There and Back Again Chapter 17: Mae Govannen: Part II, a Harry Potter + Lord of the Rings Crossover fanfic

Disclaimer: I own the plot, though I apologize if it's been done before. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

There and Back Again

Chapter 17: Mae Govannen: Part II

By Jess S

Woodlands in the foothills of Caradhas

"I have heard of you, Elerossë Tinehtelë," Gandalf offered after a few moments of silence, "Lord Elrond's family has always spoken very highly of you, as has King Thranduil, and all of the Galadhrim, of course."

The other wizard offered a slight smile, nodding just as slightly. "Of course." He shook his head; "I departed from Arda to return to my home world a short time after your arrival here, so an earlier meeting was difficult to arrange." He grinned suddenly, "Not that heri amil nin didn't try."

Gandalf laughed, "Of course."

"For curiosity's sake, mellon nin," Camthalion inquired after a few moments silence, "Why have you never used that spell in actual combat before? Against, say -- oh, I don't know -- Orcs, maybe?"

Harry shrugged as he offered his rather flippant reply. "Where's the fun in that?" Then he returned his full attention to the Fellowship, all of whom looked disgruntled, for varying reasons. Those who could understand what they'd just said were undoubtedly shocked at his reply; after all, most wouldn't consider fighting Orcs of any kind 'fun'. Those that couldn't understand Elvish were obviously disgruntled at the fact that they had no idea at to what was being said. "Now," he waived to the makeshift seats around the blue campfire. "Would you care to join us?"

After a moment's hesitation, Gandalf nodded and made his way over to the boulder that was across the fire from Harry, the other members of the Fellowship followed his lead, quickly taking advantage of the seats that the wizard had gestured to a moment before.

Once everyone was settled, silence hung around them for several moments. It was by no means an absolute silence, which would certainly be a bad thing out in the wilds. No, the sounds of the wild life that lived here-abouts were all around them, reassuring in its normalcy.

Finally someone decided to break the challenge that had seemingly been mutually imposed, though he currently couldn't say he was part of either group as he'd already tied himself to both, as allies.

"Milord?" Frodo inquired, drawing the wizard's amused green gaze to him.

"As I said before, Mr. Baggins, you may call me Harry or Elerossë, I prefer to avoid formalities when I can." He ignored the twins' snickering in favor of holding the Ring-bearer's slightly hesitant gaze.

"Yes, Mil--Harry," Frodo bowed his head slightly, almost sheepishly, making the wizard smile.

"You were asking...?"

"I was just wondering if you stayed for the portrait to be painted, I didn't get to ask you before..."

"Portrait?" Gandalf inquired, curious.

"Yes," Harry shrugged, smiling slightly as he leaned back slightly, to rest his back again the boulder he'd taken his seat by. "Mr. Baggins was just telling me, before you arrived, of a painting the Shire-folk commissioned a few centuries back. I'd honestly forgotten about it. And to answer your question," he smiled at Frodo, "no I didn't stay for the painting itself. Just long enough for the artist to get an outline and a firm image in her mind. I didn't like staying put much, back then."

"Ah, that must have been when you were wondering around on your own, then?" Rúmil inquired, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Of course."

"Was there any place you didn't visit back then?"

Harry was silent for a few moments, while he considered Camthalion's question. Then he shook his head and answered with a simple, "No."

"But you couldn't have gone into Mordor, the Lady would've--"

"Thus we have the reason I avoided the Golden Wood for a century after that."

"So you did go into Mordor?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Rúmil inquired an eyebrow raised as the Fellowship watched the exchanged with varying combinations of amusement and puzzlement.

"Because I wanted to," the wizard replied with another shrug. He decided to elaborate after a moment's pause, seeing the confused expressions all around. "If you remember," he pointed out, clearly still addressing the twins, "I was somewhat... intrepid, around then."

"Suicidal, you mean."

"To each his own," Harry shrugged, before returning his attention to their guests. "Now, would you prefer business or supper, first?" he inquired, gesturing to the large pot of stew that was offering an agreeable aroma from its place, a few feet away from the bluebell flames.

Gandalf frowned, "Business, I suppose. Though I must wonder how you came to be here."

"All in good time," the other wizard sighed, before pausing to consider his next words. Apparently coming to a decision, he continued. "Mithrandir... what do you know of me? Of where I come from? Of what I am?"

Remus's Dreams, Lothlórien

I remember the first time I saw Harry... If not for my vast, eclectic knowledge in magical areas, particularly Defense, Dark Arts and Dark Creatures, then I almost certainly would have had a heart attack, as I'd turned from chasing a Dementor away to see the Hogwarts students that had been in the train compartment with him kneel down next to their fallen peer, who'd obviously fainted due to the Dementor's affects.

I'd felt so bad for the boy, as I made my way over to my trunk, to take out some chocolate, only to stop and stare as I saw the boy's face. He looked almost exactly like James had when he was young!

The differences became clearer though, as he woke up, rather quickly too, considering what had caused his collapse. Most people took at least a few hours to recover from the Dementors affects, depending upon how severe their encounter was, not Harry though.

He had Lily's eyes. Deep, insightful, green orbs that seemed to be capable of piercing your very soul on first glance. The angle of his cheeks and nose has obviously been softened by his mother's heritage too.

He was skinnier, and… scrawnier then James had been too, not much, as James had been rather gawky at thirteen too, but it was noticeable. And he was a bit shorter then Remus had expected, for neither one of his parents had been short, indeed, Lily was well above average, and James had been one of the tallest boys in the school by the time they reached seventh year.

But the pain in his eyes... That was something that had rarely been either of his parents gaze. Both had loved like so much, looked on it as an adventure, and sometimes a joke... It had been a rare opportunity indeed, to see either with pessimistic viewpoints.

Their son was different though. Clearly, life hadn't been quite as easy for him. And whatever memory lie dormant in the back corners of his brain must be a terrible one indeed, to make his face so pale, even as he struggled to rise.

"Are you okay?" the redhead boy, probably a Weasley, had asked, clearly concerned.

"Yeah," Harry had replied, looking towards the door, undoubtedly wondering where the Dementor had gone. A normal reflex for those that were affected so badly by it, and a good one to have. Moody was a perfect example of how good at least a small amount of paranoia can be for you. "What happened? Where's that... that thing? Who screamed?"

They'd all tensed slightly at that, but Remus had chosen to keep quiet, waiting to see if any of his soon-to-be-students knew enough about Dementors to decipher just what had happened.

"No one screamed, Harry," the Weasley boy obviously didn't know much about them, but that was understandable. Dementors weren't something any normal witch or wizard liked to talk about, so being a Pureblood in this scenario would be of little help to him.

None of the other children seemed to know what to say to him either, all were quite pale, but not offered any comment as Harry looked at them. Perhaps it was time to put this topic to rest, for now. With that thought, I'd finished unwrapping the Honeydukes chocolate bar he'd brought with them, and started to break it apart into large chunks.

"But I heard screaming--"

The chocolates protesting snap to being broken made all of the children jump, before turning to look at him, and watch as I broke the enormous bar up.

"Here," I'd said to Harry, handing him the largest piece, while struggling for something else to say...perhaps something reassuring? "Eat it. It'll help."

Harry had taken the chocolate, but didn't eat it. Instead choosing to question his new professor. Good paranoia again, though it pained the werewolf, who was used to suspicious glances by now...or should be. "What was that thing?"

"A Dementor," I had told him, while turning to hand pieces of chocolate to all of the other students. Not only did it serve that good purpose, it also allowed him to turn away from those painfully familiar eyes, set in an even more painfully familiar face. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

The children no longer had anything to say after that, instead choosing to stare at him.

