Chapter Six

Severus had - true to his word - started his search at Sirius' flat in London. Black had had this place since he was still at school, since he had run away from his family home - and, though Hogwarts was a few years distant now, there were still so many traces of the boy Black had been littering his home.

There was a Gryffindor banner hanging on the living room wall; potions, transfiguration and charms textbooks lined the shelves; a slightly battered Silver Arrow broomstick was propped up in the hallway, along with a black cloak with silver fastenings that Severus suspected had been hanging on that same hook since the very last day of seventh year.

Memories all of a happier, simpler time - for all of them, including Severus. And stood in the desperate here and now, heartbroken and empty, these fragments of the past felt like slivers of glass cutting into him and making him bleed.

Worst of all though, were the photographs - framed on shelves, pinned to walls; everywhere Severus looked, the four of them had grinned out from the pictures: waving, pulling faces… Severus peered to look at one photo in particular, and the little photographic James flicked vs at him and walked out of the frame.

Severus could not say he was sorry Potter was dead.

But some of these photos contained Lily as well … and that was more than his heart could bear.

...

He picked up a photo that was of just the two of them: Black and Potter. They were standing in the lane, outside the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade - their arms were wrapped around each other's shoulders, they wore identical grins - and matching Gryffindor scarves. They looked like brothers. Brothers wherein one was impossibly handsome and the other was rather scrawny and speccy, with messy hair and a long nose. But it was the closeness that marked them as better than just friends; the feeling of their kinship and connection and love for one another that radiated right off the photo.

Severus frowned. He did not know how it could have come to pass that Black would betray Potter like this. He would not have thought it possible - back when the pair of them used to gang up and torment and humiliate him, they were inseparable. What could have possibly caused that to change?

...

It didn't make much sense - but he found he did not really care. He didn't care Potter was dead and he only cared Black had betrayed him inasmuch as it had killed Lily as well. Had she not been involved, he would probably have been delighted. Now, he was delighting in being the one to hunt Black down, being the one to hand his old tormentor over to the authorities and make him pay for what he had done to Lily.

But looking at photographs would not help him find any clues he needed. He stood in the middle of the room, raised his wand and said 'revelio' - hoping that something hidden would spring up and reveal itself. But nothing happened. If Black had left evidence of his treachery in his home, or a clue as to where he would go once on the run, then he had obviously charmed it so it could not be revealed by magic.

He would have to do this the hard way.

Pushing his sleeves up, Severus had got to his knees, and started to pry up the floorboards.

...

After many hours, and once the room was in disarray - the floors lifted, the couch cushions slashed, every photo taken from its frame and checked nothing was hidden behind it, books pulled from shelves and shaken out to see if anything was pressed between the pages … it had become clear there was nothing that would help Severus here in the living room.

He had moved on to the bedroom.

He frowned when he saw the one framed photograph standing on the bed side table. Not Black and Potter, as he would have expected - but Black and the werewolf.

He picked it up and stared at them - they grinned back and waved. He looked deep into their eyes, wishing he could perform Legilimency on a photograph; bore his way through their eyes into their minds and memories and see what they were hiding. But of course he could not.

Perhaps it was a clue - in and of itself - that he kept a picture of the werewolf beside his bed.

Severus sat down, turned the frame around and dug his nails under the pins, prising them up so he could get to the picture beneath. But once he dug it out, there was nothing else there - just Black's handwriting scribbled across the back: ' me and Moony at Slughorn's Christmas party 18.12.77.'

Moony - what a ridiculous name to give a … well, what an obvious name to give a werewolf.

The photo offered nothing more … but still Severus wondered about it, why this one in particular was the one that Black slept beside, would be the last thing he saw before he went to sleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up each morning. Perhaps there was a clue in that fact alone. Perhaps they were hiding in plain sight - what they were, where their loyalties lay.

...

Although Dumbledore had seemed so grieved by the news of Black's being Lord Voldemort's servant that it was like a wound in his soul, Severus was barely surprised to hear of it at all - apart from his turning on James. Not because he hated Black - although he did. And not because it pleased him to think of Black as a desperate, hunted fugitive with a future in Azkaban - although it did. No, Severus was far too clear sighted and level headed to let himself be swayed by his own dislike. It was the fact that there had always been a darkness to Black - that he had shown signs of even as a boy - that meant Severus could not muster up any surprise at the way things had turned out.

