Chapters 8 and 9: Catching Up
Severus spread his hands. "Talk, then."
"He's not happy," said the figure in the doorway. "You told me, if I did this, he'd be happy."
"I told you nothing of the sort," said Severus bluntly. "You asked me questions, and I answered them. I said nothing about anyone's happiness or unhappiness."
"You implied that this would please him."
"You inferred that. I did not imply it."
"Oh, say what you like," the other snapped. "I have what I want now. I don't need you anymore. Here." A bag left the figure's hand and struck the table beside Severus, giving off the musical chink of gold. "For your services, as was agreed."
Severus picked up the bag, weighing it in his hand. "There is more here than was agreed upon," he said with a frown.
"For your silence."
Severus lifted an eyebrow. "My silence."
"It is illegal, after all."
"True enough. Very well, my silence. You have it."
Unless it should become necessary for me to speak, he amended silently as the other, with a curt nod, turned and left.
After all, he and the other served different masters entirely.
Dumbledore called James, Sirius, and Peter to his office a few days later. None of them had any doubt it was about the events of the full moon night, and how they had come by their injuries. They decided it was better to come clean freely than to wait for him to get it out of them, as no one had any doubt he would. So they confessed to becoming illegal Animagi, and demonstrated there in Dumbledore's office.
"This explains a great deal," the Headmaster said, smiling placidly as Prongs turned human again with a small popping sound. "A very great deal. And simplifies several matters enormously. If there are any further incidents with werewolves being seen on the grounds, matters will, of course, be out of my control. That is all."
"Did he just give us permission to keep visiting Moony and Selene?" asked James outside the office door. Peter had suggested the nickname for Evanie, calling her his goddess of the moon, and once she had gotten done blushing, she had agreed.
"Yeah, I think he did," said Sirius. "Basically, he said 'don't get caught.'"
Peter smiled. "I like that."
"He's awesome," said James as they made their way down the spiral staircase. "Totally awesome."
Life was hectic. Aletha was the only one of the group not affected by the rush to study for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. March, April, and May passed in a blur, marked only by three full moons spent more or less quietly in the Shrieking Shack.
To everyone's surprise, the incident with Regulus might never have happened. The fifth-year Slytherin seemed to have told no one what had happened – Dumbledore's orders, of course – and ignored his brother as determinedly as ever. The Marauders and Company (as they had begun referring to themselves) were just as happy. Regulus Black was not good company at the best of times.
"He thinks it's funny to be rude," said Sirius at lunch one day. "Not just joking, like we do. Really, out-and-out rude. And my mum and dad would let him get away with it, as long as he was doing it to someone with lower social status."
"Like their less favored but inconveniently older son?" asked James.
"Their now disowned, so no longer inconvenient, older son, yes," said Sirius. "I hope he joins the Death Eaters and gets himself killed. Little sod."
Albus Dumbledore was taking his usual nightly walk around Hogwarts, making sure the castle was safe and secure, when he became aware of a presence beside him.
"Lady Maura," he said quietly.
The woman smiled at him, causing the faint glow which radiated from her to brighten ever so slightly. "Becoming formal in your old age, Albus."
"It gives me more time to consider what I shall say."
"Indeed. May I walk with you?"
"I never refuse a lady."
They covered a short distance in silence.
"The castle will be attacked," said Maura finally. "But Voldemort will have given the Death Eaters orders not to kill."
"Is this meant to reassure me?" asked Dumbledore dryly. "I rejoice that none of my students will be killed, but Tom would only issue such an order if he wished to take hostages. Or prisoners."
"Prisoners. He recently obtained the services of a skilled scryer, and gave the man incentive to scry forward in time and see what, or who, stood in his way."
"And, having found certain people there, he wishes them removed."
"Precisely."
"Are all of these people students?"
"No, but the most crucial ones are. The rest are peripheral and can be easily dealt with later."
"I see."
They passed Professor Vector, who nodded a good evening to Dumbledore but completely ignored the tawny-haired woman on his right.
"What choice awaits me?" Dumbledore asked when Vector was out of earshot.
"You can intervene as these students are being captured and free them. Your power will overwhelm all their captors easily – Voldemort will not be present himself. Or, you can be elsewhere at that time, and do nothing to save those particular students."
"Would my presence elsewhere help to save others?" Dumbledore had learned, after over a hundred years of practice, to hear what Maura, or her brother, or their father did not say. Often it was because they could not volunteer the information, but had to be asked.
"It would."
"May I know who the students in question are?"
"No."
Sometimes, of course, they simply could not tell him things.
"Very well. No because I should not know, or because I have enough information to figure it out myself?"
"Yes."
And then there were the times when they were just obscure on purpose. It was a habit Dumbledore had picked up himself over the years, but it was still highly irritating to him in others.
"Do the students in question have a chance of saving themselves?"
"There is always a chance. But you wish to know if they have a better than average chance."
