"Pete?" Sirius mumbled blearily. He blinked his sleep-rimed eyes a few times, but the familiar rat was still there, sitting on its haunches about a handspan from his face. Merlin, what had Kreacher given him yesterday that caused him to hallucinate? Or was he just still drunk? He didn't actually know what time of day it was, or which day it was for that matter. He'd definitely gotten drunk at some point, though. He remembered Walburga screaming at him for being a sloven. Everything after that was a blur.
For its part, the rat deliberately closed its beady eyes twice, then stared at him again. Sirius decided to go back to sleep to see if that would make it go away. About three seconds after he closed his eyes, the rat nibbled the end of his nose. Sirius yelped and jerked back to wakefulness. "What the... fuck, are you actually real?"
The rat twitched its nose at him, then scurried back to the edge of the bed and transformed into Peter Pettigrew. He held his fingers to his lips and quietly incanted a few privacy charms. "Hey, Sirius."
"How the hell did you get in? And when?"
"In Richard Avery's pocket. Last night, but you were pretty groggy when he woke up to tell you he'd brought you your 'beloved pet rat,' so I'm not surprised you don't remember."
Sirius goggled blankly at him, trying to imagine a scenario wherein a) the his school friends would have the opportunity to convince Richard that Sirius owned a pet rat and b) Richard would not only believe it but agree to deliver the animal. He couldn't do it. Maybe he shouldn't discount the hallucination hypothesis just yet.
"How long do we have before that elf comes back?"
Sirius shrugged. "I think he mostly comes around meal times and once in the late evening to give me potions. He hates me too much to want to check on me more often than he strictly needs to."
"I can tell."
"Yeah?"
"For someone with a house elf taking care of things, both you and your room look, and smell, terrible." Sirius blinked at this new information and looked around. He supposed there were rather a lot of empty potions bottles on his desk, a couple empty plates and mugs too, and the room was still closed up with lit fire, which would make it pretty stuffy. He hadn't been paying attention. As for himself, well, true he hadn't bathed since the first day when Kreacher had tried to drown him. He'd only changed clothes once, when Kreacher had taken him to Orion's office to meet that reporter. "Anyway," Peter continued, "we should have another hour at least then. The elf was here at seven with a breakfast tray, but he couldn't wake you up and left again after he stoked the fire. Sure keeping it beastly hot in here."
Sirius frowned, wondering if Kreacher/Walburga had restarted the Dreamless Sleep potion. He'd never been a heavy sleeper except with potions. As if in answer to his unvoiced question, Peter got up to sort through the nearest cluster of empty flasks on the night stand. There were four of them, not three.
"I recognize the Pepperup and the Dreamless Sleep. What the heck are the reddish one and the black one?"
"Gross, otherwise don't know, don't care," Sirius said.
Peter looked back over at him. "Who's the man making them?" Sirius shrugged. "He delivered more last night. He looks sort of like you. Your mum called him Alphard."
"My uncle, then. Didn't know he'd been here."
"They talked about you a long time, but I had a hard time following the conversation. I was muffled under your quilt and couldn't risk moving too much. And then once your uncle left, your mum just stood in the doorway watching you sleep for... an hour? Maybe longer. It was sort of creepy." Sirius silently digested this. Peter sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Are you... okay? What happened to you?"
Sirius snorted. "I did. I'm the worst fucking thing that's happened to me."
"The ritual you did?"
"You know about that?"
"Not much, just the mentions in the paper and what Dumbledore told Euphemia, which wasn't much. Care to enlighten me?"
"Not really."
Peter nodded, accepting this without complaint. He chewed his lip. "We'll have to tell James and Remus you need to stay here until we figure out what those potions are at least. They sounded complicated, maybe illegal from what little I could understand of the conversation last night. James and Lily are good, but to be frank they'd probably need Severus' help to recreate the potions from dregs now that Fleamont's gone, and Severus might be tempted to just poison you. And who knows if they could even find the ingredients?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed vaguely. He had no pressing urge to go anywhere anyway. "Who's Fleamont?"
Peter blinked at him. "Fleamont Potter." Sirius tried to remember the details of James' family but couldn't quite manage it. Euphemia was his mum, but that was the only name he could place with certainty. There was a Henry Potter at some point, and Charlus was the Potter that Great Aunt Dorea Black had married.
