- - Chapter Two - -
Remus awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and ready for the day. He silently thanked the makers of his pain and healing potions for them doing their jobs so quickly and effectively.
Something, however, kept him from feeling his normal post-transformation self. He hadn't forgotten the dreams he'd had the day/night before. He had, however, forgotten when he'd covered himself with the blanket that was now draped over his waist. That's what had happened in the dream; someone had covered him with a blanket. Not just someone, though. Peter.
In that first dream, Wormtail, his old friend- his old dead friend- had been there. He'd covered Remus with a blanket, and apologized for something. Remus didn't understand what he was apologizing for; he had nothing apologize for.
That one was almost as disturbing as the second one.
Almost.
Remus got out of bed, picked out his tattered clothes for the day, and headed for the bathroom for a warm shower. A nice, warm shower always seemed to clear the werewolf's mind. He peeled off his pajamas, and turned the water on. Once it was the desirable temperature (hot, but not too hot), he stepped in. Thoughts began to immediately surface his mind.
What if it wasn't a dream? He wondered. What if they really did switch?
Remus also hadn't forgotten the wolf picking up the scent of Wormtail two nights before. And Remus was positive the wolf wouldn't make a mistake like that. No matter how much he missed his friends, no matter how many times he'd try to remind himself that they were dead (in one way or another), the wolf knew the scent. There was just no mistaking it.
But it still didn't make any sense, whatsoever.
He'd have to discuss this with somebody. Somebody who wouldn't automatically think he was mad and book him a bed at St. Mungo's. Somebody who would listen to Remus' insane sounding story, and, perhaps, give some intelligent insight. Whatever this somebody would believe, Remus had to know whether or not he was losing his mind.
And he knew just the right somebody.
Albus Dumbledore.
With his mind made up, Remus quickly finished his shower and dressed. He headed straight for the fireplace, picking up the glass jar of Floo powder off the mantel. Remus threw a small handful of the greenish-blue powder into the fireplace, and said clearly, "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office."
Remus stuck his head into the whirl of flames and waited for the spinning to stop. Once it did - ignoring the dizziness the Floo travel had caused - Remus looked around the office. It hadn't changed a bit from the last time he had seen it over three years ago. The room was as grand and impressive as ever.
Sitting at the desk, writing on a piece of parchment, was the man Remus needed to speak to. He obviously hadn't noticed the werewolf's head in his fireplace, which struck Remus as odd; Dumbledore always knew what was happening at Hogwarts.
Remus cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Headmaster. Sorry to interrupt."
Dumbledore's head whipped up from the fireplace quickly. The twinkle in the old man's blue eyes was very prominent.
"Ah, Remus. What a pleasant surprise," he said as he walked to the fireplace and knelt down to Remus' level. "What can I do for you on this lovely summer's day?"
"Good morning, sir. I was wondering if I could have a word with you." Remus suddenly felt quite uncomfortable, and not from his position in the fireplace. "It- er- concerns Peter Pettigrew, Sir."
Dumbledore seemed slightly taken aback by the choice of topics his former student had chosen to discuss, but he smiled nonetheless. "Of course, my dear boy. Come on through." He stood. "And do, please, call me Albus." His eyes continued to twinkle.
Remus laughed slightly and pulled himself fully through the fireplace. He followed Dumbledore to his desk and sat in the chair across from the Headmaster's, as he was indicated to do.
Remus watched as Dumbledore began silently making tea. Once it had finished, he poured the tea into two cups, and handed one to Remus. Remus smiled in thanks as Dumbledore sat, reached into his cloak, and pulled out a small bag of yellow candies.
"Lemon drop?" he asked kindly.
Remus laughed and took the offered candy. He, James, Peter, and Sirius had all become quite addicted to these candies in school. Every time McGonagall would bring them before the Headmaster, he would offer them one.
Once both men had enjoyed their odd combination of tea and lemon drops, Dumbledore began the conversation. "So, Remus, you wanted to speak to me about Peter Pettigrew?"
