Salvation

"... You mean no one will know where they are, Professor, not even you?" Sirius looked at me.

"Only you, Sirius, that's the beauty of the spell. Any and all traces of their whereabouts will be wiped from everyone's mind, and the Potters," I gestured towards Lily, James and the baby Harry, "will be safely hidden. Voldemort could be looking directly at them, and it would be like they weren't even there. As long as you, the Secret Keeper, don't tell anyone, the charm will hold the secret as sure as a dragon guards her clutch."

"I would die first!" Sirius' eyes had blazed.

I had believed him. I had looked deep within those gray eyes, and seen an unmatched fury. I would have sworn Sirius, James' best friend, Harry's doting Godfather, and one of the brightest, if not the most well behaved, students I ever saw come through these halls, meant exactly what he'd said.

I did more than swear on it though, didn't I, Sirius? I staked the lives of James, Lily and Harry on it, and if not for the lucky remnant of Lily's love, I would have gambled and lost completely. Oh Sirius, why did you do it? You loved Harry like he was your own son. What could Voldemort have offered you?

These thoughts played over and over in the Headmaster's mind as he walked down the halls of his beloved school towards the room at the top of the North Tower. Approaching the door, he suppressed the urge to blow it from its hinges. He stopped just short, placing his hand gently on the knob.

" ... Lord can't help you now, Black. The Headmaster is on his way, then Fudge will arrive, and then ... the kiss," Dumbledore heard Snape through the door holding onto the final 'S', savoring it, and sounding every part the Slytherin he had been since his first day at Hogwarts.

"I have no need of you, Snivellus," Black sounded tired, "if you wish to kill me go ahead. We all know you're capable of murder. If not, please shut your mouth until Dumbledore gets here."

"Don't think I won't end you, Black. I know Fudge would certainly not mind, I'm -." Dumbledore chose that moment to enter the room. Snape had Sirius held at wand point, sitting on the edge of an old, wooden desk, his hands and feet bound. Sirius was filthy, still garbed in the uniform of an Azkaban inmate, his hair long and ragged, brushing the surface of the desk. His skin was grey, and looked ancient. He was staring at the floor. He didn't even raise his head when Dumbledore entered.

"Ahhh, Headmaster," Snape began, his eyes flashing, "Might I suggest we perhaps question the prisoner before the Minister arrives. That way we can be sure that the story he tells is accurate." He produced a small vial from his robe. "I brought some of my -"

"That won't be necessary, Severus," Dumbledore never took his eyes from Sirius. "Actually, I would like it if you would perhaps leave us alone for a few moments. In fact, when Minister Fudge does indeed arrive, I would prefer if you would detain him until I'm ready to receive him." Snape looked like he was going to cry. A twinge of panic entered his protest.

"But sir, he's a traitor and a murderer! Are you sure -"

"I'm aware of the crimes Sirius has committed," Dumbledore turned towards Snape and the Potions Master recoiled at the anger boiling in the Headmaster's blue eyes, "and I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you I'm quite capable of defending myself. Now if you would please, go and find Minister Fudge." Without another word, Snape stormed from the room. The door slammed shut and there was silence.

Dumbledore felt his hands slightly shaking as he fought the urge to lash out at Sirius with his rage. Memories of James and him in school, 'The Marauders' they'd called themselves, flashed through his head. Now Sirius Black, the betrayer, sat before him, looking little more than an animal.

"The minister and the Dementors will have their chance, Sirius, I can assure you," Dumbledore began softly, "but first I get mine."

"Look at me," Dumbledore commanded the disheveled man. Sirius did not move. "Sirius," Dumbledore could feel the anger creeping into his words, "pick up your head, and tell me why you did this. What did Voldemort offer you that made you turn your back on James and Lily, on the Order, on everything we worked for? And Peter," Dumbledore could feel the rage snowballing as he spoke, "what about Peter? You killed him! Sirius, you murdered Peter! How could YOU?" His voice boomed as he reached into his robe and pulled his wand. He raised it and advanced on the treacherous wretch. Black picked up his head and looked his headmaster dead in the eye in a final act of defiance before the killing blow landed. Dumbledore gasped.

"I'm sorry." Sirius whimpered as Dumbledore towered over him. Dumbledore stopped, frozen in mid-stride, his eyes locked on Sirius'. The gray pools swam with tears, but Dumbledore saw beyond. He saw into Sirius' soul, saw everything: the map, Moony and Wormtail and Padfoot and Prongs, the switch. He saw the wreck at Godric's Hollow, Hagrid taking off on Sirius' motorbike, the alley in London and the entire scene of Pettigrew's deception, and the events of earlier that very night in the Shrieking Shack. Lastly, he saw the cold. He saw, through Sirius' eyes, twelve torturous years of innocent imprisonment in Azkaban. He felt the hard stone floor, the constant state of near starvation, and the chill, soul-rending touch of the Dementors.

Dumbledore stumbled backwards and fell into a chair. "Dear God," he whispered, "what did we do?"