Aren't you proud of me? In the last month and a half, I've updated about fifteen times. I'm not updating every other day, but, hey, school's not out yet. Soon as June 6 hits, I'm done and I can update every day… at least, until my dear mother commandeers my services in helping to pack up the house. Oh, we're moving this summer, did I mention that? So it'll be busy, and I might not update as much as I'd hoped. But maybe (crosses fingers) this'll get done before the real one comes out.

Chapter 39

Wormtail's Tail

After his classes one Thursday evening in March, Harry sat down at his desk and wrote a letter. His quill hovered over the parchment for several long minutes as he pondered how best to phrase what he wanted to say. After starting three times and crumpling the parchment in frustration, he began anew once more, resolved to finish this one.

Remus,

I need to talk to you. I need help with something that I can't do alone, something that I don't want to tell the rest of the Order about. Can you meet me just outside Hogsmeade tomorrow night at seven?

Harry

He frowned as he reread it, but decided it was not going to get any better. With a sight, he attached it to Hedwig's leg, stroked her wing briefly, and sent her out the window.

The next morning at breakfast, Hedwig returned, landing among his bacon. Harry pulled the letter off of her leg, offered her his orange juice, and eagerly brook the seal.

Harry,

You realize, don't you, that when you send cryptic messages like this you tend to make me very nervous? See you at seven.

Remus

Leaving Ron and Hermione working on a murderous potions' assignment (who said there were not any perks to being a teacher?), Harry walked towards the village, deep in thought. There was one piece of information he wanted, and the only place he could think of to get that information was from the Order. However, since most of the Order knew nothing of the prophecy or of the Horcruxes, his curiosity concerning Voldemort's whereabouts would be looked upon as an arrogant disillusionment that he was capable of defeating the darkest wizard in four centuries. It was for this reason that he wanted to talk to Lupin. Lupin could inquire into the matter without arousing suspicion.

The sun had disappeared below the horizon, leaving a deep purplish-blue sky speckled with thousands of stars. Harry paced back and forth, wondering how he should explain his wish to know where Voldemort was. Should he tell him about the prophecy? Even Lupin, who had more confidence in Harry's abilities than Harry did himself, was wise; he knew, even as advanced in magic as Harry was, that he had very little hope of defeating him, and he would assume that his previous victories (every one a product of luck) had given him a rather overdeveloped sense of his limits. He was just debating this problem when two forms appeared in front of him.

One was Lupin, smiling warmly as he stowed his wand in his pocket to shake Harry's hand. The other was Sirius, who was positively beaming as he gazed up at the night sky.

"This is the first time," he whispered when Harry asked what he was so happy about, "the first time in sixteen years that I've been able to enjoy being outside without having to look over my shoulder for Ministry officials. It's…"

His voice trailed off as he gazed in contented silence at the inky canopy overhead. Harry turned to Lupin, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I didn't think you'd have an objection to him coming," he said, shrugging. "And I made him swear that, if you did, he would go back without complaining."

"Of course not," Harry said quickly. He was actually rather glad Sirius had come. It would be less awkward this way.

"So… what's on your mind?" Lupin asked when Harry did not initiate the conversation. They began strolling along the main street of Hogsmeade, which was dark save for the light in the windows of the Three Broomsticks.

"If I tell you something… er, secret, will you swear not to tell anyone?"

Lupin looked at him strangely. "You're making me nervous again."

He smiled slightly. "I know."

"Yes, I swear."

"So do I," Sirius quipped, still unable to keep his eyes from roving skyward.

Sirius had changed. Harry had not heard him laugh since he'd emerged from the Department of Mysteries, and he was far more reserved and—as far as Harry could tell—more level-headed and less temperamental. Not a bad change, necessarily, but… Sirius was not himself. Or maybe it was himself… now.

"Two years ago," Harry began, "after Sirius… erm, died, Professor Dumbledore told me about something that I've never told anyone except Ron and Hermione. About six months before I was born, Professor Dumbledore was interviewing Trelawney for the divination post. He was getting up to leave when she went all funny and started talking in a deep voice and all. She gave a prophecy."

"Ah."

Harry looked at Sirius sharply. "You know about it?"

"James told me about it," he said softly, his face clouding, "before he died." He sighed and looked straight at Harry. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not." His gaze became hard. "It's why he attacked you and your parents, Harry. He wanted to kill you before you grew too powerful. After you survived the attack… The knowledge that you were alive, you had beaten the Dark Lord before you were even two, was all that kept me alive during the first two years in… in Azkaban. The thought that someday you would be old enough, smart enough, have the power to kill off the monster whose fault all of this was."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Lupin asked. Harry could see that he was hurt, try as he might to hide it.