"Yes."
"They do. The group possesses several special skills, besides the ability to work as a team. Should they not succeed in escaping, they will damage the Death Eaters greatly before they are killed."
Reducing people to the level of things, counters on a board, markers on a map. Calculating numbers and cold-bloodedly deciding who we can best afford to lose. Being forced to deny help to some to save others.
I hate war.
"Where is it that I must not be?"
"The west side of the castle. Is your decision yet made?"
"It is. I shall provide no help to the students in question. So I speak, so I intend."
"And so let it be done."
They had arrived at the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. "Peanut Poppers," said Dumbledore a bit wearily. "Sherbert lemon, Maura?"
"Yes, thank you."
They arrived at the top of the staircase. Dumbledore opened the office door, crossed to his desk, and took one candy for himself, handing another to Maura. "You know what I plan to ask you next."
"The same thing you always ask."
"Yes." How many innocent lives have I just sworn to end? How many to ruin utterly? How many to condemn to hours, days, weeks of terror and long years of recovery?
What will the consequences be?
"And, by our agreement, I will tell you."
I sometimes think Aberforth got the better part of our deal, asking for the ability to do what he pleased and not care about the consequences. But I could never live in that way. I do care – too much, perhaps.
And so I asked for the ability to know the consequences of the choices I made – and the ones I did not make – so that I might compare them, and choose better in the future.
Perhaps even the very wise cannot see all ends. But I see more than most.
Often, too often, far more than I wish to.
"Had you chosen to aid those students, two of them would have died from miscast spells. Two others would have been heartbroken and fought so recklessly in the war that they threw their lives away to no good purpose. The rest would have survived, mourned, and gone on. Voldemort would have fallen, but far in the future, with many more lives paid."
Voldemort fallen? But that suggests...
Maura's smile flared like a suddenly-stoked fire. "But since you have chosen not to..."
A great sense of contentment settled over Dumbledore as he listened.
After a hundred-and-some-odd years, it seems I'm finally getting the hang of this.
The final Quidditch match came in June. Sirius had been reinstated on the team due to several months of good behavior, so he and Aletha showed off their Beating skills to the screaming crowd as James led the Gryffindor side to an overwhelming victory, two hundred ninety to thirty.
"Even if Ravenclaw had got the Snitch, we still would have won," said Remus for probably the thousandth time later that night. But no one minded hearing it again.
The Marauders and Company were sprawled on couches and chairs in the common room. Most of the House had given up on partying and gone to bed, since it was two in the morning and testing started in a week. But the seven of them were still up.
And one more.
Danger Granger was sitting nearby, not quite a part of their group but not totally separate from them either.
That seemed to be her usual position lately, Remus mused, looking at her profile as she bent over her book. She was always somewhere close to them, but almost never involved in anything they did. She still chatted and laughed with the girls, but let one of the Marauders approach her and she turned into a centaur – understandable but cold and distant. It was almost as if she were embarrassed by something.
But what has she got to be embarrassed about?
And why doesn't she ever look at me?
Even as he thought that, Danger's head turned slightly, and brown eyes met blue. Remus felt himself tense, forced himself to smile, and realized too late how fake and stupid it must look, as Danger gave him a half-smile in response and turned back to her reading.
This is not fair. Remus looked back at the rest of his friends. Sirius lay with his head in Aletha's lap, her hand stroking his hair as she sometimes stroked his Animagus form's fur. Peter was sketching something on a spare piece of parchment, with Evanie watching him in fascination. And James was recounting the most exciting moments from the match yet again to Lily, who was listening tolerantly.
I want that. I want what they have. What cruel fate decided that I shouldn't have it?
For one instant, he allowed himself to think that way –
Stop that now, said the expected voice – rather like his mother's, it was, firm without being mean. Count your blessings, Remus John. You have friends, reasonable health, you're getting a fine education, there's even the possibility that you could go into the work you want. McGonagall said she'd do everything she could to help you become an Unspeakable, and Dumbledore would put in a good word for you as well. You have loving parents, a safe home, a good mind – and you're complaining that you can't have one more thing?
Remus let out a sigh of frustration. I suppose I do have more to be thankful for than not to.
Exactly. So think about the fine things you do have, and don't cry for the moon.
Remus smiled ironically. Trust me, I don't. Ever.
He got up. "I'm going to bed," he said.
"Good night," said a chorus of voices.
Danger's was not one of them.
Remus climbed the stairs to his dorm, willing the thought beating in the back of his mind away. But it wouldn't go. Finally, when he was lying in bed staring at the hangings, he gave up and let himself think it.
Danger's not just one more thing.
She's everything I've ever wanted.
And I'm just too cowardly to tell her the truth.
But I'm not supposed to be cowardly. I'm a Gryffindor, damn it! We're supposed to be brave!
All right. Tomorrow. I'll tell her tomorrow.