Remus sighed, trying to think of a way to tell Dumbledore about his 'dreams' without the old man thinking he was out of his mind. But Remus quickly reminded himself that Dumbledore could be slightly out of his mind when he wanted to be. His obsession with Muggle candies was quite absurd...
"Well, sir, it's not just Peter that I wanted to discuss - although he is a large part of it." He began. Dumbledore nodded for him to continue. "It pertains to Peter, as well as Lily, James, and... Sirius." Dumbledore sat up further in his chair. Remus continued once more. "You see, the other night, during the full moon. I - the wolf, I mean - picked up on a scent. It was Peter's scent. And I know he's dead, but, sir, I know it was him." Dumbledore looked into Remus' eyes, searching him, and, after a moment, sighed and nodded. "Well, the next afternoon, I had a couple of strange dreams. At least, I think they were dreams."
He explained the first dream in which Peter had entered Remus' home, covered him with a blanket, and apologized for... something. That when he'd awoken that morning, he had indeed been covered with a blanket. Remus had intentionally not told Dumbledore about seeing the rat in the window; Dumbledore had no idea that Peter, James, and Sirius were illegal Animagi.
Once he finished his recollection, Dumbledore sat forward with his elbows on his desk, fingers crossed under his chin in deep thought. Quietly, he asked, "How do you know it was Peter's 'scent' that the wolf smelled?"
Remus jumped a bit at the question. He couldn't tell the Headmaster about the Animagi, or about how on every full moon, the four Marauders explored Hogwarts grounds, and later Hogsmeade. If Dumbledore noticed Remus' hesitation, he hadn't said anything. "Well, I suppose it's because of my heightened senses from being a werewolf. I shared a dorm with Peter for seven years, and I just know his scent." Yeah, that would work. He thought.
Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. You mentioned there was another dream?" Remus let out a small, barely noticeable, sigh of relief for the lack of questioning and told Dumbledore of the second dream. About Sirius suggesting Lily and James switch Secret Keepers; how Peter actually became Secret keeper.
"It just seemed so real. It was clear as day - as if I was really there. Like in a Pensieve. And I know that isn't possible." The two wizards sat in silence for a few moments, each collecting their thoughts, before Dumbledore spoke.
"Remus, do you believe Lily and James switched Secret Keepers before they were murdered?" he asked.
Remus sighed deeply. "I just don't know, Sir," he replied, shaking his head. "I mean, it could have been possible. If they had... that could only mean Peter was the spy, not Sirius. Peter was the one to betray Lily and James to Voldemort, not Sirius. But I wouldn't know how to explain what happened the next day. Peter tracking down Sirius like that. Unless it was the other way around. Unless Sirius tracked Peter down." Remus shook his head again. "But what about the Muggles? What about Peter? Well, I guess I could explain Sirius murdering Peter; Sirius always was one to seek revenge..." he thought aloud.
The mysterious, comforting twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes was long gone. When it had disappeared was anyone's guess. But now, Remus could see no trace of it. And for the first time in nearly five years, Remus saw how old Dumbledore was.
"There may be a possibility, Remus," the Headmaster began, "that these dreams weren't dreams at all. That these scenarios may have actually occurred. Was there any evidence showing that anyone had been in your home yesterday afternoon?"
Remus thought for a moment. "Other than the blanket, no. But I could have just covered myself without remembering." Dumbledore nodded, but remained silent in thought.
Remus knew - even if he did not want to believe it - that there was truly only one way to find out the complete truth, one way to solve the mystery that had erupted in his mind.
Maybe it was all just in his mind. Maybe he had been so desperate and lonely for five years he had made it all up. He supposed the scent could have been a memory of his friend. The rat in the window with the missing toe could have been some ordinary garden rat.
The other half of his mind was having a similar, yet completely opposite debate. The dreams had been so real. It was a definite possibility that Lily and James switched Secret Keepers. If they did, and switched to Peter, it also made sense - especially if Sirius was convinced that Remus was the spy.
