Disclaimer: Pellakanoiel and Telmerethiel own only their warped minds and two pairs of underwear. Everything else belongs to Joss Whedon or miss J. K. Rowling. Bless those wonderful people!
A rather quick update, this one. As authors, our own critique against our selves is that we must be careful not to rush along. So many ideas are rolling in our heads, we find it hard to take our time and enjoy each chapter.
Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback! Individual thanks may be added in later chapters, but this update is just a quickie. We tend to have short chapters. We hope no one minds. Please review either way and share your thoughts!
Although Dumbledore had witnessed it several times in his long life, he still found it difficult to reconcile the imposing figure of the half-giant Hagrid with that of the blubbering half-man in front of him. Rubeus had always had heart that more than matched his large body. At the moment, the giant sobbed as though that very heart had broken.
"I tell you, sir, they were gone!" he bellowed, the grief echoing within the small office. Fawkes the phoenix, unmoved by the emotional plight, ruffled his feathers in displeasure at being disturbed. Even several stodgy, old Headmasters grumbled in their frames.
Dumbledore allowed Hagrid's tears to flow for a few moments more, seeming to not notice the annoyed individuals around him. He had found neither potion nor spell was a match for a good bout of tears. When the sobs slowly drifted into hiccups, the patient wizard politely offered a rather garish handkerchief, splashed vibrantly with clashing colors. Hagrid took it gratefully, and proceeded to further disturb the peace with loud snorts and honks.
"Now, dear boy, you will have to forgive this old man, for I am afraid I do not quite know what it is you are talking about." The Headmaster bestowed Hagrid with a very kind smile that soothed his raw nerves. "Perhaps you should start from the beginning, whenever that may be."
Hagrid took a deep, fortifying breath. He felt worse than the day of his expulsion. "I went o'er to the Potter's this evening," he began, barely holding back a fresh wave of emotion. "I had hoped to find Sirius Black there. I've been trying to work out a deal with him, ya see, to borrow that fancy bike o' his. And everyone knows that the best to find any one o' that group is the Potter's." Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, ever the polite audience. It was indeed well known of the friendship between Lupin, Peter, Sirius, and James. Unfortunately, that had not worked in their favor with the dark lord rising. Where one was, the others were to follow, making them an easy target.
"Well, professor, sir, when I got there... they... were... GONE!" Hagrid's wail pierced the stone walls of the castle, waking young students and starting afresh the rumors of the Shrieking Shack. Even the Bloody Baron found himself drifting faster towards safer, more remote sections of the ancient school.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts was the only person far removed from his visitor's cries. He had lived long, and had dealt with many sorrows over the years. This, however, was by far the gravest tidings he had received since he had taken his position as head of the wizarding school.
"It is imperative that you calm yourself, Rubeus," stated Dumbledore. He had not yelled, but the look in his eye quieted the weeping man immediately. "I am deeply sorry that you should have this responsibility put upon you, but I must know exactly what you saw. Was the lock broken? The door smashed apart?"
Hagrid's brow furrowed in concentration. He felt the importance of the situation weigh heavily upon him. Dumbledore rarely ever asked for anything, and when he did, only a fool would not comply. "No, professor," he finally said. The door wasn't locked, but it wasn't forced open.
Dumbledore nodded silently, but looked more troubled than before. His mind shifted quickly through possibilities, discarding some, holding tight others. "Did you search the entire house?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you found no bodies?"
Hagrid, fearless in the face of ferocious beasts, paled at the very thought. Had he stumbled across the dead bodies of James and Lily Potter, her knew without a doubt the rest of his days would have been spent languishing in St. Mungo's. "No, sir. No bodies. No anything. Just dirty dishes. It looked like they had simply run off, leaving everything a mess."
Dumbledore paced across the wooden floor, his mind working in ways even the brightest Muggle could not conceive. James and Lily were far too responsible to take off without notice. And if Hagrid was the first to discover them missing, it was safe to assume Remus, Sirius, and Peter were gone as well. But were they dead?