And with this resolved, he had no trouble falling asleep.
"Letha?"
"Hmm?"
"Do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Ask Danger to meet me in the Charms classroom at four o'clock?"
Aletha looked at Remus for a long moment. "All right," she said, a subtle smile touching her lips. "I'll tell her."
No going back now. I'm committed.
The morning classes flew by, the afternoon dragged. Remus had to force himself to stop checking his watch in Transfiguration after he realized he was looking at it every thirty seconds. Finally, after what seemed like an entire year in itself, McGonagall dismissed them as the bell rang.
"See you at dinner," said Remus casually to the other Marauders. "I have some business."
"Best of luck," said Sirius, lifting an eyebrow.
"Go wash your mind out."
It was three-forty-five, he was going to be early, but better early than late, Remus thought. He started to open the door and stopped. There were already people inside. And they were talking.
"... you actually thought I liked him?" A laugh, clearly recognizable, even through the closed door. "Oh, Letha, I thought you had more sense than that!"
"I did," answered Aletha's voice. "But you played it so well, I was almost convinced, even though I knew what you were really doing. Does he know?"
"That I don't like him? I should hope so – I've been at pains enough to show the entire school." A shifting sound, then footsteps. "Did Remus really ask me to meet him here?"
"Yes, and I'd better leave. It sounded like he wanted to talk to you alone."
Danger laughed again. "Me and him, alone in a room. I wonder what we'll find to do together. I could always ask him to give me some tips about surviving O.W.L.s..."
Remus had heard enough. The mocking tone in Danger's voice was piercing every defense he had.
He turned and ran, her words following him mercilessly.
"You actually thought I liked him? I thought you had more sense than that."
"... I don't like him... I've been at pains enough to show the entire school..."
Why should I offer her my heart, if she's just going to hand it back perforated with witty comments?
Snape can have her. I wish him joy of her. She's no prize.
He wished he could believe it. He almost believed it. But one part of him kept refusing to believe, kept insisting there was another way to take her words. They kept him up most of the night, fighting it out. By morning, they had resolved nothing.
And he still had to go to class.
By exercising every bit of control he had ever learned, Remus made it through his N.E.W.T.s without thinking too much of Danger. It helped that he was a quick writer – he could answer a question, agonize for a moment over her, then answer two more, then agonize a little more.
Even James' usual good humor was dented by the famous Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Peter's hairline seemed to be receding, and Sirius joked that he must be either pulling it out or losing it from nervousness. This went on until Lily raided the boys' dorm and found an empty bottle of Hair Loss Hot Sauce under Sirius' bed, which he claimed James had planted there to frame him.
The night after the N.E.W.T.s were over, Sirius, James, and Peter invaded the kitchens and got roaring drunk. Remus opted simply to watch – losing control was not his idea of a good time.
As his friends tried to maintain something approaching harmony in a bawdy song involving a hippogriff, a maiden, and a vampire, Remus thought about his future.
If I get the grades I need, I might make it into the Unspeakable program. And then again I might not. It all depends on whether or not they're willing to hire a werewolf. I'd work extra hours to make up for any time I might have to miss, and I'd even be willing to come in on transformation nights. They could see if it's really true that no spell or potion works on a werewolf – though I hope they'll skip the Unforgivables.
A werewolf, being a magical creature, was largely immune to magic. Only physical attacks worked. Silver was not necessary to kill one – a normal bullet or knife would do just fine – but silver made almost any shot or strike lethal, poisoning the werewolf within seconds.
And why am I thinking of that? Morbid much, Remus?
But it would be nice if potions worked on him, Remus thought. Then he could take a Sleeping Potion beforehand and simply sleep through the transformation.
Maybe someday. For today, there's free food, free entertainment, and no more tests.
He waved to catch a house-elf's attention. "Another butterbeer, please," he said. "And another slice of that excellent cake."
The creature blushed. House-elves liked being complimented as much as anyone, Remus had found, but one had to praise their work instead of them. They weren't built to accept compliments in and of themselves.
It wasn't until much later that he realized he had spent an entire evening without thinking of Danger once.
Maybe I'm getting over her.
30 June, 1977, was a Thursday. It was also Remus' last day as a student at Hogwarts. His ride on the Hogwarts Express the next morning would be his last. He was done with school.
So why aren't I excited?
James and Sirius had been preaccepted into the Auror program, contingent on their test scores, and their excitement was palpable. Peter had obtained a job at a small magical bookstore in Wales, courtesy of Evanie's father Mr. Mead, who owned the place. Lily planned to volunteer at St. Mungo's for a year before making a final career decision – she wasn't sure if she really wanted to be a Healer, or just train as a nurse or mediwitch, like Madam Pomfrey.
Remus hadn't heard back from the Department of Mysteries, though he had made sure to have all his paperwork in on time. He had a bad feeling about this.
What am I going to do if this falls through?