So I had hastily crumpled the chocolate wrapper up, before putting it in his pocket and turning away towards the door. "Eat," I'd called over his shoulder as he left, "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..." I had strolled past Harry and into the corridor, quickly heading down to the front of the train to make sure the Dementors had cleared off and they'd be on their way again soon. That done, and no other possible problems in sight, there was little more I could do, other then return to see my best friend's son again... It had pained me only slightly, when I'd come back in, to see that they still hadn't touched the chocolate I'd offered them. But I'd nonetheless offered a small smile, "I haven't poisoned the chocolate, you know..."

Harry had blinked then, apparently forcing himself out of his thoughts to take a large bite of his chocolate. That action had warmed the werewolf almost as much as it had undoubtedly warmed the younger wizard, and it had given Remus the courage to continue.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," I had said, my smile a little surer, "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Fine..." Harry had muttered, evidently embarrassed.

But by what I wasn't sure. It could have been any number of things, but I felt it was probably either being addressed by his first name, or the attention... So I'd have to make sure to address all of the students that way, so as not to embarrass Harry further.

And that was what I'd done, or at least tried to.

I really hadn't meant to single Harry out in class, but the incident with the Boggart was practically unavoidable. In retrospect, I doubted the arrival of a Dementor and its powers in the classroom would cause less terror then the arrival of Voldemort himself, as the Dementors truly were the embodiment of fear...and darkness.

The lessons had been a way of making it up to him, at least to begin with. But they were more then that too. They were also my chance to get to know Harry Potter, son of James and Lilly Potter, two of the dearest friends I'd ever known.

It wasn't difficult to see them in Harry, not for someone who'd been as close to the Potters as I had. Just as so many had said, he very closely resembled his father, but he wasn't exactly the same. And it was more then his eyes, which very clearly came from his mother.

For one, James had always had a small amount of trouble with his skin as a teenager, until Lily had talked him into trying some of the products advertised in Witch Weekly, but Lily herself had never really had any trouble with her skin, I knew that because she'd told them as much when she'd consented to order the product for her boyfriend. Harry's skin was also just a shade or two paler then his father's had been, though that could be because James had spent so much more time outdoors, but then Lily had always been fairly pale too.

He had James' nose, which had been one of his father's favorite features, but he had his mother's chin, as it was too soft to be James's. His hair was unruly and irrepressible like his father's had been, but it was a bit thicker too, like Lily's. Harry's mother had also apparently saved him from his father's most hated feature: his feet. James had always hated his big feet and Harry's weren't anywhere near as pronounced.

Much of what made Harry who he was, was his own. But Remus could also see so much of his parents in him, too. His mastery of the Patronus Charm proved that his academic records were a bit faulty, or at least not accurate instruments for measuring his abilities. Harry was a determined, brave, and strong young man, Remus had known that the moment Harry asked for lessons in overcoming his greatest fear – the fact that both his parents could easily be voted as the most obstinately stubborn people in Britain or maybe even the world probably didn't hurt either.

Of course, thinking of Lily and James had so easily drawn my mind back to their days at school... And Sirius Black...

Of course it had been difficult enough to ignore all the paper articles on 'Bloody Black,' as I'd called him repeatedly.

That was a wound I had never really healed from...which was probably why I accepted the proposal of Sirius's innocence so readily, after seeing Pettigrew on the Map. One would think that the wound would have festered over time, making it impossible to consider Sirius Black's innocence even a remote possibility. But I hadn't even given the thought a moment's doubt once it had entered my head, which had been when I'd seen the forth person that was with Harry, Ron and Hermione as they'd made their way back from Hagrid's Hut, only to be attacked by Sirius, undoubtedly in his Animagus form... From there, everything had fit together.

Of course, one would think that Pettigrew's betrayal should hurt me no less then Sirius's had. On the contrary, his betrayal was so much worse that it should be considerably more painful for me to think of... But Peter had always really been sort of the fourth wheel to their group; the silent one that occasionally contributed but was otherwise rarely there. It wasn't until then that I had realized that we did actually consider Pettigrew as something of an outsider in the Marauders. It wasn't intentional; it had just always been...

Maybe we'd sensed some of Pettigrew's parasitical nature... maybe not. That could have always come later: after years of being somewhat of a no one in our group of friends.

My parents had never really liked Peter... It just went to show how good they really were at judging character.

Their deaths had been particularly hard, especially with no friends to turn to. It had been difficult enough to find work, but after my parents died, and could therefore no longer argue my case to prospective employers; it had just gotten that much harder.

They'd always been there for me, always...

I couldn't really remember how many times I'd cursed "Bloody Black's" name, I'd never counted, so the term "countless" really could apply. I had been hurt, deeply, to be sure. And for many years I hadn't even bothered trying to rise from the state of living I'd been in. As a werewolf, no one in the Wizarding World had wanted to give me a job, so it was difficult enough with all of the prejudice, especially since I didn't really care.

For a long time I hadn't cared about anything: life, death, friends, family -- well, no, my parents had been the only real lights in my life, up until their deaths.

That was why the opportunity of to become a Hogwarts Professor was so... wonderful, for lack of a better word. It was a chance to escape that discrimination; a chance to escape all of the suspicious, and often hateful, stares of coworkers. The students didn't need to be told, and the faculty either trusted Dumbledore's judgment, had been teaching when I had attended Hogwarts and therefore trusted me, or both.

Snape had been the only problem, from that very first day, when the teachers met and talked about the upcoming school year, the day before the students were brought to school via the Hogwarts Express.

Many topics had come up from around the table; Black's escape being the most worrisome, though the fact that the Ministry was sending Dementors to guard the grounds clearly troubled Dumbledore quite a bit more, and I really couldn't blame him.

Black had already gotten past those monstrosities and out of the Wizarding World's inescapable prison, what good could they possibly do for Hogwarts, except perhaps terrorize the students, staff, and the Hogsmeade residents?

One would think that combination of Dementors and Black would have been impossible to surpass, when it comes to worrisome situations. For me it was not. What I'd been dreaded hearing had not yet come up, but something else that was closely affiliated to the situation caught his attention, and concern, much more readily then the mention of the Dementors themselves. It wasn't long into that conversation, that the suggestion that would have horrified most of the older students was put forward: No more Hogsmeade trips.

"After all," Professor Sinistra pointed out, "this is Mr. Potter's third year. We can't very well say that he himself simply cannot go to Hogsmeade. There press would have a field day!"

"I don't believe that that will be necessary." Professor McGonagall sighed, "Mr. Potter's relatives aren't the most... sympathetic people. And I find it very likely that they will not sign the parental consent form that he's received in the post."

"For his own protection, surely?" Professor Sprout inquired.

McGonagall was silent for a moment, before she offered a slight nod, though her mouth was sent in a disapproving line.

Personally, I had agreed with her whole-heartedly. I'd forgotten that Harry had been sent to live with Lily's older sister and her husband.

I had met Petunia and Vernon Dursley, at Lily and James's wedding, many years past. They'd been one of the most unpleasant couple's I'd ever met. I'd assumed at the time that their moodiness could be due in part to Mrs. Dursley's pregnancy, even though she was only a few month's along. But Lily had assured me that they'd been their usual selves, and she was rather relieved when they left, almost immediately after the ceremony, staying only to offer rather stiff congratulations under Mr. and Mrs. Evans' watchful eyes, before practically running out of the church. They hadn't been seen coming or going or anywhere in between at the party after the ceremony. Lily hadn't been surprised, and had explained afterwards that neither one were fond of wizards, and could very well be considered "the worst type of Muggles imaginable."

The other issues were of an eclectic variety, everything from the possible changing of the school uniform (something which was apparently discussed every year), to the scheduling of classes, supplies, new books for the library, plans for various holidays throughout the year; such as Halloween, and whether they should do more then just hold a feast that night, in honor of All Hallows Eve.

