Disclaimer: This world and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I wrote this purely for entertainment purposes, and have no wish to sell, copyright or otherwise claim any of this content.

As James Disapparated, Remus ducked down and cast yet another shield as curses exploded over his head. Briefly, he considered Apparating out to help James, but the next moment he knew that he couldn't. He needed to stay in Greyback's good graces to help the Order. So, taking a deep breath, he cast a final, strong shield and stepped out from behind the tree.

"Stop shooting, it's me, Remus Lupin!"

To his immense relief, Greyback's followers stopped firing curses, although they did not lower their wands. Remus immediately recognized Keith Winters and Eugene Kingston, and he just barely managed to stifle a groan. Ever since he had arrived five months ago, these two had seemed to have it out for him.

"Who was that man you were with?" Winters growled.

"My cousin, Evan Lupin," Remus sighed. He quickly arranged his face into a look of mild annoyance. "His wife's sick, and he wanted me to come help. I told him no."

"Sure, Lupin," Kingston sneered. "Tell that to Greyback and we'll see what he thinks."

Resigned, Remus let them lead him back to the camp. He was annoyed that they had attacked first and then asked questions, but there was nothing he could do about it – that was their way, and since Greyback approved, they weren't likely to change anytime soon. And as far as speaking to Greyback was concerned, that wasn't unusual at all; Kingston and Winters both made it their business to know everything about the pack and then promptly report it straight to Greyback.

Entering the camp, Kingston and Winters escorted him to the center where Greyback sat lounging in his big chair. "Lupin was out talking with a human," Winters announced with a disgusted look at Remus, as though he had committed the crime of the century. Remus had to resist rolling his eyes.

"Was he, now?" Greyback raised an eyebrow, looking Remus straight in the eye.

Remus didn't blink. "My cousin, Evan Lupin. As I told these two, he wanted me to help with his sick wife. I said no. I might not agree with killing humans, but I wouldn't stoop so low as to help keep one alive." All four of them knew that wasn't true, but words and body-language were what really counted with Greyback – as long as you acted like you agreed with everything he said or did, he didn't care how you actually felt.

Even so, Remus was relieved when Greyback smiled. "Good answer, Lupin. You're lucky I'm in such a good mood, otherwise I might not be so lenient." Then he growled, "Stay out of my sight for the next week, Lupin. You disgust me."

As you do me, Remus thought, although he would never, ever say it aloud. At least not until he could afford to upset Greyback. He bowed slightly, not taking his eyes off Greyback's face, then backed up until it was polite to turn and walk away. Ignoring Winters and Kingston, who were still following him, he strode to the tent he was staying in and, once inside, sunk onto his cot and buried his face in his hands. He sat like that for a moment, then took a deep breath and raised his head. Just before James left, Lily had sent a patronus which had exploded, presumably before it could deliver its message. He hadn't ever seen or heard of a patronus doing that before.

James had left to help Lily. If it was something serious, then Dumbledore should be alerted. He needed to speak with Dumbledore anyway – he was already a week late with his report. Standing, Remus grabbed his bag. Greyback didn't want to see him for a week, and he didn't want to risk being seen, so he would leave. It would be like a vacation, he thought as he threw his spare change of clothes into his bag. Merlin, he needed one of those.

Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he strode out of the tent only to narrowly avoid crashing into Winters. Kingston had disappeared, presumably to go terrorize the prisoners. "Watch where you're going," Winters snapped.

"Me? You were the one standing right outside my tent!"

Winters scowled, brushing himself off disdainfully. "Where are you going, Lupin?"

"Out," Remus replied shortly. He didn't have time for this. "You heard Greyback, he doesn't want to see me. I won't be so foolish as to be seen."

"You're not leaving."

"Watch me." Remus pushed past Winters and strode purposefully towards the woods where he could Apparate out. Although Winters seemed to realize that he couldn't stop Remus, for which Remus was grateful, he still seemed to think that he could threaten Remus into staying.

