Chapter Thirty : Farmhouse of Memories

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sit dispirited among dead leaves, field mice, and miserable memories. The sun disappeared beyond the horizon hours ago, beginning its long slumber. Sirius's violet eyes reflect a despair he has not felt since the tragic night that Lily and James were murdered, the night he was named their killer. Remus cracks each knuckle, staring at the wispy bars of magic that hold them, and beyond the bars to a knot of trees. No words are exchanged between the two captives. They can sense each other's thoughts, but only because their minds run along the same track.

Tonight is the night they die.

Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow and cocks his head towards the five Death Eaters, significantly clearing his throat. The Death Eaters sport black robes with sapphire trimming, and all except one draw their hoods. They circle a makeshift fire pit and what appears to be the youngest one jabs at the orange flames with a twig. His eyes reflect orange as he angles his head towards the prisoners in the shadows. The blond Death Eater's gaze burrows into Remus, and Remus must turn away.

"How's the escape plan coming?" Remus asks, his voice faked in jest and true in sorrow. He leans forward, his legs crossed and elbows resting on his thighs. With a headache pounding between his temples and down his neck and his muscles burning with pain, Remus sighs hopelessly.

Sirius's lips part into a faraway grin. "I think I figured it out," he whispers to Remus, his plan coming to form in his mind. "It's so simple, I don't know why I never thought of it before. Two wizards might not be able to take on five Death Eaters, but two dogs could! We just need to transform! Our problems will be over!" His eyes sparkle with excitement, and he shifts eagerly on the forest ground.

Remus stares blankly at Sirius for a moment, considering it a sin to be the bearer of terrible news, a sin to cause Sirius's joyful look to fade into one of despair. "And while we're breaking our spines and growing our tails, they kill us," Remus answers slowly, regretfully.

"We wait here, and they will kill us!" Sirius cries, drawing his knees towards his chest and covering his face with his hands. "It's hopeless. We're just going to sit here and wait for Death's cold grasp! A grasp that we've slithered out of so many times before! Have we lived through all those chances just to come to this?" Sirius whimpers melodramatically, his words muffled by his hands. He has faced death before, but he was never in a situation where certain death walked the end of the road.

Remus glares at Sirius, his eyes one-fourth scared and three-fourths angered. "If you keep yelling, they'll just kill us faster," he snaps, his words coming before his brain can process the thoughts. "But maybe you want that. Who knows what torture Malfoy has planned for us or what little cell block you will be confined in? Shadows of your past come back to haunt you, isn't that right, Sirius?"

Sirius winces, frustrated beyond belief with Remus's behaviour and words. He groans, dropping his chin into his cupped hands and exhaling deeply. "Why has this mission been one mistake after another? Is this what we've been reduced to? I thought we were better than this, Remus. Isn't friendship a wine? Doesn't it improve with age?"

"Yeah, and it goes well with cheese," a voice from above says, snickering.

Remus cranks his head towards the smooth voice and stares into the hollow eyes of Raventon, a twenty-something Death Eater with painted fingernails and long hair that flows like golden thread. Remus quivers for the second time being beneath the creepy, fire-echoed gaze of this Death Eater.

Raventon takes a long drag of a menthol cigarette, swimming in the minty smoke that spirals around him. He grins toothily at Remus and Sirius, and Remus notices for the first time that his complexion is paler than normal, and not a scar graces his perfect skin. A flash of silver reflects in Remus's eyes and draws them towards the source of the light--a thin hoop pierced through Raventon's left eyebrow. Remus drags his eyes away, back towards the shadows of the forest, through the wispy bars of their cage.

Raventon tilts his head back towards his fellow Death Eaters, a stupid grin plastered across his face as he takes another long drag from the cigarette between his bony fingers. "What d'yeh s'pose Malfoy's gonna do to 'em?" he slurs, noticing Death Eater Finn passing his flagon of imported beer to Kinney.

