What Secrets Keep

by Jennie Exell

Au Book 2. Sometimes there are just too many secrets, and sometimes all it takes to start unraveling them is a failed spell from a broken wand. But with secrets, lies, half truths, mysteries and a giant snake in the pipework, who can be believed? (Sirius x Remus slash implied) Formatting issued solved, and scrambled dialogue replaced.

4. Chapter Three - And Good Will to All Men

Chapter Three - And Good Will to All Men.

Albus Dumbledore had always loved Christmas. He supposed it was the perpetual child in him, but despite his great years, for him the wonder and magic of the season never dimmed. It was the universal holiday. They called it Christmas, but the Wizarding world had never been particularly enamoured with any of the monotheistic faiths, Christianity in particular; Christians had an unfortunate history of being especially cruel to their kind. But this season, whatever it was called was special. It was the season of light in the darkness, of joy in trying times. That was what the Wizarding world celebrated, and had done from as far back as pagan times, with Solstice. The celebration of the days finally growing longer again, of the rebirth of the world. The season of hope.

And hope was something everyone needed a little booster of at the moment. Even he, who loved the season so completely, was finding it hard to raise his cheer. He had too much on his mind for that.

There was a Muggle expression; all things happened in threes. It would seem, that in this instance that the old saying was indeed correct. Three events, each of which would be worrying enough on its own, but having them all happen within weeks of each other was truly troubling.

The Opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

The revelation that Peter Pettigrew had spent the last eleven years as the Weasley's pet rat.

The escape from Azkaban of Sirius Black.

Strangely, it was not the last which was so preoccupying the Headmaster's mind, although many would assume it would be. He was confident in the security of his school, and then there were the Dementors guarding its borders. No, if Black was headed here, he would have a tough time getting close enough to do any damage.

The Chamber was a more worrying concern. For years Albus had searched for its entrance. Ever since it had been opened fifty years before. Unfortunately, he had never found it. He had hoped in his early years of searching to find it that doing so would in some way prove Hagrid's innocence. Never had he truly believed the half giant had been the one to unleash the monster. He'd been foolish, keeping that Acromantula inside the school, and the Headmaster had had little choice but to expel him for it, but no, Dumbledore did not believe the baby giant spider Hagrid had befriended had killed that poor girl then, nor did he believe that Hagrid had ever been anywhere near the Chamber of Secrets.

In fact he was certain he knew exactly who it had been. Unfortunately he had no proof. The recent revelation that Harry was a Parselmouth was deeply worrying, but he did not think it was Harry who had opened the chamber knowingly or unknowingly either. No matter what the students might be whispering. There was someone, something, darker and far more dangerous inside the castle unleashing the beast upon the students.

And whatever, whoever it was needed to be stopped. Before someone actually died.

Distracting him from this search however, was a mystery. An enigma, a riddle. Now Albus Dumbledore would admit that he was rather a fan of riddles. But this particular riddle confused him greatly. For weeks he'd turned it over and over in his mind. And what confused him most was that even though he felt he might have solved it, he could not reconcile it. If what he now suspected were true, then it made someone a liar, but the lie they'd told was an utterly pointless one. Why tell a lie if it gained nothing?

That was a riddle in and of itself.

Peering down from his vantage point into one of the school's many small courtyards, Professor Dumbledore frowned as he watched the interaction between the two people he could see below. Harry Potter and Peter Pettigrew. His eyebrow twitched up in sudden realisation at what he saw.

At first glance, it would seem Harry was showing off his admittedly beautiful owl, Hedwig, to his father's old school friend.

At first glance.

Now Harry was not by nature a cruel child, but Dumbledore suddenly noted that perhaps Harry was not beyond inflicting subtle torment to rid himself of an unwelcome presence. Dumbledore had noted that Harry had been out in the courtyard with Hedwig before Peter's arrival, but he also noted Harry did not stop playing with the bird even though Peter - whose ratty-ness was still quite marked - had spent more of the last five minutes cowering and twitching than he had in any kind of admiration. The message was clear. If Peter didn't like what Harry was doing, then Peter could take himself somewhere else.

Minerva was right. Rather than warming up to Peter as they had expected Harry to do given that the former rat was a link to his parents and had cared for them deeply - taking on a man of Sirius Black's power in an effort to aid them no less - Harry had drawn further away. According to Minerva it took some amount of persuasion on her part to get Harry to visit with Peter now, even though Peter was most anxious to spend as much time as he could with the boy. Harry had clearly gone from merely finding the man creepy, to actively disliking him.