Back in their fifth year, Black had proved he was capable of murder - when he tried to kill Severus, himself. And he had used the werewolf to do it. No doubt Moony was in on the prank.

Potter had not been. It was Potter who had saved his life - pulled him back to safety before the werewolf could tear him limb from limb. But no doubt Black and Lupin had thought themselves very clever. No doubt Black had enjoyed the power of having a pet werewolf he could sic on people. No doubt that was why he kept this photo of the two of them right there. Their true nature out there to see for anyone who cared to look - was wise enough to see. Two teenage murderers, grown to men turned betrayers - and acolytes of Lord Voldemort.

...

Although it seemed unlikely that this photograph could help him in his manhunt - it still felt important - though he didn't know exactly why. And so, rather than discard it, along with all the other pictures he had strewn about the place in the course of his search, he instead opened up his bag, took out his scrapbook and put the photo carefully inside.

Then he got back to searching the rest of the bedroom.

When that yielded no more results, he searched the kitchen and even the bathroom and even went out onto the little balcony and emptied the flower pots. But there was still nothing and - admitting defeat - he apparated away to Lupin's place, to do the exact same thing all over again.

...

But his search of Lupin's home had proven equally fruitless - and for now he had given up and was sitting in a greasy spoon cafe in muggle London, reading The Daily Prophet and ignoring the funny looks the other patrons kept shooting at him.

...

The story he was reading was the one from a couple of days ago - Peter Pettigrew's heartbreak over the Potter's … The thought made him snort in derision. As if Peter's loss even began to compare to his own. As if, if Peter was feeling just one one hundredth of what Severus was feeling, he would be able to sell his stories to the paper.

Loss and grief had hollowed Severus out - but it was private, he shared it with no one - least of all the slavering masses of the wider wizarding world, hungry for gossip.

...

A frown line began to appear as he read - a little wrinkle just above the bridge of his nose. He took a sip of his tea - and a bite of his toast, chewing it carefully as he read some more, considering Pettigrew's words and turning them over in his mind.

Peter was lying. These words - this account - this hadn't been how it was at all. James and Lily had not been firm friends since their first day at school. Lily had belonged to him back then. She had hated James. He hadn't lost her until that fateful day, that fateful word spat out in anger and humiliation … and that had been in fifth year. And even then, even once she was lost to him, she hadn't changed her mind on Potter until their seventh year.

And the idea that Black and Potter had ever been anything but two halves of the same irritating idiot was preposterous.

Well, perhaps it had always been a lie - but it was a lie that only Black, and perhaps his furry little friend, the werewolf, knew about.

Certainly the idea that Pettigrew - of all people - had seen through the act, was truly ludicrous.

No … He took another bite of toast … Little Peter was lying. The only question was "why?" Was it just a self aggrandising attempt to make himself seem more important than he was, now the Potters were famous and Peter was in a position to benefit from that? Or was it more? Did Peter know something more? Did he really know about Black? Had he been in on it from the start?

...

He swallowed his mouthful and reached out for his teacup - still thinking carefully. Maybe he should pay little Peter a visit.


The day after his story had hit the news, Peter had popped into Diagon Alley to buy some fresh quills and ink from Scribullus' Writing Instruments. The middle aged witch behind the counter had recognised him from his photograph in the paper and asked for his autograph.

...

As he walked back down the street, his new quills stored under his cloak, he was hailed loudly by none other than Florean Fortescue, who called him into his ice cream parlour and gave him a three foot high sundae with whipped cream and cherries, on the house and specially enchanted to stay warm and yet not melt for a cold day.

...

When he went into work at the Department of Magical Transport - where he worked for the portkey office, filing the paperwork for requests to create portkeys - everyone fussed around him. There were a bunch of never deflate helium balloons in the shape of hearts on his desk, and some honking daffodils, a plate of chocolate brownies and a large card signed with the well-wishes of everyone in the department; even signed by the Minister for Magical Transport himself.