It wasn't until the end of the meeting though, when I had finally begun to relax that Snape (of course it was Snape, who else could it possibly be?!) had pointed out the problem with me working amongst them.

"Forgive me, Mr. Lupin, but even you must agree that you aren't exactly safe for children to be around when the full moon is high... you're not exactly your normal, pleasant self."

"I will not endanger the students or the faculty, Mr. Snape; I can assure all of you of that." I'd forced out, struggling to hold back the insecurity I felt as my Lycanthropy was brought up for debate.

This had happened so many times before. It always happened! Someone would object to my presence, the others would voice their concern, I'd be warned that I was going to be under close surveillance, and I'd have to make sure I stayed up to date with work or they'd have to let me go. If I did anything that bothered the other employees, they'd have to let me go. And a few weeks or even days later, my supervisor would call me in, tell me that there'd been a complaint and they had to let--

"We all know that, Remus." My former House Head offered me a kind smile as she broke into my troubled train of thought. "If it comes down to it, we can always resort to the same methods we used when you were in school."

Snape snorted, "And I'm sure that will be quite effective."

"Wouldn't it be easier to simply take the Wolfsbane Potion on a regular basis?" Madam Pomfrey suggested, drawing all eyes to her. "It's expensive, I know, but in all of the accounts I've seen, completely effective."

"Severus?" Dumbledore inquired, staring the Potions Professor down with a regal gaze.

After several moments, Professor Snape nodded, replying after a barely noticeable sigh. "It is one of the more complex potions known, but I can make it, if the ingredients are supplied," he finished, sneering at me as he eyed my shabby attire. "They're much too expensive to simply take out of the school stores, and we don't have a few of them."

"Send a list of the ingredients to me some time within next three days," the Headmaster ordered, knowing full well that they'd probably arrive by owl post soon after the meeting. "The school will fund it." He raised a hand when I began to object, "We cover all medical expenses that our staff may acquire, Remus. That is part of your contract."

I remember blinking repeatedly then, stunned at the suggestion that Lycanthropy was an illness, rather then a curse, as I'd come to think of it, and so many others agreed. After several moments silence, I'd bowed my head. "Thank you."

The meeting closed in less then ten minutes after that. Though Snape was the only one to leave immediately, as most of the staff hung around, simply to chat... And I'd begun to feel at home.

The ensuing months had been some of the happiest of my entire life. All of the students, even most of the Slytherins had been respectful, and generally eager to learn. There had been a few times that had pained me, like when I was helping Harry learn the Patronus, only to find the teen was hearing his parents last moments when Dementors came to close.

But the worst moment with the students in school was, by far, the Gryffindor class I'd come back to upon recovering from the full moon...

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves--"

"Two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" I'd asked the indignant students, knowing full well that Snape wouldn't have cared either way, as this was undoubtedly another ploy to destroy me.

The babble of complaints from all around served as a fairly adamant confirmation for my suspicion, though I could only pick out bits and pieces of the babble.

"Yes, but he said we were really being--"

"--He wouldn't listen--"

"--Two rolls of parchment!"

Despite how much the situations troubled me personally, I was fairly certain that there wouldn't have been anywhere near as much of an uproar if most of the students had completed the assignment; two rolls of parchment indeed! So my secret was probably safe, for the most part. And it was that realization, combined with the amusement the indignation on every student's face, that allowed me to offer a reassuring smile as I raised my hands for silence and went on to assure them, "Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape--" And what an interesting conversation that'll be..."-- You won't have to do the essay."

Most of the students were very clearly relieved by this announcement, confirming my earlier intuition. It seemed that only Miss Granger was disappointed, and her reason -- "Oh no, I've already finished it!" -- confirmed that I may yet need to remain cautious around her.

Woodlands in the foothills of Caradhas

"The people of your world practice magic as an everyday commodity, I believe, everything from cooking and cleaning to actual combat... though I'm not quite sure how that's possible."

Harry nodded, then paused a moment in thought before responding with a sigh. "That's not quite true. There is a large population of witches and wizards who, as you say, are used to using magic every day for, essentially everything... Not all the people of my world are like that, there are a large number of Muggles; people who cannot use magic, some of whom won't even subconsciously or consciously admit that it's there. There are people in between, or course, squibs are people who are born into magical families, and muggle-borns are witches and wizards born into non-magical or Muggle families. The families of muggle-borns usually are open to the idea of magic..." He raised an eyebrow when both of the twins snickered. "What?"

"Your relatives aren't," Camthalion pointed out.

"No," Harry sighed, shaking his head, "they are not." Seeing the Fellowships confused expressions he went onto explain. "I'm not a muggle-born, but my mother was, my father was a pureblood, which means he was wizard born into a magical family. My mother's parents were open to the ideas of witchcraft and wizardry, but her older sister wasn't, and therefore didn't react well to it. When my parents were murdered I was sent to live with her and her husband."

"Why would someone send you to live with someone who won't accept what you are?" Pippin asked, clearly confused.

The wizard shook his head. "Not all witches and wizards are good in my world; the same way that that not all people are good in this one. It simply isn't possible... Some go dark. Before I was born there was a wizard who went as dark as you could go. He was into everything dark, deals with demons, necromancy, you name it..." Harry sighed. "Over the years he'd accumulated a large group of followers; purebloods who felt that it was there duty to wipe out all those of 'impure blood' and of course, all Muggles. He called himself Lord Voldemort, still does..." he raised a hand to forestall the onslaught of questions before it could start.

"My parents were part of one of the most powerful magical groups that fought against him, and were therefore primary targets in their own right. But thanks to a prophecy that one of his followers overheard a Seer give to the leader of the Light forces, he knew that if I lived I could be his downfall... So he tried to kill me. There's obviously more to the story then this, but long story short; he killed both of my parents, first my father then my mother, but because both of them willingly sacrificed themselves to protect me, their magic stayed behind, to do what they could not... One of my teachers has always said that there is no force, magical or otherwise, more powerful then love, and that it was there love that saved me. There magic shielded me from the killing curse and sent a weakened version back at him... It was strong enough to destroy his body and their house, but his spirit somehow escaped, to come back to haunt us several years later."

"But he was destroyed!" Merry objected, shaking his head as he protested. "You just said--"

"His spirit somehow survived. We don't know how. But a few years after that, he managed to create a physical body for himself, and amassed a great deal of strength." Harry shook his head, and sighed before continuing. "That was just before I came here, to Arda. When Ránëwén, Rúmil, Camthalion, and I returned to my world, I found that not a moment had passed while I was away."

"Incredible..." Gandalf shook his head, "You were here for centuries, I believe, were you not?"

Harry nodded, "Twenty-one of them... we theorized that though time may pass at similar rates in both worlds, my removal simply left and empty place, which only my return could fill, so I was returned to the same time and place... Though there may very well be alternate realities where I did not..."

"Why are you here now, though?" Legolas inquired, "If you were able to return home?"

"As I said before, nothing had changed, not time had passed since my departure... So the War that had been coming together before was still coming together. Therefore, we had to take part in it..." Harry paused, considering for a moment, before shaking his head and continuing with a frown etched across his youthful features. "The spell the used to send us to my world had a clause in it, apparently, one that we were not aware of until we were endangered... My foster-parents not only asked for the Valar to send me home, but also to protect me."

"Therefore," Gandalf nodded as comprehension dawned, "when you were endangered, as is inevitable in war, you were pulled back into this world... For, I assume, your world is not under the Valar's providence."

Harry nodded, "We believe so, yes..."

"But then where is Lady Ránëwén?" Legolas frowned.

"Well obviously they wouldn't bring a lady with them if they were coming to meet us, Elf." Gimli interjected, not noticing the heavy silence that their host had to struggle to overcome in order to continue a moment afterwards.

