Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 3: The Stowaway

Wednesday, July 2, 1980

Remus followed Sirius and Dorcas Meadowes up the stone staircase of a boarding house situated on an isolated stretch of cliff on the outskirts of town. White-washed stucco walls shimmered in the stifling afternoon heat. In the cloudless sky, the midday sun glared overhead. Remus swabbed the sweat from his brow with a sodden handkerchief.

"Hurry up, Meadowes," he whispered under his breath.

Dorcas fitted an old-fashioned brass key into the lock and opened the door. Remus entered, right behind Sirius, and nearly tripped over his own suitcase. Luggage lay piled on the tile floor just inside the doorway. Remus nudged his battered case aside and surveyed his surroundings: a small parlor fitted with a rustic table, two wooden chairs, and a kitchenette. The walls were painted the same brilliant white, but the stone structure provided a cooling respite from the heat outside.

"This is your room," Dorcas said, tossing the keys down on the table. She pointed to a door on the right. "Shower's in there." She gestured to a second door to the left. "Beds are in there."

Remus peeked through the open bedroom door. Two twin beds were made up with crisp white linens. It seemed he'd be sharing a room with Sirius.

"And where are you staying, Meadowes?" Sirius raised a suggestive eyebrow. His grey eyes sparkled with mischief. "Or don't you sleep?"

"I'm in the flat directly below," Dorcas replied. "The proprietress is away and we are the only tenants for the time being." She arched a thin brow. "If you need anything, Black, you'll have to come to me. Remember I'm in charge on this mission, so no dodgy business."

A muffled whine sounded from Dorcas' handbag. The Auror jumped to alertness, her attention trained on the sound. She drew her wand, opened the bag, and extracted a small whistling scope. The device whirred in her hands, flashing and emitting a debilitating high-pitched squeal. Remus winced and clamped his hands over his ears.

"Shut that damn thing off," Sirius moaned, cupping his hands over his own ears.

Dorcas tapped the device with her wand and uttered a charm. The scope still whirred, but the sound had been silenced. Dorcas eyed the device with a puzzled stare, then dropped it on the table.

"An alarm?" Remus asked.

But Dorcas didn't answer. She dropped her handbag and gripped her wand as if readying for a fight. Her eyes darted around the room and locked on the bathroom door.

"Black, Lupin, take cover," she ordered with a commanding glare at Black.

Remus felt his friend's fingers grip his collar and pull him down behind the pile of luggage. Sirius' grey eyes were alert and shiny, the way they sparkled when he was spoiling for a bit of excitement. Instinctively, Remus' hand groped for his wand. His blood pounded in his ears. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring.

Dorcas bolted toward the bathroom door and flattened herself against the side of the doorway, her drawn wand at the ready. She uttered a spell. A bolt of red light flew from her wand. The door burst open with a BANG!

Sunlight streamed from a small window over the wash basin, illuminating an empty curtain-less shower and toilet. Dust motes scattered in a flurry of Brownian motion in the shafts of light. Nothing. Dorcas peered into the bathroom.

"Empty," she hissed.

The Auror then dashed into the bedroom, using the same procedure to check the room and closets. Her eyes cast a furtive glance out each window, then barred the wooden shutters. At last, she took another long look out the front door. Still nothing.

"False alarm, Meadowes." Sirius' disappointment was evident in his tone. "Tough luck."

Sirius straightened, his wand hand dropping to his side. The spark had gone out of the grey eyes. Remus relaxed.

Dorcas picked up the vibrating scope in her hand. Her brow knitted in concentration. Puzzlement etched her features.

"What is it?" Remus asked, eyeing the strange object.

"Sneakoscope," Dorcas answered. "AB735, the latest model, brand new and highly sensitive. Detects suspicious activity. Standard issue for all Aurors on classified missions." She studied the object. "Funny. This one must be defective."

She deactivated the device and tossed it to Remus. He caught the sneakoscope and rolled the conical shape between his fingers. The smooth glass surface felt cool in his touch. Rainbows of light bounced off the crystalline interior of the magical device.

"They didn't give me one," Sirius retorted with a frown.

"That's because you're still an apprentice, Black." Dorcas shot a glance at Sirius and smirked. "Just because you and your hot-shot sidekick Potter graduated the program in a record two years, doesn't mean you qualify for the big leagues yet."

"Perhaps you could coach me, Meadowes," Sirius fired back. A rakish grin spread over his face.

"I intend to," Dorcas replied with an appraising stare. "By the end of this mission, I'll have you whipped into shape."

"What bloke could refuse an invitation like that?" Sirius shot Meadowes a cocky smile and brushed the fringe of straight black hair from his eyes.