"If you're not home by morning, I'm telling Greyback."

"You do that." Reaching the edge of the woods, Remus turned to face Winters. "If I were you, though, I'd keep my mouth shut. I wouldn't put it past Greyback to kill the messenger."

Winters glowered, but didn't say anything. Remus turned and walked into the woods, hoping desperately that Winters wouldn't tell Greyback. He didn't need any more trouble with him, but even if Winters did bring his disappearance to Greyback, Remus had other things to worry about. On his list of top priorities Greyback was just barely in the top ten, and then only because Dumbledore had asked: more than once, very politely. Top by far was James, Lily and Harry, then Peter, Sirius, and Dumbledore. And right now he was prioritizing the Potters.

Remus Disapparated to the Hogwarts gate, where he said the password given him by Dumbledore. Once inside on the Hogwarts grounds, Remus made his way up the slope from the lake and to the Great Hall, which was surprisingly empty. Remus paused, listening carefully for the sounds of any students or staff. There were none. Confused, he glanced at his watch. It was 8:00 pm, so even though dinner had ended about an hour ago, curfew hadn't yet begun. There should be at least some students roaming about, especially since it was Halloween night; festivities usually lasted at least until nine, if Remus was remembering correctly. Frowning, he walked cautiously through the silent Hall and started making his way through the corridors towards Dumbledore's office.

The halls were empty as well. Remus found himself taking as many shortcuts and secret passageways as he could, if only to avoid the silence. Reaching the statues guarding the door, Remus whispered the password (Sugar Quill) and glanced back once into the eerily silent corridor before ascending the stairs two at a time. Something wasn't right.

He was about to open the door when he heard voices and, despite his better judgment, he hesitated.

"—sure, Severus?

"Of course I'm sure." Remus stiffened. Even though Snape was in the Order, Remus couldn't help but distrust the man: he suspected that this was primarily due to their enmity while at Hogwarts, but Remus liked to think that he had good instincts. And his instincts told him not to trust Severus Snape.

"You say it faded, just like that?"

"Look!" He sounded tense. Scared. "Dumbledore, you promised –"

"We know nothing yet," Dumbledore said coolly. Then he sighed. "I'm keeping the school in lock down until it's been verified. On your way out, will you tell Minerva that all classes have been canceled for tomorrow?"

There was the distinctive whoosh of the Floo – Snape must have Flooed to the staff room – and then Remus knocked on the door.

"Come in." Dumbledore sounded so tired, Remus almost felt bad for intruding. Nevertheless, he pushed open the door and strode forward until he was standing behind the chair in front of Dumbldore's desk.

"Ah, Remus. It's a pleasure to see you looking so well."

"The same to you, sir. I've come with my report. But first – I need to ask you something."

Dumbledore gestured to the chair. "Of course, Remus. Have a seat."

Remus sat, suddenly nervous. Sitting here before his old headmaster always made him nervous. Absentmindedly tracing the scars lining his hands, he said, "About half an hour ago I was in the woods, preparing to come here, when Lily's patronus – you know, the doe – appeared. It stayed just long enough to take form, then burst apart. I think it was trying to give a message, though. I've never seen a patronus burst like that." Remus looked into the headmaster's eyes, suddenly fearing his response. Patronuses never usually brought good news in these times, but it had just occurred to him what Lily's patronus might have meant: what would happen if the caster was incapacitated before the patronus could deliver its message?

Instead of answering, Dumbledore stood and went to consult one of the many silver instruments lining his shelves. Remus stood as well, nervously watching his movements. Nothing's wrong, you're imagining things. A moment later Dumbledore stiffened perceptibly, then turned and strode quickly to where Remus saw Fawkes sleeping in his cage. When Dumbledore approached, however, Fawkes looked up and stretched, raising his wings and cocking his magnificent head. "I need you to fetch Rubeus Hagrid," Dumbledore said quietly. Fawkes disappeared with a flash, and Dumbledore returned to his desk. Remus was alarmed to see that all light had disappeared from his eyes.

