In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

89. C88 - Running with the Wolves

Chapter 88 – Running with the wolves

He shouldn't have waited so long, Remus dejectedly chastised himself. The fire he'd started early this morning could not keep his hands warm, nor could the light chase away the darkness that lingered in the back of his mind. Bones creaked as he flexed his fingers, brittle and human. For now. Less than half a day remained until he would have to make way for the monster that was eagerly waiting to hunt with razor claws. Remus knew he imagined the smell of blood that wafted in his nose, a figment of imagination, but that knowledge didn't chase the stench away.

Two of the kids stumbled too close in their play and he growled instinctively, regretting it even before they scrambled away again. Usually, Remus was the one who sought them out, wishing to protect all the younglings he could find, to teach them that Greyback's way was not the only choice in the life of a wolf. The day of the full moon however, even he was affected too much already to make entirely rational decisions.

Moony wanted out, and what was even worse, without access to Wolfsbane, recently he'd come to realise that Moony had grown far more violent than he recalled, rivalling perhaps even Greyback. They'd find out soon if that fear was justified, he supposed, dreading the night. It wouldn't be the first transformation where he could not supress Moony to the point of rationality, but it had been two years since he'd had to forego the Wolfsbane granted by courtesy of Dumbledore – and last time had been purely on accident by his own stupid oversight.

Restless, he got up and wandered the village, ignoring all screaming joints and muscles, his body at the verge of being consumed by the curse this late in the cycle. It became worse with age, the few elder wolves in Greyback's pack unable to do more than lie in bed in wait of the full moon to rejuvenate them. Back when he'd been a student, he hadn't had so many troubles, feeling only a bit under the weather at the end of a cycle. He'd only recognised much later how easy I had been back then to go undetected. During the time he'd returned as a teacher, there was no way of hiding anymore, having to cancel classes in the day leading up to his transformation at the very least. It was a miracle only a single student had figured out he always fell so ill before the full moon.

''Uncle Remus?''

Stopping in his tracks, he supressed the urge to snarl and with difficulty looked over his shoulder to see Randolph and Blevin, two of the youngest kids in Greyback's pack. ''Yes?'' he asked with as much kindness in his voice as he could muster. Encouraged, Blevin crept closer, hunching over as Greyback had taught them to do, an attempt to make them reject their human side even in plain daylight. The sight sickened Remus to his core, but he hid those feelings for the sake of not scaring the children away. They were not to blame for the behaviour they were taught. Remus would have been in their shoes if his parents hadn't opted to keep him despite the social decline they'd faced because of it.

''We wanted to make Dolores feel a bit less afraid by telling her the old stories, but we both forgot the exact words and Aunt Accalia is feeling too sick to help,'' the boy pouted. ''You went to school, right? You were a teacher, can you tell us of the fao- faoll-''

''Faoilleach,'' Remus helped, sighing and sitting down. He hated the old legends that Greyback persisted on being passed on to glorify lycanthropy – and the thought that hearing about it might placate someone like Dolores Umbridge was laughable - but if he wouldn't recount the tale, they might get hurt by bothering some of the other adults. It had been a disturbing discovery that fables he'd once read about in the ancient tomes of the Hogwarts library were being spread as absolute facts. To perhaps sow some truth between the lies, he'd joined the first retelling about two weeks ago and listened to what the children were being taught. Suffice to say, it was not to his tastes. ''Alright, let's go over to the fire and settle down for a story.'' His own blood may not grow warm again until tonight, but at least the kids could enjoy it, and as with everything in the forced hierarchy Greyback had established in this pack, they needed permission from an adult to so much as stoke a fire. Even if that adult was considered a problem child and had not been here long enough to have spent a single transformation with the other wolves.

As he cast a few charms to get the fire going again, more figures crept out of the shadows and he raised his eyebrows as, when the flames were roaring a greeting to the morning air, he was met with the expectant stares of no less than twelve children.

Still having about an hour to spare before Sirius had agreed to meet, Remus decided that they were helping him pass the waiting time as much as he helped them, so the tired wolf allowed a spark of joy into his heart and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper:

''Three thousand years ago, when the world was free and covered in thick forests, there lived the Warriors of the Wild: ferocious beasts whom none dared challenge. Some had tusks like boars, some the claws of bears and others the sharp eyes and nose of wolves. These warriors hunted together, protected each other and overthrew anyone who wished to claim their green lands. Pacts were made to keep the peace: with the fae who were wise enough to give up their game when the hunt came through, with the merfolk who were happy to only borrow the beaches when needed and stuck to the sea otherwise, and lastly with the humans, who accepted only after being promised protection from the mindless animals that dwelled in the forests. Everyone lived alongside each other for centuries like this, in peace, all knowing their place. But then-''

''Then the humans destroyed it!'' Randolph yelled, impatient as always. He received a few shoves and growls from the other children, who had been listening with bated breath.

Remus flexed his sore fingers, ignoring the commotion, and continued: ''The humans figured out this pact was no longer in their favour,'' he corrected. '' The animals they wished to be protected from no longer posed much of a threat after people learned to wield weapons of fire and build walls of stone to keep them out. This alone might not have caused them to break word, yet the villages they were confined to became too small to support their growing numbers and the Warriors had forbidden them from cutting down trees to make space for more land to farm and live. As the years passed, the humans needed more food for the hungry, more housing for their children-''

''That is not how Aunt Accalia tells it!'' Arnou, a feisty boy who was almost old enough to have attended Hogwarts, complained.

Remus put a hand to his chest in feigned surprise. ''Is that so? This is the story as it was written in the oldest books I could find.'' It wasn't shocking, of course, that books written by non-werewolves sympathised more with the human parties in these tales. He'd taken care to add these bits that had been missing from the story-telling session he'd attended. ''I can only tell the story as I know it,'' he reasoned when met with a few murmurs. Arnou, as well as two girls who often trailed behind Accalia and Greyback, got up and left with a scoff, clearly displeased by Remus' iteration. The rest threw each other a few uncertain looks to see whether their closest friends stayed or not, then turned their eyes on him again.

After waiting for a couple of seconds in silence, Remus cleared his throat. It felt raw, but he did not wish to stop in the middle of the story. ''In their desperation, the humans at last turned to the mages among them, who wielded more power than the common man, to find a solution. The first went to the edge of the forest and pleaded with the Warriors to show mercy. But the Warriors of the Wild only saw life. Removing so many ancient trees just so humans could live more comfortably was not an equal exchange. The mage returned empty-handed and was exiled to have one less mouth to feed. The second was more desperate and, when no answer came at the edge of the forest, she went deep into woods that weren't hers just to negotiate, offering the usage of charms that would let other parts of the woods flourish in exchange. But the Warriors did not play favourites, and the thought of sacrificing sacred land in exchange for empowering another part angered them so much that they killed the witch and used her mageblood as an offering to the gods. As their second herald did not return, the humans grew restless and turned to the last mage that resided in their midst, a wizard known for fearful curses and deadly experiments. The third neither pleaded nor offered anything, not even speaking to the Warriors. He saw anything that wasn't human as lesser, even only tolerating those without magic because he had been born from them. The wizard schemed for seven days and seven nights, working on a curse-''

''Master Greyback said it was poison!'' Belvin chimed in. Remus sighed inwardly. Challenging Accalia's version was one thing, a direct word from the pack leader something entirely else.

''Poison then,'' he conceded. ''The Warriors were the only people who stood in the way of humans claiming the land, so he concocted a potion to weaken and kill them.'' He was silent for a moment, attempting to recall Accalia's version for the next part. ''The wizard strode into the forest, deeper and deeper, concealed with magic, until he reached the holy lunar pond from which all the Warriors drank to keep their strength and poured the poison in. That night, the Warriors of the Wild feasted on the spoils of their last chase, eating and drinking aplenty, unaware that the water was holy no longer. As the sun dawned upon the woods, the Beastmen were no longer beasts, frail and hairless like humans. No teeth or claws to defend themselves with! And with each passing day, the poison burned stronger in their veins, weakening them ever further.

Mighty as they had been however, the Warriors had never neglected to honour the gods. In a last attempt to survive, they went to the one who blessed them with light on each nightly hunt, the Lady of the Moon, begging for a way to exact vengeance. Taking pity, the Lady agreed to cure them if in return they'd be her warriors alone, no longer bowing to other gods. The Warriors agreed, eager to return to their powerful forms. They waited in their misery for the night when the Lady would be at her full strength.

Yet in their misfortune they forgot about the fickleness of the Fae, who worshipped the Lord of the Forest above all and who instantly told their Lord all that had happened. The Lord was displeased by those he'd gifted in the past turning away to look only at the sky instead and sent his most loyal messengers to the very same wizard who'd brewed the poison. Now informed that their plot would be undone soon, the villagers, including their now idolised mage, stormed into the woods and interrupted the ritual at its height. Flash! Bang!'' Remus shouted, accentuating the story with a few green sparks from his wand that made a few of the children jump.

''When the Lady of the Moon was most vulnerable, opening up her heart to let her inner light cure the warriors, the mage struck her with the foulest curse of all. As gods cannot be killed, the Lady was gravely wounded and forced to flee back to the sky, where she remained, visibly scarred. More powerful than on any other night though, she still sent all the light left to give. The Warriors of the Wild felt strength in their limbs again as the poison was contained. They had turned into mighty wolves with venom on their teeth and moonlight in their eyes. They were no longer beastmen from that moment on, forced to be men until the rays of the full moon would grant them power to overcome the poison again. It was the end of one era and the dawn of ours: we called it Am Faoilleach, which marks the turn of the year, the start of life as we know it. The wolfs-month in which we were born.''

He was met with thunderous applause and more than a few excited howls and other sounds that made him wonder if it was night-time already. ''So we kept our promise to the Lady!'' Blevin grinned, ''We go to her side when we can and worship her by hunting!''

''One could interpret the story like that,'' Remus agreed. ''But whether we hunt or not does not change what we are. I changed into a wolf each month even without worshipping the moon, even without hunting anything. There are more important lessons to be learned from a legend like this, such as-''

''-That we overcame what tried to kill us and were gifted with a way to use it for our gain!'' a voice thundered behind him. Lupin tensed up, not having noticed Greyback at all. It was still hard to get used to being around so many other werewolves at once, who had the same senses as he did and ways to avoid being spotted. ''Go and tell Dolores this wonderful news, little cubs. She can use some cheering up after last night.'' Remus winced as he still recalled the wails of pain that had gone on for hours of torture these past evenings as she had been made to cut into her own skin. ''Don't pull that face,'' Greyback demanded after the kids had all hurried away, ''You're showing weakness. We can't afford weaknesses.''

''Not everyone revels in bloodshed.''

''This punishment wasn't my doing,'' Greyback spoke, squatting down next to Remus, who attempted to scoot away a bit. ''Take it up with the Dark Lord if you have complaints. You are still visiting today, aren't you?'' he asked, cocking his head and giving Remus a strange grin. ''Going to that dog of yours?''

The words hit wrong and before Remus knew what was happening, he was attempting to maim Greyback's face with his claws. Only he didn't have claws, just stubby fingernails that he meticulously kept as short as possibly without cutting into flesh, just like he had made a habit of grinding his teeth in hopes that it would leave them dull. More human, he needed to stay human.

''You're pathetic,'' Greyback panted when the short fight was over, predictably ending with Remus lying curled up in the dirt. ''As long as you do not accept the wolf within you, you won't ever beat me.''