"James' dad?" Peter offered.
Had Sirius ever met James' father? He didn't think so. Which was odd, since he'd been to James' house.
"Merlin, Sirius, what's wrong with you? You know Fleamont. I mean, even if we forget the summer you lived at James' place, you spent pretty much all of December sitting around in Fleamont's lab..."
Sirius' eyes widened in horror and morbid understanding. This was the person he had forgotten, the memory he had sacrificed. James' father... had once been someone exceedingly important to him. He sat up suddenly and seized Peter's arm. "James' dad. I knew him well?"
"Er, yeah."
"Did he like me?"
"What... Sirius, of course he did!"
"Fleamont Potter. Huh. You said he's gone? What happened to him?"
"Er... you don't know?"
Sirius shook his head. "I don't remember him. What was he like?"
"What do you mean, you don't remember him?"
Sirius shrugged. "Casting a corporeal patronus and then giving up the memory was part of the ritual I used to kill Voldemort. Apparently, Fleamont was a major part of the memory. I don't remember him at all."
The blood drained from Peter's face. "Bloody hell, Sirius. I- I'm sorry? Merlin... Well, I guess there's no easy way to say this, but Fleamont was killed a couple weeks ago. He was fighting in the battle when Crouch Manor was destroyed."
Sirius' stomach sank, remembering that night. "Oh." He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Disappointed he'd never meet the man, he supposed, also a little wary he might have contributed to the death in some way. Probably not, since the only people he'd killed at Foulness were Evan and whoever was actually in the manor house. "Oh. Poor James. Bet they were close."
"Um... yeah. He was, um, nice. I liked him too, yeah. Shit, this is awkward, and I have no idea how to unpack," he waved a hand generally over Sirius, "all that. James just told me to get in, talk to you, and use the communication mirror to report back."
Sirius furrowed his brow. "James still has one of the mirrors? I've no idea what happened to the other one. I mean, it might be in here somewhere."
"No, you left it in your room at the Potters,' and James gave it to Richard to give to you. There's also letters. Richard tucked them all under your pillow. One of them's from Regulus, by the way. He's staying at the Averys if you didn't know. Apparently he got freaked out over lunch the other day?" Sirius hummed absent confirmation as he dug under the pillow and found the bundle of parchment and mirror. "What happened? Richard didn't tell us the details."
"Hmm? Oh, Mum tried to curse me but Regulus got in the way, and then I Crucio'd Mum, and then Regulus told me to stop, and I did, and then he left. Haven't seen him since."
Peter gasped softly. "You used, ah, that curse?"
Sirius rolled his eyes and picked up the first letter. "Didn't you read it in the papers? Maybe it was too vague. Let me spell it out: I was a Death Eater. I've used all the Unforgivables, multiple times. Mum had it coming."
"Oh, um, I mean, well, you always said she was awful, I guess." He cringed.
Sirius ignored him and opened the letter from Regulus.
Sirius,
Don't you ever curse Mum like that again. I still love you, but you're not right in the head. I'm not coming home until you say you're willing to try to get better, and until you promise you won't hurt Mum and Dad, or Narcissa, or me. Also, Professor Dumbledore gave me a letter to give to you. It's enclosed. I hope I won't regret letting you have it.
Love,
Regulus
Well, if he'd known all it would take to get Regulus to leave the toxic environment of this house was violently cursing their mother, maybe he'd have done it years ago. He'd certainly make no promises against cursing their parents again; Walburga always started it. He set Regulus' short note aside. Curious, he withdrew the second, tightly folded letter. It was charmed shut, which was probably the only reason Regulus hadn't already read it. Sirius passed his fingers over the seal, and he was relieved to find it was indeed touch-activated and recognized him. He would have been hard-pressed to undo a sealing charm cast by Albus Dumbledore.
Dear Sirius,
Words cannot describe the respect, gratitude, and worry I hold for you. You have gone your own way and ignored my (appallingly inadequate) guidance, and as a result I and many others have profited from your courage. Despite the, shall we say, objectively favorable outcome of the ritual you performed, I lament the cost, especially to you. I do not know in what condition you might be when you receive this letter, but I fear for you. Even should your body be sound and your mind feel whole, I must warn you it is not. I looked into your mind while we were at Hogwarts and saw what the dementor was taking from you. You have suffered a wound to your very soul, one that will be difficult and painful to heal. I can only advise you to reach out to the people you love and who love you and hold tight to them, Sirius. Love is the greatest of magics and is the only thing that can sustain a person without fail through the suffering you have endured.