How very curious.

~HpɸqH~

Holidays, for staff and students alike, always seemed to run away, like sand slipping through open fingers. One moment it was the end of term feast, and the next everyone was frantically preparing, or trying to ignore the fact that they should be preparing, to get back to work.

Given that only a handful of students and staff remained at the school over the holiday, it came as no surprise to anyone that most people tended to gravitate towards the great hall. Not just to eat, but to do homework, read, play chess, chat quietly, and generally be around other people. The school was too large, the common rooms and the staff lounge too empty when there were so few people about. It was eerie, lonely and disconcerting.

It had long been observed that the oddest of friendships could be sparked up during this time. A Hufflepuff fourth year and Ravenclaw sixth year who otherwise would have had no reason to speak whatsoever, might suddenly spark up a conversation, find a shared interest and a friendship that would last well beyond school would be born.

Not that this was likely to happen this year. Even by holiday standards the school was empty. With students being petrified by someone or something unknown in the castle, rumours of the heir of slytherin, Dementors on the borders and Sirius Black on the loose, the vast majority of parents had decided to have their children with them over the break, rather than leave them at the school. Many had even changed plans at the last minute, at some considerable financial loss, to bring their children home.

So it was that only the barest handful still remained. And most of those were Weasleys. There were currently five of them at the school, and with the presence of Harry Potter, they made six currently sat at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the teachers table. It seemed strangely daft to sit further away.

Frowning down at his holiday homework, Ronald Weasley found himself lamenting the fact that the one who should have made their number seven, was one of those who'd gone home after a 'last minutes change of plan'. Hermione Granger's parents might be Muggles, but they clearly kept up with the Wizarding News and hadn't felt comfortable with her staying at school with everything that was going on.

If she'd been here, she could have helped with the essay. No doubt she'd already written hers. Hell, if she'd been here she would have made sure they'd already written theirs too. That was what Hermione did. She was the smart one out of the three of them. She was clearly mental, came up with the craziest ideas sometimes, but she was damned handy to have around when there was homework to be done. She was also a great friend, but no force on earth was going to make Ron admit that out loud. It was hard enough admitting it in his own head.

Looking up, Ron let his eyes wander around the hall in boredom, looking for something else to stare at rather than his non-existent essay; a blank wall would do. What he saw however, made his eyes widen and ducking his head, reached over and gave Harry's arm a nudge.

"Hey!" Harry objected, looking up crossly at the boy opposite him who'd made him smudge his work.

But Ron just shook his head at him. "Don't look now, but Rat-boy just walked in."

Rat-Boy. He probably should have said Rat-Man, there was very little boy in the hunched figure who was slowly making his way down between the long tables. Very little boy, but a hell of a lot of rat. Protruding front teeth, long gingery hair that fell in thin straggles made even more prominent by the numerous large bald patches on the man's head. Hairy hands, hunched shoulders and long yellow finger nails. Even upright and in a suit the man looked like a rat.

Just looking at him made Ron feel a plethora of mixed emotions. None of them particularly good. Scabbers had been his pet Rat for almost as long as he could remember. People like Hermione and Harry, they didn't understand that it was possible to feel lonely even with six siblings. They didn't understand that having so many brothers and sisters didn't mean he'd always had a gaggle of playmates around. There were ten years between himself and Bill, his eldest sibling, and for as far back as Ron could remember, Bill had been away at school most of the time. As had Charlie his second eldest sibling. The gap between himself and Percy hadn't been large enough for Percy to see the fun in playing with a baby, or small enough that they had anything in common, the twins had always had each other so that had left Ron with Ginny, a year younger than him, but she was a Girl.

So Scabbers had been his friend. His companion. His confidante and co-conspirator. He'd saved up his pocket money every week so he could buy things for him. He'd got into a full on brawl with the twins in order to rescue Scabbers when the twins had threatened to turn him into soup - and taking on two of them when he'd been just eight and they'd been ten was no small feat. Scabbers had slept on his Pillow every night, gone everywhere with him. He'd read to Scabbers from the Daily Prophet when his dad was done reading it, and felt so proud of himself because his rat really seemed to enjoy it.