He merely groaned, the struggle not improving his condition, momentarily forgotten pain returning in full force. Howling was ringing in his ears and he knew that Moony was agreeing with Greyback's statement. Lurking behind his eyes until the time was ripe to prove himself worthy. ''I hate you,'' he breathed, not knowing whom he directed the words to more.

''A strong feeling, we can work with that,'' Greyback uttered, then sauntered off as if not bothered at all.

Suppressing a frustrated howl, Remus scraped his dignity together and attempted to mend and clean his robes, not succeeding very well. There was only so much material to work with and he hadn't been able to afford new robes since quitting his job as a teacher. It didn't help that it felt as if the curse had eaten away his magic in the passing month as well, even if Remus knew that technically couldn't be. It affected one's physique and mental state, not one's magical strength. Perhaps he simply couldn't gather enough wits to cast properly. He felt so incredibly tired… Through the foggy haze of his mind, it took a couple of moments after Greyback had left to fully register what had been said. He'd known about Sirius, knew very specific details about Sirius in fact… The chill cut a little bit deeper.

With his last scrap of strength – merlin, it was only morning – he checked the time, seeing that he should at last make his way to the edge of the forest if he didn't wish to keep his friend waiting. There were barely ten minutes left and he wouldn't exactly be fast.

He still hurried as best as he could, wanting to leave this accursed village behind. He didn't belong in this place, where the sick revelled in their disease, brainwashed to believe it was some sort of blessing. Against his better knowledge, Remus dearly wished he could spend the night at Sirius' side again like usual, to contain Moony instead of allowing the wolf to take part in a hunt, to not have to bear witness to another person falling victim to the curse. Whatever Dolores Umbridge had done, no-one deserved this fate, to be chained for life to one's own twisted mind.

The crack of apparition sounded the moment he crossed the line of trees that marked the edge of Greyback's territory. He focused instantly on Sirius, grateful beyond belief to have the friend back whom he'd resented for so many painful years. Only when his frail and cold body had stumbled into Sirius' arms and revelled in its energy for a while, did he notice they weren't alone.

''You must be Crouch.'' Feeling only the slightest bit embarrassed when extracting himself from Sirius's arms, Remus gave the Death Eater – the proudly exposed Dark Mark was a clear giveaway – a critical one-over. Padfoot had mentioned Voldemort's new right-head-man a few times and they shockingly appeared to be on friendly terms considering they had regular drinks together.

He wasn't too sure how to feel about that yet. Which wasn't too different from his approach to all other revelations from this past week that had made his head spin. All the snippets of information, starting from the Bludger to the head that was the blooming romance between Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter (which Greyback had happily gossiped about these past days), to the string of details his closest friend had adamantly shared regarding Dumbledore's plans, had torn apart Remus' worldview. So much so that he had put his own mission on hold and reclused himself for days on end to do nothing but contemplating. Part of his mission would no longer succeed in the first place, not when Voldemort knew he was a member of the Order. Going by the pack leader's previous words, Greyback had been informed of it too. It was a miracle that Remus hadn't been immediately declared a spy and exiled.

Crouch held out a hand for him to shake, the left one, which made the oddly silver Dark Mark shimmer in the morning light. Remus simply stared at it until the hand was dropped again. He liked to consider himself a reasonably polite man, but he was also not going to make any false declarations of acceptance to people who belonged to the organisation he'd fought against since before finishing school. It wasn't something he could absolutely rule out, considering the simple fact that he'd found both one of his oldest friends and the kind young student he'd tutored for a while in their midst, yet Remus lacked the whole picture to make an informed decision. That was always one of the most important parts, he found. So many people swayed one way or another after only hearing parts, claiming to be experts and prancing around with strong convictions while jumping headfirst into the unknown.

Remus had thought to know all there was to about the current sides in this brewing conflict too. Now more evidence to the opposite was presented though, he'd be a fool not to let himself be educated while leaving the option of reconsideration open. That did not mean that he was prone to completely let his guard down of course, nor would the dislike for those who'd been said to commit gruesome deeds in their Lord's name fade until their innocence had been proven. Considering that the actions many of them, Crouch included, had been confirmed as true by people Remus trusted, he had strong doubts about how much he could be swayed. But there was always room to be surprised. The previous few conversations with Sirius had absolutely shocked him, even if the picture was far from complete.

''Let's not dally any longer,'' Sirius spoke, rubbing his arms. ''It's chilly.'' It was a very typical excuse. If there was anything frigid here, it was the mutual glare between Remus and Crouch. Which surely wouldn't improve by moving locations. ''Oh come on, that isn't necessary-'' his friend protested when Crouch conjured up a strip of cloth and fastened it into a blindfold. It had been expected, so Remus didn't make a big deal of it and waited until familiar calloused fingers moved his hand to what had to be a Portkey, judging by the lurching feel that followed.

It was appreciated that Sirius kept muttering angrily on his behalf, yet not necessary. ''It's okay Padfoot,'' he reassured. ''We'd have done the same when inviting anyone to our Headquarters I'm sure. I'm still quite baffled that I have been allowed to enter here.'' Blinking as the blindfold was taken off, he took in the carpeted, dimly-lit hallway. It reminded of Grimmauld place in a way, built in the same style. Interesting.

''There's hardly a safer place,'' Crouch answered. ''Where everyone you should talk to freely can run around anyways. Your brief meet-ups before were limited only to Black and he isn't in the position to reveal much. For a full picture… well.''

''Why go through the trouble at all?'' he asked, a question which had bothered him ever since the fateful night Harry and Voldemort had paid a visit to the pack. ''I know full well that he has the means of silencing people in inventive ways. He could have-''

''Don't give them ideas Remus,'' Padfoot groaned. ''Really, don't.''

Keeping his tongue in check, he followed the advice, tensing as they were led into a dining area of sorts. Only, it was completely empty. He could both hear and smell they weren't alone, but whoever else resided in the house was likely upstairs. He noted that Sirius let himself fall on a chair at ease, as if this had been the hundredth time he'd been here. That explained the many evaded questions where he'd stayed during the many times the Order frustratingly couldn't find Padfoot at home. ''As far as I understood,'' he hesitantly started when the three of them sat down, ''This is the house of… of Vol-''

''- The Dark Lord,'' Crouch interrupted sharply, aggressively. A hand shot across the table and something coiled in Remus' stomach when he saw his best friend reassuringly grab the arm of a Death Eater and exchange a knowing look on top of that. How had Sirius of all people let go of all the bottled-up hatred so fast? He'd been ready to kill Peter for turning to Voldemort not two years ago…

''Easy Crouch, Dumbledore all encouraged us to say the Dark Lord's name, you know that. Remy surely didn't wish to offend your… Master.'' He pulled a typical, apologetic face at Remus that he couldn't resist, calming down ever so slightly.

''The Dark Lord's house,'' he dully repeated. It wasn't as if he hadn't needed to get used to that title in Greyback's pack either, this was one wizard whom the werewolves were not allowed to disrespect, not even when he wasn't present. Greyback was afraid, deep down. ''Sirius gave me the impression last time that we'd meet there. Is this… it?'' he asked, letting his gaze wander across the relatively small, tidy room. Apart from the dining table itself, which was admittedly large enough to fit ten people, there were only a couple of bookshelves at each side, a sofa and coffee table in the back and another small, round table in the corner right next to the door they'd entered from. No display cases to show off gathered spoils of war, no highly magical dangerous plants or gaudy pieces of artwork... Just surface and sitting areas. It was… ordinary somehow. In the middle of the dining table even stood a humble bouquet of fresh, very muggle flowers

''It's funny, that sounds exactly like Weasley's reaction,'' Crouch huffed, which made Remus' attention snap back instantly.

''Did you say Weasley?'' he asked in astonishment. Which one had set foot within these walls? Surely not Arthur or Molly, he couldn't imagine either of them to keep a straight face after such an experience.

''Forgot for a moment that the werewolf packs are always a tad behind on the news. I meant Ronald,'' the Death Eater answered with a grin. ''Interesting fella, always quick on his feet to help even if he doesn't know what to do with himself. He's in a bit of a pickle and has nowhere else to go, not without a thorough memory wipe. Which Evan doesn't allow.''

''Harry,'' Sirius helpfully translated, even if Remus had already guessed, considering Voldemort had referred to Harry as such before. The name had struck a chord within him. Evans… James had always managed to infuriate Lily by the way he'd said her surname.

A loud clap sounded, which made him wince at the volume that hurt his sensitive ears. He truly shouldn't have asked to meet right before the full moon. ''Okay, I am going to need a bit of a summary of what you told him so far, Black. You had a couple of hours between the previous three meetings…''

''Yeah, and a wicked silencing contract that ensures I could hardly spill anything of note.'' Remus listened to the recap of everything they had covered before… which indeed hadn't involved either Harry or Voldemort all that much besides a confirmation of that Harry had – according to Sirius' knowledge - spoken the truth about Dumbledore's plans meaning the boy's death and Voldemort no longer being a personal threat. Sirius had clamped down the instant he'd questioned their involvement however, whether due to this contract or plain disagreement wasn't exactly clear. There'd also been precious little information about what Harry had meant by Lily and James admitting they'd fought on the wrong side of the war, apart from that Necromancy of all things had played a role. As someone who'd taught Defence against the Dark Arts, Remus had made sure to at least have rudimentary theoretical education on the subject. It had sounded as if their will had been called back to answer some questions, answers that brought forth a feverishly burning need to hear his departed friend's last words.

Sirius had not been able to convey those however, instead confessing to shocking details of what he'd been up to himself, including having discussions and drinks with Crouch, attending parties at the Malfoys and… dying. How he'd recovered from that to the point of being as alive and healthy as before had been vague, but Remus didn't doubt Sirius' sincerity about believing to have indeed been dead. Since Necromancy had played a role before and his friend had been visiting this house of all places, it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine who'd been responsible for bringing Sirius back from the dead either. Even if none of the knowledge Remus held on the subject covered how to revive a person fully, he had to consider the possibility. All in all, the information Remus had received had been both so outlandishly ridiculous and spoken with such conviction that he'd had no choice but to honour the agreement of staying put until receiving the full story.

''Okay, first of all:'' the Death Eater stated, all traces of joviality now gone. ''You will, of course, have to sign a similar contract as the one Black did. Werewolf or not, you belong to the Order of the Phoenix still and are only here because of your ties to Evan. If not for the kid, the Dark Lord would have no problem using one of those… what did you call them? Inventive methods of silencing. So, if it turns out that you aren't as friendly to Evan as he claims, if you'd turn on him in a useless attempt to get Black out of all this for example… you won't live long.''

Remus straightened his back at the death threat that was so casually thrown around. Doubtlessly, Crouch meant it. He glanced at Sirius, who had his chin propped in his hand as he stared at the Death Eater with a light frown. Too relaxed, he grouchily found, Sirius was far too relaxed when hearing his supposedly best friend being threatened with death.

''He'd never harm Harry.''

Remus blinked at the strength of the voiced assurance. Oh, so that was why there hadn't been concern? Merlin… Should've known, he fondly thought.

''So I'm sure either of you would have once thought about Peter Pettigrew,'' Crouch snorted. Remus froze, battling the urge to lunge forward, or attempt to claw the table's surface away.

''What are you trying to say?'' he snarled instead, keeping his hands strictly in his lap.