"We arrived in Lothlórien, with many of my people. Several aren't much older then I was when I came here, but they are well trained in our forms of magic." Harry forced himself to continue, "Lady Galadriel has used her Mirror, to See if anymore of my people came through and didn't land in the Golden Wood."

"And?" Aragorn inquired after a moment's silence.

Harry sighed, "Unfortunately, it appears that Voldemort and what may be all of his forces were pulled into this land as well... and they landed in Mordor."

Remus's Dreams, Lothlórien

I wasn't vigilant enough, it seemed.

I should have seen it coming, though.

Hermione Granger wasn't coming to be known as the brightest witch of her generation, among the best Hogwarts had ever seen, for nothing.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, as I tried to explain myself -- and Sirius -- to Harry, "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too -- he's a werewolf!"

The silence that rang around the shack was one I'd grown accustomed to over the years; it was the one that always followed the accusation, though I'd always hoped to not hear it here. I knew he'd paled at the charge, but I nonetheless attempted to restore the pleasant atmosphere I'd become accustom to having around these three teens and all of the others. "Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," I had told her, shaking my head sadly. "Only one of the three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead..." I shivered at the thought; I might die myself if Harry died within my lifetime... I don't think I'd be able to handle another loss... "But I won't deny," I finished, "that I am a werewolf."

I then turned towards Ronald Weasley, as the younger wizard attempt to stand, only to fall over, clearly in pain. However, my attempt to approach and help him was not met kindly. "Get away from me, werewolf!"

I'd frozen at that... Another exclamation I was all too used to hearing... With a great deal of effort, I suppressed the painful memories that drew up, before turning to Hermione and inquiring softly, "How long have you known?"

"Ages," the girl replied stiffly, "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..."

"He'll be delighted," I had told her, albeit more coolly then I'd intended. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both..." the teenager had replied quietly.

I had half-forced a laugh at that, "You're the cleverest witch I've ever met, Hermione." And that was the truth.

"I'm not," Hermione had whispered in reply, shaking her head. "If I'd been a bit clever, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," I told her. "At least, the staff does."

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" Ron gasped, demonstrating that he really was from a pureblood family, and therefore prone to at least a few of its prejudices. "Is he mad?!"

"Some of the staff thought so," I replied, shaking his head as Sirius's concerned look. Though it was a bit heartening; at least it proved that some of my childhood friend was still in their, underneath all the dirt and malnutrition. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy--"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yelled, making me wince...

Of all the people to hear that from, it had to be him. The boy who looked so much like his father. He wasn't a replica of course, but it was close enough to really hurt, especially when he had the same eyes as his mother. Except Lily's eyes had always been caring and kind, never full of anger and hatred like her son's were. "

"YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" The boy finished, pointing at Sirius, who suddenly crossed to the four-poster bed and sank into, his face hidden in one shaking hand.

Obviously the sight unsettled Sirius as well... Harry was his godson, after all. He seemed only mildly comforted when the large cat -- Crookshanks? -- jumped up beside him, and climbed into his lap, purring.

"I have not been helping Sirius," I had tried to go on reassuring them, "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look--" Throwing caution to the wind, I'd separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw them back to their respective owners. "There," I'd told them, while sticking my own wand in my belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

All three were silent for several moments, undoubtedly trying to figure out what the catch was, before Harry replied, "If you haven't been helping him," he jerked his head towards Sirius, and glared at him for a moment, before turning back to glare at his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "How did you know he was here?"

"The map," I'd answered simply, with a shrug, ignoring the shocked look Sirius sent my way. Really, who else would he expect to inherit one of the few Marauders heirlooms? "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it--"

"You know how to work it?" the boy demanded, clearly suspicious.

"Of course I know how to work it," I remember waiving my hand impatiently, and shaking my head at the idea that I might not know how to use the Map. "I helped write it. I'm Moony -- that was my friend's nickname fore me in school."

"You wrote--"

"The important this is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?" I hadn't realized that I'd started to pace while he watched them for their reactions. I didn't notice any of the dust my movements disturbed. "You might have been wearing your father's invisibility cloak, Harry--"

"How'd you know about the cloak?!"

"The number of times I saw James disappear under it..." I waived the questions and the pleasant memories it invoked away impatiently. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" Harry had demanded, shaking his head. "No we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," I'd continued, paying no attention to Harry's interruption as he went on pacing around the small room. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" Harry had shouted, confusion clear in his eyes.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow--"

"One of us!" The youngest of the Weasley boys had insisted angrily.

"No, Ron," I had shaken his head firmly in response. "Two of you." I had stopped pacing at that point, and was instead looking over Ron carefully. "Do you think I could have a look at the rat?"

"What?" the redhead's eyes had widened almost comically in disbelief. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything. Could I see him, please?"

Ron had hesitated still, but had eventually put his hand in his robes to pull out his pet rat.

That was all the confirmation I'd needed. I'd seen Pettigrew in his Animagus form more then often enough to recognize him by sight... And his reaction to his circumstances didn't do anything to lessen my suspicion. Ronald had to struggle to hold onto his long bald tale to keep him from escaping, all the while trying to calm him down.

"What?" Ron shook his head, looking at me, "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Sirius had told him.

"What'd you mean -- of course he's a rat--"

"No, he's not," I remember telling him, my voice quiet. "He's a wizard.

"An Animagus," Sirius had picked up, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

After several moments of silence, the redhead had shaken his head again, "You're both mental!"

"Ridiculous!" Hermione had backed him up, her voice faint.

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" Harry had burst in angrily, "He killed him twelve years ago!" He'd said, pointing at Sirius.

The older dark haired wizard had grimaced, shaking his head before growling, "I meant to, but little Peter got the better of me... not this time, though!" He'd pushed the cat that'd been comforting him off his lap before rising to make his way over towards Ron, who shouted as the escaped convict lunged at him, forcing him to take most of his weight on his broken leg.

"Sirius, NO!" I remember yelling, launching myself forward, and dragging my childhood friend away from Ron, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that -- they need to understand -- we've got to explain--"

"We can explain afterwards!" He'd snarled, trying to throw me off, still clawing at the air with one hand as he tried to reach Pettigrew, who was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron's face and neck as he tried to escape.

"They've -- got -- a -- right -- to -- know -- everything!" I'd panted, straining to restrain my friend. That was one of the few occasions I'd appreciated my additional strength as a werewolf. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Harry -- you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

That seemed to get through to him, for although he hadn't taken his eyes off the rat, he did stop struggling for the moment. "All right then. Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for..."

"You're nutters, both of you!" Ron had said, his voice shaking as he looked to Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off." He had tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but I couldn't let him go yet, particularly not with the rat.

So, with a sigh, I had leveled my wand towards him, though I was actually pointing at Pettigrew as I spoke to the boy who was holding him. "You're going to hear me out, Ron," I'd told him quietly. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron had yelled, trying to force the rat back into his front pocket, but Pettigrew was fighting too hard, making his 'owner' sway and overbalance.

Harry had quickly made his way over to his friend and pushed him back to the bed. Then, pointedly ignoring Sirius, he had turned to me. "There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die. A whole street full of them..."

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" Sirius had snarled, managing to sound painfully animalistic, while watching Pettigrew struggle in Ron's hands.

"Everyone though Sirius killed Peter," I had told him, nodding, "I believed it myself -- until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauders Map never lies... Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry."

Harry had looked down at Ron then, meeting his eyes and nodding. I knew full well that they were probably agreeing that both Sirius and myself were mad... it was probably only my presence that had made them hesitate at all. After all, I hadn't been imprisoned in Azkaban for the last thirteen years... Though I had lost everyone I cared for, been almost universally ostracized from society and suffered a painful transformation that could be considered as painful as a minor Cruciatus, on a monthly basis... But I probably shouldn't point that out to them...

