Tempt not a desperate man.
-Romeo and Juliet .67
Remus buried his head in his hands. Beside him, Sirius made a tiny, horrified sound. His face altered subtly, exposing the ravages of Azkaban. "You're sure?" he rasped, clinging to one final, desperate hope.
"I'm sure." Pallas hung her head.
Remus glanced at Pollux. The wizard's jaw was set, his mien hard and unblinking. He might well have been a statue, save for the burning emotion in his eyes.
It was awful, terrible that Lily and James's son was a Horcrux. It was wrong that Sirius's godson was an anchor for Lord Voldemort…. And it was awful that, beneath all the horror and terror and grief, Remus was relieved. Mark might be a Horcrux, yes; but Harry was not.
There. He had admitted it, if only to himself. He was glad that his moon-touched godson was not the Boy-Who-Lived, was untainted by Voldemort's final curse. He was glad that Pollux and Mark, the boy who had saved them all, suffered instead of his godson.
And it wasn't even the wolf's fault. The beast was obsessed with Harry's safety, yes, but he hadn't felt it touch the corners of his mind, hadn't sensed it nudging him towards relief.
To silence the ugly happiness inside of him, he said, "Is there anything… Pollux, is there anything you've done to make your condition more… livable? I mean, I know there's no cure, but… there has to be something."
"Occlumency," the Parselmouth sighed. "I think it helps, but I was an Occlumens long before I knew about my condition. Perhaps my mental shields have kept the fragment from getting stronger, but I don't know. Occlumency deals with minds; Horcruxes are soul magic. Besides, Mark refuses to learn Occlumency."
His eyes widened. Remus started. "You've had contact with Mark?"
Pollux's face went blank, but the werewolf could practically hear him cursing his slip-up. He must be very shaken up indeed to let anything past the doors of his mouth. "Indirectly, yes," he admitted shortly. His tone made it clear that he would not tolerate any more prodding.
And speaking of Harry's brother…. "He needs to know."
Pollux pulled up short. "No!" he yelled.
The outburst was so uncharacteristic that Remus paused, letting the other wizard continue. Very shaken up indeed. "No, we will not tell him. If he understood that he was harboring the soul of the man who killed his parents, he would shatter. And what possible purpose could telling him serve? We can't do anything about either Horcrux anyway. Why should he suffer without cause?"
The man's face was flushed with emotion. His entire body shook with passion.
For a long moment, they remained frozen, Muggle and wizard and werewolf. Then Pollux's shoulders lowered. "Besides, there's nothing he can do about it. From what I've seen of him, Mark seems the kind of boy who needs to act. Paralysis, even forced inaction, would do more harm to him than not knowing about his condition." His gaze challenged them to say otherwise. No one obliged.
"Then what do we do about it?" Sirius demanded. Like his godson, he was a wizard of action.
"Nothing, for now." Bianca's voice was cool and calm.
The men turned to glare at her. "What do you mean, nothing?" growled Pollux.
"I mean that we can't do anything for Mark that we aren't already doing. Don't look at me like that; you know it's true. At least, you would if you were thinking more rationally. My point is that we aren't making progress on the Horcrux front, and without new material or a burst of intuitive insight, we are going to stay that way for quite some time." Her face, her tone, was calm as a lake, but still water runs deep.
"And what," hissed Pollux, fists clenching, "do you suggest we do?"
"Focus on what we can do: retrieving the Chalice of the Moon. We know where it is, we know the security around it, and we know why it's necessary. All we need to do is form a plan to steal it."
Pollux deflated. Suddenly he looked very young, very vulnerable. He almost looked like Harry would when (or if) he found out his brother was a Horcrux.
The wolf snapped to attention. Its nonexistent ears pricked. Its muzzle fell open in shock, a stunningly human gesture. Then it howled with triumphant joy.
No. Bad enough that it reacted to Harry when he was actually there; now it was coming out more? He'd only thought about his godson this time! What was he supposed to do, stop thinking about the boy entirely?
The wolf retreated to its place in his mind, tail thumping with satisfaction. It left the teasing taste of triumph on Remus's tongue.
"I'm not pushing you and Mark aside, Pollux," Bianca said gently. "But you must admit that there is nothing we can do about your conditions. No book in Britain has offered any suggestions. Besides, perhaps taking a break will help you process all the new information you have. Inspiration strikes when you least expect it."