Finn shrugs. "Eh, kill 'em maybe. Good riddance, I says. Terrible blood, the lot of them. Werewolf"--he clears his throat and spits--"and traitor. Don' know that they be messin' with a good t'ing."

Sirius balls his fists and grates his teeth, fighting to block out the Death Eater's words but failing. Beside him, Remus takes his hand and squeezes it. But the gesture doesn't help Sirius feel better, and his heart still drifts down into his shoes.

The Death Eater known as Kinney swigs from the bottle and wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his grubby black robes. "Eh, werewolves ain't that all bad. Just gotta keep dem on a tight leash, y'know what I means?"

"I knows a werewolf." Raventon nods. "Poor bloke is he," he adds.

The fire cracks, sending white and orange sparks into the sky, landing among the trees and near Remus and Sirius. The two captives stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Remus lays his head on Sirius's shoulders, and Sirius drapes his arm around Remus, drawing him nearer.

"We should try. It'd be better than just sitting here, waiting for death to come to us," Sirius insists in a soft voice. "Those Death Eaters are young and inexperienced, spending their time arguing rather than watching us. Change, and we can take them out!" He releases Remus and begins rolling up the sleeves of his robes, rubbing his hands together.

Remus lifts his head from Sirius's shoulder.

"We're going to die either way, but at least we'd have a chance. Listen to me, Remy. A wise man once told me that we are only actors on stage, acting out some predetermined fate. I had contradicted him that day--we are not actors. Help me prove my point, Remy!" pleads Sirius, eyes wild and brimming with tears.

Slowly, hesitantly, Remus nods.

And both begin their Changes, shadowed in darkness while the Death Eaters natter around the warm aura of the fire. Remus swallows screams as his bones break and mend, his hair grows, and canine fangs appear. He rests for several moments before pulling himself to his feet, glancing at Padfoot, who's sniffing at the bars of magic. He begins to burrow, and his instinct proves to be true--the bars don't extend into the earth.

Minutes later, Padfoot is slipping out, pressing his body to the earth, and Moony follows. They leave their wispy prison behind them, stepping carefully through the undergrowth of the forest, concealing the sound of their movements with the sounds of the Death Eater's banter.

Padfoot hears a howl, and it takes several moments for him to realise that the sound is coming from him. Another joins in, Moony. And their song drifts through the wood, startling the Death Eaters. The only thoughts that runs through the Death Eaters' minds as they scramble to their feet are those of survival.

Rip their throats out! a voice inside Padfoot's mind screams. Taste their blood, swim in it and drown pleasantly. Snap neck bones, gouge out eyes and wait for a pretty crows to devour the remains.

Padfoot's eyes connect with Moony's for a brief moment, before they know what must be done. Both pounce, each on a panicky Death Eater, while the other three scramble to get away, hoping that the blanket of trees and night will cover them from the ferocious beasts, forgetting about the wands in their hands in fear of being torn apart.

Padfoot sinks his jaws into the throat of some teenage Death Eater, a mere apprentice. His blood tastes of beer and cigarettes, but it's laced with youth. And Padfoot inhales the metallic scent deeply, his mouth watering. An open-mouthed head lolls to the side, decapitated from the body, half eaten and dripping blood and gore.

As Moony leaps upon the pretty blond boy with the reflective eyes, he considers that it'd be such a shame to destroy such beauty. As he thinks this, his maw bores into the Death Eater's stomach, just below the navel. Blood runs down Moony's throat, entrails are gripped with his jaws, separated from Raventon's innards and flung to the highest tree tops. Moony rears his head up, gore dripping from his mouth, and stares into the eyes of Raventon. His face is still beautiful in death, and Moony bounds after the three who ran.

Padfoot watches as Moony passes him, and then follows, keeping at his heels.

The images of the Death Eaters enter Moony and Padfoot's eyesight, and they run faster, high on adrenalin and the scent of fear, drunk on the taste of blood and freedom.