Finally Hermione had spoken, her voice almost a mockery of her usual, scholarly calmness, but what she had to say still bore the same intellectual insight he'd come to expect from her. "But Professor Lupin... Scabber's can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be true, you know it can't..."

"Why can't it be true?" I'd asked her calmly, pointedly using the same tone I would in class.

"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -- the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animals they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up in the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list--"

I couldn't help myself then; I just had to burst out laugh as even Sirius turned to spare Hermione a somewhat amazed look. After I managed to calm down a few moments later, I smiled, "Right again, Hermione! But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus..." Sirus half-snarled, half-sighed as he watched Pettigrew's desperate attempts to escape. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right...but you'll have to help me, Sirius," I told him, somewhat truthfully, though my real go was to try and make him stop acting like a madman. "I only know how it began..." I broke off as the bedroom door opened of its own accord behind me. All five of us turned to stare at it, then, after a moments hesitation, I'd walked toward it and looked out into the landing, "No one there..."

"This place it haunted!" Ron shouted, looking around fearfully.

"It's not," I told him, still trying to find what might've made the door open. There wasn't even a draft of any sort from the hall... "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted. The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." I had pushed some of my graying hair out of my eyes as I thought back on it, before nodding. "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..."

I heard Hermione make a shooshing noise behind, and turned back after closing the door firmly, to see that she was watching me intently.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform. I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a full-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me... But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school..." I'd sighed, turning to meet Harry's eyes. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house" -- I looked around the room, the miserable feeling I'd often associated with it, rising to the forefront of my mind as I did so -- "the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone from coming across me while I was dangerous..."

No one said a word as I told my story; the only sound other then myself was Pettigrew's frantic squeaking.

"My transformation in those days -- was terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor... even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...But apart from my transformations, I was happier then I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends, Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter." I'd smiled in reminiscence, before shaking my head and continuing. "Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her... I was terrified they would desert me the moment the found out what I was. But, of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth... And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" Harry had asked, obviously surprised.

"Yes, indeed," I told him with a smile. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagi transformations can go terribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from Sirius and James. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" Hermione had inquired, visibly puzzled.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," I told them. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They snuck out of the castle every month under James invisibility cloak. They transformed... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus..."

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there... well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals that they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether and Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade then we did... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and signed it with out nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal--?" Harry had begun, undoubtedly still curious about his father, but he stopped when Hermione cut him off.

"That was still really dangerous!" she'd shaken her head, "Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," I told her heavily, shaking my head. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed at them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness... I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan out next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..."

Isengard, the Fortress of Saruman

Well, that last few hours had certainly been interesting. If you can call watching two very powerful dark wizards face off interesting...

To say that Sauron's two great Wizarding allies didn't get along would be an incredibly mild statement. And whoever said it would certainly have a talent for understatement.

There was no physical sign for their dislike of one another... not yet, at least. No, the chaos around them had nothing to do with combat; no that was simply due to the presence of hundreds, perhaps thousands of orcs hurrying about to do their Lord's bidding. The fiery, polluted and dark atmosphere did suit both wizards' moods though.

Saruman the White, the Istari wizard of Isengard, traitorous Head of the Order of Wizards had come to Middle Earth in the year one thousand of the Third Age, to fight against the Dark Lord of the Rings. Back then, he had truly believed in the Istari's cause, and had wandered Middle Earth seeking to overcome the Ring Lord. But after several centuries of this, he grew proud and wanted to have power of his own, and so he'd retreated into Isengard and the tower of Orthanc, where they now stood, to be drawn, in time, unwittingly under the Ring Lord's spell, to become a faithful servant in his quest for dominion over this mortal world. The Orcs, Half-orcs, Uruk-hai, and Dunlendings that now followed his command, as he spoke in the name of their true Lord, the Great Eye, marched under a black banner marked with a white hand. But, before his loyalty to "his" Lord was first and foremost those weaknesses that had made him susceptible to the Lord of the Ring's Call: his pride and his desire for absolute power.

Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, one of them many Dark Lords Earth has suffered in its time, was used to bravado and defiance from his enemies, submission from his servants, but he had no allies. The idea that someone could be equal to him seemed absurd. He was the Heir of the Greatest of the Hogwarts Founders, born to rid the Earth of the foul Mudbloods and their ilk. He had come to bring the Earth to its proper state of order, one that could be obtained and held under his command, once all of the Mudbloods and Mudblood-lovers were gone. That had been his primary goal in life since he discovered his true heritage as the Heir of Slytherin. It stung that his mother had been forced to taint her royal lineage, but that, and the memories of his childhood among the lowlifes only served as one more stimulus to achieve his goal. And he would. Once the people of this world fell under the Ring Lord's control, he would return home with a powerful ally to support him in overrunning and purifying his world of the lesser beings. That had always been what drove him, since discovering that he truly was a Slytherin, but there was one more thing that matter just a small amount more. As he'd told the young fool, Quirrel, shortly before his second meeting with the Potter brat: Power is all that matters in the world, in any world, and those that put good, compassion and morality before it were simply trying to compensate for their own weaknesses; their inability to seek it.

Neither one handled competition well. And that was exactly what they were to each other; they couldn't see the other in any other light.

Though the scene below them probably didn't help. Or perhaps it did. Who knows? It's very possible that evil, psychotic masterminds liked to watch the monstrous creatures below tear the earth apart and set it afire in their quest for the creation of more of their ilk, though stronger. The Uruk-hai army Saruman was assembling would be ready soon; of this he had no doubt. But that did not please him, not now that he had this new rival and two of his followers watching the scene with him from his balcony in the Orthanc.

"As far as I can tell, Voldemort," the White Wizard said, his honeyed tone just a bit off due to the sharpness of his words, demonstrating just how angry he was. "The only problem here is you. You and your...followers, is it? The group Gandalf is leading will now have to make a much more perilous journey."

"What is so dangerous about traveling through a mine?" Lucius Malfoy inquired, aware that his Lord probably wanted to ask the same thing for curiosity's sake, but was undoubtedly refraining for the sake of appearance instead.

This question drew a deep laugh from the alien, self-important wizard. "Oh, it's not the mines themselves that are the problem, not really. The physical journey is undoubtedly treacherous, as they will be in the dark, scaling rock walls and paths for many days at least, struggling to keep warm--"

"Magic can easily dismiss such nuisances." The blonde pointed out.

"Yes," Saruman nodded, looking out at the destruction below. He could easily pick out those that didn't belong; Voldemort's people, whom the Orcs down below obviously feared, as they gave the dark, strangely masked wizards a wide berth as they past through the work, silently examining it to report back to their master at later date. He'd already scene the kinds of magic they were accustom to using, and had little doubt that the mines would not bother them physically, for they would not allow the challenge to be physical. But that was of little consequence. "And the warriors with Gandalf are undoubtedly quite capable of handling the physical perils of the mines without much aid. Even the Orcs that have long overrun the mines probably won't bother them much."

"So why the confidence?" The dark haired woman standing on her Lord's other side finally spoke.

"I don't believe I was given your name, Mistress?" The White Wizard offered pleasantly.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. And my Lord is right. He is always right." The dark beauty, for she was a beauty, if a rather crazy one. A well trained fanatic, no doubt.

"Bellatrix," Saruman nodded, "perhaps in your world that is so," here he glanced at Voldemort, holding his gaze for a moment before turning his back on all three to look back out at the darkened landscape below. "But this is not your world."

"No," Voldemort offered reluctantly, "it is not."

