Interlude

Arabella Figg placed the newspaper down in front of her, frowning at the headline. Head of Auror Division Captured by Death Eaters. It irritated her that the papers had already found out about the failed raid—none of her Aurors were even out of debriefing yet. The Death Eaters must have been bragging about their success.

"Damn it all. Goddamn it all." For Arabella, the swear was mild. Her language was damn near legendary amongst the Aurors.

Through the years working at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Arabella had made it a point to know the name of every Auror. She knew some better than others, but every time something happened to one of them, it hurt. They were like her children. Losing James, letting him get captured, had hurt much more than most.

She had been his Mentor when he first joined the Auror division. She was friends with his wife, and had babysat his son on many occasions. If any Auror was like a child to her, it would be James Potter. It hadn't hurt this much in a very long time. The Mulciber raid, her mind whispered. No, she thought. The Mulciber raid was a disaster, but losing Charlie Weasley had hurt more than even that horrible failure. Charlie had been young, and he had been exceptionally good at what he did. He could have been great if he hadn't been killed. Or, more accurately, he could have been greater.

He had been great, before he'd died.

Arabella was startled out of her musings by the sound of her office door swinging open and shut again, nearly silently. She smiled sadly at her visitor as he took a seat across from her. "Humbug, 'Bella?" Albus Dumbledore, Minister of Magic asked.

Arabella stared. "Exactly, Albus."

She would have put it more colorfully, but humbug would do. He smiled gently, taking out a tin of peppermint humbugs and passing one to Arabella. He sat in silence across from her, waiting for her to talk. Cracking a small smile at the candy, she said:

"That's not what I thought you meant. I was thinking more along the lines of the 'damn' sort of humbug. But this will do, I suppose." Dumbledore sat silent as a statue, a compassionate statue to which one would tell anything, but a statue nonetheless. "I feel old, Albus. How could I let him do this? Voldemort will never let him survive."

"James is strong. He can last the week. The information he will bring back will be priceless. We just have to trust that everything will go according to plan." Somehow, Dumbledore didn't even seem disturbed, and seeing that hurt.

"And what if it doesn't?" she demanded angrily. "What if something happens and Voldemort kills James? What do I tell Lily if he dies?"

"We tell Lily the truth. She understands the risks her husband must take; she knows where he's going and why. She approved the idea, though I can't say that she liked it," Albus answered, making Arabella sigh heavily.

"It should have been me. I should never have let him go," she said in a hushed voice.

"We cannot regret the things that have already happened. We will never know what may have happened if you had gone in his place instead, and it is probably better that way," Albus replied. "Remus will have to inform James' son. You remember Harry."

"Yes, of course. How could I forget? I hear he's developed James' talent for mischief." Trying to sound so normal was going to kill her, and she was sure that Albus wasn't fooled. Still, she had to try. That was how the game was played.

"Indeed he has. That is part of the point. If he is not told carefully, he and his friends will work out the truth, which we cannot afford." Dumbledore stared pointedly.

"You want me to come," Arabella sighed.

"I want you to come."

Rising, Arabella said, "Let's get this done." With that, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement followed the Minister of Magic out the door.

-- o --

Harry groaned as a pillow hit him in the head. "Harry, wake up! We're going to miss breakfast!"

"Ugh. Just five more hours, Ron. Just five more hours."

"Isn't that supposed to be five more minutes?" Ron retrieved his pillow and threw it again.

"Only for those of us who don't know the value of a good sleep in. Go 'way." Harry fumbled for his glasses even as he protested getting up. Pulling on clean robes, he trailed after Ron toward the Great Hall for breakfast, thoughts of eggs already filling his head.

"Potter." Harry snapped out of his egg-filled reverie at the sound of Professor Fletcher's voice. Both boys stopped and looked at Fletcher, whose presence rarely heralded good tidings.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked warily. What could this be about? He couldn't be in trouble yet, he'd only just got up.