"This is a mission, Black," Dorcas replied. "We're not here for fun and games."

Dorcas straightened and thrust out her chest with military bearing. But while her expression and body language were all business, her clothing undermined her message. The stance only served to draw attention to the shapely bosom under the low-cut blouse. The corners of Sirius' mouth twitched with the struggle to master his expression. The irony was not lost on Remus. He trained his gaze on the sneakoscope and stifled a wry chuckle.

"Our mission," Remus said to break the tension. "You were going to fill us in on the details."

"Quite so," Dorcas replied. She shot a quick glance around the room. "I suppose it's safe enough here." She conjured a third seat and gestured to the chairs. "Take a seat."

Dorcas sat down and pulled some official looking documents from her handbag. Remus settled into one of the wooden chairs. Sirius took the other. Then Dorcas unfolded a large map of the Mediterranean region on the table. Remus' eyes scanned the map, noting their current location, a small crescent-shaped island in the midst of the Aegean Sea.

"Our current coordinates are here." Dorcas pointed her finger on the island. "The coordinates of our destination are approximately here." She slid her finger over the map tracing a path across the Aegean, through Turkey, and down across Iraq to a location in the midst of the Tigris and Euphrates river valleys. "Our goal is to get there undetected."

"Wait a minute." Remus' head shot up to stare at Dorcas. "What do you mean approximately? Don't you have the exact coordinates?"

"No one has the exact coordinates," Dorcas countered.

"Then how do you propose that we find this mythical place," Sirius said, "if no one knows where it is? And how do we get there without being seen? Someone is bound to spot us, if we travel across two continents."

"We're not going overland." Dorcas arched a thin brow. "The region is too volatile. Haven't you been studying Muggle politics, Black? Or were you sleeping that day in class?"

"Why?" Sirius asked. "What does this mission have to do with Muggle politics?"

"Honestly, Black," Dorcas huffed. Her finger jabbed at the map, pointing to a large land mass to the east of the Greek islands. "To get to Iraq, we have to pass through Turkey which is currently not on friendly terms with Greece." She ran her finger south along the folds of the map to a large country bordering Iraq. "Iran is hostile to all western influence. Haven't you heard about the Yanks they've taken hostage? And rumor has it, that Iraq is mobilizing for a war against Iran."

"So we're supposed to sneak into a country mobilizing for war?" Sirius tipped back on the legs of his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No," Dorcas replied. "Even if we could get into Iraq, we'd never find the right location. We're in the wrong millennium."

"Are you suggesting time travel?" Remus asked. The sneakoscope slipped from his fingers and landed on the map with a soft thud. "But that's highly dangerous. There are consequences to tampering with time."

"I suppose you're going to tell us that the Department of Mysteries equips Aurors on classified missions with Time Turners." A mocking smirk spread across Sirius' face.

"Don't be daft, Black." Dorcas shook her head. "A simple Time Turner couldn't handle this. We need a Portal."

"A what?" Remus asked, with a quizzical stare.

"A Portal." Dorcas' sienna eyes bored into Remus' face. "A place where the Earth's temporal mantel is so thin that you can access the past. There are only a handful of such locations on the planet. The Department of Mysteries has located only three so far. And there is one here on this very island."

Remus' eyes widened. So that's why they'd come here to Santorini.

"Let me get this straight." Sirius' chair crashed down on all four legs. He leaned forward over the map. "There are only a few of these Port-things on the whole planet. And there just happens to be one here on this speck of dirt?" He jabbed a finger at the map. "Why here? What's so special about this place?"

"On this island are the ruins of an ancient Minoan city dating from 1000 B.C." Dorcas leaned over the table until she was eye to eye with Black. "The city was buried by a volcanic eruption, preserving streets and houses much as they were back then. Archeological excavations have unearthed this city and, by chance, have exposed the Portal."

Sirius pushed back his chair, stood up, and paced the room. He ran a hand through the straight black hair. Remus could see the spark return to Sirius' grey eyes. Sirius spun around in front of Dorcas and stopped.

"So if we can use this Portal to access the past," he said, "why go to the Garden of Eden? Why not go back to any point in time? Why not kill Voldemort off before he gained his powers?"

Dorcas flinched at the mention of their enemy's name. For the first time since they'd arrived, Remus saw Dorcas flounder. The self-confidence seemed to drain from her body in the face of Sirius' logic. The shoulders drooped.

"I-I don't know," she replied, dropping her gaze. But then her shoulders squared and her head shot back up to face Sirius. Her brown eyes flashed with warmth. "My role is not to question the orders of my superiors. My mission is to carry out their orders to the best of my ability. And that's your job too, Black. Remember that."

