James remembered the green light, and the memories… and he knew, for a moment, he'd been dead. But he was here, in McGonagall's classroom. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? From the blank faces on the students before him, he had a feeling he wasn't.

His flattened his hands against the desk. Yes, he was real. The wood was solid- as solid as anything. For some reason, the room stayed deathly quiet. James felt himself everyone's eyes on him as he closed his briefly; trying to rid himself of the strange sensation. For some reason, he couldn't look into their wide eyes- anywhere but there. His gaze slid to his right when he froze in place. There he was. The traitor. He looked older, without doubt, and looked tired and ill. But it was still Remus. James didn't even question why his friend looked older. He just recognized the man that destroyed his family. He felt his fingers curl inside his palm, clenching into fists. He killed Lily. He killed Harry… he killed me…Next thing James knew, he was on top of him with a roar of rage.

Remus hadn't seen it coming; James could tell by the startled look on his face. When the man's body hit the floor, it went down with a satisfying thud.

He ignored the look on the students' faces when he did this; this was between Remus and himself. He didn't know why he was here, why Remus was here, and at this time, but he didn't care. James wanted revenge for his wife. For his son. For himself.

"You killed them," he hissed, hand grabbing Remus's throat. "You killed Lily and Harry for no reason! You were our friend!" He disregarded the hurt in his friend's eyes before they hardened. They showed nothing. Now, Remus was truly a monster- he had no feelings.

"You aren't even human, are you? You can't even show emotion." He gripped his grasp tighter, as if to make a point. "You were ready to kill a child. A year old baby. And I was friends with you… I cared for you, Remus. They were innocent- innocent people that showed you nothing but compassion! They were my family, Remus! We loved you-" James stopped mid-sentence when a hand pressed firmly on his shoulder.

Sirius was there… only older. His face was thinned out, almost hollowed, and his hair was unkempt and dirty. He hardly looked like the man James knew. What happened? He wanted to ask, desperately. God, what happened to all of you? When he spoke, his voice rasped from lack of use, but it was still Sirius's voice. "It wasn't Remus," he said, staring straight into James's face. "He wasn't the traitor. Oh, James…" There was a note of desperateness in his voice, an apologetic tone.

"You were." Remus's voice was even, as it always had been. Never breaking, never faltering. Remus, the calm one. "You were the traitor." His eyes never left Sirius's. In the gaze, Sirius could perceive soft sorrow, and at the same time, a question. Why did you do it?

I thought you were our friend.

I trusted you.

We were the strongest bond of brothers.

You seemed so loyal.

Why did this happen?

Why?

He wanted to croak back, "I didn't, I didn't," but he knew Remus wouldn't believe him. No one believed him. How many times had he muttered it in his sleep, then having to live the taunts of the prisoner next cell down?

"Yeh, right ye didn't do nothing," sneered the man, voice rough and coarse. Then a brittle laugh followed, always. "Yer nothing but a coward. Face yer sentence! Yer already here, aren't ye? Not like nothing's gonna change. Ye did it. Ye know ye did."

He tried to ignore it. He laid on the stone floor, watching water fall into rough crevices in the rock. But the man's voice echoed with each drop falling- 'Ye did it. Ye know ye did.'

Finally the man left after a year or so- pausing by his cell door with Dementors flanking his sides. He was just as Sirius pictured him- long, mangled hair, thick beard and yellow teeth. The only thing that surprised him was the cut of his face, angular, yet strong. It didn't belong on such a man.

"Well, I is getting out now," said the man, showing a hideous grin. "Ye is not so lucky. I'll look ye up, Black. We'd be good partners."

Sirius looked out the bars of his prison cell, outside. The air was cool, the night dark and soft. Ignore him; ignore the drunkard, thought Sirius. To his pleasant surprise, he could see the round moon, glowing fluorescently. The only thing that ever showed he still lived on earth.

"Looking at the moon?" he queried, watching Sirius intently. Sirius did not answer. "It's lovely, ain't it? O' course, not to some people," he laughed.

Sirius's head shot up. He had been thinking of Remus, staring at the almost full moon. The man seemed to have read his mind.

"Yer probably surprised to see a person like me think of those things," he said, leaning against the bars. His wrinkled hand curled around an iron bar, relishing the ice cold that stung his skin. "Well, I have a great-nephew with a werewolf problem. Nice lad, but won't make it to society. People like that never do. They're beasts."

The man paused for a moment, thinking. Sirius listened intently, repulsion growing inside of him for the man outside his prison.

"Yep, he's a nice lad," he finished, fingers slowly loosening from the steel. "But a monster anyway. Hate 'im.

"It's been nice chatting with ye, Black. One last word of advice from old Reg, though- Don't keep denying ye did it. We all know ye did. It'll just make things harder."

And for once, Sirius broke. He couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up," he hissed. "I didn't do it."