Surprisingly, the Death Eater did not react with similar hostility. Nor did Sirius do anything else than tense up and glare at the reminder. ''I'm saying that many people overestimate their own convictions to remain unchanged. There are exceptions, of course, such as when an entire relationship is built up on the foundation of being willing to risk everything for one another. But that is hardly ever the case. There is often an invisible line to cross for all involved. The both of you thought you knew Peter and befriended him, likely thinking you'd never harm a hair on his head. Yet when he crossed borders and sold out your other friends, you both were ready to murder him regardless of the consequences. I know where Black's limit lies in accepting Evan's actions. Or rather, the nonexistence of such a limit. I have no such reassurances with you, Lupin. You were told of most important facts why Evan will not leave the Dark Lord's side. Yet you don't know just how far he'll go to stay there, so I cannot simply trust that you won't harm him if he crosses one of your to us unknown limits. I do not even know who you are to Evan, precisely, apart from that you were his Defence teacher before I was.''

Remus leaned back a bit and crossed his arms, contemplating those words. Crouch sounded much saner than he'd expected after hearing Dumbledore's tale of the Death Eater's wild escape from Hogwarts. When Sirius had told him about Voldemort's right hand, he'd expected the Dark Lord to pick someone like Bellatrix Lestrange: bloodthirsty and insane. Yet Crouch's words made a whole lot of sense, he was articulate and convincing. Dangerously so. Most disconcerting was that Crouch's explanations fit very well with his own line of thinking regarding evaluating this new situation. He too was of the opinion that in general, most people refused to adjust their beliefs, which he'd already long ago branded as foolish. That this argument was used against him now did not sit well with him. Did he have hard limits? Remus wasn't as sure as Crouch appeared to be. Just a few years ago, he would have said that his limit lay at murder. And yet, when Sirius had craved to commit the murder he'd been convicted for, hadn't Remus jumped in to help him realise that? If Harry had not stopped it there'd be blood on his own hands too now, no matter whether it belonged to a traitor. All because he'd do anything to make it up to Sirius.

''Lupin?'' Crouch asked, leaning across the table and narrowing sharp eyes at him. ''Who are you to Evan? Sate my curiosity.''

Shaking from his own thoughts, Remus answered truthfully: ''I like to think I was a friend to him more than a teacher. We had a coincidental meeting on the Hogwarts express that formed a sort of level of trust, I like to imagine. He and his friends were apparently the only ones not put off by the strange man sleeping in one of the compartments,'' he smiled. ''Good thing too, for when a Dementor entered, I could protect the children from the worst of its influence. Harry was affected far more than the others due to his past… I felt compelled to protect him. Both for my lost friends' sake and because I thought Sirius was out for his life. We talked much after class, I showed him new creatures I found, told him bits about Lily and James when he asked and taught Harry how to defend himself against Dementors using a Boggart for practise. After the tragic events at the end of the year I admit I felt too ashamed to seek contact again, feeling I had lost the right to any protective role due to my recklessness nearly costing the life of several students. Besides, he had Sirius after that…'' Remus fell silent, having already disclosed more than he'd wanted to.

''And when you saw him again?'' Crouch pushed. ''At the Order's Headquarters?''

''We hardly spoke. I felt the same as before and Harry wasn't there often when I was also present to begin with. It's not exactly a hangout spot.'' Perhaps he should have been more available… Somehow, Remus only went to Grimmauld place for expected meetings and when needing Sirius' help. The latter was selfish, he knew that, but Sirius was the only one who at least partially understood, never complaining when he'd barge into Grimmauld with madness thrumming in his mind, soothed only by nestling in his friends' arms until the night set in and they could howl at the moon together. Just like old times… mostly. It was almost enough to ignore that Prongs' infectious laugh never filled the room anymore. Not to mention Wormy.

Crouch was staring at him again, a strange piercing thing as if one could dissect another being with looks alone. ''I don't get it,'' the Death Eater finally exclaimed, dangerously leaning back with only two legs of his chair touching the ground. If he'd been a student, Remus would have been worried. Now, he might get a tiny bit of petty satisfaction out of seeing a spectacular fall.

''Don't get what?'' Sirius asked with the same amount of exasperation.

''They barely know each other! Why would he be willing to risk his neck for Evan? Why does the Dark Lord find it acceptable for this specific person to know so much?''

Remus didn't listen to the back-and-forth bickering that ensued, far more interested in another noise he'd picked up: the sound of the front door and quick, light footsteps that headed straight for them. He turned to look at the opening door before the other two had noticed a thing and was thus the first to greet the newcomer.

''Harry, good to see you again.'' With difficulty, Remus rose from his chair and took a hesitant step towards the boy. During the scarce times they'd seen each other at Grimmauld, he'd barely noticed how he'd grown, resembling James more and more. Merlin, no wonder Sirius had such difficulties keeping them apart at times. Now it was clearer than ever. not only in his looks, but in his expression as well. It was hard to pinpoint the exact changes, only that Harry looked far more confident than he had before. They may not have had many face-to-face conversations, but each time Remus had seen him even in passing since arriving at the Order's Headquarters, Harry had looked guarded, weary, at times even standoffish. He'd imagined spending time with Voldemort would heighten those kinds of feelings, even been the cause of them. Their mostly incomprehensible argument in Greyback's village had confirmed that suspicion too. Yet here in Voldemort's home, all of that had fallen away and revealed the face of someone who knew their worth, someone who could wield authority and was not afraid to show it. Remus had observed the same expression on the more experienced professors at Hogwarts, strangely enough.

''It's good you are here,'' Harry spoke in quiet sincerity, and this time Remus did feel compelled to shake the offered hand. There were so many questions burning in his throat, but it felt impolite to instantly fire them off.

''How was breakfast with the poshest poshes in all of Britain?'' Crouch instead asked with a sharp grin.

The change was instant, Harry's entire posture relaxing as he rolled his eyes at the Death Eater. ''Worse than dinner, if you'd believe that. I also wasn't allowed to call it breakfast anymore. Everything past 9 on a weekday is a brunch,'' he spoke in a high tone that was surely meant to mimic someone he wasn't too fond of. Harry leaned across the table and casually plucked one of the blue flowers from its vase, dried the stem and pocketed it. No-one commented on the strange action. ''Draco had the time of his life watching his parents correct my every move. I should really ask Voldemort to accompany me more often, they aren't so prissy about criticizing my table manners whenever he's around.'' Interestingly, Crouch didn't bat an eyelash when Harry used the Dark Lord's name so casually. ''At least my dear brother liked to brag about his knowledge of ancient languages and self-taught care of creatures enough that I finally have my answer.''

''Oh?'' Sirius perked up, leaning forward with visible excitement. ''What is it? No- don't tell me yet! I'll go get Ron!''

''Oh.. err,'' Harry faltered. ''I don't want to interrupt… I'm sure your talk here is more important than-''

Padfoot only shook his head and sprung to his feet. ''You've been waiting for months, now that you have it at your wingtips, surely you shouldn't have to wait any longer. The moon won't be out for hours yet so we have time. Right, Remy?''

''I am… confused,'' he admitted, feeling as if he were missing a few clues too many about what was going on. Sirius wasn't listening anymore though, getting off his chair with a spectacular jump and transforming midway. Paws hit the floor and Padfoot sprinted off. A slightly awkward silence descended upon them.

''I see no-one has bothered to offer you a drink,'' Harry noticed. ''Coffee? Tea? Water?''

''You don't happen to have a Wolfsbane potion, do you?''

''Not that I'm aware.''

''Tea, then.''

Remus regretted asking for a drink at all, as it left just him and Crouch. The previous death threat hadn't exactly warmed him up to the presence of Voldemort's right-hand man, nor did that title give him any peace of mind about dropping his guard. ''So what is your motivation?'' Remus asked after contemplating a while on what to say.

''You have to be a bit more specific.''

''As everything appears to be connected, specifics seem irrelevant. Would you have a different answer to the question of why you are willing to help the Dark Lord rise to power than if I asked why you are so adamant about protecting Harry?''

Crouch hummed, eyes drifting to the open door, beyond which they could hear Harry's rummaging around in the kitchen. ''You have a point, by now I suppose there is little that sets those apart. The short answer is that I wish to protect the people who give a damn about me. The long one would have some added details about being part of a greater plan. The Dark Lord took care of me, and in return I serve him. Evan is a bright kid who brought some joy into this house and as he deserves so much more than life gave him, I want to protect him. That my actions aid the goal of magical balance is a plus. At its essence, my motivations shouldn't be very different from the answers you'd get when asking your friends why they chose to be on the side they are.''

He wished to retaliate somehow, to say that he would not even need to ask his friends that question in the first place because their side, the Order's side, was obviously the right choice. Unfortunately, life was not so black and white, even if admitting that the Order wasn't perfect either felt like a thorn digging in his side. The most glaring detail being that Dumbledore may not be whom he'd thought, which he had most trouble believing to the extent Sirius had told him about. He had listened, truly. Only it was hard to rhyme the image of the kind old man who'd saved Remus' life with the tale that was being spun here. Dumbledore had made difficult decisions during and even in the wake of the war of course. But to imagine the Headmaster would sacrifice the one who'd already suffered too much to bring their world peace was… mindboggling. Not impossible, the past betrayals he hadn't seen coming had made Remus wary enough to know there was always a chance, but how could he be certain? Not a single hour ago, he'd recounted propaganda that was spread by dark creatures to instil a sense of superiority in their children. Who was to say how skewed this image of Dumbledore that Voldemort wished his followers to have was? And yet he could not dismiss that neither Sirius nor Harry were likely people to be manipulated so thoroughly that they'd forgive their former enemies if there would not have been enough evidence.

He was saved from having to respond when heavy paws made the stairs creak, followed by rapid footsteps. ''Sorry it took a while, I'd put it somewhere in a pile and couldn't instantly find it again!'' Ronald Weasley spoke, looking red in the face as he stormed in, having a book under his arm. ''Really need Mione back for- Oh. Professor Lupin, hey. Where's Harry?''

''Perfect timing actually, tea's done,'' said boy spoke, floating a set of teacups out of the kitchen and past Ron's shoulder to make them land precisely on the table. With a twist in his gut, Remus counted one cup too many. While the meeting spot made sense, he'd on some level hoped not to come face to face with Voldemort any time soon again. The short meeting from last week had been plenty. He didn't like to think of himself as a coward, always ready to go where necessary, meeting with men and women who'd been proven to be incredibly dangerous. However, Voldemort himself struck fear in his heart in a way even Greyback hadn't managed.

The Dark Lord had been a faceless shadow for most of the first half of Remus' life, a constant looming threat that had picked off his friends one after another. The information that he'd returned from beyond the grave had been enough to instantly agree when asked to become part of an organisation to fight him. And although the odd lover's spat he'd been literally stuck in the middle of had proven that Voldemort was indeed human on some level, it had also made clear they were dealing with a wizard who was both gifted with magic so powerful that it overflowed and who had an abhorrent grasp of his own control over it.

By daylight, Remus had returned to the tree that had been scratched up by accident by raw magic originating from the man's anger. Some of the cuts had been deep enough to slice a grown man in half. Dealing with someone so unpredictable made him incredibly nervous, especially as said someone had started a war for his own gain in which hundreds had perished. And so far, Remus knew little of what he had in store for the future. Voldemort did not strike him as a person who moved on from projects that didn't work out as planned. His newfound treaty with the most vicious werewolf in all of Britain solidified that fear further.

During those quiet contemplations, the others had all moved to stare at the contents of a book in front of Harry, Sirius having turned back into his regular form again and impatiently attempting to peer over his godson's shoulder.

''Are you sure it's a good idea to reveal this with an enemy present?'' Crouch threw in, frowning at Remus, but his concerns were instantly shushed by everyone else.