Snapping at the heels of the Death Eaters, Moony catches one in his blood-stained teeth. The Death Eater flatly falls forward, screaming, and Moony snaps at the Death Eater's calf, severing a leg. The Death Eater falls unconscious, the shock too much for him to handle. Grabbing the wizard as a mother would grab her cub, Moony snaps the Death Eater's neck.

The last two Death Eaters are taken care of by Padfoot, and in the serenity that follows a kill, Moony bounds over to Padfoot, stopping before the Labrador. He licks the Death Eaters' blood from Padfoot's muzzle, and Padfoot returns the favour. The forest is decorated with half-devoured Death Eaters and littered with blood; it drips from the trees and soaks into the soil.

Moony rears his head up with a loud howl and takes off. Padfoot's violet gaze wanders to the fresh meat of the victims and then towards the direction that Moony bounded. After a moment's hesitation and drooling, he follows Moony.

They run swiftly, pushing themselves forward till their legs are numb. They must put as much distance as possible between themselves and the wreckage, and they hope to make it to the outskirts of London by moonset. They don't hustle for lead or snap playfully at each other's heels, for remorse hangs like daggers over their heads, and panic drives them.

The Death Eaters would have word of their arrivals now; Benjamin Lestrange and Seamus Finnigan departed as messengers shortly after their capture. As they pass the edge of the forest, they will themselves to run faster. Their cover of foliage flees them, and they feel naked under the starry sky, visible to all eyes although there are none there.

They run through the night, and when the sky is brightening to shades of light blue, Moony pulls himself to a halt, sniffing the air with his black nose. Padfoot rushes past him, but stops when he realises Moony isn't continuing. He backtracks, slanting his ears questioningly and whining. Moony angles his head to the west, motioning at what seemed to be an old farmhouse. Padfoot, understanding, follows him as he dashes off.

The farmhouse is something clipped from a prairie postcard from Canada. The barn was once painted red, but years of disregard have chipped away the paint and rotted the wood. It stands at a slant, threatening to collapse if a strong wind picks up, but it's stood through the worst of the elements. A slough is to the right, fenced in with barbed wire strung from post to post. It homes many organisms, toads and frogs dominate the populace, and reeks of rotting eggs. To the left of the barn is the Quonset, once home to tractors and combines, now it lies barren. Next to the Quonset is a small, quaint home with a flat grey rock sitting beside the unlocked door.

Within seconds, Sirius is sitting where the black Labrador used to be. He glances around the large yard, surrounded by apple trees and budding flowers. The grass grows yellow and tall, winding its way up the rust-coloured legs of a picnic table.

Remus appears shortly after, stepping from the field of summer fallow.

"The Pettigrew farm," Sirius mumbles. "Somehow, it doesn't look as warm and welcoming as it once did." He steps from the yard, the sun winking at them from beyond the grain bins in the distance.

Remus frowns but chooses not to open up old wounds. "We can rest here and continue tomorrow. London is maybe ten miles away, and the stretch from there to Peterborough is around eighty," he informs, his voice flat from exhaustion.

Sirius groans. "I don't remember it being that long!" he complains.

A small, amused smile plays on Remus's lips, but the energy to respond leaves. Deciding to seek shelter inside the farmhouse, he pulls his body through the threshold, and Sirius follows. They collapse across cheap green couches, and fall asleep before their eyes drift closed.

Nine hours later, Remus's eyes snap open, and he finds Sirius nowhere in the room. Sitting up and stretching his hands towards the water-stained ceiling, he calls for his friend. "Sirius?" A light drifts from the room off of the kitchen next to the bathroom, and Remus can hear Sirius faintly answer him.

"What are you doing over here?" asks Remus as he appears in the room.

Sirius shrugs. "In a word? Snooping."

"The Beagle?"

"No, that's Snoopy."