"Forgive me," Sirius whispered. "Forgive James. Dumbledore knew there was someone close to James and Lily who was feeding information to Voldemort. We didn't think that Peter had the brains or the courage… we thought it was you. He hated to believe it, but he could not come to any other conclusion. Now I can't understand how none of us saw the truth." He hung his head. "I don't know how we could have believed you to be guilty. Of all of us, you'd be the least likely to betray James…."

"You're forgiven, my friend," Lupin said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I understand."

Harry could only shake his head at this. Of all the people in the world who had the right to be bitter and angry, it was Remus Lupin, and yet, he held no grudges.

"If it's any consolation," Sirius added, "when Voldemort showed up at his door, he must have realized that it was Peter, not you."

"It's not," Lupin said, "but thanks anyway."

"There's more to the prophecy," Harry interjected. "More that my dad didn't tell either of you."

Sirius stopped short. "What was it?" he demanded. The fear and apprehension were evident in his voice.

Harry looked back and forth between his two companions, and then he painfully started reciting the words that had run through his mind again and again for a year and a half. "And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

Lupin, who had walked broodingly a few feet past them, halted in his tracks. Without turning to face them, he whispered, "Neither can live while the other survives…"

"Meaning one of us will have to kill the other off or we'll probably both explode," Harry said darkly.

"Oh, Harry…" Lupin turned around, crossed to him, and embraced him tightly. "You've faced more in seventeen years than any man should have to in his entire lifetime. And it's not over yet."

The light from the Three Broomsticks revealed the tears in his eyes. Harry was grateful that he cared enough to cry for his plight.

Sirius looked stricken, hardly able to move. He was looking from Harry to Lupin and back again. "I'm going to lose you," he whispered hoarsely. "First James and Lily, then Dumbledore, now…" He took a step back from them and put his face in his hands, silent sobs wracking his body.

"No," Harry said determinedly. "No, I'm going to beat him. I have to believe I can beat him, or I have nothing to hold on to, and I have absolutely no reason to try. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I have to know where Voldemort is, and I can't ask the entire Order about it because they'll think that I'm so cocky that I think I'm the only one who can beat him. But you… you can look into it without drawing attention to yourself."

"Harry," Lupin said hoarsely, motioning to him and Sirius to follow him to the outskirts of the village, where there was no chance of their being overheard. "I've got something to tell you as well. Over the years I realized that there had to be something key in Voldemort's survival after his own Killing Curse rebounded upon him. You're the only other person who has ever managed to survive it, and that was because of your mother's sacrifice for you. There had to be a reason that he wasn't killed, that he was able to regain a body after Peter rejoined him."

Harry let him continue, even though he had a fairly good idea that he knew what was coming.

"Ever since your first or second year, I've been researching. I've read every book I could get my hands on."

Sirius snorted. "You've always read every book that you could get your hands on."

"Yes, but these were different books," Lupin said impatiently. "After six or seven years, I've come up with one plausible—probable, even—theory. There's an ancient spell or ritual that very few people know, one that can tear your soul in pieces and store it in various different objects. That way, even if your body were to die, part of your soul would still remain and you could rebuild your life. However, it requires—"

"That you murder someone," Harry interrupted dryly. "Yes, I know. I also know that the most powerful magical number is seven, and therefore, if you wanted to be as strong and immortal as possible, you would tear your soul into seven pieces and store each of them in different objects and hide them in places where they would be practically inaccessible. I know that Voldemort knew about this spell—more than knew about it, he performed it. Seven times, in fact."

"You… you know," Lupin stuttered.

"Voldemort made seven Horcruxes?" Sirius demanded hoarsely. "Seven?"

"Well… his body included."

Sirius sank weakly onto a rock, unable to speak. Lupin was gazing at Harry. "How did you find out?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't take credit for that level of discerning. Professor Dumbledore told me about it at the beginning of last year. But he made me swear not to tell anyone else."

"But you just—"

"I didn't tell you," Harry interjected. "You guessed. I just told you the truth so you wouldn't end up guessing wrong and doing something disastrous."

"Seven Horcruxes," Sirius repeated, dazed. "We have no hope. We'll never find them all."

"On the contrary," Harry said, concentrating hard on calling up his Deposito, his magical storehouse. He had transferred the items from Dumbledore's secret bookcase to his Deposito because he was afraid that Hogwarts might be attacked and that they would no longer be safe. He waved his hand and in it appeared Gryffindor's staff. "I already have."

