A Promise Worth Keeping

Chapter Five

He was being watched. They thought they were being very careful, but he could sense them. He wondered why, after all this time. If something had happened it certainly hadn't been in the paper. Remus Lupin sighed and shut the kitchen window on the post owl. He dumped the letter announcing the thrilling news that he had been selected to participate in the annual Wizard's Digest prize draw in the rubbish bin unopened.

The last time he'd been under surveillance had been nearly ten years ago and they had carried on until well after James and Lily had been killed. Bastards. He supposed he would find out eventually why they were watching him. It was only a matter of time before they decided to bring him in for questioning. He shuddered at the prospect. If it hadn't been less than a week until the full moon he might have moved, but he knew from bitter experience the stress that involved would only make his transformation worse. The stress of being under surveillance again was going to make it bad enough.

He raked around in the cupboard for the teabags then swore mildly as he remembered he needed to get milk. Shrugging on his cloak he made the long hike down the stairs to the street, nodding politely to Mrs McCoulie as he passed her adding more gleam to her already gleaming brass door knocker. Dragon of a woman. He knew she was only there because she'd heard him coming down the stairs and had to know everything that was going on. She eyed him suspiciously as he passed, as if she thought he were tramping mud all over the place, dropping litter, or God forbid, spitting.

Out in the narrow street he pulled his cloak tightly round himself as it was cold, the ever-present wind gusting between the high buildings. There had been a frost the previous week and most of the leaves on the trees had fallen and were now being whirled around the streets. He walked past two small boys apparently impervious to the cold standing playing conkers on their way to school, before they stopped to argue about the respective merits of the Montrose Magpies and the Pride of Portree.

He got his milk from the shop on the corner, and while he was at it, a few other things he needed then walked back. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, and deciding he really couldn't be bothered with Mrs McCoulie, Apparated up to his flat.

Someone was waiting for him. No, he looked round, three people were waiting for him. "Remus Lupin?" the first man asked.

"Yes?" responded Remus, knowing what this must be about even as he asked, "And who the hell are you?"

"Donald Milligan, Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Office for Scotland." He didn't bother to introduce his two companions who weren't even pretending to hide where they were pointing their wands. "We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Really." Quelle surprise, Remus thought ironically. "What about?"

"All in due course." He held out a hand. "Your wand?"

Remus sighed and handed it over.

Milligan waved a hand towards the fireplace, "After you," he said, pulling out a bag of Floo powder. "You're going to Lochrin House, room forty-three."

As Remus had expected, room forty-three was an interview room. It wasn't empty. There were a couple of men who also looked like Aurors standing beside a large table along with a rather faded looking mediwitch, which probably meant Veritaserum. Two goons stood by the door, presumably in case he decided to try and make a run for it, he thought sourly.

Milligan came out of the fireplace behind him. "Find anything?" asked one of the others.

"Not yet, sir. Stewart and Dalrymple are searching the place. They'll let us know if they do."

Remus wished them luck. He knew they wouldn't succeed because there wasn't anything to find.

The Auror turned his attention onto Remus. "Sit down, Mr Lupin, we have some questions for you." He held up a hand as Remus made to say something. "And can I remind you that a failure to co-operate in the administration of any truth potion we choose to give you will be construed by us as a sign of guilt in this matter?"

"What? I don't even know what it is you want!"

"Well then the sooner you sit down and start co-operating the sooner you'll find out. After all if you have nothing to hide, what are you worried about?" He glanced at the mediwitch. "Kirsty, if you wouldn't mind?"

Kirsty looked as if she did mind very much, but she gave a weak smile and walked forwards as Remus, feeling he had no choice, sat down. Her expression so clearly said she was thinking about some of the more lurid stories of werewolves who went after prey and devoured it while still in human form that he was tempted to tell her not to worry, he didn't bite. On reflection he thought she'd probably have hysterics if he did, so he meekly swallowed the potion.

Immediately he began to choke and his body went into a spasm. Dimly he heard the mediwitch yelling something that sounded like a spell, but he couldn't make out what as he was concentrating on trying to breathe. But he couldn't and spots began to dance before his eyes. Then he seemed to be on the floor and was gasping for breath in between being violently sick.

"Bugger, he's allergic to it," the one in charge said.

The mediwitch was looking at him, eyes now full of professional concern. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked as he slowly sat up.

"I've felt better," he managed to croak.

She snorted and said over her shoulder, "Somebody get some water, and get this mess cleaned up." The medical emergency had worked wonders for her self-confidence somehow.

One of the goons poured out a glass of water and handed it to the mediwitch who in turn handed it to Remus. He drank it gratefully.

A house-elf appeared and cleaned up the mess he had made and he hauled himself back up onto his chair. The Auror in charge angrily demanded, "Why didn't you tell us you're allergic to Veritaserum?"