Her chair scraped against the tile floor with a grating grind. Dorcas stood up straight and tall. Sirius stepped back a pace, but his eyes glittered with a look that Remus recognized as reckless daring. What was Sirius planning?

Whatever it was, Sirius didn't give any indication. Remus could see the strong jaw set with determination. But outwardly, Sirius appeared to yield to Dorcas.

"As you wish, Meadowes," Sirius replied with a curt nod. "You're the boss."

"Good." Dorcas nodded in response and checked her watch. "Then I'll see you both at 20:00 hours. We need to gather supplies for our journey and I'll take you to dinner. We mobilize for the Portal first thing tomorrow morning." She eyed them both up and down. "I suggest that you get cleaned up and get some rest."

She pivoted on her heel military style. The flowing skirt rustled with soft swish. The slit swung open to reveal a momentary glimpse of long, luscious leg. Then Dorcas grabbed the map and her handbag and marched out of the flat.

As soon as she'd gone, Sirius let out a long, low whistle. His face had twisted into an appreciative grin.

"Dorcas Meadowes," he whispered half under his breath. His eyes were fixed on the door like a dog on the hunt. "We're on a mission with Meadowes. Brilliant. Couldn't have planned this better, if I'd tried." Sirius chuckled.

"What do you have in mind, Padfoot?" Remus queried, sizing up his friend with a wary eye.

Sirius didn't answer. He just flashed Remus a toothy grin and clapped him on the back. Then he scooped a black leather satchel from the pile of luggage, propped it on the table, and popped it open. Remus watched the nimble fingers rummage in the case for toiletries. Then Sirius disappeared into the bathroom, whistling a jaunty tune.

Remus furrowed his brow. He hoped that whatever Sirius was planning, it wouldn't get them in trouble. He needed this job. They didn't allow his kind in Auror Training, or in any other Ministry job for that matter. Mad-Eye had given him private tutoring on Dumbledore's orders. He was only here because of the old headmaster and he knew it. Sirius didn't have to worry about getting sacked. The Blacks had money, and Uncle Alphard would ensure that Sirius didn't want for anything. Remus was not so fortunate.

"Best not to push it," he thought to himself.

Remus rolled his tired shoulders and stretched. A cool shower would feel nice about now. He sniffed. And a fresh change of clothes.

He pulled his suitcase from the pile and carried it to the bedroom. His fingers rubbed over the worn leather of the old case, feeling for the brass latches. The locks popped open of their own accord. Remus reeled backward. His hand fumbled for the wand tucked in the back of his belt. The lid opened with a creak and a squeak. The nose and whiskers of a small furry rodent poked out from among the neatly folded shirts.

"Wormtail!" Remus returned the wand to his belt and lifted the rat from the suitcase. "You gave me quite a scare, you know."

The rat sprung to the floor. In the space of seconds, the body elongated and the furry features receded. In place of the rodent stood a small man with light blond hair, a round smiling face, and watery eyes. Peter Pettigrew.

"Hello, Remus, old friend," Peter said with a sheepish grin.

"What are you doing here, Peter?" Remus asked. A smile worked its way over his features. "Aren't you supposed to be filing paperwork back at the Ministry of Magic?"

"Things are slow in Magical Transport these days," Peter said. "What with all those Death Eater attacks, no one wants to travel. I've been assigned to Broom Regulatory Control. Low man on the totem pole, you know. Bloody boring, it is. Shuffling paperwork all day."

"Boring or not," Remus said with a wistful smile, "at least it pays a steady wage."

"I suppose." Peter shrugged and shot Remus an apologetic glance. "And it's a sight better than Splinch Clean-up Detail."

Images of the Ministry's wizard crew sent to sort out Apparation accidents flashed through Remus' mind. All those tangled dismembered body parts. Remus grimaced.

"I decided I needed a holiday," Peter said. "Besides, I couldn't let the two of you go on a mission without me. I'd miss out on all the fun."

"What about James? He's still back home."

"He got assigned to a desk job at Auror Headquarters until the baby's born." Peter rolled his eyes. "You should hear him gripe. He's turning into a right old prat. No fun at all. Besides, he's busy with Lily. So I thought that I'd join you."

"How did you find us?" Remus asked. "This is supposed to be a top-secret mission."

"Who do you think got you the tickets and arranged for your papers?" Peter's face broke into a broad smile. The rotund chest puffed out with pride. "There are advantages to being Dumbledore's inside man at the Ministry."

"Sly rat." Remus laughed and clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Well, it's good to see you, mate."