Sirius was right about one thing: Nobody would ever suspect little Peter Pettigrew to be chosen as Secret Keeper. The small, pudgy boy who feared all Slytherins, Secret Keeper? Hell, at times Peter feared his own bloody shadow! The three of them - James, Sirius, and Remus - spent much of their spare time defending Peter from bullies in Hogwarts.
But Peter grew up, a voice told Remus. He grew up and started disappearing at the oddest times.
That's true, Remus thought back to himself. One occasion in particular stuck out clearly in Remus' mind.
Harry had just been born. The four Marauders were gathered around the new born viewing window trying to catch a glimpse at Prongs Jr.
Out of nowhere, Peter exclaimed in that squeaky voice he used when he got nervous that he had forgotten to do something for his mother, and that he would be back later.
Now that Remus thought more about it, Peter did begin to do that a lot after graduation. But how had nobody noticed he was doing it? The answer was quite simple: Nobody really paid much attention to Peter Pettigrew. And in the year before the Potters' deaths, 'nobody' had come to include Peter's friends.
But, why would Peter turn spy?
Power?
Peter never had power over anything. His mother controlled his entire life up until the day he died. Everything from what he was wearing on any given day, to where he would work.
Popularity?
That had always been James and Sirius' department. The two most popular guys at Hogwarts. Best at Quidditch, best in classes. They even got the girls they wanted.
Even Remus was able to share some of the popularity spot light with Prongs and Padfoot. Peter, however, was the 'forgotten' Marauder; the tag along.
Respect?
Ha. That's a laugh. Peter rarely received respect within the group. Remus tried his best, but sometimes Peter could be so... stupid. Sirius cut him down on a daily basis, but insisted he was just joking. James didn't help matters much before seventh year. But perhaps that would have been too late?
Perhaps Peter would have turned spy to accomplish something the others hadn't?
He was never bright, or athletic. He'd never scored high on any test; a passing grade was a huge success to the boy. Nor was he on the Quidditch team (unless you count 'equipment manager' - James had given Peter the title when he was made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain in sixth year.).
Peter would have made the perfect spy. Nobody noticed him. He never spoke in crowds unless spoken to, unless it was to one of his fellow Marauders. He could wander around in his Animagus form through conversations. He could have easily passed secrets onto Voldemort without the others knowing.
Remus' stomach clenched painfully. It was all starting to make sense now- in his mind, at least.
There is a way to prove this all, you know. The voice was back.
Lost in thought, Remus didn't notice Dumbledore gazing at him over his half moon spectacles. After another moment, Remus finally realized he was being watched, and looked up at the Headmaster.
"What is it you would like to do with this information, Remus?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
There is no other choice... I have to know! Remus thought.
With a heavy sigh, wondering if this was, indeed, the right thing to do, Remus spoke. "I would like to go to Azkaban, and speak with Sirius. Is there any way you could arrange that, Sir?"
Remus noticed a small trace of the Dumbledore twinkle in the old man's eyes for a split second. "Are you free this afternoon, Remus?"
Evelyn groaned as she stirred from her bed. Something was bouncing on her bed. She reached out, hearing a squeal of laughter and smiled, drawing the warm, tiny body to her own.
"What are you doing in my room?" She whispered into her son's small ear. He was small, yes, even for a five year old,. going on six. This was because he was nearly always sick. And when he wasn't sick, he was in one way or another injured. They traveled, her job as part of a research team searching for cures taking her to some remote locations. She took Galahad with her.
But only a few months back, she thought her world would have come crashing down. It was his screams of pain and terror that had caused the camp to wake in the late morning. They found him, a curled up ball, and a large black...something over him. When she had used the Killing Curse on it, she felt her soul tremble. But it wasn't for the use of the Unforgivable.
It was seeing her son.
His back had been virtually sliced up. And he had a deep gash on his chest, and teeth punctures on his right neck. She had scooped him up and turned on the spot, rushing his as fast as her magic could take her to St. Mugo's. And there she had stayed for nearly a month, waiting for her son to leave his coma like state.