And Dumbledore had asked to see them all in his office before the train left in the morning. Remus thought it might have something to do with Voldemort and the war.
Dumbledore wouldn't just sit on his hands. He has to be doing something against Voldemort. Maybe he wants our help.
I hope he does.
The feast that night was just winding down when a loud screech startled Peter into dropping a full pitcher of pumpkin juice into his lap. "They're here!" shouted Peeves, appearing over the Head Table. "At least a hundred, on all sides, passing the wards now!"
"A hundred what?" asked Evanie in bewilderment.
"Death Eaters," said Aletha grimly. "The castle's under attack."
All around the Great Hall, people were coming to the same conclusion – voices were rising to fever pitch –
Three loud bangs restored silence. "Fourth years and below will return to their dormitories immediately," said Dumbledore loudly. "Fifth, sixth, and seventh years, and teachers, remain here until the younger students have left, then assemble in the entrance hall. Please move briskly."
"You don't think he means us to fight, do you?" Remus heard a sixth year Ravenclaw ask his neighbor. "My parents would never stand for it."
And you're supposed to be the smart ones. Remus rolled his eyes. Your parents would "stand for it" a hell of a lot less if you got killed because Dumbledore couldn't defend the castle adequately.
"Albus, I thought you had reinforced the wards," Remus heard Professor McGonagall say as they waited in the hall for the few stragglers who had been elsewhere than the Great Hall for the feast.
"I did, Minerva. The wards should repel all those who mean to kill any student in this school."
"Kill only?"
"Had I broadened it to include any sort of harm, half the students themselves would have been kept from the grounds. Harming others seems in some way intrinsic to human nature."
Human nature – are we evil or good, or a mixture of both, or good but fallen, or good but corrupted...
Remus shook his head sharply. If I don't start paying attention, I might wind up with all of eternity to think about this stuff in.
And heaven may be great, but I'm not eager to get there yet.
"Teachers, the main attack force is advancing from the rear of the castle, so we shall gather there. Students, kindly raise your non-wanded hands."
Always has to be different, Padfoot does. Not like he had a choice, though.
"If your hand is orange, please defend the left side of the castle. White, the right. Purple, the front. Try to keep the attackers from reaching the walls. Use any non-lethal hex or jinx you can."
Remus looked at his purple left hand. The front, then.
"Do not forget to tie your opponents after you have laid them low. And do not expose your backs to them, for any reason." Dumbledore paused for a moment, looking out over the group of students, and Remus felt oddly exposed, as if the Headmaster were looking directly at him. "Good luck."
Remus caught sight, through the crowd, of Danger heading his way. Her left hand glowed dimly purple.
"Good luck," she said when she was beside him, and held out her right hand.
"Good luck," Remus answered. Her hand was as warm as it had been the day he introduced himself to her, but rather more damp than it had been then.
No surprise. She wasn't about to risk her life on a battlefield then.
Sirius and Aletha were next to them now, and Peter and Evanie, and James and Lily were coming through the crowd –
"Are we all purple?" asked Evanie in surprise.
"So it would seem," said James. "Ready for some action, Padfoot?"
Sirius' feral grin, the one he wore before full moons and Quidditch matches, flashed out. "Ready."
Aletha was thin-lipped and grim, Lily very pale but resolute. "Let's do it," said the redhead, and led the way out the doors of Hogwarts.
The setting sun shone into their faces like fire as they found places in hiding along the castle wall. "This is stupid," complained Peter as they settled in. "The attack's from the other direction – we won't see any action over here!"
An explosion went off three feet in front of them.
"Wormtail?" said James over the screams and return fire from their side. "Shut up."
Death Eaters materialized in front of them – they must have used Portkeys, Remus thought, you couldn't Apparate at Hogwarts – but that didn't matter now. What mattered was taking them down.
Sirius was throwing hexes, anything he could think of to slow them down. Disarming Spells worked marvelously, but were easy to block. The joking hexes he and James so loved – Jelly-Legs, Leg-Locker, and the like – would slow the Dark wizards down, but not stop them from cursing the students. And for the life of him, Sirius had never been able to get off a good Body-Bind.
Aletha had no such trouble.
She was picking off the front ranks with remarkable regularity, but she was handicapped by her position. The arm movement for the Petrificus had to be wide and sweeping, and her wand kept catching on the castle wall behind her. Finally, Sirius caught her eye and waved her over to his position – there was more room where he was, she'd be able to cast better.
Aletha sized up the situation, then nodded, and came across the space between them at a crouching run.
Sirius saw the curse speeding towards her, tried to throw one of his own to block it –
And missed.
The red jet of light struck her and knocked her flat.
"Accio Girl!" he heard someone shout.
NO!
