Chapter 2

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Sunlight, it was the first thing that Serilyn noticed. The second was that she was laying down, was warm, and was covered. Slowly she turned her head and opened her eyes, trying to will away the fuzzy feeling that had taken over.

Next to her was an empty bed, several beds actually, all neatly spaced with a night table beside each one. Further down was the source of the sunlight, a window. A rather large window, that started about halfway up the wall, and almost reached the ceiling.

'That must be quite the chore to keep clean,' she mused.

Turning her head to look at the other side of the room, she saw more empty beds and a set of double doors. The room was sparsely furnished, yet eerily familiar, and Serilyn was reminded of the hospital wing of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She hadn't been there often as a child, only when her brother was seriously hurt during one of the many quidditch matches he had. But still, the few times she had been this is what it had looked like. The only thing needed to make the room complete was Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwart's medi-witch ...Hogwarts!

It all came back to her, her family, the three masked men, the running, her sister's children.

Panicked Serilyn threw the covers off and sat up, knocking over a glass on the night table beside her. Pulling open its drawer, she looked in hoping to find her clothes. Empty, damn it. Standing now, she began to walk to a door at the side of the room, just as the door opened.

A relatively small woman, with gray hair and a kind face, came bustling out. Hogwart's medi-witch, Poppy Pomfrey.

"Ah, awake now are we? Come back to bed now, you still need to rest." Poppy said while leading her, by the arm, back to the bed.

"Madam Pomfrey, you couldn't possibly remember me, but I need to see Professor Dumbledore." Serilyn protested. Her relief at realizing she was in Hogwarts was tempered with grief and anxiety over what had happened to her family.

"You're right, and I'm sorry I don't remember you, but that doesn't change the fact that what you need right now is to rest. Dumbledore knows you're here. For now lay back and try to sleep."

Doing as she was told, Serilyn lay back and tried to rest. After all, even if she left, she had no idea where the Headmaster's office was, and was more likely to get lost than she was to find it.

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Closing the door quietly, Remus made his way across the hall and down to the kitchen, being careful not to wake the sleeping portrait. A screaming Mrs. Black was the last thing he needed or wanted at the moment.

The full moon had been two nights ago and Remus was still feeling a little drained, but he didn't let that stop him from taking assignments to help the Order. Voldemort and his followers didn't rest after the full moon so neither would he. At least Remus wouldn't rest for very long, taking only a day to allow himself to recover from his monthly transformation.

The death eaters had been increasing their attacks, but were disguising them as "accidents." Or at least the Ministry was. Minister Fudge still refused to even consider that Voldemort might be back. Resulting in stories being invented so there was no panic, whether this was simple denial on the Minister's part or an inadequacy base on fear was anyone's guess. When brooms that had been tampered with so they fell apart when they reached 75 feet, they were said to have been "faulty assembly." An audience stand that had fallen apart during a regional quidditch match was blamed on a "structural malfunction." The death toll was nearing 100 and still nothing was being done.

Now the death eaters were upping the ante and attacking people in their homes, so it would seem.

It had been a little over a week ago that a family had been attacked. Their house had been burnt to the ground, though it was unknown whether the family had been alive or not when the fire was set. The only body not mangled was that of a little boy, about six or seven years old, found a kilometer from the house. All the others were listed as being deceased. Though there were not enough remains to tell exactly who had been in the house so the authorities were relying on "witness reports." Neighbours who knew the family's nightly routine and had seen each and every one of them enter the house.

Muggle authorities had been all over the house in the past week, making it impossible for anyone from the Ministry or the Order to get close. Ultimately, with a little help from the Ministry, the fire had been ruled "accidental." A story perpetuated in the magical world as well. It had made the front page of the Daily Prophet, 'Tragic accident kills muggle-magical family.' Tonight Remus had finally been able to gain access to the house.

He was charged with looking into any spells that may have been cast within the house and determining how many people had been inside when the fire was lit. As it was they were assuming that everyone had perished. None of the family had been spotted since the fire.

Looking around had made Remus slightly nauseous. The charred remains of the house gave him a clear picture of what the people inside would've looked like. It was all too easy to remember another house, another family, another life that had been torn apart. After all these years the deaths of Lily and James Potter was no easier to deal with than when he had first found out what had happened to them.

This family had been magical-muggle mix. Dylan Fairchild had married Madalin Beauvais, a muggle woman, a couple of years after leaving Hogwarts school, while on a tour of France. Together they had had three children. Gerard, a top aurora at the Ministry, Stephanie, who was one of the youngest potions masters in recent history and Serilyn, who was born with no magical ability whatsoever.

Dylan had been an active member of the Order during the first war, doing reconnaissance missions while maintaining his job with the Ministry as the top financial advisor. His skill in obtaining information for the Order had been unparallel. This time around Dylan was retired, wanting to spend time with his family and simply enjoy life in his old age, but apparently his work hadn't been forgotten, nor forgiven.

Now, after having surveyed the house, all Remus wanted was a stiff drink and a good night's sleep. Well at least as much sleep as an insomniac werewolf could get.

"Finally back." Sirius said. Remus' lycanthropy enhanced all his senses, especially before and after a full moon, and he could see Sirius sitting at the kitchen table shrouded in darkness and well into a bottle of fire whiskey. He didn't look inclined to share.

"I had a lot to go through, it took a while. What happened to the lights?" Remus asked.

"It matches my mood." At Remus' look he continued. "I can't go anywhere, so I might as well enjoy the things I can do." Sirius gestured to the bottle.

"And what if Harry needs you? How are you supposed to be able to help him if you're inebriated?" Remus asked, Sirius snorted.

"'Inebriated.' Leave it to you to use the big words. I can't help him. My godson is not allowed here and I'm not allowed to do anything else. I can't even tell him what's going on."

"He's not here yet, and you can't go out because– " Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes someone might recognize me. I know. I'm completely useless, no need to rub it in." Remus sighed and turned toward the door. Getting into an argument with Sirius when he was drunk and in this mood solved nothing.

"No one here thinks you're useless, you know that." Remus shook his head. "Goodnight Sirius." He said before heading up the stairs. He took Sirius' muffled response to be a 'goodnight' and sighed. Lately Sirius had been in a depressed funk and nothing Remus said or did seemed to help.

The trip up the stairs and into his room seemed to take forever and the sight of his bed made Remus realize just how tired he was. Still, he took the time to write his report to Dumbledore before carefully folding his robes and setting them on the chair and getting into bed, trying to clear his mind so that sleep could take him.

An hour later, Remus was still awake, and then it hit him. One of the women on the front page of the Prophet was the same woman he had brought to Hogwart's hospital wing and had sat with. Admittedly, she looked much better in the photograph, but it was her just the same. There was a survivor. Getting out of bed, Remus went to his desk and got a piece of parchment. He had to tell Albus.

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