Both men's jaws dropped. "Well," he corrected, "I haven't found all of them, and I didn't find all of the ones that have been found. Dumbledore found one of them and recognized another as a Horcrux. I've found four. The one I haven't found is what I'm coming to you for. I need to find the Dark Lord himself now."

"You've… you've found them," Lupin repeated. He gently took the staff from Harry and ran his hands along it. "Gryffindor's staff… what were the rest?"

"A goblet that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, a diary that belonged to Voldemort, a ring that was his grandfather's, a timeturner that was Ravenclaw's, and a locket that belonged to Slytherin."

"Historic relics," Lupin breathed, still grasping the staff. "I should have known."

Harry felt slightly guilty about telling them what he had sworn not to, but they were on the same track that had led Dumbledore to the conclusion he'd come to, and Harry had just helped to speed them along it.

"So…" Sirius began weakly, "since you've already found them, you want to find his body and get rid of it for good."

"Yeah… except that I don't think—"

Harry stopped short as he caught sight of something in the direction of the castle. His eyes widened, and he took a step backward in shock. "Oh, Merlin, no."

Sirius and Remus both spun in the direction of his gaze, and both swore simultaneously. Without another word, the three of them dashed towards the castle.

Once again, the Dark Mark hung in the sky above Hogwarts.

Oh, please, Harry thought desperately as he sprinted up the pathway, please let it be a joke.

He knew this was a feeble (at best) hope; only the Death Eaters knew how to cast the incantation, and as far as he knew, none of them was brainless enough to cast the very symbol that Lord Voldemort had adopted as a stupid prank. He could only hope that it they were not too late.

The gate was open, and no aurors stood to guard it. "Did they come through the gate?" Sirius panted as they slipped inside. He did not have to speak the thought that was present in everyone's mind: if they were so brazen as to come through the gate, that meant that there were a lot of them.

They skidded into the entrance hall and listened for sounds of a commotion. Terrified shrieks, spells, and shouts echoed through the corridors, seemingly coming from all directions.

"Where do we go?" Remus gasped, trying to catch his breath. Harry was practically doubled over, clutching a stitch in his side.

Sirius shook his head and started towards the stairs. He halted abruptly when he realized that there were people coming down it. Harry erected himself and found himself face to face with the third person he hated most in the world.

"Peter," Sirius and Remus breathed.

There were seven other men with him, all with masks on. Pettigrew held two halves of his in his hand. He looked shocked for a moment, and then a slow grin began to spread over his face. "My friends!" he said, spreading his arms mockingly. "How good it is to see you!"

Sirius lunged at him, but Remus and Harry caught the back of his robes. "Calm down, Sirius," Remus muttered. Then, looking back at the stairs, he said, "That's right, Peter, make fun of us like you own the world. It shouldn't be too hard to take us down with seven friends backing you up."

"I could do it on my own," he spat, raising his wand.

Remus took a few steps forward. "Go on then," he said boldly, flinging his arms out to the side, wand in his pocket. "Kill me."

Harry lunged forward, but Sirius caught him. "Don't," he whispered. "Remus knows what he's doing."

Nervously, Harry watched from several feet behind Remus. He saw a brief hint of fear flash through Pettigrew's face.

"Kill him," said one of Pettigrew's companions. "Come on, Wormtail, get it over with."

Still, he hesitated.

"Pettigrew!" barked another. "He's handing himself over to you! Kill him or I will!"

Remus laughed. "I knew you couldn't do it, Peter. You were never a killer."

Gripping his wand tightly, Pettigrew raised it, opened his mouth, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!" Harry shouted, lunging forward, but still Sirius held him back. He was ready to see Remus crumple to the floor dead, ready to lose one of his best friends, but he never even came close. Remus waved his hand lazily and another spell shot up, deflecting the Killing Curse from its path.

"It seems I've underestimated you, Peter," he said, stepping backwards as the Death Eaters began to advance the rest of the way down the stairs. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Remus, they're trying to outflank us," Sirius warned, raising his wand higher. The Death Eaters were creeping around them in an attempt to surround them.

"Stay together," Remus commanded, taking the final step back to join them. "Eight of them, three of us. Hardly seems fair."

"Think we should give them a chance to surrender?" Sirius asked.

Spells started flying. Harry's first instinct was to duck, but he held his ground and threw up a shield that would deflect all but the most potent of spells. "Contremisco!" he shouted.