"Sir, what's wrong?"

Dumbledore looked up, and Remus was stunned to see a tear tracking down the side of his long nose. "Remus," he said gently. "You should sit down."

The first thing James was aware of was that his left arm hurt. Badly. So did his left leg and the left side of his face. The alarming part, though, was that it felt wet as well. And he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Rolling over as best he could in the cramped shed they used as an Apparition point, he pushed himself up – on his right side – and immediately regretted doing so as a wave of dizziness rolled over him.

"I want you back in one piece," Lily's words rang in his ears. Damn.

When his vision cleared, he was careful to move more slowly as he carefully, painfully pushed himself into a more upright position and started casting healing and diagnostic spells. As the results from his diagnostics came up, James realized that he was lucky to be alive. He had a long, deep gash on his leg, as well as one from his left temple, past his ear and down on his neck. And, on his left hand, he was missing two fingers. Cursing, James conjured bandages, which he did his best to secure tightly around his wounds. After he checked on Lily, he would have to make a trip to St. Mungo's. Lily would probably curse him herself when she realized he had Apparated out of a duel. If she was all right.

Taking a deep breath, James braced himself against the wall pushed himself all the way up to standing. Then, finding the latch, he pushed the door open and stepped into the abandoned lot across from his house.

For a brief moment, he thought he had somehow Disapparated to the wrong shed. The street before him was filled with muggle vehicles with flashing lights, and behind that was a house with half the roof blown away. James stood frozen, staring at the chaos which surrounded his house, then started forward at a run, adrenaline and fear replacing the pain of his injuries.

Reaching the road, he grabbed one of the muggles standing by one of the flashing cars. She was talking into something that was buzzing on her shoulder, but looked up, startled, when James interrupted.

"What happened?" he demanded, his eyes frantically scanning the scene. "Where's Lily?"

"I need a medic over here immediately," the woman said into her shoulder, then said to James, "It seems there was some sort of explosion here, we were called in by the neighbors. Do you know anything about this place?"

"It's my house," James said distractedly. "Lily – I need to find my wife and son."

A muggle in a yellow jacket appeared at his shoulder. James turned to him, trying to push away the dizziness in his head. "I need to find her – "

"I'm going to have you come sit in the ambulance," the man said. "You're hurt, and I would like to stop the bleeding –"

James jerked away from the man's grasp, his fingers curled around the wand in his pocket. His gaze fell again on the ruined house. It can't have been Voldemort, he thought desperately. We were under the Fidelius Charm, Wormtail would never – the Dark Mark, if he'd been here he would have left a Dark Mark. He pushed towards the house, ignoring the muggles behind him. Lily and Harry were in there, he knew it, injured but alive –

Then he saw the stretcher, set off to the side, draped with a white blanket. The world seemed to slow as James approached it, and the only sound he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest. It was Lily. She was dead. Reaching the stretcher, James braced himself against it and pulled back the blanket with a shaking hand. Lily's still face lay before him, her eyes closed and wisps of hair stuck to her face where her tears had dried. Distantly, James was aware that the man with the yellow jacket was beside him again, talking, but his words were falling on deaf ears. All James could do was stare in horror at the woman he had loved for so long, the woman who had finally said yes, the woman who had loved him back. Lily, gone, dead. He would never again see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her warm body against his.

"– we think it was a gas leak that killed her, then caused the explosion –"

James let his fingers gently caress her cold cheek, smoothing back her hair. Tears were falling down his face, but he didn't care. If Voldemort had done this, and James had no doubt that he had, then that meant that somehow the Fidelius had been broken. Wormtail betrayed you, a voice whispered in James' mind, but he pushed it away. Maybe Peter had been captured, tortured into revealing their location – and now Voldemort had come and killed Lily, and Harry…. Surely his little son would not have survived the Dark Lord's sentence. But he had to be sure: "My son," James said hoarsely. "Harry – where is he?"

