Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, unfortunately.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read my attempt at a different style of story and thanks to Made-in-Denmark for your review…also, thanks for not flaming me. I wouldn't mind more reviews though…hint, hint.

Chapter Two

Hallow, Prepotence

The rain had ceased by the time Harry was making his way down the road to the orphanage. He pushed his wet hair from his eyes, staring down at the uneven cobbles on the unused road, careful not to trip on any. The only time the Church had repaired the main road that wound through the centre of the parish was before Harry had been born. He had been told that it had been re-laid because the Pope had driven through each of the parishes once years ago.

"Harry!"

Harry looked around just before he entered the market, the fast-paced end of the parish where one was required to keep their wits about them lest they be swept away with the amount of bustling bodies bartering for food and the small hands of the pickpockets as they darted back and forth between allies so as not to be caught by anyone in the Church. Currently, three young boys were running towards Harry through the crowds, each carrying a small, burnt loaf of bread.

"We got bread!" the one in the middle crowed happily, holding it up to show Harry, "They gave it to us for a penny each just 'cause the crust's burnt!"

Harry was inwardly sorry that he couldn't remember the boys' names, but they were from another orphanage. Most orphaned children knew him and often sort him out to help them with bullies or even just for company, but it wasn't odd for a boy looking to get into the Church. Even though he had forgotten about applying, it didn't seem that Harry's subconscious had changed its mind on the matter.

Meanwhile

James raised an eyebrow at Sirius, "Why exactly do you want to go to The Grail? You've been waiting for this to happen so you can go back, haven't you? Your duties are here, unless there's something happening over there that I don't know about."

"How could there be?" Sirius asked with a smirk, "You have an uncanny ability to unearth secret plans that no one ever dares to keep anything from you. You were more fun before you were promoted."

"You certainly try to enough to test my patience." James sighed, "Remus, do you mind him tagging along with you and the boy? Keep it in mind that the two of you must act with some decorum. If you're going to be performing services, you have to remember that you are representing Hallow. I expect your behaviour to reflect the parish's strict image, which means," he looked pointedly at Sirius, who raised his hands in innocence, "No funny business."

Remus looked up briefly from shuffling papers on his desk. They were in the office behind his church, signing the relevant papers that would allow them to cross the borders within Prepotence. "Funny business?"

"No breaking the law." James clarified flatly, "I have enough to deal with both here and in The Grail without the two of you ruining everything."

"Oh dear," Sirius mocked, "Is His Lordship not pulling his weight? Are you being overworked, or do you mean that your time is being taken up by looking after the old—?"

James' hackles rose as he cut Sirius off, "The Pope is an old man who requires constant care. I do not fill that role and you know—"

"Care from an Archbishop?" Sirius interrupted, "That's hardly recognising your position, is it? Surely a man of your seniority in the Church has better things to be doing than ensuring the old man wipes his—"

"You honestly dare to speak of him that way before me?" James glared, taking a step forward. Remus, having decided that this argument wasn't going to end on its own, turned away from the modest desk and stepped between the other two men, holding up a hand impatiently.

"Stop squabbling like a pair of children." He snapped, "James, I'm fine with Sirius travelling with us to The Grail. He won't necessarily stay with us whilst we're there, but I'll try to keep an eye on him. No, we won't be breaking any laws, either. Now, you obviously have business in Hallow, or you wouldn't be here, correct?"

"Right." James nodded.

"So you worry about that, instead of worrying about us. What's your problem about us going without you, anyway?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back against the cold, stone wall. Remus looked to James, waiting for his answer, but the older man didn't speak, looking away instead to gaze distractedly through the window. "He doesn't trust me." Sirius stated, annoyance evident in his voice.

"Can you recall a reason why I should trust you?" James asked incredulously.

"So he went to visit Annabel the last time he was in The Grail—"

"Three months!" James stressed, interrupting Remus, "Three months ago, when he was supposed to be here, preparing for Easter. If it was years ago, I might be able to forget more easily, but it wasn't."