The two men he was facing looked as though they were standing directly on the epicenter of an earthquake. They lurched and stumbled to the ground. The next thing Harry knew, however, he was hit with a fury of bedazzling lights, blinding him and disorienting him. He could see nothing. He knew this spell: lumen confundus, one that attacked the victim with a dizzying array of lights but that the conjurer could not see. He uttered the counterspell, but too late—something else hit him in the side. Before he knew what was happening, he was twisting and writhing on the ground; his opponent had shouted, "Crucio!"

The pain let up the next moment when something very solid slammed into the man standing over him and the spell was broken. Sirius had thrown himself at Harry's torturer. The man found himself out cold on the ground.

"Thanks," Harry grunted as Sirius put out a hand to help him up.

More alert now, Harry blocked another spell and hit the Death Eater with a quick Conjunctivitis Curse, impairing his eyesight long enough for Harry to shout "Incarcerous!" and send thin gray ropes towards him to bind him. As Apparition on Hogwarts grounds was impossible, the Death Eater was effectively trapped.

They found themselves facing four opponents across the room, including Peter. Neither side attacked; each warily faced the other, unwilling to leave an opening by restarting the fight.

Harry glanced at his companions. They were exchanging knowing glances. Remus mouthed, "One… two… three."

Harry did not know what they were doing, so he took the initiative and attacked with his own spell. "Veniventus!

Quickly, a wind picked up in the room. Harry, using his magic to control it, started whipping it in a cyclone-motion around the walls. He paid little attention to what Sirius and Remus were doing; he was too focused on performing his own spell right. The wind whipped and darted, picking up his robes and slapping them against his ankles. It was not long before the wind reached its apex. Harry held it still for one second, gathering it around him, and then sent it with lightning force towards the Death Eaters on the other side of the hall.

They were knocked off their feet, slamming into the wall behind them. There was a sickening crack; at least one man had splintered his skull. The others were out cold.

Except Pettigrew. He had excluded him for a reason, though he had taken care to whip his wand out of his hand and across the room.

Sirius and Remus were both staring at Harry.

"What?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably under their gazes.

"You can do Elemental Spells?" Remus asked, looking impressed.

"Yeah…"

"I can't even do Elemental Spells," Sirius grumbled. "Oi!"

Peter had sprung towards his wand, but Sirius' own was pointed at him, and he froze in midair.

Sirius began advancing towards him. "You bastard," he hissed, wand aimed directly at his enemy's heart. "You're lower than dirt, you filthy, lying traitor. I'm going to kill you here."

Though Pettigrew could not move, his eyes grew wide and he looked petrified.

Sirius waved his wand, and the Impediment Curse lifted. Peter fell to the floor. "Pick up your wand, you rat," Sirius said in disgust. "Now!"

Peter scampered towards the fallen stick of wood on the other side of the room. He stood warily, his eyes full of terror. "Please, Sirius, Remus… don't do this. James wouldn't—"

"James," Remus said vehemently, advancing on the cowering man, "James. How dare you speak his name? You killed him. You were one of his best friends, and you killed him! But you know what? You didn't even have the courage to do it yourself, you bastard. You killed him—and Lily, and you would've killed Harry, too—by setting Voldemort on them. You could never have taken them on by yourself. And just now, you had to have your friends behind you. As soon as they were gone, you turned into a sniveling, whining bastard again."

"Remus…" he squeaked. "Please, Remus…"

"We're going to give you more of a chance than you ever gave him," Remus spat. "More than you gave us. We're going to pit you one on one. Harry, he's yours. Defend yourself, Peter."

Harry glanced at Remus, who stepped back. Do I want to do this?

He took a step forward and raised his wand. Shakily, Peter raised his own.

Then Harry dropped it and turned his back on it and Peter. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not going to kill him."

"Avada Kedavra!" Pettigrew shouted.

Harry was ready for it. He ducked as the spell rushed over his head, ruffling his hair. He heard another shout. In unison, both of their wands pointed directly at Pettigrew, Remus and Sirius screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry turned to see Pettigrew slump to the floor, his eyes open in a blank stare, never to truly see again. He picked up his wand.

"We don't have the same reservations as you do," Sirius said harshly, kicking the body.

Remus gazed sadly at Pettigrew's still form. "He wasn't always like this," he whispered. "Before he became a Death Eater, he was… he was just a boy who wanted to be loved and accepted like everyone else." He turned away, and Harry could see the tears in his eyes. Not tears for Peter's death, but tears for his life.

A scream from upstairs reminded them what was still going on in the rest of the castle.

"C'mon," Sirius muttered, and he led the way up the stairs.

A/N: Yikes… ten pages. It's been a while since I've written one that long. Sorry for the cliffie… but hey, Monday is Memorial Day, and tomorrow's Sunday. I might actually update soon this time.