''Remy is not the enemy, Crouch, don't be rude!''

''I really don't mind him knowing about this,'' Harry spoke up as well. ''Besides, Voldemort apparently isn't concerned about any information he gets by this point.''

''Did he tell you that?'' the Death Eater asked with uncertainty, looking nervous.

''Not in so many words, but he'd better not be hypocritical after casually flirting with me in front of Professor Lupin,'' the teen decided with a sharp grin that shut Crouch up. ''Look, here it is!'' he spoke, pointing at something in the books. ''A black flying fox!''

''Well, read it out then!'' Ron animatedly spoke.

Having slowly caught on, Remus listened with rapid interest. Most werewolves held either contempt or envy for mages who could change their shape at will. Remus only found Animagi fascinating, having been helped very much by his friends' support.

''Alright… so it says: the black flying fox, native predominantly to the upper regions of Australia, is said to be a shapeshifter by nature, lending itself well as an Animagus form. Steeped in mystery, there are few animals that are ascribed as many contradicting traits as bats. They are often misunderstood or even feared, but this is rarely warranted. In the case of this subspecies, as with all fruit bats, there is little to fear. Although nocturnal by nature, they fly during dusk and dawn as well and are thus not linked so often to the cover of darkness like many of their smaller cousins. Those who change into this extremely social, affectionate animal gravitate strongly to their own sort and are sensitive individuals with excellent intuition,'' he read out, only looking up when Ron chuckled.

''Sorry mate,'' the boy hastily apologised, trying to suppress a grin. ''The way it stresses you are sensitive, affectionate and no-one should be afraid of you is a bit different from what I'd expected when looking into bat symbolism.''

Harry laughed. ''Oh shut it. Here, maybe this will change your mind. It continues with: Those whose soul connects to these particular animals challenge themselves with the difficult parts of life instead of shying away from it: the elusive cycle of death and rebirth, finding forgiveness and loving their enemies as themselves, confronting inner demons with a critical eye and exploring the underworlds of reality. Some may find themselves connected with abilities that enable them to see this world more clearly through Divination and Mind-magic. Others will find they have a knack for affecting the weather, as black flying foxes – along with a few other species of fruit bats in the same area - are said to cause rain in dire need. Hmm, some of it seems to fit. I'm a bit surprised they had this book at Hogwarts too since it mentions weather magic and even hints to the underworld. Not too sure how much I can take as truth though, my proficiency with divination is below zero.''

''Even so,'' Sirius threw in. ''From what you told me, your progress in Occlumency was staggering and you've certainly used weather magic often.''

''Furthermore, you can't deny that your life only turned out the way it did due to a Prophecy,'' Crouch added. ''Not to mention that if you really tried, you could literally speak to the dead, oracle-style,'' he chuckled, as if that was particularly funny. ''As for the rest…'' he gave a meaningful look. ''Both the connection to death and rebirth and loving thy enemy are- hey!'' he shouted, ducking when Harry closed the book and carelessly chucked it across the table.

''So you became an Animagus?'' Remus asked with interest. ''That's impressive.''

''Ron managed first,'' Harry automatically deflected. His friend instantly grew red in face.

''Hey, don't announce that to the world, I wanted it to remain as secret as possible so I can actually use my Animagus form in a moment of surprise. Nothing against you Professor, but there's already a handful who are in the know now and that's really enough. Also, I couldn't beat Harry's spectacular first transformation! Jumping off the back of a Thestral and changing mid-air! Dramatic at its best.''

''I knew I shouldn't have told you about that.'' Harry coughed awkwardly and hesitantly smiled at Remus, who was trying to process that the boy had apparently both flown a Thestral and decided it would be a smart move to attempt his first transformation while falling. ''We figured it could be handy. Sirius helped a lot with telling us how he did it and gave me a book which we drew most information from. I'm not very proficient yet, mind you. Still need quite a bit of practise.''

It was bad form to ask, but Remus hoped that the connection he'd felt with his former student hadn't faded entirely. ''Could you show? I've never seen someone transform into a winged animal, that sounds incredible.''

''If I'm not disrupting any further…?''

''Nonsense,'' he encouraged. ''Please sate my academic curiosity. I'll be able to stay for hours until the sun goes down.'' Whether he was welcome for so long was another matter altogether, but it seemed to ease Harry's consciousness. Since he'd mentioned needing practise, Remus was not quite prepared for the rather sudden transformation that followed. After a muttered incantation and no wand in sight, it took no more than a couple of seconds until all that was left was a moving pile of clothes. Ah, perhaps that was what Harry had meant by needing practise. Sirius instantly started cooing and fished a juvenile flying fox out of the heap of cloth. The large curious eyes and trembling claws that clung onto Sirius' fingertips distracted from the fact that Harry was the largest bat Remus had ever seen. He slowly approached and looked down in wonder, hardly able to believe that magic could twist human hands into such shapes. ''Amazing,'' he praised, taking note of that there were no visible markings apart from unnaturally green eyes. He'd almost expected the scar to show up as well. Then again, the pointy face was covered in black fur, perhaps it was hidden below. Instinctively, he reached out, then hastily backed off when with a rapid beating of wings, Harry took off, soaring a few yards through the room – and crashed into the Dark Lord, who had approached to watch them all from the door opening, silent as smoke.

Or at least Remus thought for a moment it would be a crash landing, but Harry's wings folded right before hitting their mark and claws hooked into the fabric of Voldemort's robes so he was fastened securely, pressing himself flat against the chest of the most feared man in the country. Incredibly, Voldemort did not look the least bit surprised, a pale hand grasping instinctively around the body that was so much smaller than the leathery rest of Harry to steady him. Like the entire absurd conversation he'd witnessed between them recently, it did not fit in the previous picture he had of the man. ''Since when did this talk turn into an unnecessary show of magical abilities?'' Voldemort drawled, glaring daggers at Crouch. ''You should not have allowed this.''

''I apologise, my Lord,'' came the muttered reply from the suddenly kneeling figure.

''I imagine everything else has been taken care of? Lupin has been informed of what he needs to know?'' Voldemort coldly continued, striding towards the table and taking the seat at its head. Harry moved slightly, now sniffing the neck of the one he clung to.

Remus attempted not to rudely watch the strange interaction and answered instead. As much as he distrusted Crouch, the creeping slowness of information intake had been mainly caused by outward influences, so he straightened his shoulders and repressed any shivers when staring straight into demonic eyes. ''Sirius has told me all he could and I do not trust Crouch's word. As such, just as little has been discussed as I expected. The most important question I have cannot be answered by either of them in the first place. What do you want from me?''

Voldemort did not break his gaze either even as he poured himself a cup of tea. It reminded Remus unnervingly of Dumbledore. ''Black cannot return to the Order of the Phoenix, his previous actions have accrued too much suspicion. As soon as Evan left Hogwarts and did not contact the Order about his whereabouts or ask for safety, it became extremely likely that Black would have been forced to prove he had no knowledge of this. With his state of mind as is, disappearing off the grid as well was the only sensible option, considering we know the old man to be a highly accomplished Legilimens as well as someone with access to Veritaserum if the former does not give sufficient results.''

''You want me to replace Sirius as... what, a spy in the Order?'' he asked in disbelief.

''You would do well not to interrupt me, Lupin,'' Voldemort hissed. ''Your only warning.''

Pushing all fear aside, Remus did not listen, for a few seconds in complete harmony with Moony, whose rebellious nature leaked into his own. ''Your demand is ridiculous, so far nothing that-''

Remus didn't hear an incantation, nor did Voldemort move his wand. And yet, he was compelled to break off what he'd wanted to say as he was hit with a strong bout of dizziness. Groaning, he gripped his head, somewhere far away hearing the anchor that was Sirius' voice. It wasn't strong enough to grab onto, a mere speck in the distance compared to the force that battered on him. Growling, howling, ever stronger. He was running, being chased by the ever-growing shadow of his fears. Attempting to escape the snapping fangs was useless when every direction he sprinted to led to a cliff with the full moon shining across a stormy ocean. Fur brushed his cheek, claws dug in his back and he screamed when they melded together even as he kicked and struggled-

He gasped for air, finding himself lying on a polished, wooden floor. Sirius was with him the instant he awoke, but he pushed away, unable to shake the sickening feeling of the forced transformation. It took several checks of his still-human hands until he managed to stop hyperventilating.

Loud hissing and spitting broke through the silence, and he slowly lifted his eyes to see Harry, who was human once again too and wrapped up in a ridiculously large cloak. The image did nothing to distract from the amount of rage balled up in his body. Agitated hissing from both Parselmouths followed, which ended abruptly as Harry kneeled down at Remus' side. ''I'm so sorry,'' the boy apologised. ''I did not wish for any harm to come to you here. Can you stand?'' Nodding grimly, he let himself be pulled back on his feet, then slid back onto a chair. Casting a quick, nervous glance around the room, he noticed that Ronald was possibly paler than he felt himself and Sirius looked greatly upset and ready to jump at Voldemort's throat.

Said man appeared annoyed at most. ''You had your warning,'' he only spoke without a shred of remorse. ''Can we continue?''

Wordlessly, he waited, fearing that any wrong movement or word would lead to a repetition. He'd heard that Voldemort was adept in torture, but he'd imagined it to be used in form of physical pain. It shook him to the depths of his soul that after a single personal meeting, the Dark Lord had used Remus' gravest fears against him so efficiently. It was made so much worse by the fact that he'd have his first uncontrolled transformation since years in only a few hours' time.

''Excellent. You cannot replace Black as a spy,'' he picked up as if nothing of note had transpired. ''for he never actively spied for me. Nor would it be wise for you to keep interacting with the Order. As a werewolf, memory modifications are not failsafe and Dumbledore will go to much greater lengths than you might believe to get to the bottom of Sirius' and Evan's disappearance. No, I wish for you to provide more complexity to this puzzle by also cutting ties with the Order. The more inexplicable desertions, the more Dumbledore will have to spread his dwindling resources. To come back to my previous point, you and Black are to cover each other's trails to ensure maximum security. It became about time that Black moved out, but I do not trust his mental capabilities enough to let him loose alone and Barty cannot permanently watch him.''

''I'm sorry? Can I take part in this discussion about me?'' Sirius indignantly asked.

''No,'' Voldemort decided curtly. ''Apart from this, you are to maintain good relationships with the werewolf pack you resided with as well. Dumbledore may have the authority to demand entry into official werewolf territory when using his position in the International Confederation, but he does not have the power to insist speaking to you alone for no good reason. Being sighted there will make him aware of that you at least did not disappear into thin air and thus allocate more resources to reach you instead of hunting down Evan or Black, whom he has no leads on. Can you think of any objections to this?''

The main 'objection' Remus instantly thought of was that he had never agreed to aid Voldemort's side in any way. Somehow, he had the feeling this was not what was being asked, so he focused instead on practical aspects. Having figured by now that the Dark Lord was very aware of his missions' goals, he reluctantly admitted: ''I was supposed to go undercover in Greyback's pack. During previous missions too, there were times where Dumbledore did not expect me to report for months on end. I've been with Greyback for only a couple of weeks, so I doubt my prolonged presence there and silence towards the Order will have the results you wish for.''