"It's not like the rest of us haven't made mistakes." Remus said reasonably.

"You know that better than most," James said pointedly, looking at Remus, "But you've been clean since six years ago since the incident with that cross."

"Wrong!" Sirius sang, wagging a delighted finger in the Archbishop's face, "I caught him with his cello yesterday. Let the boy see it, too."

"You've already told me about that, Sirius." James sighed, "A little music is hardly what you did."

"A little music can turn into more, according to Remus' sermons," Sirius lectured, "Anyway, self-composed music is being outlawed starting next month, so what he did is no less than what I did. Breaking the law is breaking the law and I don't see why 'angel' Remus should be exempt."

Remus closed his eyes against their aimless bickering that would go nowhere and never had. They had been, years ago, the closest of friends, despite their being involved with the group named the Order. They had a shared past filled with music, substance abuse and sex and didn't enjoy being reminded of it. Remus had met them at the end of their seditious years and James had been overprotective of him since he had been involved in an unfortunate incident. If he had been caught, Remus could have been executed, so he owed James his life, but the past he had with Sirius was far more intimate. The two men had a common goal in having Remus on their side, and the fact only drove them further apart each day.

"It still stands that you can't be trusted in The Grail." James snapped, "Remus can go alone."

"Perhaps I want to visit family." Sirius shrugged.

"Have you forgotten that you have none, or have you forgotten that I do, in fact, have a memory?" James asked sarcastically. Remus wiped a hand across his face tiredly at James' sneer, "The point is—"

"The point is," Remus stepped in, raising his voice, "That I am going to The Grail with Harry and with Sirius as our escort. You, James, will stay here to fulfil your job and find my temporary replacement. This is what has already been decided, so I see no reason to debate now."

"But—"

"An archbishop being told what to do by a mere priest. Priceless." Sirius smirked. James glowered silently, folding his arms, but the tension melted instantly.

"A mere priest?" Remus repeated, jabbing a finger at Sirius' arm.

Parish Centre Orphanage

"When will you be leaving?"

Harry smiled at the Mother, shaking out one of the moth-bitten sheets in one of the small bedrooms upstairs, dust filling the air. He had to cover his mouth with one hand, dropping a corner of the sheet to cough before he could spread it over one of the beds.

"I will leave when Father Remus is ready." He replied once he was recovered, "I'm prepared to wait a few more days. I have already waited years to get as far as hearing from him."

The old woman broke eye contact, turning away to start making another of the beds, "You're so good with the children, harry. It would be a shame to leave them."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Was she trying to make him feel guilty for leaving? He was seventeen – surely it was time, anyway? As much as he loved the children, and Mother herself, he wanted to go to The Grail and begin his life.

"Have they eaten lunch yet?" he called over his shoulder as he passed Mother to head down the stairs and into the kitchen. He heard her close behind as he reached into the bread bin, his fingers brushing only crumbs until he was forced to open the lid further to peer in. Locating the last loaf inside, he pulled it out and accepted the knife Mother was offering, along with a small slab of butter.

"No, but you just make your own. I'll have Draco help me later."

Harry scoffed silently, slicing the remainder of the loaf onto separate plates.

"You need to prepare. You never know when the priest will come for you."

"Draco won't help, so let me do this. I don't mind and you know that. Once I'm gone, you'll have your hands full with trying to control him."

Mother stepped forward to start spreading butter beside him as Harry bent to pull a tub of old homemade broth from the cupboard, along with cooking pot. They worked in quite harmony for a while, the kitchen filled with the smells of the broth cooking over the fire.

"He needs to grow up, is all." Mother said after a while, still thinking about Draco, "Your leaving might help him do that – you won't be here to help him out of trouble anymore. He will learn."