And best of all, his boss called him into her office and told him he really didn't need to be there and should take a few weeks compassionate leave. The portkey office could manage without him - she told him - he needed time to grieve and to heal.

...

He gladly returned home, to start this unexpected holiday from responsibility - where he found more owls had delivered yet more letters of condolence and more gifts from kindhearted witches who had been moved to tears by his tale of woe.

This was too good to let go, he thought to himself - as he stretched out in his armchair, considering taking a nap, at half past two in the afternoon. One of his hands reached out lazily for a home baked Welsh Cake that a witch called Madam Marsh had sent him from all the way in Abergavenny.

Yes … he didn't want to give this up.

He crammed the Welsh Cake into his mouth in one go and then licked his lips to get the last of the crumbs.

He would have to keep this going somehow. Well… he supposed … he had plenty of stories on James - and on Sirius and Remus. Enough to keep the wizarding world entertained, and satisfy their curiosity, for many a long week.

He would have to send another owl to Rita Skeeter. Offer her something else.

But all in good time … he had a lot of home baked treats to sample right now. He eyed up a parcel of Fig Newtons greedily - sent to him from a Mafalda Hopkirk, along with a lovely, long letter telling him how sorry she was for his loss - and snatched up a whole handful all at once.


Over on the little island of Herm - Sirius and Remus followed the rewriting of their own history with increasing astonishment, as every day an owl would deliver them a copy of The Daily Prophet - and every day Peter would have something new to say.

...

On the Tuesday, they read that Peter and James had been prime troublemakers at Hogwarts, getting into high spirited schoolboy japes on an almost daily occurrence.

...

"James knew no fear, and I would follow him wherever he went…"

...

Sirius snorted, 'well that part's true.'

...

" We would go into the Forbidden Forest - of course Hagrid would chase us back out again - but in we would go, intrepid as ever, looking for all manner of dark creatures who lived there."

"Black would warn against us going. He would watch from the edges - too afraid to go in…"

...

That made Sirius actually bark with laughter.

...

"But longing to follow us. He was always drawn to the darkness - you know. Looking back it seems so clear. He and Lupin would hang on the edges - never quite involved - but desperately wanting to reach out and touch the power of the forest."

"I suppose now, I should have wondered what it was the pair of them talked about while James and I were having adventures and they were left straggling at the back. Perhaps that was the start of the path they are now on."

...

'Well, there we have it,' Sirius said. 'The pair of us have been conspiring to spy for Voldemort since we were back at Hogwarts - too afraid to go into the Forbidden Forest. I read it in the paper, so it must be true.'

Remus picked the Prophet up, looking thoughtful. 'We can't be the only people that know this isn't how it was,' he said. 'Our teachers must remember; the other students… We can't be the only people who know these stories are false.'

But Sirius only shrugged. 'It doesn't matter - not any more. We're wanted men. Everyone will be doing what Peter's doing - changing their memories to match what they now think they know. Doesn't matter how many times they saw me and James go into the forest, or you - for that matter, they'll now be thinking they weren't getting the full picture - that there was more to it than they saw. That they didn't see what they thought they saw - that Peter is telling the real truth. Because we're spies and Death Eaters - and Wormey is the grieving best friend.'

Remus shook his head. 'People won't be that easily fooled. They aren't that stupid.'

'How can you say that? How can you still believe that … after the way they all treat you when they find out what you are? How can you still have any faith in people's sense or decency?'

A tremor passed over Remus' face - and for a moment Sirius regretted his words. He hadn't meant to hurt Moony, or use his condition against him.

But when Remus spoke again, his voice was even and - any emotion he had felt - he seemed to have got it under control. 'Not all people are lost causes,' he said. 'You never abandoned me - when you found out. It didn't change … us.'

They looked at each other - both wondering how the other was understanding Remus' last words. Their eyes met, and they both held their breath - and neither knew what the other was thinking.

...

On Wednesday they read what Peter had to say about all the dark things they had got up to during their school days - while himself and James had looked on in horror.

...

Having heard about Black's lust for darkness, even as a teenager, this intrepid reporter (the one and only Rita Skeeter - whose savage quill has punctured many an overinflated reputation) wanted to find out more about how this had manifested in his school days.