Keeping his back to them, so his smug satisfaction at the small victory didn't show, he nodded. "There are more perils in those mines then mere Orc, shadow, or chill." He spun around to lead them inside, and followed them, though their leader obviously did not like doing so. Once inside, he turned to the left and made his way over to the desk, where he picked up an old tome and began flipping through the thick pages. "Gandalf fears to go into those mines for a reason..."

"A reason?" Malfoy pressed when the Istari didn't continue after a moment's pause.

"The dwarves delved too greedily, and too deep."

Comprehension visibly dawned on Voldemort's face. "They roused something?"

Saruman nodded, smirking as he finally reached the page he desired. He offered the book to them. "One of Gothmog's ilk remains on Middle Earth to my knowledge, it has long slept deep beneath the mines... but no longer."

"A Balrog?" Voldemort inquired, in a tone that clearly suggested that if he had eyebrows one would be raised in skepticism as he looked up from the book Lucius now held.

Saruman simply waived him to go on, before returning to the balcony, to leave them to the pages he'd granted them access to.

Voldemort nodded to the head of the Malfoy family to read.

The fair-haired wizard waited only a moment, to prepare himself, before reading the text aloud for his master and his wife's cousin's benefit;

"The most terrible of the Maiar spirits who became the servants of Melkor, the Dark Enemy, were those who were transformed into demons. They were Balrogs, the "demons of the night." Of all Melkor's creatures, only Dragons were greater in power. Huge and hulking, the Balrogs were Man-like demons with streaming manes of fire and nostrils that breathed flame. They seemed to move within clouds of black shadow and their limbs had the coiling power of serpents. The chief weapon of the Balrog was the many-thronged whip of fire. This weapon was so terrible that the vast and evil Ungoliant, the Great Spider that even the Valar could not destroy, was driven from Melkor's realm by the fiery lashes.

Most infamous of the Balrog race was Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs and High Captain of Angband. In the Wars of Beleriand three High Elven Lords fell to his whip and black axe. In each of Melkor's risings and in each of his battles, the Balrogs were among his foremost champions, and so, when the holocaust of the War of Wrath ended Melkor's reign forever, it largely ended the Balrogs as a race." AN: Paraphrased from the passage on "Balrogs" in "Tolkien, The Illustrated Encyclopedia," on pages 192 to 194.

"So one of these...demons awaits them in the Mines?" Voldemort inquired of the Istari, who was still out on the balcony but nonetheless well within hearing range.

"Yes," Saruman confirmed smugly, "the dwarves that were mining there some time past dug to deep, and woke one. It killed their leaders, and then encouraged the Orcs who'd been trying to drive them out of the mountain for some time to wipe them out. Since then the Orcs have multiplied within the safety of the mountain, and are now quite a threat on their own. And if Gandalf manages to take them far enough into the Mines, which he will have to do, if they wish to make it to the safety of Lothlorien before continuing their quest, they will fall."

"And what is their quest?"

"I do not know," the Istari admitted with a shrug, "some futile effort to stop us, no doubt. But I do know that one of the four Halflings that travels with them has the Ring of Power in his possession. Perhaps they are trying to hide it, or simply make it more difficult to find. It doesn't matter though. Once they are dead, the Ring will be able to return to its Master uninhibited."

"Hmm..." Voldemort considered it for a moment. Then shook his head, "These mines are confusing in and of themselves, many tunnels and whatnot, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then they may be able to simply avoid encountering the demon. In which case, your plan will have failed completely."

"If they do make it out of the Mines alive, which I highly doubt," Saruman replied, his tone sharp once again. "Enough Uruk-hai will be ready to handle them. It will serve as merely a delay, nothing more."

"But why bother with that delay, when some of my Death Eaters could wait for them on the other side of the mountain? You did say there is only one way in or out on each side..."

Remus's Dreams, Lothlórien

I still remember the panic I felt when I saw Snape standing there standing in the doorway, his eyes gleaming madly. "Severus--"

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout--"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," I tried to convince him, pleading with him. "You haven't heard everything -- I can explain -- Sirius is not here to kill Harry--"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," he interrupted, smirking. My heart sank as he continued. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf--"

"You fool," I shook my head as I continued in a barely audible voice. "Is some schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG!

I didn't here him cast the hex for the snakelike restraining ropes, but I certainly felt it as they coiled around me, both effectively gagging me and tying me up. I couldn't find my center of balance with both my ankles and my wrists tied together, so I fell over, unable to move.

I heard Sirius roar in rage and start to make his way for Snape, but the Potions Master's cold words stopped him just as they nearly stopped my heart.

"Give me a reason. Give me a reason to do it, and I will."

"Professor Snape," Hermione inquired softly, clearly hesitant to question a man that looked as crazy as her Potions Professor did now. But the fact that she was questioning clearly showed that we'd gotten through to them, at least partially. And so I felt some hope at the thought. "It--it wouldn't hurt to hear what they're trying to say, w--would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat at her, "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murder and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

"But if--if there was a mistake---"

"KEEP QUIET YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, and I was rather sure that if he didn't look mad before he most certainly did now. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

Hermione didn't speak up again, while Snape turned his attention back to Sirius.

"Vengeance is very sweet... How I hoped to be the one to catch you..."

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Sirius snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle I'll come quietly."

"Up to the castle?" Snape's tone was far too self-satisfied for my liking. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be pleased to see you, Black... pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

"You--you've gotta hear me out," Sirius croaked, suddenly frightened. "The rat--look at the rat--"

"Come on all of you," Snape clicked his fingers and the ends of the ropes that were binding me flew to his hand. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too---Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already!" he snarled suddenly, and that small bit of hope returned. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin--"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry replied. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works!" Snape hissed. "Get out of the way, Potter!"

"YOU'RE PATHETIC! JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN--"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape suddenly shrieked, his anger somehow reaching a new level. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved you neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black -- now get out of the way or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

"Expelliarmus!" Three voices yelled at once, and there was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges while something slammed into the wall, probably Snape.

After several moments of silence, Sirius spoke. "You shouldn't have done that... You should have left him to me..."

Harry didn't reply, but I could hear Hermione whimpering a short ways away. "We attacked a teacher...Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble--"

He struggled against his bonds, and was relieved when someone -- it had to be Sirius, none of the three third years was physically strong enough by themselves -- bent down and untied me.

With a sigh, I straightened up, rubbing my arms where the ropes had been cutting into them, while I turned to smile gratefully at James' son. "Thank you, Harry."

"I'm still not saying I believe you," he told me.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," I nodded, before turning slightly towards Ron. "You, boy -- give me Peter, please. Now."

"Come off it," the boy said weakly as he clutched Peter to his chest. "Are you trying to say that he broke out of Azkaban to come after Scabbers? I mean..." he looked up at Harry and Hermione for support. "Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat -- there are millions of rats -- how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," I said with a small frown, turning to my friend. "How did you find out where he was?"

Sirius reached inside his robes -- which were in a state far worse then any of mine have ever been -- and took out a crimpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held out show us.

It was a photograph...One that I briefly remember seeing in the Daily Prophet, in early August, when I came for an interview with Dumbledore, which actually turned out to be more of a lunch date with him and my old House Head. Minerva had pointed it out, as all of the children and both parents were Gryffindors, and the Weasleys were always struggling with money, so it was a nice treat for them.

But how -- "How did you get this?" I asked him, bewildered.

"Fudge," he replied. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page... on this boy's shoulder... I knew him at once... how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts...to where Harry was...."

Then I noticed it. "My God..." I murmured softly, staring from the rat to the picture and then back again. "His front paw..."

"What about it?" the youngest of the Weasley boys demanded defensively.

"He's got a toe missing," Sirius told him.

"Of course..." I breathed, shaking my head. "So simple... so brilliant... he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed. When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself -- and sped down into the sewer with the other rats..."