"Because I didn't know!" responded Remus not bothering to hide his irritation. "And even if I had done, and told you, would you have believed me?"

The Auror looked extremely uncomfortable at this and it was clear to Remus that he would have treated it as a refusal to co-operate with all the consequences he had threatened. Instead of answering Remus' question though he simply ignored it and asked the mediwitch, "Kirsty, have you got anything else as effective?"

"I've several potions that are almost as effective, but you can't use them now, Mr Sedgewick."

"Why not?" responded Sedgewick.

"Because he's still suffering the after effects of the allergic reaction," the mediwitch responded as if speaking to a backward child.

This made Sedgewick deeply unhappy, Remus could see. "Well how long do we have to wait? I've got to be back at the Ministry this afternoon."

This time it was Kirsty's turn to look unhappy. "Well I suppose it would be all right in about an hour," she said.

Sedgewick grumbled, but gave in and muttered something about getting some tea. Then he said in a sharp voice, "But he's not to be left alone. I want you two to stay here and watch him," he ordered the two goons. They looked as happy at the prospect as Remus was.

The mediwitch shook her head and told Remus, "I'll get them to send some tea down. What do you take?"

"Er, thanks. Just milk."

---

Sedgewick and the other Aurors marched back into the room an hour to the minute after they had left. Kirsty the mediwitch was already there having been giving Remus an exhaustive medical questionnaire. Having been promoted from the status of Ravening Monster to that of Patient had its advantages he reflected, but he wasn't sure that this was one of them.

"Let's get on with this, I haven't got all day," snapped Sedgewick impatiently as he sat down. He looked over at Kirsty and said sarcastically, "Have you identified a suitable truth potion that he's not allergic to?"

His sarcasm went over her head as she responded, "Of course I have, Mr Sedgewick."

"Well, give it to him!" he barked.

She gave it to him.

The potion seemed to have no effect that Remus could immediately discern. It certainly didn't make him feel woozy, which he had heard was the normal feeling associated with Veritaserum. He wondered if it had worked.

"What's your name?" asked Milligan.

Remus told him, and the answers to the other baseline questions he was asked. Then they got down to what they were really after.

"Where were you on the twelfth of November?"

"Er…" when on earth was that, he wondered.

"Two weeks past Monday," the Auror clarified.

"Here, in Edinburgh," Remus responded immediately. Maybe the stuff had worked.

"Can you prove that?"

"I was at work…"

Milligan sneered, "Oh yes, washing dishes in Cutty Sark's. Well that was only the evening, what were you doing for the rest of the day?"

"I can't remember." He couldn't, he was fairly sure he had been pottering around his flat or perhaps had gone for a walk watching Muggle tourists on the High Street, but he couldn't swear to it.

"How about last Saturday?"

Despite the situation, Remus smiled faintly. "One of the boys down the street has a pet streeler which got out of its cage. I helped him catch it and cleared up the mess it left. It took most of the afternoon."

"What's the boy's name and address?"

"Jamie Bethune, Waverly Court."

"Can his parents confirm this?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure they will."

"But you can't confirm where you were for the rest of that day?" broke in Sedgewick.

"I was at work in the evening, but I was in my flat for most of the morning - I may have gone out to the shops I can't remember, but it wouldn't have been for long."

Milligan scribbled something on a sheet of parchment. He looked dissatisfied. "Too many gaps," he muttered. Then he looked up. "What is your relationship with Harry Potter?"

This question took Remus completely by surprise. "I was a friend of his parents," he said in a strangled voice after a moment. The stuff had definitely worked. The words had come out of his mouth without any conscious volition.

"When did you last see him?"

Was this some kind of sick joke, Remus wondered. But they looked perfectly serious. "At his parents' funeral."

Sedgewick and Milligan looked at one another. "You're quite sure you haven't seen him since?" Milligan asked.

What was going on here, Remus wondered as he answered, "Quite sure."

"Who is currently looking after the boy?"

"His aunt and uncle. "

Once again Sedgewick and Milligan exchanged cryptic looks. Milligan shook his head slightly. Sedgewick sniffed though and asked. "And when did you last see Sirius Black?"

By now Remus had been half expecting this question, so it wasn't the shock it might have been. He found he was able to answer quite steadily, "A couple of weeks before the Potters died, I think. I'm not sure exactly. It was a long time ago."

"Where is he now?"

"In Azkaban. He has been ever since."

Sedgewick made a face. "He doesn't know anything. Damn."

Milligan looked annoyed, as if a pet theory had been destroyed. "Well, Lupin," he said ungraciously. "It looks like you can go. But we'll still be keeping an eye on you."