"Come with me. Weasley, go ahead to breakfast." There was pain in Fletcher's face, and Harry didn't know what to make of it. He knew that his professor sometimes had painful memories of his time with Voldemort, but what could be causing the expression on his face now was beyond Harry's comprehension. But that pained look told him not to argue.

"Ron, go on. I'll find you in Transfiguration. I'm sure Professor Fletcher won't let me be late for that." Ron looked from Harry to Fletcher and back again before nodding and continuing on his original path, looking back every few feet.

"Where are we going?" Harry followed Fletcher's quick pace, but there was no answer. Soon enough, though, he recognized the route. "Professor Lupin's office? Why? Whatever it was, I didn't do it, I swear."

Finally, Fletcher looked at Harry with distant eyes. "No one's accusing you of anything. Just… try to keep an optimistic mindset." With that, he gave the password to the gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office. "Red Riding Hood." The great stone gargoyle moved aside to reveal a long spiral staircase.

"His password is Red Riding Hood?" Harry was amused.

"Yes, but not for long. Go up. Remember what I told you." Fletcher was obviously done talking. Harry stepped onto the steps, and they began to carry him up. His suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. Something ominous was in the air, and he could feel it.

"Come," came the response to his tentative knock at Headmaster Lupin's door. Harry opened the door and quietly stepped in. His eyes went wide when he not only saw Lupin, but also Arabella Figg, and (which seemed the most foreboding to Harry), his mother. Harry swallowed hard and stood by the remaining empty seat.

"Sit, Harry." Lily spoke up, and the same pain that Harry had seen in Professor Fletcher's face was etched deeply in his mother's. As he sat, his stomach started doing flips.

"What are you doing here, Mum?" He had an idea, but he didn't like it.

It was Professor Lupin who answered. "Harry, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm not going to shuffle around the truth." He paused, as if trying to figure out how to start.

"What? What is it? It's Dad, isn't it? That's why Mum and Mrs. Figg are here. Isn't it?"

"You're entirely too perceptive for your own good. Yes. It's your father." Harry's stomach stopped doing flips, and simply sank.

"He's not… he's not… not…" He couldn't even make himself say the words.

"No, he's not dea…"

Harry interrupted, "But he's hurt! You had to take him to St. Mungo's… Or… or…" Somehow, he felt that if he could come up with it on his own, it wouldn't be quite so bad.

Lily spoke again. "Hush. Let him tell you."

Remus looked to Arabella. She sent him a look back saying clearly, I'm not telling him. Even an eleven year old could read that expression.

Sighing, Remus started again. "He is hurt, but he's not in St. Mungo's. He's…" Remus' throat caught, "in Azkaban."

Harry didn't know that such a howl of denial and rage was possible, and didn't stop to wonder if the whole of the school had heard it when the impossible shriek escaped him.

Mrs. Figg finally spoke up, "He was taken late last night by Death Eaters. We don't know anything beyond that yet. He's alive, though. Voldemort wants him alive."

Harry sat in dumbfounded silence. "How could you let this happen?" was the first thing he could manage to say.

Mrs. Figg looked more pained than even his mother, though how that could be possible, Harry didn't know. "We aren't in the practice of letting these things happen, but that does not mean they never do. We will do what we can for him, but…"

"But there's no hope." Harry was holding back tears.

"I never said that, Harry. I am in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and your father is very important to us. Nearly as important, I daresay, as he is to you. Not only that, he is my friend. I will do all I can to get him out."

"They got Professor Fletcher out."

Lily smiled sadly, "Yes, they did. That means it's not impossible."

"Not impossible." Harry repeated the phrase like a mantra, as tears blurred his vision. He didn't bother holding them back anymore.

-- o --

Returning to the dormitory after classes, Ron found Harry sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up.

"I didn't see you at Transfigurations." Harry only jumped in reply, obviously surprised by Ron's voice. He took a deep breath, and settled back into silence, picking at a thread on his robes.