"He won't." Harry sighed, heaving the pot off the fire and moving to the counter to ladle it into bowls, "I've never helped him, I've dragged him out. Once I'm gone, all he'll have is his freedom to do whatever he wants."

"Do you think so little of me that I cannot look after a child?" Mother asked with a raised brow. Harry looked down at her, at her grey wiry hair, her slightly plump form, her stern expression behind her round spectacles and sighed. He wanted to argue further and remind her that Draco wasn't a child anymore and could often be dangerous when in a foul mood, but he would only be talking himself into staying in Hallow if he spoke. He was saved from debating whether or not his decision to leave was too selfish or not when they heard a knock on the door.

"I'll get it." Harry muttered, touching Mother on the shoulder as he squeezed past in the narrow kitchen to go back through the hallway and past the stairs, calling up to the others that lunch was ready before answering the door. "Oh, Father Remus." He said in surprise, bowing his head respectfully with a smile. His smile disappeared, however, when Archdeacon Sirius stepped into view beside Father Remus. "And the Archdeacon. What a pleasant surprise."

"Don't lie, Harry, it's sinful." Sirius smirked, pushing past Remus and forcing harry to step aside to gain access to the orphanage. The children who had started coming down for lunch stared at their guests, recognising them instantly, before hurrying together into the kitchen. It wasn't often holy men visited Noveants in their homes. Sirius made his way into the front room, where Harry often joined the older orphans in card games in the evening, but was blocked in the doorway by Mother. She clasped her hands before her and peered up at the towering archdeacon.

"I am Sister Grace." Mother said sharply, "I have been running this orphanage alone since Sister Margaret's death nine years ago. Harry has helped me ever since."

Harry edged around Sirius, embarrassed, to stand behind Mother and rest his hand on her shoulder, silently beseeching for her to stop. The archdeacon was listening with an irritatingly amused expression, his arms folding.

"Ever since he was brought here," Mother went on stubbornly, "He has been a valuable member of this family. Now that he is older, he is almost running the place." She stepped forward out of Harry's grasp, aiming a hot glare at Sirius. Harry had had that looked aimed at him many times in his childhood – she may have been an old woman, but she could still send a chill down his spine. "He is a good, God-fearing boy, so I ask you, Archdeacon, not to accuse him of sin just to amuse yourself. You can punish me for speaking out of place, but I stand by what I say."

Harry looked up warily, but Sirius still appeared to be merely amused. Before he could reply, a hand grasped his arm and pushed him to the side. Father Remus came into view, making Mother take an involuntary step back. "Oh, I didn't realise you were here, too, Father."

"I apologise," Remus smiled, "I would have made myself known properly, had the Archdeacon here not been so impolite. No punishment will be given, of course, Sister." He added, sending Sirius a withering glance, "Sirius isn't the kind to be easily offended and even if he was, you are right. He does bully Harry and it will stop."

"I…thank you." Sister Grace said graciously, bowing again. Harry met Sirius' eyes briefly. The archdeacon nodded, forcing a sombre expression, which told Harry he didn't plan on easing up. He was used to it though, so he wasn't put off by the prospect. More so, he was intrigued that a priest was able to rebuke an archdeacon without being rebuked himself. "I didn't mean to cause a fuss. I only heard the Archdeacon accuse Harry—"

"Stop." Sirius interrupted, waving a hand as he continued to pass Harry and Mother to take a seat at the large table in the centre of the room. It was empty, meaning the children had most likely taken lunch outside to make the most of the dry weather – or to avoid being in the presence of their guests. "Before you make your greater respect for Remus even more obvious and damage my pride."

Harry watched Mother purse her lips at being interrupted before turning to Father Remus, "Father, please take a seat. We should talk about why you have so kindly visited."

Once all four of them were seated around the table, Sirius glanced over his shoulder towards the closed door to the kitchen. "I smell soup." He commented, nudging Remus, "And you make me skip lunch to come here first."