Sirius threw himself out of cover, catching at Aletha's limp ankle as it shot past him –
The shock ended the spell with a mild backlash, throwing the unconscious sixth year into his arms. Sirius scuttled backwards as quickly as he could, dragging her with him, knowing he must look like a fool but not caring –
He'd made it. He was in cover. Vaguely, he noticed that James and Lily, who'd been sharing the space with him, had left. Someone else was in their place, shooting curses at the Death Eaters.
He propped Aletha up against the rock they were hiding behind. "Know any Healing spells?" he asked the dark-haired boy, catching his breath.
The boy turned to him with a smirk. "Just one, brother dearest. Stupefy."
"Did they make it yet?" asked James. "I'll fight, you look."
Lily poked her head around the corner of the bush they were now using for cover, having abandoned the rock to get a better angle from which to defend Sirius. "They're back," she reported. "She doesn't look bad – he's sitting her up – he's – OH MY GOD!"
"What?" demanded James.
"YOU SLIMY WORM!" screamed Lily, leaping to her feet. "WHAT SIDE ARE YOU–"
"Get down!" James yanked Lily back down behind the bush just as two spells impacted with the wall where her head had been. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Regulus Black just Stunned Sirius!"
"What?"
"He's right over there – look–" Lily pointed, and James squinted through the smoke.
There was no one behind the rock. Not Sirius, not Aletha, not Regulus Black. James frowned. That wasn't right. Where could they be, if not there?
"BEHIND YOU!" Remus shouted from down the field. James spun just in time to see the white mask and black cloak of a Death Eater turning away from Lily's unconscious form.
He blocked the man's spells handily, if not easily – they were powerful, pushing him back a pace every time, but none of them were getting through –
It wasn't until the spell hit him from the side that he realized they hadn't been meant to.
The Death Eaters were throwing things now, little glass balls full of potion that shattered on impact. Some of the potions burned whatever they hit – some of them released stunning or paralyzing vapors – Peter had avoided getting hit by potion or flying glass so far, but it was close.
"I'm going to try to get over there!" he shouted to Evanie over the noise of the battle. "I might be able to steal some of their weapons!"
Evanie nodded in understanding, and Peter stowed his wand away and transformed. No one noticed a rat running across the field of battle, and it was a simple matter for him to locate the stockpiles of potion balls. He popped in and out of rat form to avoid being noticed, stuffing balls into his pockets in his moments in human shape – anything not confined somewhere on his person wouldn't transform with him – and scurried back across the field when he had a full load.
The students actually managed to drive the Death Eaters back several paces throwing the balls. Peter was just reaching for another one when he felt a burning pain in his shoulder.
"You're on fire!" Evanie screamed, and dove at him. He fell sideways, shattering the last stun ball.
She might have saved herself if she hadn't put out the flames on his robes with her wand before trying to run.
Remus hadn't seen what had happened to James after he'd warned him of the Death Eater behind him – smoke had billowed up and blocked his view. Besides, he was busy enough holding off the attack on himself. For some reason, the Death Eaters seemed intent on him. He'd already caught and thrown back three burning potion balls, and thought in some remote recess of his mind that he might have made a decent Seeker if only he flew a little better.
He could just see Danger from where he was. She was sticking to the simpler spells, the ones that didn't need as much power. James had tagged her right those years ago, she wasn't a heavy hitter. Her strengths lay in accuracy – when she aimed for someone, he went down – and in sneaking her spells through weak spots in the Death Eaters' defenses.
Speaking of weak spots, this is one. We need some more people over here – there's just her and me for at least fifty yards –
Remus had just thrown back a fourth potion ball when a piercing sound caught his attention. It sounded like a whistle.
What is that?
The sound became louder, passing from oddity to nuisance, and quickly from there to painful. In a few seconds, Remus couldn't hear anything else, couldn't think, couldn't even move – his whole being was focused on holding his hands over his ears, willing the noise to stop –
And then his eyes happened to fall on Danger.
She, too, was huddled on the ground, hands over her ears, eyes shut and an expression of anguish on her face.
I have to get to her –
But his view was suddenly wavy and wobbly, as if something not quite there was in the way –
The noise stopped. Danger's eyes opened, she was looking around –
She was tied hand and foot with ropes that flew from nowhere, directly between them –
Remus was on his feet in an instant, shouting the counter to a Disillusionment, he couldn't fight what he couldn't see –
The noise started again, sending him to his knees, his wand falling from his hand, unable to fight the spell that bound and gagged him.
"A wolf whistle," said a sneering voice from under the white mask when the noise had stopped. A long strand of blond hair had escaped the hood of the black cloak. "Highly useful for controlling lesser creatures such as yourself. I'm rather surprised the girl reacted – she must be more closely tied to you than our information suggested..."
Remus saw figures looming out of the smoke behind the man. His heart leapt – they might still be rescued –
His reaction must have registered on his face. The Death Eater spun around and swore, snatching Danger's bonds and yanking her roughly to him, throwing her against Remus. He snatched off his mask, and Remus recognized him – Lucius Malfoy.