"We haven't found anyone else in the house," the man said. "We'll keep looking, though. Can you provide a description of your son?"

But James was shaking his head. If they hadn't found Harry, he wasn't there. Voldemort may have taken him to kill him as part of some terrible ceremony – James took a deep breath, trying to keep his mind from collapsing under the anger and the grief. He could deal with that later. Now he had to find Voldemort, and then he would kill him. Lily was dead, Remus should have been here but wasn't, who knew how or where Peter was – the only person left to James was Sirius. "I need some privacy," James whispered. "Just – just a moment –"

The man looked worried. "You injuries," he began, but James interrupted him. "Please," he said, and the man gave him a helpless look before turning and starting back to the large yellow-and-green vehicle that stood a few yards away.

James knew he shouldn't be Apparating right now, especially when he had just splinched himself. But what choice did he have, really? Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, James focused firmly on Sirius' flat and Disapparated.

He stumbled as he landed, overwhelmed by nausea and dizziness, but he didn't think he had splinched himself again – at least, he didn't think anything major was missing. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, James pushed himself up and looked around. He was in Sirius' flat – he'd Apparated straight in – but it was empty. For a moment James panicked. Surely Sirius was here – surely nothing had happened – Pulling his mirror from his pocket, James cried "Sirius Black!" Trembling, James stumbled back into one of the wooden chairs in the kitchen area and reached up to wipe away the tears that were still streaming down his face. Lily's dead, Harry's gone. "Sirius Black!" There was nothing, and James' fingers tightened around the edge of the mirror. "No, pick up, damn it – Sirius Black!"

And then Sirius' face appeared, looking shaken and almost mad. "James!" he cried, and James saw stark relief spread across his features. "Where are you?!"

"Here," James replied shakily, suddenly dizzy again. How much blood have I lost? "I'm here – your place –"

Sirius' face disappeared from the mirror and there was a loud crack. Then Sirius was there, running forward to fling his arms around James. "Oh thank Merlin," he said after a moment, leaning back and holding James before him so he could look him up and down. "James, I thought you were dead."

"She's gone," James whispered. Suddenly, with Sirius here, he felt it all come crashing down, and he couldn't breath with the weight of it. "They're both gone –"

"I'm so, so sorry."

"I should have waited," James choked. "If I'd – I should have been there. I w-would have killed the bastard."

"No," Sirius said firmly. "No, James, he would have killed you, too. I need you alive. Harry needs you alive."

"Harry's –"

"Alive," Sirius said. "He was silenced, and he had a cut on his forehead, but he's alive, James, and safe. I tried to take him, but Dumbledore sent Hagrid to take him to Petunia's. James –" Sirius' tone sharpened as he fingered the bandages James had hastily applied to his injuries. "You're hurt. You're bleeding!"

James shook his head, trying to stand up. If Harry was alive, then there was only one place he needed to be right now. "Harry," he said, staggering against Sirius, who hastily stood and caught him with an alarmed look on his face. "I need – Harry needs me."

"Right," Sirius said, and James was vaguely aware that something was wrong. Sirius was looking at him funny, and he should know what it meant, but he was too tired, shocked, and too focused on staying upright to pay it any attention. "Right," Sirius said, gripping James' arm firmly. "We're not Apparating, though. I have some emergency portkeys, we'll take one of those. Accio portkey." He pointed his wand at the breadbox on the counter and a saltshaker came flying out of it. The last thing James was aware of was Sirius' firm grip on his arm and the sharp pull on his navel as he simultaneously fainted and was pulled into the swirling whirlwind of portkey transportation.

Sirius stumbled under James' weight when they landed, and only just managed to not drop him. Lowering him swiftly to the floor of St. Mungo's emergency portkey station, Sirius glanced around for help. One of the on-call emergency healer was already there, though, and stepped forward to start assessing the damage.