Please know that in no way do I resent or condemn you for the decisions you have made as a soldier in this war. I know that the deaths you have seen weigh on your conscience, despite the wartime calculus that led you to cause some of them. I once believed as ardently as you do in the value of the 'greater good.' I turned from this creed because I found it too personally tempting, not because a good end never justifies foul means. You need not follow my example in this philosophy, at least not to my extremes. I strongly believe in your moral character and that you, unlike me, will not fall prey to vain ambition. No, I believe it is from despair that you are at most risk. And so I exhort you again to cling to love. To Regulus, at the very least, for I know you love him and that he loves you. The relationship between brothers may be fraught at times, but the fundamental loving bond is unshakeable.
Lastly, and I am almost ashamed to write this, I ask that you continue to look beyond your own needs, as you can. Although Lord Voldemort is defeated, thanks to you, and the majority of his followers brought to justice one way or another, Wizarding Britain is still broken. Your father seeks to step into the leadership vacuum Lord Voldemort has left amongst the traditional pureblood contingent, and while in no way do I think he intends to perpetuate the horrors we have seen, you know his philosophy of a hierarchical society based on blood purity is extremely dangerous. Right now, you are the greatest leverage he has in remaking our post-war Ministry to his liking. You are known as the champion who single-handedly destroyed Lord Voldemort. It will soon be clear to the Ministry and to the public that you alone served as a willing spy within the Death Eaters. Your testimony in a court will not be disputed as others' will. Your endorsement, explicit or implicit, will not be ignored by anyone in our world. Like it or not, you have political power. I will not be so crass as to demand you wield it publicly if you do not feel capable of such with everything you have been through, but your silence is just as potent as your speech right now. I beg of you not to let yourself be used. Not by your father, not by the Ministry, not even by me. Choose your own spokespersons.
If there is anything you need of me, ask. You are no doubt aware that Alastor's portrait in your possession has been destroyed. If you are unable to leave Grimmauld Place or send a letter to me via owl or your brother or some other courier, I will have an agent stationed to watch for potential correspondence thrown out the windows. You may also trust a short message to your great-great-grandfather Phineas Nigellus' portrait, though I cannot guarantee he would deliver it to me as promised and not tell your father about it. I have also managed to (very, very carefully) modify the enchantments you placed on the bracelet you gave me. Assuming you still have yours, you can signal me by throwing it into a fire or by speaking my full name over it. I will come to you, even if I have to break through the wards of Grimmauld Place to do it. If I do not hear from you within two weeks and cannot get an audience with your father, I will come to London and make a ruckus in your neighborhood regardless. No matter what, I will not abandon you, Sirius.
Sincerely,
A.P.W.B. Dumbledore
P.S. Phineas just reminded me to ask you to please not use the bracelet to summon me to Grimmauld Place as a prank but only as a last resort. While it would no doubt be highly amusing for many, it would also be legally problematic. I told him you are mature enough not to do such a thing, but he told me to tell you anyway because you would think it funny. Thus, I hope you are not offended and can appreciate your ancestor's sense of humor.
Sirius snorted at the post script. He hadn't seen the bracelet since he woke up here, so the point was moot. His parents would have diagnosed the Dark magic in it easily and confiscated it immediately. If the bracelet still existed, it was locked behind wards for certain. He picked up the letter with James' spiky handwriting.
Padfoot,
We don't know how to begin. Are you okay? We've been so worried, and now we're also very confused since Mum said actually you've been spying this whole time, but mostly we're just still worried. We've missed you so much. We were so afraid when you left (voluntarily? kidnapped?) again on Christmas and so grateful just to hear from time to time you were alive. Mum and Dad tried to keep things calm, but they were just as scared for you as Moony, Wormtail, and me. Maybe more, since they knew what you were doing. Hang in there, Sirius! We will stop at nothing to rescue you from that awful house. Isn't Wormtail amazing, sneaking in? We warned him he might be stuck hiding as a rat for ages if you were too sick, and he just said "It's no problem. Sirius would do it for me. And I like being a rat." What a legend! Between the two of you on the inside, me and Moony and Lily and my mum on the outside, we'll figure out how to help you escape in no time.