Why did he –
But his question was answered in the next second, as Malfoy dropped the mask onto his head and Danger's, slammed his hand down on top of it – Remus felt Danger wince – and shouted "Portus!"
If there was anything more uncomfortable than regular Portkey travel, Remus thought, it was Portkey travel while tied up.
With one's face as the contact point.
I think this now counts as the worst day of my life.
He landed on a hard floor, bruising several extremities, and several more when Danger fell on top of him. Malfoy pointed his wand at them. "Diffindo," he said lazily.
Their gags split in the back. Remus spit the coarse rope out thankfully.
"Sorry," Danger muttered to him after getting rid of her own.
"For what?"
"Landing on you."
"It's all right."
Malfoy was gone, they were alone in the small, dark room. Danger looked around. "Wonder why they're letting us talk?"
Remus shrugged as best he could. "Don't know."
But he did, and the reason was making his heart even heavier than it had been before. People who could talk could scream. If they were being allowed to talk, that must mean there was no chance of anyone hearing them if they screamed.
We're going to die. Both of us. Eventually. They'll probably torture us first – they consider that fun –
God, I'm glad they don't know about me. They could have so much "fun" with a werewolf and the girl he loves...
There was no sense lying to himself now. He loved Danger. He had since that day at the Shrieking Shack – no, if he was being honest, he'd loved her before that. He wasn't even sure when it had begun.
She deserves to know. Even if she can't stand me, I want her to know before we die.
"Danger?"
"Yeah?" She looked at him, brown eyes alert and searching his.
"Remember how I had something to tell you around Christmas?"
"Yeah."
"I think I should tell you now."
"I think that might be a good idea."
Even facing death, she keeps her sense of humor. Remus smiled to himself. "All right. Here goes."
The door swung open with a chilling screech of hinges.
What is it with me about to tell her things and doors?
The silhouette in the doorway pointed a wand at them. Remus felt his bonds drop away, and saw Danger's do the same. "Get up," said Malfoy's voice. "You've been summoned."
Remus got to his feet as quickly as he could, ignoring the pain in his arms and legs from returning circulation, and offered Danger his hand. She took it, pulling herself up, and coincidentally – or was it, he wondered – bringing her ear close to his lips.
"I love you," he breathed.
Danger's foot slipped on a spare piece of rope, and she nearly fell. Remus caught her in his arms. She pulled his ear down to her own mouth – Remus' heart leapt –
"You picked a hell of a time to tell me."
Remus clamped down on his laughter, saving the joke for a time when nothing would seem funny. He suspected there would be all too many of them in his immediate future.
"Enough petting," said Malfoy disdainfully. "Get moving."
Remus refrained from glaring at the man, but mentally made a decision.
I may have to do what you say. But I'll do it my way.
"My lady," he said. "Will you walk with me?"
He offered Danger his arm.
"I would be happy to, good sir." She laid her fingertips on it daintily, and they walked out of the room together.
Malfoy snorted in contempt and shoved them apart, one to each side of the passage. "Stay that way," he warned them. "Don't try anything."
And what exactly would we be going to try? We're alone except for each other, and this is obviously your headquarters – we have no wands, no potions, nothing – what can we do?
But Danger's pose was not in the least defeated. Her back was straight, her head up, and her eyes defiantly forward, although flicking towards Remus every now and again.
She obviously hasn't given up. How can I?
It was hard to find any reason for hope, though, with a faint red light flickering ahead of them, and Lucius Malfoy's wand at their backs.
This is what I was afraid of.
Albus Dumbledore sat alone in an empty classroom. The Great Hall was being used as a makeshift infirmary. Dozens of students were wounded, it seemed no one had escaped unscathed. But that wasn't the worst.
Nine students were missing.
Eight Gryffindors and a Slytherin.
And he had a horrible feeling the Slytherin had gone wherever he had gone of his own free will, while the Gryffindors had not.
Knowing the overall outcome does not help in the interim, while I wait to hear if those who now make history live through it or not...
Someone knocked at the door. "Come in," he called, and blinked in surprise at the person who opened the door. "Severus?"
"Headmaster," the boy acknowledged him. He looked torn, Dumbledore thought, as if he weren't quite sure he wanted to be here. "Is it true there are people missing, sir?"
"Yes, several students are unaccounted for. Including one of your own Housemates."
"May I know who, sir?"
It will be common knowledge soon enough. Dumbledore began to recite the list of names, the list that was far too long, and that he had gone over too many times already in his own mind.
"Regulus and Sirius Black. James Potter. Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin. Aletha Freeman. Lily Evans. Evanie Mead. And Gertrude Granger."
Snape closed his eyes for a moment. "They were captured," he said, opening them. "Weren't they?"
"That is what we surmise, yes."
"Sir–" The boy looked straight at him. "I think I know where they may have gone. The Death Eaters."