They were letting him go? Just like that? Now why? Remus tried to stand up, and to his surprise, found his legs were so wobbly they almost wouldn't support him.

Kirsty the mediwitch grabbed his arm, saying, "Whoops! That potion sometimes has side effects. You'll be all right in a minute."

Remus stood there for a while, holding on to her arm until he felt a bit steadier. He glanced at her, "Thanks."

Milligan handed Remus his wand back, and nodded over to the fireplace. "You can Floo out here."

Remus went back to his flat.

He staggered out of his own fireplace and stared aghast at his living room. They hadn't been kidding when they said they had been searching the place. The cushions from the settee had been taken out of their covers, cupboards had been emptied, clothing thrown everywhere. In the kitchen, his meagre supplies had been swept out of the cupboards and the cupboards emptied of crockery. He sighed.

Picking up the kettle from the floor underneath the kitchen table - why did they put it there, he wondered - he filled it and boiled it while he hunted for the tea bags. It didn't take him long to find them and he started picking things up off the floor with his hands rather than his wand and carefully putting them away. It stopped him thinking about what had happened. He didn't want to think about why they had been questioning him. Not yet.

Finally though, with a mug of tea well brewed and the kitchen returned to a semblance of order, he sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands.

Something had happened. That was clear enough. And it was something involving Harry and Sirius that had occurred on the dates he was asked to produce an alibi for. Thus far so obvious, he thought. He took a sip of his tea and made a face. It was far too strong.

He put the mug down. If anyone knew what was going on, it was Dumbledore.

---

Hogsmeade looked the same as it ever did; probably the same as it had done a hundred years ago, and as it would in a hundred years time, Remus thought as he stepped out of the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta had been insistent that he had some lunch, and he had let himself be diverted, realising that part of him was reluctant to see Hogwarts again. But no matter how good the steak pie or the butterbeer was, he couldn't sit in the pub all day, and he had left.

The wind was cold as he walked up the lane towards the castle, tossing the bare branches of the birch trees that lined it. Already, the edges of puddles on the road were lined with frost: winter was coming early. Then he turned a corner and the trees fell away, showing that wonderful view of the castle that always took his breath away. He stood for a few minutes simply looking at it, remembering the years he had spent there, the joys and the triumphs, telling himself it was the wind that was making his eyes water.

Like Hogsmeade, it looked much the same as it ever had, well it would take a lot to make a building like that look different, he thought. Down on the Quidditch pitch he could make out tiny figures zapping around in a flying lesson and small black-robed figures making their way to the greenhouses for a herbology class. He wondered if Professor Sprout was still the Herbology professor.

Come on, this isn't getting us anywhere, he told himself. When he got to the great doors, he found his feet remembered the way to Dumbledore's office better than he did himself, and he was soon standing at the gargoyle outside the headmaster's office. Just as he was wondering if he was going to have to run through every kind of confectionary he could think of, an officious young voice said behind him, "Can I help you?"

Remus turned round to see a pompous looking boy with flaming red hair and glasses: a Weasley, obviously. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could do so, another voice said, "That will be all, Mr Weasley. Thank you for your assistance." Minerva McGonagall came into view.

The Weasley boy looked as if he were swithering between gratification at being thanked and nosiness about what was going on, but said, "Yes, Professor," before walking off, perhaps rather more slowly than he might have done.

McGonagall waited until he had left before turning her beady-eyed gaze to Remus and saying, "Well, Mr Lupin, it's been a quite while. How can I help you?"

Immediately Remus felt as if he was twelve again and had been less than successful in a transfiguration exercise. He suspected she was doing it deliberately. As he was standing outside Dumbledore's office it was rather obvious whom he had come to see, so all he said was, "I don't know the password."

"Is Professor Dumbledore expecting you?"

"I don't know. He might be." Now that he thought about it, he was rather sure the headmaster was definitely expecting him.

McGonagall didn't reply, she simply stood in front of the gargoyle and said, with an expression of long suffering on her face, "Dolly Mixture."

The door swung open. "After you, Mr Lupin."

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk writing, when they came in. He looked up, eyes twinkling and put down his quill. "Remus," he said. "I've been expecting you."

One of McGonagall's eyebrows twitched, but all she said was, "Albus, Mr Lupin." Before she left.

Dumbledore waved Remus to one of the leather, button-backed armchairs, and he sat down, for a moment transported back to his school days, but he shook off the mood. The present was more important than reminiscing. "I've spent much of the morning assisting some members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad with their enquiries," he began, then as Dumbledore didn't say anything asked, "What's going on?"

"What did they ask you?"

"They wanted me to give an alibi for last Saturday, and er, two weeks past Monday."

"Did they say why?"

