardian, Sirius," Bones said. "You are the one who must decide."

"Remus has as much say in this as I do," Sirius said heatedly.

"Legally, he doesn't," Bones said regretfully. "His name is not on any of Harry's custody records. You, Sirius, are the only person legally allowed to raise Harry."

"Then change the damn paperwork!" Sirius yelled, suddenly on his feet. Dumbledore calmly stood beside him.

"We can't change it, Sirius," Bones said, not flinching at the man before her.

"The hell you can't!"

"Remus Lupin, while a wonderful, very competent wizard, is a were—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Sirius growled.

"Sirius! Calm yourself immediately," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Sirius' arm to prevent the Auror from reaching for his wand.

Sirius blinked, suddenly remembering where he was, whom he was talking to. He looked around confusedly from Dumbledore to Minister Bones. He sat down slowly into his chair. "Sorry, Minister," he muttered sincerely, staring at a spot on her desk. "I didn't sleep well last night..."

"It's quite all right, Sirius. I understand your anger," Bones said. She smiled to show there were no hard feelings.

After a moment of tense silence, Dumbledore spoke again. "Back to the prophecy, Sirius," he said, still standing.

"Right. The prophecy, right," Sirius muttered. "Do what you think is best, sir."


Remus Apparated on the outskirts of Hogsmeade and instinctively looked behind him. He stood on a hill, not far from the Shrieking Shack, looking down on the peaceful village. Without another thought—he'd talk himself out of this if he thought—Remus followed the dirt path to the familiar caves. He glanced at his watch—3:30, it read.

As he walked, he reached into his robes and pulled out the silvery Invisibility Cloak. Wrapping himself in the cloak, Remus began to look around for the cave he'd seen so many times while he'd been a student.

Kicking up dirt with his invisible feet, Remus stopped suddenly and looked around to be sure he wasn't being followed, regardless of what the letter said, and moved to enter one particular cave. He squeezed between the rocks and the cave wall, careful not to snag the cloak—it'd seemed easier when he was fifteen.

He moved deeper into the cave, not daring to light his wand, and sat down on an old wooden milk crate. Remus shook his head at his own stupidity. Sirius would surely kill him when he heard what his friend was doing.

Remus stiffened as he spotted a shadow at the mouth of the cave. He heard a sigh and then a familiar voice call, "Remus?"