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" I asked him. "The biggest part of Peter they found was his finger."

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right---"

"Twelve years, in fact," I nodded. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We--we've been taking good care of him!"

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he? I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was loose again..."

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" Ron yelled, nodding towards the large orange cat that was purring on the bed.

"This cat isn't mad," Sirius said hoarsely, as he reached out a bony hand to stroke the cat's fluffy head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me... Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me..."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked softly.

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't... so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me... As I understood it, he took them from a boy's bedside table." Sirius smiled faintly, before shaking his head with another sigh. "But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it... This cat -- Crookshanks, did you call him? -- told me Peter had left blood on the sheets... I suppose he bit himself... Well, faking his own death had worked once..."

"And why did he fake his own death?" Harry demanded, suddenly furious. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"

"No," I tried to intervene, "Harry--"

"And now you've come to finish him off!"

"Yes, I have," Sirius confirmed, sparing Peter a glare.

"Then I should've let Snape take you!"

"Harry," I interrupted again, trying to calm him down. "Don't you see? All this time we've though Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down -- but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father -- Sirius tacked Peter down---"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE! HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

Sirius shook his head slowly, his sunken eyes suddenly bright. "Harry..." he croaked. "I as good as killed them... I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment - persuaded them to use him as a Secret-Keeper instead of me... I'm to blame, I know it... The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies... I realized what Peter must've done...what I'd done..." His voice broke and he turned away, almost shaking.

"Enough of this," I decided, shaking my head as I turned back to Ron, staring him down. "There's one way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat."

"What are you going to do to him if I give him to you?"

"Force him to show himself," I told him. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

The boy hesitated for a few more moments, before, finally, holding the rat out to me and I grabbed it. Peter began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head."

"Ready, Sirius?" I had asked him, watching as he retrieved Snape's wand from his belt and walked over, his eyes on Peter's struggling Animagus form.

He nodded, "Together?"

"I think so," I agreed, holding Peter tightly in one hand while pointing my wand with the other. "On the count of three. One -- two -- THREE!"

There was no real designated word for this spell; the wand's primary purpose was to focus its casters will on the proper object. In this case, we wanted Peter to be forced out of his Animagus form and into his true form, so that was what the blue light that burst out of both our wands to engulf Pettigrew, did.

A moment later, the transformation was complete, and Peter was crouched down on the ground, cringing and ringing his hands. He hadn't grown at all; in fact I wouldn't be surprised if he'd shrunk... He really looked nothing like the childhood friend I remembered. It looked like spending the last twelve years as a rat had changed his physique to make him almost look like a rat in his human form... His hair was no longer light brown, it had now lost all its color, and he had a bald spot atop his head. He'd obviously lost a lot of weight over a short amount of time.

I waited for a moment, to see if he would calm down or if his panic would reach new levels, but decided to speak when I saw him look at Harry, who was standing in front of the exit. "Hello, Peter," I began, keeping my tone painfully pleasant, "long time, no see."

"S--Sirius... R--Remus..." he replied in a shaky, squeaky voice, again linking him all the more strongly to his Animagus form. He hadn't been like this in school, had he? "My friends... my old friends..."

I saw Sirius raise his wand, and quickly grabbed his wrist, giving him a warning look.

Then I turned back to Pettigrew, continuing in the same, casually pleasant tone. "We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed---"

"Remus," he gasped, leaning towards me, his small eyes pleading. "You don't believe him, do you...? He tried to kill me, Remus..."

"So we've heard," I continued, unable to keep a certain amount of coldness from seeping into my voice. "I'd like to clear up one or two matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so---"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew had squeaked suddenly, pointing at Sirius with his middle finger, because his index finger was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too... You've got to help me, Remus..."

"No one's going to try to kill you until we've sorted a few things out."

"Sorted things out?" the rat-like-wizard squealed, looking around again, wildly; taking in that the window was still boarded and the door was therefore the only exit. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

I shook my head, faking confusion. "You knew that Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban? When no ones ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Sirius had started laughing then, a horrible, completely mirthless laugh that made my heart ache for his losses. "Voldemort teach me tricks?" he raised an eyebrow when the traitor flinched. "What, scared to hear you old master's name? I don't blame you, Peter. His lot isn't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius..." Pettigrew muttered, breathing faster then every, his face covered in nervous sweat.

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years. You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter... They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them... I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think that the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information...and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban did they? There are still plenty of them out here, biding there time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways... If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter---"

"Don't know...what you're talking about..." Pettigrew insisted, wiping his face on his sleeve before he looked up at me. "You don't believe this--this madness, Remus---"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat."

"Innocent, but scared!" he squealed at me, shaking his head. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban --- the spy, Sirius Black!"

Sirius's face contorted to a mask of utter rage and he seemed to almost growl out his response. "How dare you? Me, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than me? But you, Peter -- I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus... and James..."

Pettigrew wiped his face again as he replied, "Me, a spy... must be out of your mind...never...don't know how you can say such a---"

"Lily and James only made you their Secret Keeper because I suggested it," Sirius hissed, his fury scaring Pettigrew back a step. "I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talent-less thing like you...It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Woodlands in the foothills of Caradhas

"In--In Mordor?" Merry repeated, eyes wide.

Everyone else stared on in silent horror, for a long moment, before Gandalf sighed.

"Then they have aligned themselves with Sauron?"

Harry nodded, "As far as we can tell..."

"So Sauron now has an army of Dark Wizards at his disposal?"

"Yes."

Gandalf shook his head, "Then the situation has exacerbated considerably..." after a moment's consideration he rose to his feet. "It would be best if were on our way. Timing will undoubtedly be of the essence... That is if you are well enough, Frodo?" he inquired, watching the Hobbit with concern.

"I'm fine..." Frodo nodded, "That Pepper...Pepper…?"

"Pepper-Up Potion," Harry supplied, drawing another nod and a small smile from the Hobbit.

"That Pepper-Up Potion works wonders."

"But weren't your harmed in the fall?" Aragorn inquired, frowning in concern, as he looked the Halfling over for injuries with the Healer's eyes his foster father had taught him to see with.

"I...I don't think so..." Frodo frowned, "I remember hurting my arm and leg, but they seem fine now..." He demonstrated by moving both his left leg and his right arm around a bit.

"You'd sprained your knee and broken your wrist," Harry told him, "And you were fairly well bruised all over. I took care of it." When no one replied to that, simply remained staring at him in shock, he shrugged. "Different forms of magic, remember?" he offered Gandalf.

"There is a spell for broken bones?" Gandalf frowned, "I know of no such art... I can encourage healing, but not force it..."

"The same is true with the Elves," Legolas offered, and Aragorn nodded.

Harry shrugged. "Different forms of magic. We use it for just about everything... I wouldn't recommend too much movement, you'll probably tire more quickly then you might think, Frodo. The Pepper-Up will keep you going for a few hours, but once it wears off, you'll start to feel some of the bruises." He rose to his feet, waving his hand, apparently to make the three tents disappear, along with every other sign that this had been a campsite of sorts. Aside from the rocks and logs there were sitting on around the fire, everything else was gone. "Now, where to?"

"You're coming with us?" Gandalf inquired, though he seemed only mildly surprised.

"Of course we are," Camthalion replied, shaking his head.

His twin also nodded. "Do you think we'd come all this way just to tell you that you might be fending off an army of Wizards soon?"

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "We wish to help, if you will allow it?"

Gandalf nodded, "We would appreciate it, greatly."

"So," Harry smiled, "where to?"

The Fellowship was silent for several moments before Gandalf finally relented with a sigh, "Moria."

Harry blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Excuse me?"