The Parselmouth pulled himself together. "You're right," he growled, businesslike once more. "My apologies, everyone. Now, Bianca, did you have any specific plans?"
She shook her head. "Sisith's mission was essentially walk-in, walk-out, but he isn't human and he didn't attempt to steal anything. The Ministry might be incompetent, but I've no doubt that they've enchanted their possessions against theft."
"Which means that Pollux will have to go in," Pallas decided. "He's the only one of us with experience- well, sort of- of breaking and entering." She grimaced slightly at the reference to Voldemort's memories and touched his shoulder apologetically.
"I think Saysa should go too," Alexander volunteered. "The spells… well, Sisith's a snake, and he got out all right. If the spells are designed for human thieves, maybe they won't work as well on a basilisk."
"Good idea, Al," murmured Apollo.
"I'm going too," Tyr declared.
Pallas gave him a worried look. "Are you sure about that? You're still an outlaw."
The alpha nodded. "Three reasons. The first is that I'm already in trouble with the law and don't have much to lose. The second is that I'm not human either, and that might exempt me from some of the guardian spells. The third…. I'm the leader of my people. It's in the job description."
"Just the three of you?" fussed Pallas. Her dark eyes were wide with worry.
Pollux seemed lost in thought. Finally he nodded. "And Sisith, I think. He lived in the Department for four days. Even though we've seen the Pensieve, he will still know that section of the Ministry better than we do. I can teach you a few words in Parseltongue, things like left and right and forward, so he can guide you even if something happens to Saysa or me."
"Nothing's going to happen to either of you," Pallas growled.
Her leader held up placating hands. "Nothing will. It's just better safe than sorry."
They spent the next several minutes rehashing everything they knew about the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries, and the Department of Historical Artifacts. Remus found himself totally unable to contribute or focus. He had no reason to; he had never been there, and he wasn't planning to invade it. Instead, he thought of the wolf.
He didn't know why, or how, or anything. All he knew was that it was getting stronger, and presumably would continue to do so. The only thing that stood a chance of stopping it was the Chalice of the Moon.
Then another thought, a terrifying idea, struck him. He didn't know when he would have access to the Chalice, or even if it would work. For all he knew, its enchantments had worn off sometime in the past few centuries, or someone in the Department of Mysteries had ruined its magic, or it had never worked in the first place and Thiess had been chasing a dream.
By the time the planning was over, Remus had convinced himself that the cup would fail; that his wolf-self would grow stronger until it overwhelmed his mind; that unless he did something drastic, he and everyone around him were doomed. What that drastic salvation might be, though, he had no idea.
When the invasion plans were over, he turned to leave. Apollo stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Wait. There's one more order of business we need to attend to."
For a wild moment, the werewolf thought that the Seer knew, that he was ready to do… something… to fix it. Hope and panic flared in his chest, only to be quenched moments later when Apollo announced, "I had another Dream last night. No, not a piece of the past. It was prophetic."
He described the desert and the storm, the immense raven and its monstrous phoenix rival. "The interpretation seems pretty clear to me. Dumbledore is going to try and destroy this air thing. If he manages it, then you're toast, Pollux."
"How does the raven represent Pollux?" demanded Remus. He thought of Harry, a raven Animagus. "What if it involves my godson?" In the back of his mind, the wolf laughed. Quiet, you, he ordered it. An image of a grinning canine flashed in his mind, and the creature fell silent.
Oddly, his question made the five tense. They exchanged quick, birdlike glances. Then Pollux admitted, "I'm a raven Animagus too, Moony."
Tyr's entire body went stiff. "I see," he growled.
The Parselmouth's head snapped around. Two gazes met, each sharp and hard as a goblin sword. Something passed between them: secrets acknowledged, explanations demanded, answers promised. Then the moment was over. The two men nodded slightly, alphas both, and returned their attention to the spoken conversation.
"I apologize for not mentioning it before," Pollux stated. "It never really came up."
More mysteries. He'd always known that they hadn't told them everything, even after mentioning the prophecies. Evidently, being a raven Animagus like Harry was part of what they'd left unsaid.
Everyone (except possibly Dudley) recognized the next sentence for what it was: an attempt to change the subject before someone other than Tyr penetrated that vast bulk of hidden things. Pallas, hands fluttering, squeaked out, "Does anyone have any idea what the birds were referring to?"