Remus's shoulders rise and fall in silent laughter. He enters Peter's old bedroom with a nervous step, surveying the remnants. The ceiling is slanted, with a fixtureless forty-watt bulb in the centre. The light switch is a white string that hangs from the light, and tied onto the end is a key ring of a metal rat. The single-sized bed is beneath the one square window facing North, the curtains thin and decorated in blue and yellow plaid. The walls are wallpapered with a sunflower pattern, and one neglected dresser rests in the corner.

Sirius leans against the wall, sitting on the bed. On his lap he has opened a small shoebox filled with parchments and memorabilia from when Peter was in Hogwarts.

"Find anything interesting?" Remus asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle his brown robes. The bed groans beneath his weight, and the mattress sinks lower than usual.

A heavy sigh passes Sirius's lips. "Old term reports, photos, some pages ripped from Hogwarts library books." He removes several of the once-bound pages, scanning over them, reading every other word. "Just something from Hogwarts, A History, it seems." He quickly slaps them into one of the pockets concealed inside of his robes and continues looking through the paper-coloured box. He pulls out a photo, gazing at it in silence before shoving it towards Remus.

Remus hesitates and then takes it.

The photo was taken so many years ago--June of 1979. It features the four Marauders and Lily Evans all in red ceremonial dress robes. James Potter, with his winning grin and untameable hair, stands with his arm draped over Lily's shoulders, his right hand hovering dangerously, and purposely, at her right breast. Beside James is Sirius, who attempts to stifle a laugh at James's arrogant behaviour. The dirty-blond Peter is fighting to stay within the frame, though picture Sirius keeps pushing him away. Remus is next to Lily, his eyes sunken and overtired, and he shakes his head sadly as picture James grabs Lily's chest and then pulls her into sloppy, wet kiss before she can protest.

Remus places the photo next to him carefully. "Why'd you s'pose Peter kept all this?" he asks in a despondent tone.

Sirius doesn't answer Remus directly, only shrugs and sifts deeper through the shoebox. "Doesn't it seem like another lifetime?" he asks after a long while. "Like it happened to people other than us? Don't you wonderwhen he did it? Or maybe even why?"

Remus chews on his lower lip, tearing off a piece of skin. "It happened to us; our pasts shaped who we would become as adults. We wouldn't be who we are today if our lives at Hogwarts had been different. As for Peter"--Remus slouches, his shoulders dropping listlessly--"I feel that we will never get the chance to ask him."

Sirius snorts; he's not going to waste emotion or nostalgia on someone like Peter.

"Kinda reminds you of Percy, doesn't it?"

Sirius's head shoots up, his mouth gaping open in shock and anger. "How dare you compare Percy to Peter!" he bellows sharply, his voice rising as his body does. The floorboards groan beneath his weight as he whips around to face Remus.

Remus nearly falls from the bed in his astonishment, but he quickly recovers. "They're not so different. Both joined for a chance of power, they didn't enjoy being overshadowed--Percy by his brothers and Peter by us," he replies politely.

"Peter was a coward!" snaps Sirius, his fists flexing at his side.

Remus cocks his head, a quizzical look appearing over his blanched face.

Sirius tightly closes his eyes, dropping his head. "If it wasn't for Percy, our young commander would be dead right now. Percy saved his life. I suppose you could call it his last good deed before going off the deep end," he answers through gritted teeth. "Only four people in the world know this now, and I trust you will keep it secret."

Remus is dumbfounded, and he nods slowly. "Is-is Percy on our side?" he asks slowly, semi-afraid of the answer. He recalls vividly the images of Percy from Camp Phi, the bloodstains on his robes, a swollen, cracked lip, and dishevelled, flaming hair.

"No. He sides with the Death Eaters," Sirius replies solemnly, hopeless.

Remus frowns, having hoped that Percy had redeemed himself.

"Although," adds Sirius in an afterthought. "Penelope Clearwater fights with us, as does Ron Weasley, Roger Davies, and of course, your dear papa." He smirks, his mood rising as he falls back onto the bed.