"What was the cause of injury?"

"I'm guessing he either splinched himself or got hit by a nasty curse," Sirius replied, stepping back to give the healer more room.

"Splinching," the healer said decisively. She banished the bandages that James had apparently hastily applied to himself, and wrapped him in new, clean ones. "Name?" she asked, summoning James' wand and lifting him on a stretcher.

Sirius hesitated. "Evan Greene." He winced as the healer's eyebrows rose in disbelief, but thankfully she didn't press it. Sirius followed as she walked James out of the emergency portkey station, but she stopped him as she levitated James into one of the healing rooms. "I'll ask you to stay here for now," she said apologetically. "I need to patch him up, but you'll be able to come in in a few minutes when I've finished. These aren't complicated injuries, he just needs dittany, some Skell-Grow and a good dose of blood-replenishing potion."

Sirius hesitated, then nodded and sank into one of the chairs outside to wait. He sat still, staring at his hands, trying to sort his emotions. He was devastated by the fact that Lily was dead, that Peter had been the traitor. On the other hand, he was so relieved that James was alive that he felt he might float. He was also terrified, though. Terrified of the feeling that had consumed him when he left the Potter's cottage before, the darkness that had overtaken him and left him without any will except to hunt down and kill Wormtail. He had barely felt the burn of the mirror in his pocket, and had only responded because he thought it might be Peter who had taken James' mirror. In retrospect he realized that this had been an irrational assumption, but he hadn't been thinking very clearly at the time. Then James was alive, but looked like he had aged fifty years in the four hours since Sirius had seen him last. When James had asked to be taken to Harry, Sirius had instead made the decision to take him to St. Mungo's because, as he had rightly assumed, James could barely stand. Harry was safe for the moment, and James wouldn't do him any good showing up unconscious and covered in blood.

For almost an hour Sirius sat in the hall, waiting for the healer to call him in. Idly, he thought it was good he had fallen asleep that afternoon. He knew he wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon, and he needed to be alert for James.

Sirius stood up and was about to approach the door to see if he could see James yet when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the darting movement of someone trying to stay hidden. Danger! His brain shouted, and he hurled himself back into the chairs just in time to avoid a red stunner that flew through the air. Hastily erecting a shield, Sirius peered over the chair he was now using as cover. "Mad-Eye!" he yelled, recognizing his assailant but not lowering his wand. "What the bloody hell?!"

"Hand over your wand, Black, we've got you surrounded!"

"The fuck I will! What are you doing?" Sirius' shield broke as a disarmer hit it, and he hastily erected another. Then he jerked to the side as another stunner burst over his shoulder from behind. Making sure to keep his front shield strong, he threw a returning stunner over his shoulder. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to have hit anyone. This, however, seemed to spur Mad-Eye into action. He started throwing curses and hexes left and right, and it was all Sirius could do to keep himself covered. For a good five minutes he kept himself wrapped in a strong shield, and he was bizarrely reminded of the Auror training program. Though perhaps not so bizarrely, as it appeared half the Auror Office had him cornered.

"Stupefy!" Five spells exploded against his shield at once, effectively shattering it. Then, immediately following, "Incarcerous!"

Sirius tripped and fell to the ground, encased in ropes. "Diffindo," he yelped, but it didn't come even close, instead ripping a long gash in the wall.

"Don't struggle," Mad-Eye warned, approaching him cautiously. Sirius lay still, but his mind was racing to figure out what was going on. At least five Aurors now had him surrounded, and Mad-Eye was treating him like he was a bomb about to explode, to use the muggle term. They were treating him like he was a Death Eater.

Shit.

Sirius experienced a sinking feeling as he realized what was happening. Of course people knew by now what had happened to the Potters, which meant that Dumbledore knew, which meant that he thought Sirius had betrayed them to Voldemort. Damn it!

"You don't know what you're doing," he said urgently.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, Black. I'm taking you straight to Azkaban."