"Really?" Dumbledore masked his surprise, and returning hope, behind his usual unflappable exterior. "How do you know this?"
The boy's shoulders went back in a defiant gesture. "I thought of joining them, sir," he said, the honorific sounding more like an insult. "I don't like Mudbloods."
"And yet you offer to lead us to one of their hideouts," said Dumbledore.
"You think I'm lying."
"I did not say that." In fact, Dumbledore could see that the boy was not lying. Snape possessed the skills to be a superb Occlumens someday, but he had not yet truly honed them. Dumbledore's Legilimency had penetrated the Slytherin's defenses and showed him the truth in the boy's intention – he really did want to help in a rescue. "However, may I ask why? There is no love lost between you and the missing students."
Snape looked away. "I owe Potter my life," he said in a snarl. "He is entitled to my help."
The wizard's debt. A strange and unfathomable thing. "Very well. I shall assemble some people, and we shall depart as soon as you and we are ready." Dumbledore rose, intending to make for his office and begin sending messages via Fawkes and his Floo fire.
"Sir?"
Almost out of the door, he turned.
Snape's eyes were fixed on his, almost pleading – a strange expression, from one usually so proud. "Try to save Granger," he said. "She was always... kind... to me."
Dumbledore gave a slow nod, then proceeded on his way, wondering if the rumors which had swept the school at the beginning of the year might not have had a bit more truth in them than even their subjects had guessed at first...
"Overdone, much?" muttered Danger as they were marched into a huge, round stone room with candles and torches mounted all around the walls, each burning blood red.
"Quiet," snapped Malfoy.
Just try and say she's not a Gryffindor now, James Potter...
Secretly, Remus was hoping Danger's spunk would lead her to insult one of the Death Eaters so badly that he simply killed her on the spot.
That would be best. Quickest. The Killing Curse doesn't hurt – at least that's what all the ghosts say – just a flash of green light and a sound like rushing air, and you're dead. It's over.
For himself, he had no illusions. Anyone could be broken – he could stand a lot of pain, he knew, he'd had practice, but he'd never before experienced pain inflicted by someone who liked inflicting it –
Or have I? The wolf likes to hurt. And it likes to hurt me, the human me, for caging it up away from other humans. So maybe I have had experience with this...
They had stopped in the center of the red room. "On your knees," said Malfoy silkily. "Bow before the Dark Lord of the world."
Neither Remus nor Danger moved.
"On your knees, filth!" Malfoy's spell hit Remus hard between the shoulder blades, and he fell forward, just catching himself in time with his hands. Danger wasn't so lucky, hitting her shoulder against the stone floor and suppressing a yelp of pain.
"That will do, Lucius," said a voice. High-pitched but definitely male, it was chilling in a way that resisted description, but Remus found one anyway.
Like someone just replaced all my bones with ice.
It couldn't be anyone but Lord Voldemort.
"So, the two young people I have most wanted to see," said the Darkest wizard in a hundred years. "You may rise."
Remus got up quickly and held out his hand for Danger. She squeezed it – in fear? In reassurance? He couldn't tell – before they both turned to face Voldemort.
Danger took an involuntary step back. Remus stayed where he was, forcing his face to stillness. It wasn't easy. The figure before them had obviously once been human. Just as obviously, it no longer was. Or at least not completely.
"You may be curious as to why I wished to see you," Voldemort continued.
"Not particularly," Danger cut in.
Voldemort's red eyes widened in surprise, and a small wave of gasps went around the room. Clearly, he was not used to being interrupted.
"Shall I gag her, Master?" asked a woman's voice, and one of the cloaked figures stepped forward.
Remus had to stop himself whipping around to look. That's Bellatrix!
"No, let her speak." Voldemort smiled liplessly in Bellatrix's direction. "She amuses me." He looked back at Danger. "I'm afraid you must resign yourself to boredom, dear child, for I am determined to tell you why I have brought you here."
Danger yawned ostentatiously. "Get on with it, then," she said on the tail end of the yawn.
Dear God, Danger, stop this – it's not going to help anything – Remus pressed her hand urgently, hoping he was getting through to her.
She shot him a look which said as clearly as words, Mind your own business.
You're going to get yourself killed –
No, really?
"I have seen the future," proclaimed Voldemort. "Or rather, I have seen many futures. All of them possible from where we stand tonight. In some of them, I reign triumphant. Lord of magical Britain, then of all Britain, then, little by little, of the world – for what is time to an immortal?"
"What about the other ones?" said Remus, and instantly wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Voldemort looking directly at him made him want to collapse on the ground and beg for mercy. Only Danger's hand in his kept him upright.
"The others are not so pleasant," said Voldemort softly. "I win a few small battles, then am defeated by some great opponent. Or I win a few great battles, but am still defeated by some strange chance. Or I win all my battles – except the one with time. There are many paths to my defeat. But all of them hinge on certain people. Two of whom now stand before me."