''He will attempt to cut your mission short,'' the older wizard predicted. ''It's all a matter of ties. He will wish to find out where Evan disappeared off to: the most likely person to have that information is Black, who pulled a vanishing act also. That leads instantly to you, for Black kept no more than collegial or familial relationships with any of the other members of the Order. He will thus quickly become suspicious if you use the other werewolves to block all of his attempts at reaching you when knowing very well they are not apt enough to keep watch over you at all times if you truly wished to leave. As for your hesitance-'' he mentioned, making Remus stiffen in his seat once more. ''It is a tiresome act that you are fooling yourself with. None of this is about being wrong or right and while at the moment nothing I say can convince you of my righteousness, it does not matter. Black would find himself wandering back into Azkaban the moment he shows his face anywhere, for he'll no longer have the Order's protection after dallying with my followers. Your motivations-'' Remus squared his jaw, not wishing to be belittled by a man who knew nothing about him. ''- have centred around Black for the past fourteen years and will not change now. You shall not betray him.''

Once a few seconds had ticked by, Remus figured that speaking up could reasonably no longer count as an interruption. ''There is a world of difference between betrayal and active aid,'' he coolly pointed out. ''I was told I'd have to sign a silencing contract. Such a thing would surely prevent me from being able to sell out Sirius, even accidentally. For anything beyond that, you will have to either force or convince me.''

''Remus!'' his friend muttered, the hurt in his gruff voice a stabbing dagger. ''The consequences for Harry if Dumbledore wins…''

He slowly became aware of the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, sipping tea while facing the person they'd all been fighting to topple. Even at an arm's length, Voldemort appeared untouchable, impervious to any spells Remus could produce. Behind him, several people whom he would have sworn had been of the same opinion as him were now encouraging him to accept a deal that would betray his own standpoints. ''Dumbledore is one man,'' he attempted to argue. Surely the rest of the Order was not in on the absurd ploy that had been described.

''A man who has been actively trying to murder me the moment he found out I returned to life. Coincidentally, that means needing to kill Evan too and by extension, Black will surely die in the crossfire even if I did not lift a single finger.''

''You don't know that!'' he shouted, no longer able to keep his cool, planting both hands firmly on the table. ''That is not inevitable! If you just let them all go-''

''I'm not going anywhere!'' Harry protested, sounding affronted.

Slowly, Voldemort rose from his seat and for the first time since meeting the fearsome wizard, Remus had the distinct feeling that he was being regarded as more than simply a bothersome insect. ''You will fundamentally disagree with my wishes for this world as long as you refuse to live your own truth,'' he breathed, heavy gaze bearing down on him. Moony became more restless than before, coiling in the back of his mind and tearing away pieces of his sanity. Heavy magic pressed down on Remus's entire body, familiar and comforting in a way he wished to vehemently reject. ''Evan is mine. Black is mine. And so are you.''

''You are- not- my- master,'' Remus breathed out through his constricted throat as he became wrapped up in Voldemort's raw force. The edges of his vision turned dark, he could only focus on the serpentine face that was taunting him with words he wished to flee from. Deep, forbidden magic seized his heart and Remus was helpless as Voldemort picked at his brain with something akin to Legilimency, memories being pulled to the forefront of his mind, those of Moony that he'd attempted to lock away from transformations before he'd fled to Wolfsbane. They'd revelled in the hours of the moon together before, one being for a single night a month, back when his friends had all been by his side.

Somewhere, a deep voice echoed: ''But I am your Lord. As I am the Lord of all creatures who use magic from my domain. The other part of you knows this, the part you have tried to deny for years. Return to your pack, werewolf. Have a better answer for me next time.''

A headache formed again, but no matter how much Remus tried to struggle against it, he could not stop his vision from turning blurry, then black.

For the second time in minutes, he awoke on the floor and groaned. Voldemort was gone, along with Harry, Ronald and Crouch. He hated magic that affected the mind, especially as on days where Moony was waiting to claw his way to consciousness, it affected him so gravely. Remus hoped the others wouldn't see him as weak now he'd fainted twice from the invasive spells. He didn't even know exactly what Voldemort had done to him, only that he still felt… off.

As his best friend helped him up and he slung an arm around Sirius' shoulder, he could almost pretend it had been a dream. Only their surroundings drew him back into reality. In front of the spot he'd been sitting at now lay a stack of papers and a quill. Before he could attempt to pick it up to read what was clearly the silencing contract that had been spoken about, his friend was already steering him away. ''Careful. That's it,'' Sirius muttered. ''Let's get you some fresh air first, okay? That fucking prick. I hope Harry will have a shouting match on your behalf at the very least. He owes you that.''

Still a bit out of it, Remus allowed himself to be guided through a worn-down veranda attached to the back of the house that led to a spacious field filled with spring flowers, where the blessedly brilliant sun shone down on them.

Looking up to the sky, he confessed what he'd wanted to say for weeks: ''I wish it could be just us tonight.''

Sirius gave him one of those rare, piercing looks that were only shown when all of his aloofness was gone – a new side that had developed only after Azkaban had left its scars. It was still hard to get used it. ''We could. You didn't agree to Voldemort's demands and there is no mission to continue for the Order since Greyback knows who you were working for.''

''I also don't have Wolfsbane. It took both you and Prongs to keep me in check in the old days,'' he reminded kindly. ''We can't risk it. Besides…'' he sighed, wishing to just curl up and forget about the world in his misery. ''As much as I hate to say it, something about Voldemort's words rang true. It's hard to describe and I don't know if he used any charms to influence me but-'' he broke off, trembling. He'd felt pure unadulterated magic before, yet nothing had compared to this. As if something was pulling at him. Calling to him.

''Moony-''

He growled lowly. ''Don't. Not today.'' That was all that needed to be said. ''Sirius, tell me honestly… do you follow him? I was afraid to ask that of you before, afraid to lose you once again.''

''It's complicated,'' Sirius wearily replied. ''It started as a way to support Harry's actions in small ways, even before I knew much of how deeply he was involved. I attempted to be open when he showed me more and more of the path he wanted to walk. When I was finally confronted with the full extent, by his strong belief in that Voldemort would bring our world into a better age… I disagreed. Still do. And yet, I already lost James. I wasn't going to lose Harry too. So, I did what I thought was needed every step of the way, to be accepting. Besides, as little as I like admitting it, I greatly owe Voldemort. He agreed to save my life and he was the reason I did not end up committing the unforgiveable act of killing Harry with my own hands in a fit of madness.''

''You nearly did what?'' Remus asked, shocked.

''I thought it was Snape,'' Sirius muttered, looking away, eyes getting misty. ''I was so sure it was Snape…''

The admittance to having wanted to kill another member of the Order was not what Remus had hoped to hear. ''When did this happen?'' he asked carefully.

''A bit after Christmas, when Harry was staying at my place. There was…'' Sirius grimaced, attempting to say a few things, then sighed. ''I can't talk about it in detail, apparently. You'd have to ask Harry. It's this event that directly led to my death, though.''

After Christmas… he recalled that Sirius had been more withdrawn than usual when he'd visited in January but had brushed it off, thinking his friend was just sad about Harry's return to Hogwarts again. To think Sirius had instead been battling with such a thing… Although perhaps he should have pushed a bit more. Right before he'd left to join Greyback's pack, Sirius had stayed with him for a while too, refusing to talk about what had led him to abandon Grimmauld place. Then as well, Remus had been too glad for the company to demand answers.

''I'm sure it wasn't your fault,'' he settled on saying.

''That doesn't excuse it. Anyways, come on, I didn't only drag you out here for fresh air. I need to show you something.''

Holding in all useless protest – all fibres of his body hurt so much that a walk wasn't very welcome, but nothing stopped Sirius when getting an idea into his head – Remus relented and went along as they crossed the backyard. They didn't go too far, approaching a couple of vertical, dark stones to the left, which he'd already spotted from the veranda. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach when they stopped in front of them and he saw badly made wreaths of seasonal flowers that must have been picked from the very same field they stood in, lying at the base of each stone. There were no markings on the surface, but a thought suddenly dawned on him. ''Are these… gravestones?'' he hesitantly asked, crouching down and cautiously reaching out to touch them. Then, another thought occurred. ''James?'' he breathed, throwing a glance at Sirius, who was staring at the leftmost grave with a pained smile. Sirius had cleared up Harry's confusing statement about his parents during their first, short talk a couple of days ago but… he hadn't imagined this. The graves of two of his best friends in their murderer's backyard. He'd thought their spirits had been called or something of sorts, not that their bodies had been involved.

''Harry buried them here, refusing to let them out of sight again after speaking to them. Crouch told me the kiddo didn't even use magic, working relentlessly for hours to dig out the holes with a spade and to roll these stones here. When I asked why they allowed it, he only said that Harry clearly needed to get some stuff out of his system.''

''Oh, I can't imagine why,'' Remus shot back. ''Padfoot, do you believe this is the right place for them? Here?''

''I can visit them here,'' his friend replied, sitting down cross-legged in the wet grass and plucking a few more flowers out of the ground to replace a few wilted ones in the wreaths. ''Talk to them. That wasn't possible in Godric's Hollow. Grims aren't well received in graveyards, don't you know? Too many old farts making a fuss when spotting omens that cements their belief that they'll be next. Besides, it was Harry's decision.'' It was clear as day that the discussion was considered closed with that argument.

''You truly believe that they… returned, don't you?'' For some reason, he was more wary of that than of Sirius' supposed resurrection. It was one thing to bring a dying man back from the brink of death – or maybe indeed from beyond the grave when quick enough – but James and Lily had been gone for fourteen- and a half years…

''I told you already, I've seen Harry's memories. As he did so without Voldemort's permission and accidentally revealed some details I probably shouldn't have known about at all, I'm certain the memory was not manipulated either. Kiddo is good with defensive mind-magic, but so far he hasn't been taught anything about the offensive branch. And yes, I'm aware there's no hard evidence, there usually isn't. What I fought for before was also done in good faith too. Sometimes misplaced faith. Seeing James and Lily admitting they'd been wrong in those minutes they were aware and alive- that did something to me. Made me rethink many of my life's choices.''

The piece of information that their return had only lasted minutes was new and for some reason eased his mind on the truthfulness of the story. That such straining magic that broke all laws would not hold long was realistic. Beyond basic theory, Remus did not know enough about the topic so have a clear view about its limits - not when a wizard of Voldemort's calibre had been involved - so he decided at last to fully believe it. Which brought about the instant sorrow of now having been present to witness it.

''Remus… I guess what I want to know is… what would it take to convince you? You asked Voldemort before to either force or convince you and I'm not entirely surprised that he tried neither, but as one of your oldest friends, I am asking you directly what you'd need to hear to stop working for Dumbledore.''

Remus rubbed his temples, exasperated how every turn kept coming back to the leader of the Order. ''Before I even try to answer that, I need you to know that I did not start trying to talk sense into other werewolves for Dumbledore's sake only. This is my fight, one that I feel no-one else truly understands. Not even you, Padfoot. You haven't seen what I have – all sides of people who share the same curse as I. Both those so desperate on the edge of society that they'd do anything for scraps and those who banded together in their belief that it's better to weaponize their hatred than to fight it. I've seen children being indoctrinated to become mindless animals even by day and adults who're afraid of their shadow.

It's not about Dumbledore… nor about Voldemort. He's part of the problem, using werewolves while trying to make it seem as if he's doing us a favour, but he is only exploiting what's already openly there. A problem that can only be removed by ripping out the root: werewolves themselves not being willing to actively seek change. Whether I was talking to individual outcasts or to pack members, they all tend to submit to the darkness within in some form or the other. Even the lightest wizards start developing extremist dark views soon after lycanthropy sets in for the first time. Not to even speak of turned Muggles! It's insane. The idea of making a difference is the only thing that keeps me going.'' Remus focused on Sirius, only to find another of those sad stares that made him instantly turn away, unable to bear it. He faltered for a moment, recalling Voldemort's words and the magic that had seized him. ''I won't submit,'' he whispered defiantly, both to Sirius and to a displeased Moony. ''Spending a hunt with Greyback's pack won't change that either, no matter what he thinks about it.''