"I saw the Daily Prophet." Still no reply.

"You want to talk about it, mate?" Harry finally looked at Ron, his face stained with what seemed to be hours of tears.

"No…" Harry whispered. "I don't want to admit it's true."

"I know. No one ever wants to talk about Charlie, either."

"You don't really remember Charlie. I grew up with Dad."

Ron sat on the bed with Harry. "I know. I'm just saying. If you need to talk or anything… I'm here. Hermione's worried, too. Fred, George, and Lee were going to play a prank to cheer you up, and Hermione nearly tore them to shreds. You should have been there. It was beautiful."

"Yeah." There was no strength in Harry's voice. No emotion. It was empty; it was flat. It scared Ron.

"I know, I know, I'm probably just making things worse. You want me to leave you alone?"

Harry stared right at him, even going so far as to make eye contact.

"You know what's worse? Azkaban. It's worse than anything. If they'd told me he was in the hospital, or dead or something, I could get over it. But Azkaban. Do you know what they do to people there?"

"I wish I didn't." Ron was at a loss for words. He wanted to be there, to help somehow, but there just wasn't anything he knew how to do. So instead, he sat silently on the bed next to Harry, giving support by simply being there.

-- o --

The days passed one by one, and the Order of the Phoenix was growing uncomfortable. Those that did not know of Operation: ICEBREAKER were frightened that Voldemort could take someone such as James Potter. Those that did know were far more frightened.

They were the ones that knew that James had walked into hell in order to save them all. Each one thought internally, "I should have gone instead."

But there was nothing to be done for it now. Everyone was affected.

'Bella had snapped at Hestia Jones at least six times a day. While it wasn't entirely unusual for 'Bella to snap at people, Hestia noticed the marked increase, and asked 'Bella why she didn't just get it over with and swear at her already. Remus withdrew into his office at Hogwarts. Snape lashed out at the students more than usual. Dung simply walked around with haunted eyes. No one questioned, no one thought that it was anything other than the loss of a friend.

But they knew exactly into what they'd sent him. And there was nothing to do but wait.

The days passed, and the tension rose.

The days passed slowly, yet the week was over in a blur.

Seven days passed, and James did not return.

-- o --

Lily went straight to Arabella. She found the woman sitting at her desk, trying to look busy, but failing miserably as she held her head in her hands.

"Tell me he's dead."

Arabella looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"

"James. Tell me he's dead." Lily's eyes were frantic.

"I know you meant James, but why that?"

"Because if he's not dead… he's stuck there. The deadline is past. He should not still be there. And we sent him in. And he's my husband and I know that he'd rather be dead than in Azkaban. Any of us would. What did Voldemort do to him? What is he going to do to him? I don't even want to imagine; just tell me he's dead." The words just kept spilling out.

"He's not dead."

"How do you know?" Lily finally sank into a chair.

Arabella walked around her desk and put her hands on Lily's. "We'd know if he'd died. Voldemort would display the body."

Lily started to sob. "Just bring him back alive. I'll take care of the rest. Just bring him back alive."

"I don't know if we can, Lily."

"What will we do?"

Arabella squeezed Lily's hands. "We wait. That's all we can do. We wait."

"Wait? There must be something we can do. Must be."

"What do you suggest, Lily? Walking in there? We'd lose more that way, and we wouldn't get him. He'll be in the high security block. Voldemort has been after him for ten years. That's how we knew this would work. That's how we know he's alive. Voldemort wouldn't have it any other way."

"I just keep thinking… we lost Sirius like this. He thought he knew what he was getting into, too, and he's dead now. Hell, we lost Sirius to prevent this! I just… don't want to lose James, too. Am I being selfish?"

"No, Lily. You're not being selfish. None of us wants to lose him. He's precious to us all." A knock came at the door. "Come in, Remus."

Remus walked in, and before he could question, Arabella said, "Recognized your footsteps."