A breakthrough had come when the strange flower he must have found, an odd cross between a bell flower and a lily orchid, had been brought into the room. She didn't know why, but its exotic smell had drawn Galahad, screaming and thrashing, out of his nightmares.
It was with some carefulness that she hugged her son, hearing heavy breathing coming from him. She opened her eyes, seeing Montgomery standing over her bed. He held a few presents in his hands, his gaze taking them in as if it was a gift he would cherish. He was her uncle, her son's grandfather. Her son had a veritable shirt of bandages as he sat up, gently folding his arms about her hands. She sighed, noticing that a large dark spot on the back meant something had broken again. The skin was soo weak. She wondered if a few potions could toughen up his immune system.
"By the way, Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore are downstairs...They wish to speak with you about him..." Monty said. When his eyes failed to flicker to her son, she figured he meant her ex husband. The man set to marry her before he went off chasing innocent men and mass murderers.
"Why are they trying to ruin my birthday?" She asked in a pouty voice.
"They seem to believe he is innocent...You should go and listen to them."
She sighed. She hated it when he spoke with her like that. He was so kind and nice. A perfect gentleman. A black sheep of the Prince family because he had been sorted into Gryffindor. Her grandmother had disowned him, and he had married young. When her father killed his wife, Monty had sought refuge with Albus, who set him up with some work for the Ministry. It was he, Montgomery Monty, who had found a possible cure. Of course, they had miles of research before the experimental potion could be used by anyone. Too many kinks in it to work out. She sighed, sitting up. She felt the blankets fall to her waist, pooling there. She knew she was dressed. She liked the warmth of clothes in Monty's unusually cold house. It seemed odd, but then, they did live close to Scotland, so it only seemed natural that his house was very drafty.
"Okay..." She sighed. "Galahad, why don't you go help your grandfather entertain our guests?" She asked. He seemed very wet haired for a young boy. "Did he change these himself?"
"No..." Galahad said, in a soft voice. "Grandpa Monty used a drying spell on them...I took a bath with them on."
She smiled, hugging him close. The wince made her lessen her grip. Her son still seemed to have problems. "Good..." She growled into her neck. "Go be a good boy..."
"Yes, ma'am..." he whispered, hugging her. He removed a present from the pile, placing it on the bed.
When he left, Monty smiled.
"He picked it out all by himself..." he said mysteriously before leaving her to open them and get dressed.
Curious, she unwrapped it with a tap of her wand, summoning clothes from her open closet. She laid them out, walking bare foot over to the bathroom and running the shower til it was warm.
When she was done with her quick shower, she opened the shoe box. She smiled to herself. It was a very ornate hairband. It had a few small semiprecious jewels set into its gold and silver band around the elegant feeling mahogany. Monty must have paid for it. And handsomely. She frowned. Why a hairband, she wondered. Than she looked into the mirror and giggled. Duh. She slipped it on, smiling to herself. If it was something she was proud of, it was her son's ability to pick appropriate gifts. the jewels seemed to match her prettiness.
The other two were potions texts. At least. That's what she thought. Than she found a beautiful ornate locket hidden in the text from her uncle, who had used a clever cutting hex to burrow out a small 'compartment' in the old potions text he still had from school. She smiled. A few sticking charms insured it was a perfect container. She smiled to herself as she dressed, slipping it on.
She knew who sent the other, real, potions text. His neat handwriting made her frown slightly. The man she kept on the boarders of her mind was a teacher up at the school, Hogwarts.
When she came down, she saw her son was sitting at Albus' feet, listening to him talk with his grandfather. They were discussing something about the next research expedition.
"Ahh!" Albus stood. "the birthday girl herself..."
"Remus..." She hugged the man, kissing him on the cheek.
"I didn't get you anything...Sorry..." He flushed.
"Being here is enough..." She smiled. "Albus...I know you remembered..." She smiled. He presented her with a small envelope.
"What is this?" She asked, opening it before squealing. "Tickets to the Opera House!"