''So you will return there, even if you hate it… Not to find acceptance but to overthrow the establishment?''

''Too much to chew off?''

Sirius laughed, all blinking teeth and sparkling eyes. He suddenly looked ten years younger and Remus froze for a second as he took in the sight. ''Of course not, you could use the world as a chewing toy, Remy. Good on you, get back at that fucker who turned you in the first place.'' He grinned, clapping a hand on Remus' shoulder that brought movement back into his limbs.

''I'll do that,'' he vowed with a thin smile. ''As for what would convince me… Merlin, I don't have a neat list ready. There's too much confusion still. To enable myself to not second-guess everything, I have decided to believe you regarding Dumbledore's plans.'' The words surprised himself, as he'd been torn about it before. But Sirius was right: some things did need to be taken in good faith. ''Clearly, I am not actively going to help put your godson in imminent danger. And as much as I hate to admit it, Voldemort had a point about the best course of action if you would indeed risk your life protecting Harry. However, that doesn't mean I can suddenly do a one-eighty. I hate dark magic for one, that isn't going to change. Crouch babbled something about magical balance, but I will never cast a dark spell if I can help it. It's bad enough that I am forced to every full moon.''

''So?'' Sirius asked hesitantly.

Right... so it was time to make some difficult choices, some that Remus wasn't too happy about. ''After signing that contract… I'll return to the pack and stop reporting to the Order. It's both the least and the most I can do to aid you. I'll focus on my own goals, changing the werewolf community from the inside out, while hoping I can stay neutral in upcoming conflicts. I don't have a voice in politics anyways, being what I am. I… I hope we can still occasionally see each other,'' he spoke, swallowing hard. ''Until I have my head sorted out though, I doubt I can be of much help with you moving out of here. Not if you have regular contact with Death Eaters or even Voldemort personally. It's too much for now. Unless…'' he added, grasping at straws. ''Somehow the entire war was a set-up and Death Eaters aren't the judgmental murderers I took them for?''

A quiet shake of Sirius' head crushed that miniscule hope. ''No such luck. Most of the extremists are thankfully still in Azkaban, but the war Voldemort started was just as much of a pointless bloodbath as we imagined. Just like most of his current followers are spiteful bastards. I found out that Voldemort himself does not share all the beliefs we thought, but that is little more than a plaster to a dragon bite as he did not discourage their behaviour, only fanned the flames with propaganda. Harry is positive it won't go that far this time, but I am less optimistic. He gathered the same people as before.''

''People like Crouch.'' The accusation behind his statement was hard to hide.

Naturally, Padfoot picked up on it easily. ''Crouch is… I don't know. Relatable, I guess. He wasn't exactly guilty of the torture he supposedly carried out before being hauled into Azkaban, but it's true that he committed several other grave crimes since he's been back at Voldemort's side. But I too was ready to kill Peter for real when breaking out. Neither of us are innocent men.''

''You didn't go through with it, you aren't responsible for anyone's death.'' Sirius stayed silent for a while, a kind of tortured silence that dripped of guilt. ''Are you?''

''I… played a role in Elphias Doge's death. Because I covered something, for Harry.'' The admittance came like a left hook out of nowhere. As far as Remus had been aware, Doge had died quietly in his sleep of old age. Not even Dumbledore had had suspicions of it being something more. ''And someone else will die still for that same cover-up,'' he grimly added. ''Harry tried to get thoughts of revenge out of Voldemort's head, but this was one time he didn't succeed.''

''Revenge?''

''I can't say more. The point of it is that I am no longer in a position to judge Crouch from my high horse. At least the people he killed were out of pure conviction of being right. Mine were… sad regrets that I can't change, not even the ones I know will come. All I can do is pray that it helps my godson stay safe. I messed up too many times and still got a second chance, due to him and Voldemort. Even if I'll eternally damn my own soul, Remus, I can never do enough to pay back that debt.''

For an insane moment, the question of whether Padfoot would kill him too if he were to threaten Harry was on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it, too afraid of already knowing the answer. Sirius had changed a great deal without Remus being there to notice it.

''Are there at least some bright spots about Voldemort's envisioned future that you can tell me of, or will there only be dark times ahead?'' he asked, more as a distraction than in any real hope of hearing positive news.

Shockingly, Sirius gave an affirmative nod. ''A couple. Actually, a lot more than I'd expected. All of his actions stem from a belief of being chosen by magic to create balance – a fairy tale if you ask me, and I thought it was all an elaborate set-up to convince people, but Voldemort is apparently truly convinced he's the Chosen One. Ironic, I know. He figured that outright war didn't work to complete this 'task' as the last one failed. What Dumbledore has been preparing us for: to watch for attacks, the building of an army and gathering weapons? Turned out to mostly be unnecessary. Voldemort is instead working on breaking down the Ministry from the inside out, on helping those who have a natural pull to dark magic and very slowly turning individuals to his side. A couple of things I can probably mention is like… using gatherings to instil a sense of community and perform religious rites to honour magic, or even setting up merfolk sanctuaries.''

''That sounds… harmless. Helpful even.''

''Don't get me wrong, while I can't speak of details, there's plenty of murder, maiming and misinformation going on in the background, the main reasons why I wouldn't give my full support if I weren't tied to Harry. But you asked for bright spots only. Another part for me personally is that I could finally see that he makes Harry happy. Again, I don't like him and Harry could do so much better, but my main worries have been laid to rest recently. It is… ah, it's complicated,'' Sirius groaned. ''But seeing Harry so cheerful is the only thing that matters to me anymore.'' He said it with such resolute delight that Remus side-eyed his friend, warning bells going off in his head. Although Sirius had previously tried to explain why Harry's safety was so significant, the way it had been worded now was strange.

''I don't wish to throw around any accusations…'' Remus hesitated. ''But you don't happen to have drunk any potions Voldemort gave you, did you? You sound…'' he frowned, realising where he'd seen or heard these expressions before. ''As if you've taken a love potion, only without the romantic aspect.''

The startled laugh had not been anticipated. Nor was he prepared when Sirius confessed in a chipper tone: ''Oh I am absolutely under magical influence. Not of any potion, mind you. There were some difficulties with the whole 'being resurrected' thing that make me act not dissimilar to an Inferius, or so I've been told. Harry tries not to actively use his influence over me, but my views did shift. It's much better ever since I accepted it. Don't look at me like that Remus. I'm sure they were exaggerating with the Inferius bit, I don't lie limp in a ditch until I am given commands. I'm 99 percent sure I heard Voldemort refer to me as a puppet corpse a couple of times when unsubtly pretending he didn't know I was in ear-shot, but that is just his favourite way to not acknowledge me as a person. We don't get along.''

''You don't seem afraid,'' Remus pointed out, thinking of the way Voldemort had messed with his own mind earlier. ''Has he not attempted to harm you for speaking out of turn?''

Sirius shrugged. ''Agreeing to help save my life was sort of a gift to Harry, so actively trying to harm me would mean damaging his own gift. Besides, my godson is protective of me. When Voldemort particularly dislikes what I have to say, he makes me sleep outside, that's about it. The only time he caused me physical or mental pain was before I signed my contract. First by casting Legilimency to dig for information and then to ensure I could not enter parts of the house he didn't wish me to.''

He didn't know how to reply to all the rapid confession Sirius had fired off right now. After already having had several talks, he hadn't expected there to be so much more rattling news in his friend's life. Sirius appeared to be caught between a rock and hard place while entirely unaware of it. Or not minding it at the very least. Restless, he at long last tore his gaze away from both Sirius and the tombstones they'd been sitting at, instead inspecting the house and its surroundings. His nose picked up a hint of salty air, even though as far as the eye could see there was nothing but fields and a smattering of distant houses. ''Wait…'' he muttered, frowning as he wandered away, trying to get a clearer view of the distant village that distracted him from his previous line of thoughts. ''I know this place. I've been here before.''

His mouth grew dry as his gaze was once more drawn to the stately house. ''No, that can't be…'' he spoke, eyes drawn to a row of clearly magical plants that had been planted towards the right flank of Voldemort's home. Those hadn't been here before… there's been nothing but a weathered-down building and barren ground. And yet, he recognised the smell of the area and the shape of the manor. ''Is this Little Hangleton?'' he asked sharply, turning to face Sirius, who was giving him a wary look and did not answer. ''It is-'' he thus muttered only to himself. ''How-'' Dumbledore had sent a few members of the Order who were good in getting around unnoticed in Muggle areas to scout this very village, Remus included, in hopes that Voldemort would return at some point to his ancestral home. They had found it deserted yet had regularly kept an eye on the place nonetheless because the old caretaker had mysteriously disappeared around the same time as Voldemort had apparently been resurrected. According to Dumbledore, it was a likely spot for the Dark Lord to visit again.

It didn't add up to what he saw now. The last person who'd been on 'Hangleton duty' had been Tonks, whom he'd spoken to a couple of weeks ago before diving into his new mission. She had mentioned thinking it a waste of time to watch an abandoned house and had spent most of the trip browsing Muggle shops for some interesting magazines. ''Don't,'' Sirius warned as he was about to walk around to the front just to see how it looked. ''Best leave it alone, Remy. Come on back inside.''

''How long has Voldemort been living here?'' he asked, not moving an inch, inspecting the clean paint on the wooden window frames and the lush cloud of hanging bellflower ivy that covered large parts of the wall. The metallic flowers tinkled softly in the wind.

''I didn't get his moving schedule. He was already here when Harry went to him for sure though.'' Recalling that the boy had mentioned being under the Dark Lord's protection for the previous two years was enough to confirm that Voldemort had apparently been right under their noses all along. Knowing that Dumbledore had also inspected the place himself made Remus wonder just what kind of obscure magic had been used to hide the state of this house. Or the people inside. ''Remus… Crouch gave me permission to bring you out into the garden. I hate to be a stick in the mud, but I don't want my own garden pass to be revoked 'cause you want to snoop around.''

''Alright,'' he agreed, to Sirius' clear relief. He wandered back, reluctantly moving back inside. It was as empty as before. With a sense of familiarity as he thought back on grading stacks of essays, Remus at last sat down to read what restrictions he'd be bound to after signing the contract that had been drafted up. Unhappily, he started leafing through, having the feeling that there would be no chance to adapt anything he disliked. Only Sirius' presence at his side was a comfort.

It was more than an hour later until the ink was drying. He tried to ignore Moony's satisfaction, as the contract had been very clear about remaining with the other werewolves to hinder any spread of information in addition to all other limitations . It aligned with his own plans, but left a bad taste as he would literally be forced to stay there during all future transformations. The contract had been obviously altered last-minute, likely due to him not agreeing to Voldemort's initial plans, entire sections blacked out. What would it have looked like if he would have gone along and moved in with Sirius instead? Had he carelessly thrown away a golden opportunity in his defiance?

No, he'd been honest with himself. How things stood now, living together with his friend was not possible - although incredibly tempting. Especially after having been told about Harry's influence, Remus would not be able to concentrate on anything apart from attempting to help Padfoot break loose from these ties somehow. Which would neither be appreciated by Sirius nor be healthy for Remus if Voldemort would find out about it. He'd have to be more subtle, perhaps first figure out what Harry's thoughts on it were. Until that moment, he had a goal to concentrate on.