He'd loved that Rat. But Scabbers had turned out to be a person. And now he felt... he didn't really understand what he felt. Cheated. Angry. Embarrassed. He'd taken Scabbers into the bath with him for Merlin's sake! You could bet your backside he was embarrassed. And something else his innocent Twelve years of life experience couldn't let him quantify. All he knew was that it gave him the willies. Big time.

Not that he planned to tell Harry any of that. Ever. Initially it wasn't just because he was embarrassed, but because the man his Rat had turned out to be had been a friend of Harry's parents. He wasn't going to lose his best friend over all this.

Thankfully in the end he hadn't needed to hide as much as he thought. McGonagall could lay as many guilt trips as she liked on Harry, she wasn't going to be able convince Harry to like Peter anymore than she would be able to convince Ron.

Peter Pettigrew was just too creepy.

On the other side of the table to Ron, Harry groaned. "If he comes over here, start an argument with me or something."

"You really don't like him do you?" Fred, one of Ron's older brothers joined the conversation; eyes alight with curiosity, and something darker flickering in their depths. Ron had seen it before; they'd had this look about them a lot since they'd found about Scabbers and Pettigrew. He didn't understand it, and when he'd asked about it they'd just patted him on the head and told him not to worry about it. Ron could almost believe they disliked Pettigrew even more than he and Harry did.

"Yeah, what's going on Harry, isn't he like your uncle or something?" George, Fred's identical twin continued the thought.

"He's not my uncle!" Harry snapped a little too loudly; ducking his head and glancing around to make sure he hadn't drawn attention to himself, he was relieved to see Peter was over by the teachers table talking to McGonagall. "Look, I know since he was one of my Dad's best friends I should like him but..."

"Whoa." George jumped in. Raising his hands placatingly, and was that relief Ron saw in his brothers' eyes? "There's plenty of our parents' friends..."

Fred picked up. "...We don't like. Just because they're their friends..."

"...doesn't mean they're ours." George broke in again. "We just wondered why you don't like him."

"Other than because he's a bit weird." Fred noted.

"A Bit?" Ron nearly yelped. "He's more Rat now than he was when he was Scabbers."

Harry had to agree, and curling his nose in disgust, he tried to explain. "It's just... all he ever talks about is my Mum and Dad. And at first it was great to hear about them, but... he just keeps talking about how much he liked them, how close they were and how much they liked him. And how Sirius Black is a murderer and a liar. And I get it. Sirius Black is bad. The Dementors hanging around the school were a huge clue there. But it's like he's trying to convince me all the time." He sighed and let his shoulders drop. "I don't know, I can't really explain. I just don't feel right when he's around. He doesn't scare me exactly, I just don't like being around him."

"Sounds reasonable." The twins chorused in unison, then Fred continued on his own. "Besides, we're not exactly fans of his after what he did to Ron."

"What did he..." Harry's head snapped around to look at his best friend.

"I wanted to tell you Harry," Ron implored, shooting a furious look at his brothers who just raised their eyebrows. "But I didn't want to make a big fuss in case you actually you know, started to like him."

"What. Did. He. Do." Harry bit angrily.

"Nothing serious." Ron shrugged. "Only McGonagall asked me and Percy to go see him in the hospital wing... familiar faces and all that, this was back when it all first happened. He was my rat for six years, and Percy's for five before that. We thought well... it should have been worth something. We always treated him well. But he just... I dunno... it was like we were nothing. The only person he wanted to talk to was you. He was just really rude Harry."

Catching his friend's eye, Harry could tell that the meeting had hurt Ron more than he was prepared to let on and Harry could understand why. He'd lost a beloved pet, and in its place was a seriously creepy, strange middle aged man, who apparently wasn't all that grateful to the Weasley's for the care they'd shown him. "I'm really sorry all this happened."

"Not your fault, mate." Ron shrugged, a little guiltily. To be honest, he wasn't all that cut up about how rude Peter had been during that first meeting anymore. Admittedly at the time it had hurt, but he hadn't had time to think about all the other stuff then. Now though, he was kind of glad. But he hadn't wanted to explain all that to Harry. It didn't feel like something he should talk about.

"Well as fascinating as all this is..."George suddenly announced standing from the table.

Fred too got to his feet. "We've got things do..."