The greatest wizard of his day stopped his pacing and gazed upon one of the many magical artifacts populating his room. Voldemort wanted the Potter's dead, that was for sure. Aurors were on the top of his list. But as a man, Tom Riddle had always been a braggart. Had he managed to best any one of those powerful wizards (or witch), he would have left their mutilated bodies to be found, or even announce it himself. No, the situation was not entirely the dark lord's style.
For a mere second in time, Albus Dumbledore allowed his shoulders to sag and his heart to feel heavy. Though he adored each of his students, the Marauders (as he knew they enjoyed calling themselves) had always held a special place. Their disappearance was a great blow. It was yet another tragedy to add to the many of this era. He felt almost as though he collected them, as Arabella Figg collected cats. If only he had chosen a different path. Perhaps then he would have found himself light on tragedy but laden with woolen socks instead.
The second in time passed and the Headmaster stood strong once more, with only the keen eyes of the phoenix bearing witness to the moment of indulgence. No bodies meant no death. No word from his missing Aurors meant misfortune had indeed befallen them. Most troubling, no forced entry meant no enemy... at least in appearance.
"I am afraid, dear Hagrid, that this is just the beginning of our troubles."
Lily felt foolish.
Here she was laying upon an uncomfortable floor, an unknown distance from home, in a strange place among even stranger people (Vampires? Seriously?), and she could not stop thinking of baby names.
'Perhaps I am still in shock', she thought while gazing up at the ceiling. After all, no class she had ever taken had covered how to deal with dropping through a massive hole in the fabric of the universe. She hadn't even begun to think how it had happened, or why, or even who was behind it. No, she found such dark and troublesome thoughts elusive for the moment. Names, however, came easily.
"James," she whispered into the darkness. "What do you think of Aurelia for a girl? You know, like Auror, but more suitable as a name."
James rolled towards his wife, ignoring the protests from the many bruises caused by the fall. "Lily, my darling, my pearl, my sweetheart," he whispered back with a kiss inbetween each endearment. "I think that's the ugliest name I've ever heard."
The muffled 'oomph' that was a result of Lily's fist in James' stomach did not awaken Sirius Black. He found himself restless this evening, and counting his problems was not as efficient as counting sheep. He rolled over, fluffed his pillow a few times, and attempted to find a position that was nearly bearable. He understood they were imposing upon the inhabitants, but could they not have found a comfortable place for them to rest for the evening?
He could just imagine the irritating smirk on that tiny blonde's face as she laid out their bedding upon a floor as hard as Lady Black's heart. She was beautiful, no denying that, but her smug confidence had grated upon him. Did she not realize that they could be a threat? How dare she strut around as though she was in charge. And now, here she was, prancing about in his head and chasing away all chance of sleep.
"Buffy's not even a name," he grumbled as he thumped his pillow with unnecessary vigor.
While the Potter's cuddled and Black muttered to himself, Lupin found his brain was taunting him. Whatever spell had thrown them into this fascinating new place had been terrifying. It would be logical, he knew, to start puzzling out what spell it was and how to get back. But every time he tried to think about the odd aspects of the situation, his brain brought him right back to a refreshing possibility.
In his world, as much as he loved it, Remus Lupin knew he was unwelcome. The curse that had been placed upon him at a young age had made sure of that. He did not complain about it to his friends, and he had indeed adjusted to his unique... talent over the years, but still he could not stop the voice inside of him that spoke only of the great burden he was upon society. 'Evil,' it hissed. 'Unworthy.' He believed it.
But that was his world. Sunnydale did not follow those rules. The little witch, Willow, had only just barely touched upon magic with Lupin, but it was enough for him to know that it was not the same. If it was different, then maybe he too would be different. Better. Human.
A very dramatic sigh escaped the gorgeous lips (as described by numerous witches) of Sirius. "I don't think a map is going to get us out of this one."
Remus allowed his trademark half-smile to to cross his face. It was a comfort to know that even the blackest of nights could be illuminated by a single star.