"We have already attempted to climb over Caradhras, but Saruman has made the route impassable, and the Southern Passage is being watched by the Dunland Crebain. The Mines of Moria are our only option."

"The Gap of Rohan?" Harry suggested frowning, and then he shook his head, "No that's even closer to Saruman's realm of influence if not within it."

The Istari nodded, watching the other wizard carefully.

"When was the last time you visited Moria, Gandalf?"

"Some centuries past, why?"

"When last I was there, the Dwarves were mining very deeply into the roots of Barazinbar, too deeply... I warned them of what slept beneath them, and cautioned that they not mine near it, regardless of how much mithril they may find near it... I have no way of knowing if they listened."

Gandalf nodded, fully understanding what the Elf-friend was not saying. "I understand, but it may be our best chance of covering that distance."

After several more moments of silence, Harry nodded his features grim. "Very well... I can take us to the West Gate, but unfortunately I cannot transport a group of this size to the other side..."

"Magically?" Gandalf inquired, frowning. He too could disappear and reappear places at will, but it was a complicated art, and one he had never attempted to try over long distance, and certainly not with other people.

"Yes," Harry nodded, motioning over for all of them to rise, while he did so himself. "Are we ready to go?" he asked looking around. After Frodo had managed to fold up and pack the blanket he'd transfigured for him, and when he received nods all around, he nodded. "All right, watch me." With all eyes on him, he brought his hands together in a loud clap.

And at the exact same time, with a louder "POP!" they Fellowship plus three were gone, and the Bluebell Flames went out.

Remus's Dreams, Lothlórien

It had been entirely his fault. He was sure of it.

If only he had taken the Wolfsbane Potion, instead of running off -- on the NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON! -- then Sirius would free and Pettigrew would be where he should be.

He could remember waking up in the Forest, painfully.

It wasn't painful just because of the transformation, which in and of itself was painful. It was also painful because he knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that something terrible had happened. And that was before he'd returned to the bleak expressions of his coworkers and semi-fearful expressions of his students.

He'd transformed while tied to a young boy and the traitor. If he'd torn Pettigrew to pieces he could live with it, but not Ron...

And Harry and Hermione were only just behind them.

Oh, he could remember being more afraid then he'd been those torturous few hours it had taken him to find his way back to school grounds, where he was met by Dumbledore and taken straight to Madam Pomfrey.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been... but it was close.

Because of him, everyone, well other then Dumbledore and the Order still thought that Sirius was guilty of the crimes he was framed for. The rest of the world is still waiting with baited breaths for him to be caught and taken before the Dementors, for the Kiss that he almost received that night, only to be saved by Harry, who was also almost Kissed! ...Only to be saved by himself...

Merlin... That had taken some explaining. Who would've thought that the School Board would agree to give a student, no matter how promising, a time turner so that she could take several classes at once?

"You will have to explain this notion to me... Harry has already tried, but I can't imagine being able to change the past like that."

Remus spun around, to come face to face with the Elven Lady that he knew as both a powerful sorceress, and Harry's foster mother. "Wh-What?"

"This time turner... Does it truly allow you to change the past?"

"No... no--Well, yes, you could. But you're not allowed to." Remus explained. "It could change too many things that you have no way of knowing about." He probably didn't need to go on, but he found something so logical almost soothing to talk about. "I mean... Say you had a time turner that you could use to go back to before your daughter was capture by Orcs. And you could therefore stop that. If you did, would your son-in-law have still adopted the Heir of Isilduir?"

Galadriel frowned, "Perhaps..."

"Perhaps not..." he countered.

"You are right," the Lady of Light nodded, "We have no way of knowing. And so we should not try? And therefore we should not let the past hold us in its grasp, we should look past it, learn from it, to make a better future... For we cannot change the past, but the future is ever-changing."

Remus nodded somehow certain that he was no longer the one teaching anything. "Why...Why did I remember all that?"

"They are the memories from your past that you remember most clearly. Some you will not let go due to pain, some for affection. Those that you remember for love, happiness and joy make you stronger. Those you remember for pain weaken you."

"But...I can't just forget them..."

"No, but you cannot dwell upon them either."

The werewolf frowned.

"You must be strong in order to overcome your curse; I can only help so much. The rest must come from your own heart and mind. If either is weak due to fear or pain, then you will fail."

"I will not fail... I... I can't..."

Galadriel smiled softly, "Then you have decided? You wish to be free of the curse?"

The West Gate of Moria

During the Second Age of the Sun the Dwarves had used the western entrance of Moria to trade with the Elves of Eregion. But near the end of that age, when all of Eregion was being laid to waste by Sauron's forces, the Dwarves sealed their gates and ceased all trade and almost all interaction with the outside world. From then on, it was considered by most to be dark place due to its secrecy, for the people of the outside world had no way of knowing what occurred within, nor who was in control; the Dwarves, or the Orcs they'd been fighting against for so long?

The West Gate reflected its prolonged barrenness. It was a dark dreary place, the waters outside made it even more so, seeming the perfect resting place to monsters of any sort.

The "POP!" of disapperation that resounded along the rock wall and the dark waters surface seemed unnaturally loud, surrounded by so much gloom.

"Wh--Where are we?" Merry asked, before hurrying over to Harry. "How did you do that?"

Harry offered a strained smile, "Magic." Then he quickly moved around Merry to the solid, natural wall of stone, raising his wand. "Lunas Lumos." He began to scan the wall with the beam of silvery light that was shining out of his wand, and a few moments later, he found what he was looking for; the Gate. "Aperio." The silvery light left his wand to surround the Gate, making it visible in broad daylight. Harry shrugged, "The West Gate."

Gandalf nodded, quickly reading the Elvish inscription above the door. "It reads; 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Pippin asked.

"Oh, it's quite simple really." Gandalf replied, nodding to himself. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open." He looked over at Harry, and the rest of the Fellowship followed his example, turning to the wizard who was now lying back against one of the boulders by the Gate, obviously somewhat tired.

"What?" he asked them, meeting their gazes before glancing at the door and then meeting Gandalf's gaze. "Don't look at me! I only came here twice, and both times through the East Gate. I only went all the way through the Mines and out this Gate once. I've never gone in this way, so I don't know what the password is..."

Gandalf sighed.

Lothlórien

"I do."

Remus's eyes snapped open, in time to see the Lady of Light step back from her Mirror, before collapsing backward into her husband's arms, clearly exhausted.

"It is done..." she murmured, before closing her eyes and giving into the call of sleep.

End Chapter 17: Mae Govannen: Part II

Translations

Mae Govannen - Well-met

Lunas Lumos - Lighting spell for moonlight. (Hey, they made up enough new versions for the movies, I know, but I really couldn't resist.)

Aperio - to uncover, lay bare, to reveal, to open what was shut

Response to Reviews: If you wish to view them, they will be posted on the Yahoo site. Reviews are still very much appreciated, and will influence how much attention I pay to this story. But several people have pointed out recently that doesn't take kindly to lengthy review responses, so I won't be posting them here.

AN: Hi everyone!

Sorry about the long wait! I really didn't mean to make you wait that long, I just got stuck on several parts... I'd actually written farther then this, where they were actually in Moria, but I decided that was too fast, and they needed more time around the campfire...so that meant a lot of rewriting...

Then my computer crashed. I really, REALLY, HATE it when it does that…

Anyway, I'm going back to school tomorrow, so updates will probably be scarce, but I'll try to be more reasonable. Depends on the workload, really.

Oh! The results haven't come out for the Crossover Awards yet, we're currently dealing with a lot of tiebreakers, but I'd like to thank the people who nominated me again. THANK YOU!!! :-D

And thank you to everyone reviewed!

Reviews are ALWAYS welcomed! And they really do help, so (HINT!!!) please REVIEW!!!

Bye!

Jess S