"...before everyone comes back tomorrow." George finished with a waggled of his eyebrows.

Looking back at Harry once the twins had left, talking quietly between themselves as they walked, Ron sighed. "I guess we better finish these essays. Hermione will do her nut if we haven't got them done before she gets back."

"No kidding." Harry replied, sharing a look of wide eyed horror with his best friend.

~HpɸqH~

Despite the fact that the Hogwarts Express was the busiest it had ever been at this time of year and the students were packed into compartments down the length of the train for their journey back to school after the Christmas break, near the back there was one compartment that contained only a single passenger.

Not that anyone could see him. He'd pulled all the shades and locked the door hours before the first student had arrived on the platform. A couple of times someone had attempted to open the door, one had even tried to unlock it with a spell, but he'd foreseen this eventuality and the charmed lock had only spun harmlessly when the student tried the handle.

Once out of the station, he'd lifted the shade on the window, (although he'd left the ones on the corridor side of the compartment down) and now he stared out at the passing scenery, his mind rooted in the past. It had been a very long time indeed since he'd been on this train. The memories washed over him like the most bitter-sweet of waves.

He could clearly remember the last time. The train had of course be going in the opposite direction then; taking himself and his companions home after the end of their final year at the school that had come to mean so much more to them. They hadn't realised it at the time, but they'd said goodbye to childhood on that journey. They'd sat there the five of them - the four marauders and the honorary marauder Lily Evans - and they'd planned out their futures. Great wild schemes, naive visions of how their lives would turn out.

James had said he would marry Lily. She'd looked at him bug eyed for a moment, asked if he was proposing and then they'd all collapsed into a fit of giggles. Ten months later Lily Evans had become Lily Potter. Peter had talked about working at the Ministry, about becoming Minister for Magic one day. Lily had said she'd vote for him. Sirius had threatened to leave the country. James and Sirius had talked at length about Auror training and he'd... he'd sat there and listened with fondness and pride, happy to lean into Sirius, the dark haired man's arm around his shoulders.

He couldn't remember all they'd talked about. He remembered Sirius saying something incredibly sweet, although what exactly it was he couldn't quite recall, and then James and Peter pelting the pair of them with jelly beans. It had started a sweet war that had led to Lily fleeing the compartment the four them rolling around on the floor like first years.

Even then. Even on that last journey home, they'd been so supremely innocent. They hadn't had a clue what was waiting for them.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out something from the bottom of it. Something he'd never quite been able to let go of. It was a dog collar. Heavy brown leather with single round tag on the buckle. 'Moony' it said on one side. 'Property of Sirius Black' it said on the other.

A joke. A bad one but still a joke. Meant with utmost affection.

"In case you ever get lost Moony. And a need a little help finding your way home."

So utterly presumptuous. So completely Sirius. Sirius had given him that collar after their first real fight. That would not be the last time he would find himself torn between kissing and punching his lover, but it would end up being one of the most memorable.

Almost six years they were together. Six years. From the beginning of their sixth year at school until... until about a month before the day Remus Lupin's world fell apart completely. The day he realised that he'd never really known Sirius at all. The day he woke to the news that James, Lily and Peter were all dead. Peter, Sirius had killed himself, but James and Lily he had handed over to the Dark Lord.

Even now, he found himself retching thinking about it all. Sometimes he found himself wondering about those nights Sirius would come home all fired up, gleeful light shining in his eyes, a light Remus had thought was for him. He'd think about those nights and he'd think about bloodlust, and he'd wonder what Sirius had been doing before he'd come home to make his blood burn as it had. He'd think about the names that had daily appeared in the paper, had been read out on the WWN and wonder. Was Peter the first?

Six years. Sirius Black had had his heart for much longer, but that was the time they'd had. In those years he'd told Sirius everything from his fondest desires to his greatest fears. He'd given that man everything he had to give. Because he'd loved him. He'd loved a ghost. A figment.

No he couldn't believe that. His Sirius had existed once. His Sirius had been a real person, a boy with strength and courage and loyalty and a rebellious streak a mile wide. His Sirius would have rather died than become a Death-Eater. And that was where he faltered because his Sirius hadn't died, but he had become a Death-Eater.