She hugged the man, who chuckled, catching her and patting her on the back. Evelyn had shown an interest in the Opera House near London, a muggle theater where large woman and stout men sang in old languages.
"What showing is it?" Remus asked curiously.
She showed him.
"Hmm...Merlin..." He smiled. "How suspiciously coincidental..." he siad, giving Albus a look that made him grin sheepishly.
"What about Merlin?" Galahad asked, clinging to Evelyn's leg as she ruffled his hair.
"Its from the muggle stories I've been reading you, Galahad..." She smiled, lifting him up and kissing him on the cheek. "You remember, right? About King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table?"
Galahad smiled, nodding.
"Evelyn, you haven't been reading him those stories, have you?" Albus chuckled. "You're mother gave me that book...Said it was a travesty of the truth."
"I know..." She smiled. "But they have morals hidden in them..." She kissed her son. "Thank you for the hair band...Its perfect."
Galahad blushed, hugging her and burying his face into her neck.
"I know you didn't come here to wish me a happy birthday, Albus...What is it?" Evelyn asked as she sat down, gently setting Galahad down as he curled up around her, his eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep.
"What happened to him?" Remus asked, nodding to the bandages. Alex had forgotten to wear a shirt before he had come bounding down to talk with Uncle Albus and Uncle Remus.
"He was attacked a few months back. You must have read about it...I'm pretty sure that foul witch Rita Skeeter got in a few parting shots at me about not being responsible enough."
"What did you do to her to cause her to hate you?" Albus asked, smiling.
"I merely corrected her about something is all...Foul witch..." She huffed. "What are you really here for, Albus...Its not about Galahad. Its about him."
The sparkle was snuffed out as Albus seemed to age, sighing.
"Remus here has had a few...revelations, one may call them, if you wish...dreams as he likes to call them." Albus said, nodding to Remus.
"You remember how Sirius was always fretting about Lily and James' life after we figured out that Voldemort was picking us off one by one..." He said, shifting. "Well...I had a few weird dreams last night...I wondered if you wanted to come with us to Azkaban this afternoon."
"No." She siad shortly.
"If you truly believe him to be a traitor, Evelyn, as we all have, than please, at least tell him your feelings to his face." Albus pleaded.
"No." She said again, this time more coldly. "That...man...walked out of my life for good..." She said hotly. "If he wants to, he can come crawling here on his hands and knees for all I care...Though, I doubt he'll be able to...Those Azkaban Guards don't let anyone out."
"Evelyn, he could be innocent...Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Remus asked with something of impassioned curiosity. "I know you two didn't part on the best of terms."
"If you want to call it that..." Evelyn said. "When he left this house, he said he was going to check on Lily and James...Then Peter..."
"That's who we think did it." Albus siad quickly. "We think Peter was the actual spy."
"Don't waste my time, Albus..." She siad, rising and gathering her slumbering son in her arms. He rose, too, and rested an old hand on her arm. She started, glaring at him coldly.
"Let. Go. Of. My. Arm." She siad very slowly and very clearly.
"For me..." He whispered. "He still loves you."
A few flickering emotions past before her eyes before she seemed to cave in.
"Fine..." She whispered.
"Excellent..." He murmured. "Montgomery...I do hope you aren't very busy...I daresay Minerva would like a visit."
A soft chuckle and Evelyn relinquished her death grip on her son. He was gently leaning against Monty's chest.
"I'll protect him, Evie...Just go and find the closure you need..." He whispered, pulling her into a hug as she seemed on the verge of tears. He tapped the locket around her neck. "Look into it if you doubt your heart..." he whispered.
She nodded.
Albus and Remus remained silent thorough the exchange. If it had taken any worse toll on anyone, it had to be Evelyn and little Galahad. He was Sirius' son, by blood and Evelyn was set to marry him. How could this monster, this thing from nightmares, still be reeking havoc, even after his long demise five years previous?
"Come..." Albus sighed. "We have a long way to travel, and I daresay, we shall all need some chocolate at the end of this."