With a nod, Remus looked at Lily and asked without preamble, "How's Lily?"

Lily looked up. "She's right here. You could ask her directly."

"That bad? You only get snippy like that to cover things up."

Sighing, Lily replied, "Why do you know me that well, Remus?"

"Is there some reason I shouldn't?"

Lily decided to let it drop, and moved onto her main grievance. "'Bella won't tell me that he's dead."

There was no need to ask what she was talking about, or why. Remus knew. "All our information points toward his being alive. I'm sorry. I know he wouldn't want to survive failure on this scale." Remus looked apologetic. Even hearing the word "failure" connected to the operation in which her husband's life hung in the balance nearly sent Lily over the edge of sanity.

Nearly. Composing herself enough to speak again, she managed to ask, "How did it happen, Remus? How did he miss the window?"

"I can't say. There are a hundred variables. We can only wait now."

Arabella piped in, "Told you, Lily. Isn't that what I said?"

"Yes, it is. I don't want to accept it." The tears flowed in silent rivers down Lily's cheeks.

"Lily, 'Bella, I came because I thought you should know that Severus has been unable to find any information on James. It's not exactly uplifting, but it's news. All he knows is that Voldemort is inordinately happy right now." Remus paused.

"What is it, Remus? You have to tell me." Lily's eyes plead for her. "He also said that while passing through Azkaban, he caught a few seconds of screaming. He says it's the like of which he's never heard."

Lily and Arabella simultaneously winced. Remus continued heavily, "We knew where we were sending him; we had no illusions that it wouldn't be hell." He stopped, looked from Arabella to Lily and back again. "I also came to confer with the two of you."

Arabella asked, "About what?"

"Do we tell Harry?"

Lily choked on a sob. "Tell him? He knows, doesn't he? We told him when he was taken…"

Remus laid a hand on Lily's shoulder. "He knows that he's there. He doesn't know that he walked in deliberately. He doesn't know about the wand and the Portkey. He doesn't know that somehow, the plan failed. He deserves to, don't you think?"

Lily looked Remus square in the eyes, and spoke as levelly as she could, even though every word made her feel dirty. She hated lying. "No. Don't tell him. Not yet. He'll hate us for keeping it from him, but let him hold onto the illusion that James went down fighting just a little bit longer."

"If that's the way you want it, Lily, that's the way we'll keep it, but I advise against it," Remus said quietly.

"The way I want it? The way I want it is that James miraculously appears safe and healthy and then I can tell Harry everything. The way it is? Reality never matches what we want. Not in this world.

"Reality is that my husband is being subjected to things that cause him to scream in such a manner that even Severus has never heard. Reality is that there's nothing I can do but sit and imagine what's being done to him, and realize that my imaginings, for once, probably aren't worse than reality, rather that they only scratch the surface."

Suddenly, Remus reached over and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"We all want him back, Lily. And we'll be there for you. In the meantime, we have to go on with life. It's what James would have wanted."

"Don't you dare, Remus Lupin. Don't you dare talk about him like he's already dead."

Arabella cut in. "Lily, no one's giving up on him. He's the strongest man I've ever seen. If anyone can survive, anyone at all, it's him."

Lily had no response, and even if she had thought of one, sobs overtook her ability to speak. Instead, she just cried on Remus' shoulder until she had no more tears left.

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Author's Note (sort of): This can't really be called an Author's note, seeing as how it's only from one of the authors (Robin), but I did want to apologize for the huge delay between PM1d7 and this "chapter." Real life struck, and it's especially hard when you have three authors who are in three separate states—one in school, one working, and one in the US Navy. Being the Navy one, I'm most responsible for the delay, and I do apologize. PM2d8 ought to be up soon, and look for PR30 in the near future.

Oh, and the nifty paragraph breaks are Sara's, even if they didn't turn out right. I certainly can't claim those. And yeah, I fixed the boo-boo. Thanks, Sara.