If he could pinpoint the moment. The exact point in time where it had all changed maybe... Maybe nothing. Fact was fact. Sirius Black had been James and Lily's Secret Keeper. Only he had had the power to divulge their location and he'd run straight to his master. He'd betrayed the Potters, he'd murdered Peter and he'd murdered twelve random Muggles just because they happened to be there.

The day Sirius had been sent to Azkaban Remus hadn't cried. He'd cried for James, he'd cried for Lily, he'd cried for Harry who'd lost his parents and Peter who'd lost his life. But Peter wasn't dead. He was alive. Had spent the last eleven years as a rat. If he found Peter the first thing he would do was find out what the hell that cock and bull story about transfiguration was all about, and why he hadn't shown his face in all this time. It was a crock of shit and Remus knew it. But still he did not regret his tears for Peter.

He had no tears for Sirius Black.

Only a burning anger. A hatred like he'd never known. Feelings he'd buried deep for eleven years, content enough to let the man rot in Azkaban. Feelings that had washed over him like a tidal wave as Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron of all people, had filled him in on all he'd missed since he'd last been in the Wizarding world.

That Peter was alive should have filled him with joy, and it did in a way, a tiny flicker of light in the darkness that had taken over his mind. But he couldn't let himself feel that joy yet. Not yet. Not after the other piece of news Tom had given him. Sirius had escaped Azkaban. Sirius had had the audacity to break free of the place he should have remained, his sanity being shredded day by agonising day, until he died like miserable excuse for a rabid dog he was.

No Remus would not clear the fog of rage or the dark oppressive blanket of hatred from his mind until he'd seen the light fade from that murderous traitor's eyes. Not this time. This time he would make sure. This time he would not fail James and Lily as he had for those six years he'd slept beside that monster without realising who he was.

Sirius Black would not finish what he started with Peter. Sirius Black would not touch one single hair on Harry Potter's head. He wouldn't get the chance. Not while Remus could still draw breath. If he wound up in Azkaban so be it. It would be worth it.

He would do this. And he wouldn't let anyone stop him. That was why no one knew where he was going. Why he couldn't let himself be seen once he got there, not until after it was done. They'd try and stop him, talk him out of his course. He didn't want to be stopped and he wouldn't give anyone the opportunity to talk him out of it.

He would have to be careful though. Old Tom had been very forthcoming with information. Not just about events of interest, but also about rumours and hearsay. There were people looking for him. Tom hadn't known who, or why. Only that word was out for information on him. If it was Sirius then he could come and get him, he'd be waiting. If it was Dumbledore... well, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

If it was anyone else, then they could bloody well wait.

The door suddenly rattled and Remus' gaze snapped to it.

"Hey! Open this door." A voice, a decidedly adult voice, ordered from outside. "Bloody kids, you know you're not allowed to lock the doors. Open up! Open up Now!"

Damn it. It was the guard. Go away. Remus willed. Go away now. But the man on the other side kept rattling the door and demanding it be opened. He was surely drawing attention to himself. Damn it.

Standing quickly, Remus drew his wand, unlocked the door and caught the Guard with mild stunner as he stumbled forward, the force of the spell knocking him back out into the corridor. Damn again, not as mild a stunner as he planned. Quickly moving to the door he glanced rapidly up and down the corridor, grateful to find it empty.

The Guard was looking up at him, slowly getting to his feet. Damn. Damn. Damn. Well in for a penny in for pound. What he was planning was enough to get him in Azkaban anyway he might as well go all out.

"Rescribo Mundi*." He incanted with a snap of his wand. The man's eyes became suspiciously dull. Keeping his wand aimed at the Guard, he spoke his next words clearly. "You have seen no-one in or near this compartment."

"I have seen no-one in or near this compartment." The Guard repeated back dully.

"It was locked the entire journey." Remus continued.

"It was locked the entire journey."

"You locked it yourself before the train left the Kings Cross. The seats were broken and you didn't have time to fix them."

"I locked it myself before the train left Kings Cross. The seats were broken and I didn't have time to fix them."

"There is no need for you to check this compartment again until the house-elves come down to clean."

"There's no need to check this compartment again until the house elves come down to clean."

Reaching forward, Remus lay his wand against the man's forehead, felt the power of the memory spell pulse as it settled, then withdrew.