With renewed fervour, he returned to the pack's territory, well within reasonable time before the moon would rise. Greyback had clearly been awaiting him, attempting to get a rise out of Remus with many comments about finally getting to know his 'real' pup. Having had enough tiring talks for one day, Remus managed to ignore the man long enough until Greyback grew bored and instead started pestering their victim of tonight. He'd deliberately not mentioned Umbridge to Sirius, seeing no value in attempts at criticism of what had clearly been a decision by Voldemort.

The hours passed ever faster as dusk fell and he nervously joined the other wolves around the bonfire. The younger ones looked excited, most already having shed their clothes and running around unbothered as they awaited their transformation. The elders were carried out and tended to. It was strangely intimate, and Remus rathe reluctantly took off his robes too as the familiar itch started on his skin. The few times he'd transformed with other wolves nearby, there'd still always been a sense of privacy. Making himself so vulnerable was strange, especially when it was in preparation for a change he despised. Umbridge was carried out of her cage, cursing and screaming now her fate was drawing ever closer. Remus shuddered, not having dared to ask how exactly she would be turned. Would Greyback leave her tied up here? What would happen if all wolved would attempt to bite her at once?

Unable to make a difference, he tried to tune everything else out, closing his eyes as his heart pumped ever faster with nerves. He didn't want this. The change, the blood, the pain, the guilt…

''Now run!'' he heard Greyback bark, followed by both laughter and terrified shrieking. Remus did not have to look up to know the condemned witch was scrambling away. Somehow, he hoped that she would suddenly show a tremendous amount of magical proficiency and achieve the near impossible by apparating without a wand. His wish turned out to be futile as feet stomped on the ground as fast as her short legs could carry her as she attempted to escape. His thoughts went out to Sirius, whose presence he craved in this moment more than ever. The people around him were strangers who only happened to share this hateful fate. He balled up as the itch turned to stinging, needles prickling his skin where the moonlight shone down on it. Around him, he already heard growls and yapping, and for a few desperate moments, he still resisted the unbearable urge to open his eyes.

Until he couldn't, gazing up at the soothing moon that filtered through the forest's leaves.

Freedom, at last. Chest swelling with elation, Moony joined the chorus of howling, barely noticing the pain of shifting bones and stretching skin. This was where he belonged, he thought as he galloped along the rest of his pack, the only family he'd ever need. He met the wild eyes of a large, silvery wolf and eagerly darted forward to brush himself against the other's flank. This was the one who'd created him: his true father, as he was the father of most of Moony's siblings here. Greyback accepted the greeting, slowing down for a fraction of a second before running faster in challenge. Eager already to measure their strength and agility, he sprinted after his father as fast as he could, ignoring the jeering yowls from his brothers and sisters. They'd already found their place. This was the time to prove his own worth and find his, he thought, and then he thought no more as the scent of human blood crossed his nose and he darted off with the intent on being the first to taste it.

---

It was no wonder that his friends had not found the hiding place he'd been looking for. The description of a cave was far-fetched when seeing it from the outside, dark cliffs not betraying what its bowels held. How Tom had heard of this place was beyond him, especially at that age. A crack in the stone, similar to the lightning bolt his curse of death would leave so many years after, ran across the cliff. Albus had only found it after recognising the traces of vile magic he'd been exposed to during the wars he'd fought. Wrapped in warming charms, Albus sent the broom he'd used away and tried his luck with swimming, aching all over from the force of the waves. His body wasn't what it used to be, but he grimly continued his crawl until reaching the gap that led further into a tomb of stone. It was barely broad enough for one person, and he had to follow the crevice in the rock for a long time until his feet met more than water. How in the world Tom had managed to drag two Muggle children in here and back, before even going to Hogwarts, made him shudder. How right and wrong he'd been... Tom had always been dangerous beyond belief, he'd recognised it on that very first day they'd met, but he'd nonetheless grossly underestimated how much that power had grown without any sort of tutelage. Being here, feeling this- it was a miracle the gifted Slytherin student had found his first victim only at sixteen.

Hoisting himself up and creating a glowing ball of light, he realised instantly that the wall he faced was artificial, there to puzzle any who might have made it this far without truly realising what lay beyond. Albus wasn't fooled in the slightest, he'd seen these tricks before. Conjuring a dagger, he joylessly recalled the first time Gellert had shown him how to make a near-perfect physical barrier. 'To keep the Muggles out', he'd said. 'Only those with magic in their blood may enter'. Albus had rejoiced in those words, back then.

All pretentious grandeur that formed masks for monsters. Nothing more or less than the result of a toxic kind of fear.

He fought down the bile in his throat while making the offering, smearing the walls almost angrily as he was reminded of the failure to keep Tom – alongside so many others – from going down the path of blood.

It was only the first layer of protection, he saw when stepping through crumbled rocks, a lake stretching far beyond. Black water shimmered as he attempted to fill this horrid place with brightness, swallowing up what it could, yet not enough to keep Albus from seeing his destination on a lone island.

He was not the only one who'd been proven to underestimate, thankfully. Mere minutes later, he stared into the basin, something gleaming beneath the green potion. The waiting horde of Inferi could not afford to waste energy on anything less than an attack, so he took time to observe, determine the next steps. If only he could have brought Severus along to identify this, but Tom had been at least clever enough to spell the boat in such a way that no more than one adult mage could cross at a time. Albus wondered if he could take a sample of the potion if he did not attempt to touch what lay beneath. He somehow doubted that the self-proclaimed 'Dark Lord' had anticipated his enemies' patience in destroying him when coming this far. But only a fool would drink this without having some sort of way to ensure he'd make it out alive. It begged the question how Tom himself placed this item, or how he could guarantee its safety. Frowning, Albus' eyes drifted once more to the boat that measured magical cores.

Ah. How sadistic.

Disgusted, he wondered how many corpses of minors or 'lesser creatures' had been added over time, sacrificed to the lake. The sacredness of life was lost to a person so far gone that ensuring the safety of one's own soul was worth the loss of a dozen others. It was this logic more than anything else that convinced Albus that Tom was not, as he claimed, working towards a higher goal. They both understood the necessity of victims, but he attempted to lose as few people as possible to protect the rest, whereas Lord Voldemort only cared about a single life. His own. Damned be everyone else who got in the way.

The delusion he'd heard whispered now as well as the first time Tom had risen to power, of laws of Magic and her Calling, was no more than a lie. Albus knew that better than anyone, for Gellert had confessed so to his face. Two different empires, built on the same lies. They'd crumble the same too.

It appeared that Tom's paranoia had won over his disregard for the capabilities of his enemies after all, for as soon as Albus carefully sampled the potion, the water came to life. Cursing under his breath, he released a display of powerful elemental magic to return to the entrance safely. With frustration, he noticed the potion had disappeared from his conjured cup as soon as he set foot in the alcove again. A memory would have to do, then.

Grimmauld place was far too empty as he arrived, the house emitting a sense of abandonment. Another cause for worry, one to divert his attention to after his current affair had been taken care of. After brewing a pot of his favourite tea – lemongrass and mint – and warming himself for a while by the fire, he threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. With an elegant wave of his wand, he sent through a memo, folded into the shape of a Hog. When minutes passed without answer, Albus sighed deeply, already resigned to having to ask Phineas' portrait instead. Useful as Phineas was, he could do without pessimistic commentary today.

Right as he'd finished his first cup and rose to his feet however, the fireplace let through the one he'd wished to see.

''Severus,'' he smiled, genuinely pleased to see the face of Hogwarts' current Headmaster. It did not concern him that the other man clearly did not reciprocate his joy.

''A minute ago, I had to come up with a quick lie to two Aurors and the Minister of Magic personally about who was throwing origami figures through my secure Floo connection,'' Severus bit. ''Care to explain why you did not check whether I had visitors in my office beforehand? Could Nigellus not have cleared up that bit?''

''Cornelius is at Hogwarts?'' he frowned. ''That is disconcerting. Does he still suspect any members of staff hiding my location from him?''

''Not even Fudge's obsessed mind revolves only around you, Dumbledore. While you have been impossible to reach on your grand quests, the world kept spinning. Dolores Umbridge turned up at the Ministry this morning - to sign her name on the werewolf registry. From our sources within the Ministry itself, I also heard she truly showed all signs of having been bitten at the full moon yesterday. Where have you been these past weeks? Hogwarts needed you. The Order needed you! I gave you the news of a string of disappearances and the next day you were simply gone too!''

Severus' ire was understandable in the light of this unanticipated news, though Albus did not let himself get defensive, inquiring instead: ''How did this come to be?''

''That is what we all like to know. The Minister had wished for it to remain silent, but as Umbridge turned up in broad daylight in the Atrium, flanked by two other registered werewolves at a time when many employees were arriving for work, the news could not be contained. Attempts to question her did not succeed, the Aurors had no grounds for keeping her against her will and the woman vehemently denied having left under force. What is your theory on this?''

Stroking a hand through his beard, Albus organised his thoughts. Unnervingly, this fact did not fit in with his previous hypothesis on what had happened on those turbulent days at the start of May. He'd gone to great lengths to attempt to reconstruct the events and each involved person's goals, but clearly a few pieces had been missing.. ''Have some tea first, my boy,'' he spoke, gesturing to the still steaming pot.

''No thank you.''

''Before delving into my theories, tell me first how the situation has been at Hogwarts.''

''Chaotic, to say the least. Most students do not trust me to have their best interests in mind as I on the surface agreed to many of Umbridge's ideas to fool her. Half of the teaching body shares that hesitance, only lessened due to Minerva's and Filius' reassurances to have faith in me. That four students went missing after attempting to break into the Ministry did not improve my position as Potter left me with precious little information, none of which I could make public. The remaining presence of Aurors who patrol the castle and uphold my predecessor's Decrees causes even more dissidence. And as long as I need to pretend to be on the Ministry's side, reversing her ridiculous rules is unwise. Need I go on about my grievances?'' he snappily listed off.

''No need, you painted an illuminating picture. So, there has been no sign of Harry or the others anymore, then?''

Severus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. ''Of course not. Why did you imagine Potter would show his face again?''

He hummed, disappointed and worried. ''Last schoolyear, the boy showed remarkable strength in throwing off the Imperius curse and as he received additional lessons in Occlumency I had hoped he would be able to free himself from Voldemort's grasp. Alas, I imagine it was a great oversight on my part that a man with so few scruples would not be above holding Harry's more defenceless friends hostage. All of them should have received training, I realised in hindsight… Once they are safe again, we'll have to remedy that.''

''Excuse me, I don't think I am quite following your line of thinking.''

For someone usually so sharp-witted, Severus was rather slow today. The work pressure of being in charge of the entire school may be getting to him, Albus imagined. Understandable, there was more to being Headmaster than sitting intimidatingly behind a desk. ''Once we have reclaimed the captured children who have fallen into Voldemort's hands, they must be taught to protect themselves more thoroughly to prevent this from happening once again,'' he explained, pointing out the obvious.

Severus blinked twice, the greatest extent of showing surprise Albus had seen in a while, and took the pot of tea to carefully pour himself a cup after all. While lifting the scalding hot drink to his lips, Severus asked in a strangely guarded tone: ''You think they have been kidnapped?''

''Of course they have been kidnapped, Severus! This is not even a point of discussion. All the signs point to it. Harry and his friends went to the Ministry in order to prevent Dolores from doing more damage to the castle – a noble endeavour that I am grateful for despite the outcome, yet sadly their goal lay mere yards from the very place Voldemort has been trying to access for months. Now, I do not know whether Harry realised what lay in the now destroyed hall beyond the Room of Time or if he became aware of the Prophecy and deliberately prevented Tom from retrieving it by having a hand in the destruction, but what is abundantly clear is that they unwittingly walked into a trap.