We love you, Sirius. Don't lose hope.
Prongs
Sirius' eyes drifted back over the animagi nicknames once he was done reading the letter. Moony, Wormtail, Prongs. He had stopped thinking of his friends by those names at some point. He wondered when that had happened and what the significance was.
"Damn, someone's coming," Pete said suddenly. "Hide the letters, Sirius. And if it's the house elf, tell it to clean up in here, please. For me." He waved his wand to cancel his privacy spells, transformed back into a rat and hid under the blanket. Sirius thrust the mirror and letters under the blanket as well.
The door opened, and Narcissa came in, Lyra on her shoulder and a covered plate floating by her elbow. She smiled tightly. Now that he knew to look for it, he could see the slight wrinkling of her nose. Maybe he should take a shower, if only so Narcissa didn't have to pretend she couldn't smell him. She was too stubborn to be kept out by body odor alone, and Pete of course didn't have any other place to safely hide so long as he was here. The house had all kinds of curses and traps against mice and rats that even an animagus might have trouble avoiding, plus some doxies living in the walls that Kreacher periodically tried and failed to eradicate.
"Good, you're awake. I don't have long, but you missed breakfast. You can have your potions with lunch, but you're getting the chocolate cake now, before I have to leave. Breakfast in bed? Or do you want to get up to the chair?"
Alastor had just taken off his left sock and was reaching for the right, getting ready to climb into the first proper bath he'd allowed himself in two weeks, when a shining silver goat trotted through the wall of his bathroom. It spoke with Aberforth Dumbledore's voice. "Albus, Alastor: the spunky teenagers did what you two couldn't and made contact with Sirius Black earlier today. They've called a meeting at the Potters' which you might be interested in crashing."
Alastor yanked his robes back on and leaped into the floo with one sock and no shoes. He tumbled onto the tiles in the Potters' kitchen moments later, ears already straining for voices, magical eye spinning madly to look through the walls for the gathering. The dining room and parlor proved empty, but he found them quickly enough in the library and hurried over there.
"What have I missed?" he blurted as soon as he entered the room. Everyone looked around at him in surprise, except Aberforth who just nodded acknowledgement.
"Aren't you the Head Auror, Alastor Moody?" A sallow-faced, dark haired youth asked from his position at a table laden with reference books. Alastor didn't recognize him, which struck him as extremely odd. Everyone else here was in the Order: Aberforth, the Potters, and young James' fiancée Lily Evans and school friend Remus Lupin.
"I am. Who are you?"
"My name is Severus." Alastor's eye widened, realizing this was the lad Sirius had accidentally almost killed at Hogwarts. What the hell was he doing here? The boy smirked. "As for what you've missed, well, as an Auror, you'll be interested to know, we just finished discussing the identities of three unregistered Animagi, and also James Potter here has been attempting to involve me, his vulnerable and financially struggling employee, in a scheme to research and brew illegal potions for him. They were also discussing breaking and entering a private residence, but those plans are not yet well-enough developed as to hold up in court if you tried to prosecute them..."
Lily smacked the back of his head. "He's not here to arrest us. He's in the Order too, Sev."
"You know, Lily, I reached that conclusion myself as soon as he showed up. Explains why Mr. Aberforth's trip to the loo took so long, anyway. I was about to offer to brew the man a purgative."
Aberforth, oddly enough, actually grinned. "I'd take you up on it, lad."
Albus Dumbledore flamed into the room at that moment, Fawkes on his shoulder. "Good evening. What did I miss?"
"Mr. Snape here is taking orders on custom-order stool softeners. As you're older than me and your diet is shit, I'd suggest you sign up while you still can," Aberforth answered glibly. No one smiled.
Albus blinked. "Ah..."
Euphemia shot a glare at Aberforth then stomped straight up to Albus. "Care to explain to me what exactly Sirius did to completely erase his own memory of my husband?"
"Ah."
"He's like a son to me, Albus! And Fleamont thought of him that way too!"
"Yes, that is the very reason that... well, perhaps we should discuss this privately?"