"Well as you know the Blacks are a very ancient, pureblood family - and Sirius was raised to believe in his own superiority because of his birth" says Peter Pettigrew, erstwhile friend of Black and grieving bosom companion of James Potter.

...

Sirius slammed his fists down on the table and got to his feet - kicking his chair away from himself when Remus read that part. Remus looked up in alarm.

'He's using my family against me?' His voice came out as a furious growl. 'He knows how I hated them - how I always hated them. I was never like them. I'm - I'm a Gryffindor! And now he says I'm a dark wizard because I'm a Black?'

'Everything he says is a lie - he betrayed Lily and James and is selling us out for a shot at fame. Is this one lie really any more upsetting than any of the others?'

Sirius took a deep breath, and clenched his fists to control their shaking. 'No - you're right. What else does the little rat have to say?'

Remus rustled the paper and read on.

...

"One could see the way he thought he was better than everyone else in the way he behaved to the other students. The detention records are full of the mean spirited 'practical jokes' he would play on his fellow pupils - cursing them so their heads grew five sizes, using 'levicorpus' to hoist them in the air by their ankle…"

..

'Everyone did that - for a whole term in fifth year you couldn't move in the corridor without dangling from your ankle,' Sirius objected. Remus ignored him and read on:

...

"Bat bogey hexes, making toenails grow really fast, stinging jinxes, cursing children with cat tails or elephant ears … really nasty stuff. Though he and Lupin thought it was hilarious.'

...

' Now that's a lie!' Sirius' voice was back to a growl. 'You always told us off!'

...

"James and I would ask them to stop, would do what we could to undo their bullying little spells - but there was no stopping them. And they would wind up - every Saturday night - in detention together."

...

Remus stopped reading and frowned. 'I still think there are people out there who will know this is a lie. When people think of you, they think of James - not me. It was always the two of you - in detention or anywhere else. You were inseparable. It was always you two - never the two of us.'

Sirius looked at him, and his voice trembled a little as he spoke. 'Sometimes it was the two of us,' he said quietly.

...

On Thursday, they read about how Peter and James had joined The Order of the Phoenix as soon as school was over … and how Sirius and Remus had dragged their feet and only joined in after much cajoling from James.

...

"At the time I thought they were afraid - that they didn't want to fight. It is only now I realise that their reticence came from their real loyalty to the Dark Lord and his monstrous beliefs. I suppose it was You know Who himself who told them to join - who realised their worth to him if they were on the inside. To think - of all those meetings they sat in … of all those friends who died on their information. Lily and James were probably the least of it - the McKinnons, the Prewitts, the Bones … all had links to Black and Lupin."

...

'He's stitching us up for every death of the entire war,' Sirius said. 'Well,' he gave his bark of a laugh, 'you kind of have to admire his audacity. Who'd have thought little Peter would turn out to have the stones to do this?'

But Remus wasn't listening - there was a crinkle above his nose, and his face - always drawn and tired looking - looked even more strained than usual.

'What? What is it?' Sirius asked him - his voice full of concern now. He sat down beside his friend and - instead of answering - Remus handed him the paper, so he could see the end of the article for himself:

...

Although it is known that Black's leanings come from his bloodline, less is known about his partner in crime - Remus Lupin. Lupin is, it appears, a half blood - the child of a muggle mother, no less - and enquiring minds want to know why this half-muggle would swell You Know Who's ranks.

...

'Loads of Death Eaters are half bloods,' Sirius said, 'Voldemort himself - '

'Keep reading.'

...

Come back tomorrow when this reporter (Rita Skeeter - whose incisive investigative skills have brought down many a bloated personality) will give the full scoop on the lesser known of these two evils.

...

Sirius threw the paper away from himself. 'Bollocks to her,' he said. He took hold of Remus' hand and squeezed. 'It's like you said, yesterday - it's all lies anyway. What does one more hurt?'

Remus nodded - and stared down at their joined hands. They stayed that way for far longer than either of them cared to admit.

...

On Friday, Sirius took delivery of The Daily Prophet, putting a knut in the delivery owl's pouch. He took one look at the headline:

Remus Lupin: A Werewolf Exposed

And shredded the paper before Remus could see it.