Reg smirked. "No use denyin' it, lad. Ye killed masses of people, for the Dark Lord. The proof's all there. Ye's a liar as well as a murderer, and ye don't want to add that to the list."

"I didn't!" Sirius jumped to his feet, standing at the bars. "I would never kill Lily or James! It wasn't me! God, would you listen! It wasn't me!" Looking back at the memory, Sirius couldn't believe he had once been so sensitive… but then again, he had only been 20 or so. Too young.

But Reg was already leaving, brittle laugh chortling. "Sure ye didn't, lad," he said, "Sure ye didn't."

"I didn't!" screamed Sirius, letting all feelings loose. Not exactly anger at Reg, but at the newspapers, at Peter, at everyone. "I didn't!"

Sirius ignored the Minister of Magic as he proclaimed Reginald Lupin free. He yelled. He shouted. And for once, Sirius was the madman the papers said him to be.

It was late, when Sirius finally stopped, exhausted. He sunk to the wet, cold ground, letting everything else slip away. It was as if when Reg Lupin had condemned Sirius, Remus had done it himself. That's where had recognized the strong, angular face- Remus.

"Mr. Black?" the voice came out of mist, untying him from his memories. "Mr. Black…"

He remembered where he was now; in the classroom. The classroom of McGonagall's…

This was surreal.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, looking in at everyone he had known so long ago. There was Eric… Eric Cleveland? Sirius tried to remember his last name as he looked across the room. And there was Lynda Chapman, one of Lily's friends, and…

Lily.

Did this mean she was alive? Still here, at Hogwarts?

The thought hit Sirius like he was slugged in the stomach. He looked around at James, trying to see if he had had the same thought, who was standing silently, jaw set. Remus looked extremely ill, whether at somehow being transported into the past, or just the full moon, and Peter was backing up to the corner. The traitor… the miserable little… He had tricked them all. He killed everyone in cold blood, and didn't even…

Before he could stop himself, he had launched himself at Peter, getting a few screams from female students in the otherwise silent room. Peter felt helpless at his hands, like a worm pathetically squirming underneath sturdy foot.

"No," the man begged, face winced in horrid anticipation. "P… pl… please don't… I didn't… I didn't…"

"Stop!"

For a moment, everyone froze. The room was still deathly quiet, Professor McGonagall in the middle of it all, breathing heavily, face white.

Finally, after taking a few calming breaths, McGonagall said, "I don't know what has happened, or why you are all here. But we're going to have to correct this- or at least find the perpetrating cause.

"I'm as mystified as the rest, and, personally, do not know what is happening. But I ask that all of you… whoever you are… to follow me to Professor Dumbledore's office."

For a moment, Sirius considered disobeying. But as he looked at Remus, so tired and ill, at James, who was looking so miserably confused and Peter, cowering on the floor, he realized that he had to be the strong one. The one who would stand up, like James had been before. James knows too little. Peter is too cowardly. Remus is too quiet. Yes, it was up to Sirius.

Before he could open his mouth to reply, Remus had already stepped forward and quietly exited. Professor McGonagall, looking serious and drawn, followed.

Giving a hard look at Sirius, James left too, leaving Peter lying on the ground. But he soon too scrambled up and fled, Sirius left to be alone.

For a moment, Sirius stood shocked. Remus wasn't supposed to do that… Remus would never have done that. Not the Remus he knew, anyway.

Everyone in the room was staring at him with wide eyes. No one dared say word. For some reason, this irked Sirius more than anything else. "What are you looking at?" he rasped.

A few students jumped at the sound, but then relaxed noticeably. Finally, a small voice came from Lynda Chapman, pale blue eyes nervous looking. "Are you really Sirius Black?" she asked.

For a moment, he really considered answering. But, thinking on it longer, what was the point?

He walked out of the room, leaving the children in awed silence.

"I'm betting it was an enchantment, or something like."

"Perhaps the heat it just affecting them?"

"Nah, they've been near impossible the late. Try cutting them, and they grow right back. Ter tell you the truth, I'm gettin' real angry."

"I will look into the subject myself, Hagrid. Are you positive the hedges are charmed?"

"Yup, wouldn't a come here if I didn't think so."

Professor Dumbledore was about to answer, when a sharp rap at the door cut him off. The gamekeeper, Hagrid, turned his shaggy head towards the door, large hands clutching the arms of the chair.

Another sharp knock punctured the silence, barely waiting between raps. Hagrid, glancing towards the door, gave a thought to who it could be. He gave a quizzical look at Dumbledore, who was staring at the door raptly. "Yes?" he said.

Minerva McGonagall entered the room, mouth tight. Four men trailed behind her, men that Dumbledore had never seen before.

"Professor," McGonagall said, hands tightly knitted before her, "We may have a slight problem on our hands."