Us?
We're supposed to be instrumental in defeating Voldemort?
How?
"In every future I saw where I was defeated, you were there," hissed Voldemort venomously, now circling them like a malevolent snake. "Together. Happy. Laughing and joking together. And in every future where I was triumphant, you were dead."
"So you think that killing us is going to make you win?" said Danger in a tone that suggested she couldn't believe her ears.
"No, dear child, I do not think so." Voldemort was in front of them again. "I know it. You, and several others – one, sadly, a relation of my friend Regulus–" He motioned to one side.
One of the smaller Death Eaters stepped forward and pulled off his mask. It was indeed Regulus Black, and he was smirking all over his face. "I'll be the only son soon," he said. "Just like Mother always wanted."
"Sirius Black and his Mudblood girl will die tonight," said Voldemort smoothly. "As well as James Potter and his. A certain ritual that I have always wished to perform calls for the participation of four young lovers, and I have never been able to use, for instance, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, or Lucius and Narcissa, because at the end of the ritual, the lovers must be dead."
Dear God, I thought it was just us – how did he get all of them as well? Remus became aware that Danger was pressed against him, and that his arms were around her, holding her up – it seemed the threat to her friends had unnerved her as threats to herself did not.
"And there is always power to be had from a simple sacrifice." Voldemort seemed to be contemplating something above their heads. "The Pettigrew boy will do nicely. Or perhaps he can be turned. His female, though – the bitch-wolf–"
Remus' heart skipped a beat, something he had thought only happened in stories.
He knows about Evanie –
He has to know about me –
"Those worlds where I am defeated show her dead. So, naturally, she must live. But in a form which will cause less trouble than her human one – a form I believe you are quite familiar with, Remus..."
His name was spoken slowly, with the final S held like a snake's hiss. Danger's arms were around him now, he was clutching her hand tightly, wishing with all his heart that he could wake up and find it was only a nightmare –
"A spell I have recently invented," said Voldemort, reaching into his robes and drawing out a wand, stroking it with his long white fingers meditatively. "Or is that discovered? Do spells exist before they are thought of, I wonder? No matter – it is new, and it is mine. And it is designed to do two things. First, to change a werewolf into his, or her, animal form. And second, to bind that werewolf there. Permanently."
Danger's grip on his hand was crushing his fingers, but Remus didn't care – the pain was giving him something to concentrate on, something other than the words he was hearing –
"So I erect shields, like so–" One white hand gestured negligently, and walls of pulsing, bilious green energy sprang up around Remus and Danger. "Tuned to allow through only my one spell, and then to ward off all spells and physical attacks. After all, what use would you be if you savaged my Death Eaters? I want you attacking my enemies, not my followers."
"It's all right," Danger murmured close to his ear. "Really, it is."
"Thanks," said Remus under his breath, unsure whether he meant it or was being sarcastic.
She's trying to make me feel better... but this can't possibly be any farther from all right...
"The spell is untested, you see," Voldemort went on. "So I would rather have you confined. And give you something to attack before your pitiful rescue party arrives – oh, yes, you haven't been forgotten. But I rather doubt they will find this place in time to save either of you – the one from death, the other from a living hell..."
"Get away from me," said Remus, trying to push Danger off him. "Get away – try to stay away – you might be able to stay alive until they come–" He knew she couldn't, but he had to try to give her hope, she couldn't die despairing –
But she wasn't – she was smiling –
"I told you it was all right," she said, not loosing her arms from around him. "I meant that."
"You're in danger from me!" Remus exploded.
Danger lifted a lazy eyebrow. "How can I be in myself?"
"My patience is wearing thin, children," called Voldemort mockingly. "Release him, girl, unless you wish to be transformed along with him – and since you are no werewolf, the transformation would kill you, and rather painfully. He may be more merciful."
Remus tried once more to pull Danger's hands off him –
And they came.
"If you want me to go, I'll go," she said, stepping away from him, her eyes fixed on his. "But remember. If you need help, I'm here." Her mouth quirked. "In case you need help from a furry midget."
I can at least go out smiling.
Remus looked back at Danger and opened his heart, letting everything he felt for her show on his face.
I love you so much.
Forgive me for what I'm about to do.
"Bestia Saecula et Saeculorum!" cried Voldemort.
A jet of white light – like moonlight – shot from his wand towards Remus.
In the instant before it struck him, something else did. From the side.
Something with four paws, gleaming teeth, long brownish fur –
The wolf from the Forest?
Everything was white –
And then it was dark.
(A/N: One immense chapter for my lovely readers! With lots and lots and lots of action and other fun things! Now, for such a long chapter, can I please have some nice long reviews? Please? Please... :crickets chirp:
Sigh. Anyway, I hope you all like it. Topic for today is oil. And more long chapter tomorrow, if all goes as planned.)