Remus quickly changes the subject, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of his estranged father. "What else is in that box?" He leans over, drawing his fingers along the sodden cardboard and pulling it closer. He searches through it idly. He finds several torn sheets littered with Peter's writing and withdraws them.

"What are those?" asks Sirius as he peers at the parchments.

" 'I write this on the day I die,' " Remus reads, but suddenly stops.

Sirius stares at Remus and snatches the parchment.

A soft sound resembling a cry of uncertainty touches Remus's lips.

" 'I write this on the day I die
because no one will understand the reason why.
I am now a Death Eater in Voldemort's life,
a black pawn to be ordered to the ground.
I obey his commands without hesitation or thought,
he rewards me beyond the gold I sought.
Many joined with me on this night,
taking the hideous tattoo on their skin.
I hide it from those who I call my friends.
I'm going to be somebody someday.
I'm going to be the boy every girl wants.
I'm going to be the boy in Lily's eyes,' "

Sirius stops, his tongue fumbling over the last few words. He blanches.

"Fuck," whispers Remus, taken aback.

In a fit of rage, Sirius rips up the parchment, letting the small pieces drift to the floor. His breathing deepens, and a murderous glare reflects in his eyes. If he didn't think Peter was already dead, Sirius would kill him with his bare hands.

Falling to his knees, Remus collects the pieces of the off-coloured parchment, bringing them into a pile. Above him, Sirius breathes raggedly, and Remus quickly shoves the pieces back into the shoebox. "We should leave," he says after a tense silence.

"It's daylight--you can't Change," Sirius reminds him through clenched teeth.

"I don't care. We can walk if we have to, but this place reeks of death and decay. At first I thought it was because of . . . of what we did earlier, but it's not," Remus reveals, outwardly shuddering. "This place is full of bad memories. It was a mistake to come here."

Sirius nods in agreement.

Remus turns and leaves, but Sirius doesn't follow. Remus waits in the kitchen next to the yellow stove and ice box, attempting to keep his breathing shallow. The scent of death greeted him when he entered the farmland, strongest in the Quonset but still drifting on every breeze. After several long minutes, he leaves the kitchen.

Sirius stands in the room, stunned and angry. He stares at the memento box on the sickly yellow sheets of Peter's bed, and with a blank expression, he empties it out onto the bed, sifting through it. He takes a few other journal entries but leaves all the photos. He owes it to James to discover the truth.

Remus is sitting outside on the steps, staring at the grey rock with the white writing. It says "turn me over" and so Remus leans over and does just that. A weak smile tugs on the corners of his mouth as he reads the underside of the rock: "Ahh, that felt so good!"

As he's turning the rock back over, Sirius takes his leave from the farmhouse.

"What took you so long?" Remus asks, standing.

Sirius ignores Remus's question and asks one of his own. "Do you reckon that Peter still comes back here?" He gazes around the land, hoping to find evidence of life. They stand on the porch steps, a cool breeze blowing through their hair. The sun shines down on them from behind grey clouds above the well.

"I don't reckon he left," Remus whispers, scrunching his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asks, desperately, urgently looking around in the summer fallow fields, through the grain bins, and between the wooden buildings.

Remus cocks his head towards the Quonset, his eyes aching. "I thought it was just the memory of the scent of Peter, but it wasn't. It's too strong, too isolated." He bows his head in respect of the late Peter Pettigrew.

In silence, Sirius walks away, down the path that guided them here. Remus follows.

Inside the large, metal Quonset, a rotting body sways back and forth in the middle, its feet several inches from the ground. A horsehair rope dangles from a centre beam, its end looped into a noose and fastened around the neck of the Death Eater. Flesh rots from Peter's body, and his left forearm is shredded to the bone. Before his suicide, he attempted to cut the hideous, burning Dark Mark from his skin.

He failed.

In more ways than one.