Voldemort was there that day, Severus. Under Cornelius' nose, I have carried out my own investigation in the Department of Mysteries the very next day after you gave me the news and his signature clung to it like particularly greasy oil. He went to great lengths to cover up exact spells, but the intent of violence could not be hidden entirely. Not that I needed complicated charms to come to that conclusion, or did you truly believe the official account of Rufus Scrimgeour passing away in an accident? He's been executed, a point-blank Killing curse. It wasn't hard to rhyme together what happened afterwards… young Mr Weasley was gravely wounded if the traces of blood I analysed can be trusted, there'd been signs of an intense fight and the presence of at least two of Voldemort's followers if the trails of the Dark Mark are anything to go by. Time-turners and prophecies both were destroyed in the tumult that followed Voldemort's arrival, but he managed to capture the children and whisked them away. I assumed before that Dolores had been intent on catching Harry in the act of destruction and been captured also as collateral. I am still uncertain how her contracting lycanthropy fits into this. It's unlikely that this was done on Voldemort's orders if she went to the Ministry to register. But I digress. Whichever way I look at this, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and Harry have all been captured.''

''Potter returned to Hogwarts…''

''Exactly. Only Harry returned and stayed no more than a few hours, disappearing as soon as enough people had seen his supposedly voluntary presence to be lulled into a false sense of security. It even worked on you. You were the only teacher he contacted, knowing you to be most discreet, and spun a story about needing to maintain the timeline while his friends remained at a safe distance from the Aurors who'd surely have taken them in for questioning. Yet where would Harry have come across the necessary information to concoct such a plan, let alone know the steps to take against Dolores' tampering with time magic? Moreover, if he wished to keep the other students safe, why not bring them to this Headquarters? I admire your readiness to aid Harry in keeping him safe from the Ministry, Severus, I do. And I do not blame you for what happened as you lacked crucial information. Yet your help may have caused more harm than good. I suspect Harry was either possessed, under a heavy Imperius curse or forced by the danger to his dear friends' lives to return to Hogwarts under the guise of completing this plan. Perhaps it was a combination of all those factors… If you would agree to show me a memory of how he acted, we could find out more.''

As expected, the request was harshly rebuked. ''You promised me years ago Albus, to never ask to invade my privacy in such a way. I will not share my memories with anyone. Nor do I see the necessity as you've clearly made up your mind about what happened.''

''You have a different theory?'' he asked, wondering what strange twists Severus' mind would have concocted that could shed these events in a different light. Most everything fit together perfectly, down to everyone's character. Even Sirius' disappearance was predictable, now he thought about it. Of course, Harry's hot-headed godfather had dropped everything and set off to save the boy on his own the moment he'd heard a snippet of news.

The other narrowed his coal-black eyes and crossed his arms. ''Potter has been using dark magic, undoubtedly read illegal books, been adopted by the Malfoys where he was not dragged off against his will to meet his demise as you feared might happen… and now showed up at Hogwarts alone after supposedly being in a fight with the Dark Lord, without mentioning so? Have you not for a moment considered that he may have been corrupted?''

''This again?'' Albus spoke with clear disapproval. ''You lost this discussion once before, Severus. Your adamance to see only the worst in the boy is unfounded. All sparks of hesitance I had about his pull to dark magic have been sussed out long ago. Harry holds far too much love in his heart to ever be tempted by the likes of Voldemort, so we won't discuss this further. What we do need to speak of is my plan to rescue them - as well as what has to happen after. I had hoped to have more time, but since Harry may be aware of the Prophecy now, combined with my unfortunately mostly fruitless search, I cannot shield him any longer. Bound as you are to his safety, there are a few things you too must now be ready to hear.'' He'd wished to wait for much, much longer, possibly until he'd stared death in the face himself. But Voldemort's trap and successive capture of four students were forcing his hand.

''If you believe that he is kept a prisoner by the Dark Lord… Why act only now?''

''My attention is not held by one issue at the time, Severus,'' he bemusedly spoke. ''I have been working on saving my students since the day they disappeared. You of all people should know how difficult it is to get a hold of Lord Voldemort if he does not wish to be found. I need to know where he keeps prisoners, what protective measures are in place and possibly need leverage to convince him to release them too. I may have gained the latter today. Or at least partially. Your expertise with potions and curses alike is necessary to retrieve it, which is one of the reasons why I feel I must at last indulge in your curiosity. You asked me earlier this year why I have been giving Harry extra lessons, why I gave him information I did not entrust to you…''

And at last, he revealed the terrible truth he'd kept close to his heart since its discovery: the link between the child of prophecy and the Dark Lord that was to be defeated. A link he only grasped to understand the depths of. Albus tried to keep his explanation as neutral and factual as possible, not daring to betray his wavering heart. His plan would save thousands of lives, he reminded himself. Getting openly emotional about the cost would be counterproductive in convincing Severus to go along with it. Thankfully, the boy appeared to understand, showing no signs of emotional distress.

''This had been your secret all along?'' Severus calmly asked. ''To have the boy die so that the Dark Lord's soul dies with him?''

''Voldemort himself must do it, when the time has come,'' he nodded. ''Harry will understand. During our talks about Voldemort's past, we have been circling closer and closer to the truth so that he will be ready when I can tell him everything regarding the connection he's been trying to understand. I almost admitted to it after the incident with Voldemort's pet snake, but when Harry managed to ward off any further negative outside influences and no new visions occurred, I decided against it to ensure he could live care-free a few months longer. With the Order and especially Sirius watching over him, I felt there was no imminent danger. How could I have predicted Harry's urge to save Hogwarts being so strong he'd travel all the way to London to break into the Room of Time?'' It had been an absurd series of events, even more so as their entering must have triggered whatever trap Voldemort had laid out there for a wholly different reason. After the serpent had attacked Arthur and Bill, who'd been guarding the door to the Department of Mysteries, Albus should have been more thorough in checking the Hall of Prophecies' security… He'd honestly believed that the incident had deterred Tom. Foolish, in hindsight.

''If that is the case… why are you worried about the Dark Lord capturing the boy? I fail to grasp both why you assume the Dark Lord has kept Potter alive for weeks on end this time as well as why you are attempting to rescue him if not.''

''Voldemort has grown wary of their connection, I'm sure. His arrogance will keep him from discovering the truth – admitting he accidentally created this on the verge of death would mean admitting to failure – but after years of defiance I doubt he'll wish to remain ignorant either. During both of their last meetings, Voldemort's rash decision to attempt to kill the boy caused him to be left without a body. He will be far more careful this time. Which gives us necessary time to schedule accordingly… Harry is not the only subject to carry a piece of Voldemort's soul.'' He had not intended to reveal this much to Severus, yet his trust in the man's redemption had grown when Tom had not called Severus to his side even after knowing his return had been revealed to Dumbledore, even after he could have used both a spy in the Order of the Phoenix and a competent potion master. ''From the wording of the full Prophecy – no, don't ask me, trust me please - I have gathered that Harry is fated to be the last to die. That the moment the parasitical soul within Harry is destroyed, will be the same moment Lord Voldemort will leave this world for good.''

''You have used me,'' Severus concluded bitterly. ''You made me Vow to protect him simply so he could die when it was convenient to you. You lied about my actions being meant to save Lily's son.''

''I did not realise you had grown to care for the boy so.'' He sat back and watched Severus struggle with light concern. Rarely did he not remain cold and aloof, a professionality Albus could count on time and time again, even if he knew that his silence on matters of importance were frustrating to Severus.

''Petunia Evans.''

''I'm sorry?'' he asked, not quite certain if his old ears weren't failing him.

''During the Occlumency sessions to teach Potter to protect his mind, I found out who raised him, Albus,'' Severus spoke with a tight voice. ''Did you realise how similar Potter's childhood was to my own? The violence, the emotional abuse?''

He folded his hands in his lap. ''I did not,'' he admitted. ''Not until Harry went to the press about it. Shortly after, the Dursleys were dead and it was too late.'' He inhaled deeply to clear his head. ''Nonetheless, there was no better solution I could have thought of. Nor could I have foreseen their treatment of him.''

''Rumours have it, the Weasleys tried multiple times to bring malnutrition and imprisonment to your attention.''

''The accounts of imprisonment were traced back to the very uncredible source of the at the time fourteen-year-old Weasley Twins who'd roped their twelve-year-old brother into stealing a flying car,'' he pointed out. ''And Molly's need to mother over Harry had me doubt the validity of her worries over his health. When first arriving at Hogwarts, he happily partook in the welcome feast like all other children, showing neither hesitance about overindulging himself nor signs of being unable to stomach it. He was small for his age, but not to a degree that had me concerned. We can go in circles like this all night, Severus,'' he spoke, for the first time feeling a hint of impatience. ''I can say no more than that I was truly unaware of what went on. Harry did not come to me with concerns, Poppy only ever complained about Quidditch injuries, and that the boy formed healthy friendships within Hogwarts right away and was an overall polite young man with only a slight penchant for getting into trouble strengthened my belief in that he had a regular, happy childhood. So let us focus now on what is important, please.''

''Setting up his murder,'' Severus thinly smiled with clear distaste.

''Voldemort's murder,'' Albus icily replied, having had enough. ''Which will prevent another war like the one that cost us hundreds of lives. A war you partook in on the wrong side, I may add. You were happy enough to sell out Harry's life when he was not even one year old, before you knew it threatened Lily. Do not pretend you can condemn me now for delaying his fate until the inevitable must come to pass.''

Their eyes met and fleetingly, Albus wondered what was hidden behind the coal depths of Severus Snape, itching to delve into the potion master's mind. He did not give into it. Not because he knew it would be useless, but because he had enough respect for Severus not to insult him so.

''Now, as for my plan… I regret to inform you that you must once more gain enough trust to employ yourself into Voldemort's service.''

---

AN: Ah, all the delusions and games… Snape really overestimated the threat Dumbledore posed when assuring Harry that the Headmaster would absolutely know he'd switched sides. Writing all of this from Snape's POV was tempting too, just so I would have been able to more properly describe all the double takes he did when trying to attempt to figure out Dumbledore's line of thoughts.

Writing Remus was a challenge, I have to admit. He's hardly ever played a large role in my stories as I found his character so hard to grasp, but after some help from Adams_Riddle, I finally trusted myself to attempt his POV. I hope his thoughts make sense and that you like my take on werewolves.
On that note: Am Faoilleach (or 'the wolfs-month') is the Scottich Gaelic word for the last fourteen days of winter and the first fourteen days of spring, marking the transformation from death to life. It is contested whether on our current calendar, this period falls in January or February (though Wikipedia states it is just another word for January, actual books that explain the term translate it more to roughly February, or a period that even covers parts of both months) I'd like to add that despite my borrowing of this word, the werewolf origin legend in this chapter is entirely made up. I didn't wish to infringe on any existing beliefs by mashing up actual Celtic legends about werewolves to fit the HP universe.
Another fun fact: moon phases are weird and although the moon can also often be seen during the day, apparently full moons always rise near sunset! In the case of May 1996, that was around 20:30 in the evening in the UK (thank you online moon calendars). I may have sneakily moved the full moon back a few weeks to fit the narrative but hey, Rowling doesn't even get her day calendars right so I feel like I can get away with this one.

Please leave a review to tell me your thoughts :)
xx GeMerope