Remus shrugged. "It seemed to have some connection with Harry Potter and Sirius. They decided I didn't know anything."

Dumbledore smiled in response. "I would imagine if they had concluded you knew anything, you wouldn't be here."

No he'd be locked up in Azkaban alongside Sirius, Remus thought.

Dumbledore continued, "Two weeks past Monday, at precisely eleven forty-five in the morning, Harry Potter left the care of his relatives."

"How? Did he run away?" Remus remembered the impatient way the Dursleys had treated Harry at James and Lily's funeral, how he had wished he could have looked after the baby himself.

"You misunderstand. Being in his relatives' care is a formal state of affairs, not simply who Harry is with at the time." Dumbledore told him. "The Muggle authorities became involved and decided that Harry could be better looked after in their care."

"What on earth gave them that idea?"

Dumbledore looked grave. "It appears there was a rather unfortunate magical accident involving Harry."

"Unfortunate?"

"Harry's uncle was injured. It seems the Muggle authorities are under the impression that it was deliberate on Harry's part."

Oh Merlin! Poor Harry! Thought Remus. "So where does Sirius fit into all this?"

"In a moment," said the headmaster and continued with his story. "At three sixteen in the afternoon, Harry disappeared from the institution he had been taken to."

"Disappeared? What do you mean?" Then something else Dumbledore had said sank in, "Institution?"

Dumbledore held up his hands as if to stop the flow of questions. He answered the last one first. "Harry had been taken to an institution for delinquent boys, I understand." His expression told Remus exactly what he thought of that. "He disappeared into thin air on the Monday afternoon. Nobody has been able to discover precisely what happened. As you know, Muggles can be very good at not noticing things that don't fit into their world view, and the Ministry tell me that no memory charms are involved however…" Dumbledore paused and sighed, "The Ministry decided that the most likely explanation was that Harry must have been kidnapped by Death Eaters."

Remus choked. "You don't think so?"

"No, Remus I don't. There is no evidence that Harry was kidnapped, by Death Eaters or anyone else." He paused and sighed. "You haven't heard the worst. Someone at the ministry suggested that they should question the only Death Eater in custody who is still lucid enough to know who he is for suggestions."

"Sirius?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Just over a week later he escaped."

Remus stared at the headmaster in horror. "On Saturday. But why hasn't there been anything about all this in the paper?"

Dumbledore stared at Remus for a moment down his long, crooked nose, looking slightly reproving. Remus raised an eyebrow, "Fudge wouldn't allow them to alert the public?" he hazarded.

The headmaster looked sadly at him. "Minister Fudge apparently does not wish to alarm people unnecessarily. I have been unable to shift him from that view. Cornelius can be extremely stubborn when he wants, and he feels that keeping the populace sleeping easily in their beds at night is more important than the rapid recapture of a dangerously insane murderer and locating the Boy Who Lived."

"But you said you didn't believe that Harry had been kidnapped," Remus objected.

"No, I don't. I suspect that poor Harry may have found a way to escape from the institution he was sent to. However Sirius Black believes his compatriots kidnapped the boy because that is what he was told happened."

"Oh my God," breathed Remus. "He's gone to join them."

"Precisely," said a cold voice behind him.

As Remus swung round, barely able to believe his ears, Dumbledore said almost jovially, "Ah, Severus, I was hoping you would join us." He looked blandly at Remus' astonished expression. "Didn't you know, Remus, Severus has been our potions master here for a number of years."

"Really." He looked at Snape, who was regarding him with that fascinated loathing he had always had. As always, he ignored it. "Congratulations."

"What's he doing here?" Snape demanded.

"Well I hope that Remus is going to assist us to find Harry, and put Sirius Black back where he belongs."

"You don't think I had -" Remus began.

Dumbledore broke in, "Of course not, Remus. But you are one of the few people alive, if not the only person, who really knows how Sirius Black thinks."

Bleakly, Remus shook his head. "No, you're wrong. I thought I did. I thought I knew him, but… the man who betrayed James and Lily? No, I don't know him," he shook his head again. Then came the thought that made him cringe inwardly even as it formed, tell him about Padfoot. Telling Dumbledore would be bad enough, an admission of the deception and the betrayal of trust he had committed. But to do it in front of Snape! He couldn't do it. It was this more than anything that made him agree. It wasn't that he understood Sirius' thought processes, but he knew his secret, which would give him an edge nobody else would have in catching up with him. He looked up from where he had been staring at his hands. "I don't know him any more," he repeated. "But I'll do everything I can to help find him."

Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled in that particular way Remus had always thought meant he was rather pleased with himself. "I knew I could count on you, Remus. And of course, Severus will accompany you to help."

What! He looked at Snape wondering if it was any consolation that the potions master was looking as horrified as he thought he probably was himself.