"Like hell! You got Sirius into this situation, and my son and his friends have done far more than you or Alastor have to get him back out. You give us the information we need, and we will use it to help Sirius in the way that we see fit."
"I have been attempting to reach Sirius myself," Albus assured the irate witch.
"And failed. What good is being a grand sorcerer if you're too afraid of rocking the boat to use your oh-so-mighty skills? You haven't even tried to get into that house, with all your power. You could have forced your way past the wards, don't tell me you couldn't!"
"I haven't tried to break in yet, no, but I was considering it as an option as soon as next week," Albus said mildly. Alastor raised an eyebrow. Albus hadn't informed him of that particular plan. Probably because it was so very illegal.
Euphemia deflated slightly. "Oh. Well. Sit down, then. Both of you. I'm not being left out of your plans for Sirius any more, Albus Dumbledore. You are going to tell me everything you know, and you are not doing a single thing on Sirius' behalf from now on without running it by me."
"Are you sure, Euphemia? And James, Lily, Remus?" Alastor asked. Euphemia had always taken the debriefings about Sirius hard. Both Potters had, but she tolerated it worse than Fleamont, and that was before Sirius became involved in murdering Order members and raising Inferi. "Albus and I most likely have whatever answers about him you're looking for... but you probably won't like them."
There were grim nods all around the room. "I should never have closed my ears to it in the first place," Euphemia said bitterly. "Maybe I could have made it easier for him, somehow... Oh, Merlin, Albus, you should have heard him earlier. He said he's... done such terrible things he doesn't want to live... wants us all to wash our hands of him. Peter had to calm him down and then made him leave the room so he could take over the conversation, he got so worked up. How could he think we would ever leave him..." She started weeping, and Albus hugged her, gently patting her back.
"You don't have to stay, Sev," Lily murmured.
The lad shrugged. "It's not like anything I hear will lower my opinion of Sirius Black. And I'll have to hear some of it if you want my help figuring out what potions he'll need. I think it's fair to say neither you nor James can concentrate on it adequately at present."
Alastor eyed him and crossed the room to speak quietly to the two teens. "No offense, kid, but why are you even here? I'd have thought you of all people would want to keep far away from Sirius Black."
Severus grinned crookedly. "I'd have thought that, too, yes. But Lily dragged me into it. Plus I'm the only one who can reliably get into contact with Richard Avery, and without raising suspicion."
"Avery?" Alastor repeated in surprise, though he kept his voice lowered so as not to impede the effort to comfort the Potters, both of whom now seemed to be crying behind him. It hadn't actually occurred to him or Albus to try using Avery to reach Sirius. Of course, they probably would have been given the runaround.
"Avery. Anyway, I'd actually rather not sit through the sob-fest and the disgusting details of Black's antics amongst the Death Eaters more than I have to, so if you'd like to tell me what I need to know to research these two potions, I'll happily stay here and do that while you move the rest of the meeting out of the library. I really only agreed to come to prevent Lily from doing something stupid, but I assume you and Headmaster Dumbledore can shoulder that responsibility?" He held out a piece of parchment as he spoke describing two potions Sirius was apparently taking to deal with the after effects of the Ritual of the Feast of Innocents.
Alastor winced reading the partial ingredients list. They were right. He didn't know what they were, but at least one of these potions was definitely illegal. "You brew whatever these are wrong and it will be deadly poison. Be better, if we get Sirius out, to just bargain with the Blacks for a potions supply and/or recipe."
Lily snorted. "And trust the Blacks to provide us with the correct brews? They'd just wait us out, knowing we'd have to send Sirius back if he got sicker again."
"Even if an arrangement could be reached with the Blacks, it's safest to know what we're dealing with," Severus said smoothly. His eyes glinted. "So, what on earth did Sirius Black do that requires treatment with death caps and human blood?"
Author's note: I feel like these chapters are creeping along, but then again if I try jumping the action ahead, it would be super abrupt. Possible encroaching writer's block... I'll aim for another update on Saturday, but if I get too frustrated with the shape of the next chapter, I might try pausing this story for a bit and focus on my other, Snape-centric one for a week or two. Sorry! Thanks so much for the reviews, though. I really appreciate them, especially when I'm fighting with my own writing and motivation.