"I looked at the prophecies," Apollo sighed, "but you know how cryptic they are. Saysa's notes said she thought the First was the Lightning Speaker, but my Dream says otherwise. All I know is that the First is a male who isn't Pollux."
Tyr grimaced. He hated relying on the prophecies.
"That might imply that Air is also a person," noted Pallas. Her brow furrowed in thought. "May I see these prophecies, Apollo?"
The wizard grimaced. "Go crazy." He waved his wand, murmuring the incantation under his breath, and two thick tomes appeared. Ravenclaw's Book of Hope and Despair and Slytherin's Foretelling had been bookmarked with old quills in several places.
"Owl quills are references to air that I think are relevant. Eagle feathers are about the First. The other ones are prophecies that mention either of these words but that I don't think are actually important."
For the next few minutes, they poured over the cryptic words. Even Dudley read them, though his 'help' only slowed them down.
Pallas's eyes were distant. "Hm… in the stanzas that Apollo feels are relevant, air is always mentioned in tandem with the other three primordial elements- fire, earth, and water. This seems to imply that air is part of a set. The phoenix in Apollo's Dream implies that air was the first of that set to… perhaps manifest, perhaps something else. We don't have enough information to know for certain."
"The first to meet Saysa," declared Bianca.
The other woman started. "What?"
"Four elements associated with the Lightning Speaker. Four individuals who act as his companions: the Smoking Mirror for fire, the Prince of Flowers for earth, the Daughter of Frost for water, and Truth's Messenger for air."
"Me?" Pallas squeaked.
"Of course!" exclaimed Apollo. "The phoenix talked about the wind whispering in Pollux's ear. That's your job, Pallas- you have to give him some kind of message."
"Words are carried on the air," observed Pollux. "Bianca, I think you're right."
The Indian witch's face was pale beneath her dark complexion. "Dumbledore wants to kill me? He's going to kill me?"
The triumphant grin faded from Apollo's face. "Oh. It… seems he wants to. But don't worry, Pallas, now that we know, he doesn't stand a chance."
His friend did not look convinced.
"What about the First?" asked Alexander. "Do you know who he is, Bianca?"
The blond shook her head. Her eyes never left Pallas's stricken face. "I'm afraid not, Alexander. My inspiration seems to have fled."
The interaction of the next half hour was stilted, awkward, and fruitless. No one had any idea who the First might be. Their only clues were that he was male and not Pollux.
Perhaps if they had had less on their minds, they would have divined his identity. But they all had too much to absorb: the plans for entering the Ministry, Mark's awful curse, the upcoming attempt on Pallas's life, whatever Tyr had discerned, and the renewed strength of Remus's wolf-self. No wonder, then, that they couldn't imagine who he might be.
The meeting adjourned on a pessimistic note. No one said anything about the futility of continuing their conversation. All they did was wander off, one by one. Pallas and Alexander went off to find Saysa, Bianca and Apollo Portkeyed away without a word, Tyr and Pollux left to discuss whatever the other werewolf had seen. Soon only Remus, Sirius, and Dudley Dursley remained in the meeting room.
"…That was…." Sirius made an unhappy gesture.
"My thoughts exactly, Padfoot my friend." Remus massaged his temples.
Dudley, who had been silent all morning, finally spoke up. "I don't want Pallas to die. I like her."
"Us too," his guardian sighed.
"I don't want Mark to be a Horcrux either. I don't like him, but I really don't like that Voldemort guy. Maybe…" He hesitated, chewed his lip. "Maybe a dementor could suck the bad soul out of him? Then Voldemort would die, and he'd never kill people like Harry's mum and dad again."
Sirius shuddered. "It's not a bad thought, D, but I don't think it'll work. The dementors wouldn't stop with just Voldemort's soul. They'd eat Pollux's and Mark's, too."
The Muggle blanched, remembering his own time in Azkaban. Remus doubted he understood what it meant to lose one's soul- few people did- but Dudley knew how many people chose life sentences in the foul prison over the Dementor's Kiss. The boy knew how awful a life sentence could be, and if people would rather spend their lives in Azkaban than kiss one of the guards…. He could not imagine how truly terrible the Kiss must be, and he didn't want to know.
"Harry isn't going to like this," the Muggle observed. He blinked. "Wait. Are you gonna tell Harry, Moony?"
"I don't know," the werewolf moaned. "I don't know."