A gasp. A footfall. Remus' head snapped towards the sound. Was someone there? Cautiously he peered down the corridor, his senses stretching. Werewolf senses, always just that little bit sharper than those of an average human being. He took a few steps in the direction the sound had come from but heard nothing but the idle chatter of children further up the train. He narrowed his eyes, paused and listened, but sounds of the train, the wheels on the tracks and the chuff of the engine were too loud for him to make out the sounds of heart beats or breathing. He sniffed. Sweets, sweat, leather old and new, fabric softener, shampoo, new clothes, disinfectant, brass polish, cauldron de-scaler, a nasal cacophony of animals and their droppings, and hundreds and hundreds of people. If there was a fresh scent in amongst that lot, he couldn't pick it up.

He shook his head. He was getting paranoid. That was all. And wasting time. If he didn't finish what he'd started here soon, then one of the children in the nearby compartments could well come out and then he would have a problem. Time to stop chasing phantoms.

With one last glance around, he returned to the guard whose eyes were beginning to clear. Damn again. No time.

"Confundus." He bit out, making the guard sway on his feet and blink rapidly.

Taking his opportunity, Remus slipped quickly back into the compartment, shut the door and locked it. Waiting until he heard the Guard groan, mutter about feeling light headed then wonder off. Only then did he relax back into his seat.

~HpɸqH~

Just along the corridor from Remus Lupin, a twelve year old girl with bushy brown hair and freckles was also slumping back into her seat. Her heart pounding and her mind racing, not quite believing what she'd just seen.

~HpɸqH~

"You will report to Mr Filch immediately after the feast Miss Granger. And that will be the end of it. No more lies. Do I make myself clear?"

"But..."

"I said do I make myself clear?!" Minerva McGonagall snapped firmly, eyes flashing angrily.

"Yes professor." Hermione Granger choked back, her eyes bright with tears.

"Then you may go." Minerva dismissed, watching as the young girl turned on her heel and practically stomped from the room.

With a sigh, she lowered herself into her chair behind her desk and shook her head in dismay. Of all people and of all things, she never would have thought...

"Trouble already, Minerva?"

Glancing up, Minerva bolted out of her seat at the sight of the Headmaster in her doorway.

"Headmaster, I didn't realise..."

Albus Dumbledore shook his head and smiled wryly, waving the Deputy Headmistress back to her seat. "I must confess I was lurking. Curiosity got the best of me and I found myself too impatient for you to come and see me."

Minerva shook her head. "As much as I like Potter and young Ron Weasley, they've been entirely a poor influence on that girl."

"Really? How so?" Dumbledore asked idly, as he wandered around the Deputy Headmistress's office, casually perusing the items on display.

Minerva rolled her eyes at his blatant nosiness. It wasn't like he hadn't seen the inside of her office before, and very little of its contents had changed in recent years. "Lying is not a trait I would have associated with Miss Granger before now. But..."

"Are you sure she was lying?" Dumbledore cut in, turning away from the photographs he'd been looking at to face her, his expression serious.

With a tired exhalation, Minerva stood from her seat and came to stand closer to the Headmaster. "I spoke to the guard myself Albus, and checked the train. As did Professor Flitwick. If anyone did attack that Guard I could see no evidence of it. He has no gaps in his memory to speak of. He clearly remembers trying the door to the compartment to check it was still locked and moving on. A door which he locked before the students arrived at Kings-Cross when he found that all the seats were broken. He saw nothing and no-one suspicious the entire journey."

"And the compartment?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Just as he described it." Minerva replied succinctly. "Both bench seats utterly unusable. Perhaps a word about respect for property might be in order before tonight's feast. That students felt it acceptable to damage that compartment as they did is not to be tolerated."

"Indeed, I will make sure to mention it tonight." Dumbledore mused thoughtfully. "It seems strange though, don't you think, for someone like Miss Granger to make up such a tall tale, and create such a fuss. She's never struck me as one who needed to seek attention in that way. She gets more than enough attention for her academic achievements."

"If Potter and Weasley had been on the train I might have assumed she was covering for them in some way." Minerva admitted with bafflement. "But as they were not I am still at a loss as to what any of it was all about."

"Only time will tell I fear." Dumbledore replied dryly. "It so often does with these things. But on to other matters. I was wondering if you had any success in your attempts to locate Mr Lupin during your sojourn from the castle this last week?"

Casting sad and worried eyes on the Headmaster, Minerva just shook her head.

"Nothing. Not a word. I am beginning to worry that we might be too late."