"If you're hungry, we can provide you with food." Mother offered, her fingers twining on the table.

"No thank you, we're fine." Remus assure her, ignored Sirius' heavy sigh, "We won't be here long. We just need to discuss the details of Harry's apprenticeship. I assume he has already told you of his being chosen to go to The Grail for training?"

"Of course. When are you planning on leaving, Father?"

"As soon as possible," Remus smiled at Harry, "I just have a few loose ends to tie before we go."

Later that night

"Please."

The hushed pleas went unheard, capture and muffled by a rough strip of fabric. The loose jangle of chains, however, was not. The captor's fingers twitched on the ledge beneath the window before they resumed their slow, persistent tapping. He continued to gaze through the glass, at the wind bending the bare trees under the hastily gathering black clouds. Rain drops, small and sparse at first soon grew heavy and showered the derelict chalet that overlooked Hallow.

"Please."

The plea came louder this time, along with a brief scrape of wood against stone. The tapping fingers curled into a tight fist as its owner turned slowly to face the other man struggling in the chair in the centre of the bar room, straining against his bonds of thick chains draped across his torso and restraining his wrists. His struggles were growing less frequent and noticeably weaker. His captor reached out to yank the gag from his mouth.

"Please, what?"

"Let me go." The man begged, ceasing his efforts to break free of his bonds to instead hand his head, his chin tucking against his chest, "I have a family to look after. If I don't work…they don't eat."

"Such a shame."

The captor moved forward to rest his hands on the arms of the chair, examining his prisoner thoughtfully. The damage man refused to look up, keeping his eyes firmly on his knees. Who knew what the man would do to him if he so much as met his gaze without permission? He had already sustained several injuries for misconduct. Breath held, he tried not to flinch when the younger man lifted his chin roughly, forcing him to meet his icy blue eyes. The movement jolted his bruised ribs painfully, but he held his groan back with some difficulty.

"If you have a family to support, don't you think you should have thought twice before breaking the law?"

"Father, I—"

"Besides. It's not for you to decide when you are released."

Father Remus straightened up, brushing his hands briefly over the front of his cassock and stepping back. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep, calming breath before looking back down at the captive.

"I will not be carrying out your punishment today, Miller."

Miller released his pent up breath in relief; he was to be given a break from the daily onslaught, for which he could only wait each day, hungry and exhausted – or so he thought.

"No." Remus continued, glancing again at the widow, out of which the rain had only worsened, "I have somewhere to be tonight, for preparations to go away for a while. Which reminds me, I won't be here from the beginning of next week on. It doesn't affect you, though, since I was planning on releasing you tomorrow. Anyway, you're time this evening will be taken by my apprentice."

Miller's heart sank as he watched Father Remus cross the room to the door and out of his sigh. He stared out the window listlessly as he listened to the door open.

Harry greeted Remus when he was granted entry to the room. He had been standing in the cold hallway for fifteen long minutes, huddled miserably under what was left of the roof. The room in which Father Remus had been with the other man was the only one left with its four walls and roof still standing. The hallway was left open to the elements, a shrub standing where the door used to be, the grass of the forest growing between the broken stones. There was no evidence of any other rooms, but Harry assumed they must have existed once. He couldn't remember a time when the odd little cottage had been in one piece and wondered why no one had bother knocking the rest of it down or at least renovating what was left of the place. He guessed he was about to find out. Father Remus had brought him here from Hallow, before disappearing into the room and closing the door, only telling him that he needed to speak to someone in there and that he would fetch him in a minute.

Well it had been more than a minute, so Harry greeted Remus gratefully, shaking rain water from his hair, blinking rapidly to rid his eyes of the stinging sensation the violent wind had given them. Remus stood the side, letting him in. Harry stepped inside quickly, but stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on Remus's company.