On the one hand, Mark was Harry's brother, his twin, his only companion for the first eleven years of his life. Even after the younger Potter had abandoned his brother, Harry had worked ceaselessly to restore the bond between them. He loved Mark.
And it wasn't as though maturity would be an issue with him. Harry seemed so much older than his twelve years. In magic, in knowledge, in wisdom and common sense, he was just as accomplished as Remus himself. Perhaps the boy was more accomplished. He could hear the news without breaking.
On the other hand, what possible purpose could telling him serve? Harry would not be broken by Mark's condition, but it would hurt. And no matter how intelligent he was, he wouldn't know how to destroy the Horcrux and save his brother. Not if Pollux, with all Voldemort's knowledge of soul vessels, was stumped.
And if he did tell the boy… how would his wolf-self respond? The beast was absurdly protective of their shared godson. It had yet to respond to Harry's emotional states, but it was getting stronger all the time. If it perceived distress in its precious raven, who knew what it would do?
It was that thought more than any other which made up Remus's mind. He could not tell Harry about Mark if it might rouse the wolf and put them all in danger. Perhaps, if the animal inside him hadn't been so strong, he could have scrounged up the courage to break his godson's heart, but for now, he would keep silent.
Besides, he reasoned, maybe they would come up with a solution before he had to tell his godson.
"Earth to Moony." Sirius was shaking him. "Come in, Moony. Do you read me?"
The werewolf nodded, wondering when Dudley had taught Padfoot the Muggle expression- and if Sirius actually knew what it meant. "I read you, Houston."
"What?" Evidently he didn't know.
"I was thinking about whether or not to tell Harry. I don't think we should- not yet, at least. There's nothing he could do about it, and knowing would only hurt him."
His fellow Marauder did not look convinced, but Dudley nodded. He seemed content in accepting the older male's wisdom.
Padfoot muttered something about new cottages and wandered off. Dudley followed at his heels, leaving Remus alone with his thoughts.
The werewolf leaned against the wall. Without distractions, his mind returned to his own problem: the wolf. It was fairly obvious that his problem wasn't getting better, that it probably never would. He had no idea if the Chalice would still work, so he had to take matters into his own hands.
Suicide was a definite no. Life was hope, strength, love, change; he refused to surrender all those things to the heartless grave.
He remembered what he had done earlier that day, how he had made contact with the creature. It had listened to him, fallen silent at his order. Maybe if he spoke with it again, it would listen then, too? He didn't know. All he knew was that no matter how much he wracked his brain, he couldn't find another solution.
Remus Apparated directly to his destination, the full moon containment room which Harry referred to as Furryland. If the wolf took over, it wouldn't be able to escape- unless, of course, it somehow learned how to use Remus's wand. Just to be safe, he stored it on a jutting brick too high for an animal to reach. Then he sat in the fur of his fellows and delved into the depths of his own mind.
Er… hello? Is anyone there?
For a while it seemed that no one would answer. The wolf was sleeping again, and it would stay there until the next full moon. Then there was an odd sensation in the wall of his skull, like something pricking its pointed ears.
?
The wolf did not use words. It was only an animal, incapable of speech in the human sense of the word, but it could still communicate through sensation and emotion. Right now, it was sending sensations of curiosity into its host's mind.
Remus caught his breath. Once again, he was struck by how benign the animal seemed, how completely different from the monster of the full moon.
The wolf began to fade.
No, wait! He grabbed at it, forcing it to remain at the forefront of his mind. Why did you come out today?
? It didn't understand.
Remus brought back the memory of the wolf's presence earlier that day and added to it a sense of confusion and curiosity.
Pollux's face, then Harry's; Pollux looking so forlorn, just like Harry would if he knew Mark was a Horcrux. Realization, connection, loyalty, for the raven was the one who leads the hunt.
The human sent back a feeling of annoyance. The wolf responded in kind. It seemed to feel that he was missing something obvious. Without words, though, he had no way of interpreting what the wolf was trying to say.
Yet their conversation, short and juvenile as it was, took its toll on Remus. Sweat trickled down his face, matting his hair and hurting his eyes. His muscles ached with exhaustion. A migraine was building in his skull.
But he refused to give up- not now, not when he was so close. He had time for one last question. He forced vague half-memories of full moon nights across the void between their minds, memories of bloodlust and violence. Why?
Pain slammed against him, pain and loss and fear and grief. He yelped, grabbing at his hair. It hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt!
His human added words to the torrent cascading through their bond: Because we are not the same.