The man was sat facing the only window from the centre of the stone room. His hands were chained to the arms of the wooden chair. Thicker chains were wrapped around his torso, seeming to rip through his shirt. The man's head hung limply on his shoulders, not responding when Father Remus closed the door again and asked him to greet Harry, who watched in dismay as he rounded on the bound man and brought the back of his hand across his face, hard.

The sound of knuckle against skin echoed around the room.

"Introduce yourself." Remus repeated, his face calm, his eyes burning with anger. Harry flinched inwardly, instinctively taking a step back. This was the side of the priest that no one wanted to meet, the side they all knew was there but rarely ever saw. Most believed his temper to be mere rumours, but Harry had known better and had been right – men of the Church were not to be taken lightly.

For that reason, Harry didn't need to ask why the man was chained up, alone.

"Miller," the man breathed. Talking seemed to be physically painful, but he carried on, "My name is Andrew Miller."

Harry glanced towards Remus, who beckoned for him to come around to stand beside him, in front of Miller. As he did so, Harry's eyes avoided the priest's, whose eyes he could feel watching him closely. Harry kept his face carefully blank as he looked the thirty-odd year old man over, noticing the sharp edges of the rusting chains, the blood crusted tears through his clothes.

"Explain why you are here." Remus said, his voice soft this time.

Miller shifted, wincing when his bindings scraped against his flesh.

"I taught a bastard a lesson."

Harry's eyes widened, glancing towards Father Remus, but the priest did nothing. Instead, he turned his back on Miller to look out the window, clasping his hands behind his back. When he turned to Harry, he gave him a smile that allowed him to look his age, which he so rarely did. His normally stern expression tended to add ten years to his appearance.

"He started a fight with another in the Parish."

"Was he provoked?" Harry asked warily, glancing again at Miller, whose mouth had twisted into a bitter smile.

"The cause of the fight doesn't interest me." Remus answered, "Andrew started it. So he is punished. He has been here for two months and is released tomorrow. Fighting, as you know, is a serious offence, which is why he's been here for so long. Others have joined him here and been given leave before him. I think he preferred sharing his time here with other sinners, but you'll be able to re-join them all soon, Miller."

Harry nodded silently, wondering why he was there, if the man was soon to be released. Surely he didn't expect him to do anything, like carry out a punishment – those who broke the law in Prepotence were subject to the punishments of the priests and Hallow was infamous for having one of the most stringent priests in the province. The priests in charge of the Noveants of Hallow had to be unbending, due to their parish being so large – the second largest in Prepotence, after the capital, The Grail.

Punishments were oft' whispered about and, hopefully, exaggerated, but none of the unfortunate few that Harry knew had been sent away to 'do time' divulged what had happened to them, or even where they went.

It was an unspoken rule within the Parish that no one asked and no one answered.

"I usually make their last day with me a memorable one," Remus went on, "But I'm needed elsewhere. Harry, this is your test. Take care of business here and I will take you to The Grail with me for further training."

Again, Harry was silent, the muscles across his jaw jumping. He was expected to take over the priest's job already? Father Remus crossed the room to the door again, without another word. This was ridiculous – he didn't even know what he supposed to do, let alone whether or not he wanted to go through with it.

"Wait!" Harry blurted, before lowering his outstretched hand. Remus paused and looked back at his student, brows raised impatiently, the door open. The rain had gotten heavier again, the sound intrusive with the door ajar. "I...I'm not sure what I'm doing." Harry admitted. Miller laughed quietly. Father Remus stepped forward and pressed his hand against one of the stones on the wall. Harry watched in surprise as the stone was pushed further into the wall, triggering the floor beside the priest to collapse.

Remus laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, giving him a smile that made the boy itch to step away from him. The priest's smile grew as he considered him silently, before turning to go without another word. Harry swallowed and watched him leave, shutting and audibly locking the door behind him. Redirecting his stare to the trap door at his feet, his heart plummeted.

"Christ..." he muttered.

A/N2: Drop a review, my lovelies, it makes me do a happy dance ^_^