Sirius strolled back into the room. His face had been washed and shaved, the dark hair slicked back, and he reeked of cologne.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Sirius approached Peter and clapped him on the back.

"That's not funny." Peter winced. "This place is full of stray cats. Scrawny, starving cats with razor-sharp teeth and claws..." An involuntary shudder ran over his body.

"Sorry, mate," Sirius said, still smirking and not looking at all sincere. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I--" Peter began, eyeing Sirius with a cagey look. His nose twitched, a nervous tick.

"A true Marauder," Remus interrupted. "Peter arranged for our passage at Dumbledore's request and apparently smuggled himself along for the adventure."

"Welcome aboard," Sirius said.

Remus noticed the slight chill in Sirius' tone. He glanced from Peter to Sirius. What had passed between two of his best friends?

A strong whiff of Sirius' cologne caught Remus full in the face. He wrinkled his nose and recoiled.

"What's that fragrance you're wearing, Padfoot?" Remus asked, as much out of curiosity as to change the subject.

"Aqua Velva," Sirius stroked his cheek and sniffed. "Don't think it's too much, do you?"

"A mite strong perhaps," Remus said.

Behind Sirius' back, Peter held his nose and waved his hand to dispel the odor. Sirius whipped around. But by that time, Peter had rearranged his face into one of utmost sincerity.

"What do you think, Wormtail?" Sirius asked.

"Just fine, mate," Peter lied with a straight face.

"Well, Wormtail thinks it's fine." Sirius shrugged.

Sirius pulled his soiled black t-shirt over his head, exposing the muscled biceps and chest. He took a clean shirt from his luggage and dressed, checking his appearance in the full length mirror mounted on the wall opposite the beds.

"So where are you going...all...er...dressed up?" Remus inquired, trying desperately to suppress a grin.

"I'm going to pay a visit to Meadowes," Sirius said. The wily grin worked over his handsome features. "I believe her exact words were 'If you need anything, Black, you'll have to come to me.' I intend to take her up on her word."

Whistling a happy melody, Sirius strolled from the room. Remus heard the boots clomp across the tile floors and the door to the flat click shut. He turned back to Peter whose face wore the same look of amusement that must have been plastered on his own.

"She's going to slap him," Peter said, shaking his head.

"Let's hope not," Remus replied with a wry smirk. "There's nothing more attractive to Sirius than a woman who resists his charms. If she slaps him, he's going to be unbearable on this mission."

* * *

Remus stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Refreshing water trickled down his face and spattered in droplets on the tile floor. He swiped his wet hair from his eyes and looked around the flat.

"Padfoot?" he called out. "Wormtail?"

His own voice echoed off stucco and stone. No other answer. Peter had mentioned going out for something to eat, while Remus was heading for the shower. He must still be gone. And Sirius? Things must have worked out better with Dorcas than he imagined. Remus laughed. Lucky dog.

The sneakoscope lay abandoned on the table, glittering in the late afternoon light. Remus' fingers grabbed for the crystalline object in a reflexive action. He headed for the bedroom and dropped the scope on the bed next to his open suitcase. He bent over the case, searching for fresh clothing among the contents. His fingers brushed against something else. A photograph buried at the bottom. He pulled the picture from the suitcase and stared. How did this get in here?

The snapshot, a wizard photograph of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, had been taken in July 1979, almost one full year ago. Remus stared. Faces of his friends and colleagues, some of them now dead, smiled back at him and waved.

There among them was Marlene McKinnon, a pretty witch killed just two weeks after the picture was taken. Travers had led a group of Death Eaters in an attack. They had burned her house to the ground and killed everyone inside: her Mum, Dad, and even her kid brothers.

Remus remembered when he had heard the news. Wormtail was with him. The small, watery eyes grew to round blue pools. The mouth hung open, the bottom lip quivering. Then the nose twitched. He'd never forget the look of horror on Peter's face.

Peter had fancied Marlene. He'd never admit it, and Remus would never ask. But Remus was an astute observer. He'd caught the lovelorn looks on his friend's face at meetings for the Order. The news must have hit Peter hard. Ever since then, Peter had grown a bit distant and he'd developed that nervous tick.

The figures in the picture shuffled. Dorcas Meadowes appeared next to Sirius. Remus chuckled. Old Padfoot was after her from his first days in the Order. She had completed her Auror training a couple of years ago. That hadn't stopped Padfoot. He'd never lacked self-confidence. The more difficult the obstacle, the more he liked it. And Dorcas was a challenge. Remus could hear Sirius' barking laugh. She's a cracking girl. Mark my words, Moony, she's going to be mine.

The people in the photograph shuffled again. Remus found himself staring at his likeness. He stood next to young witch with an aristocratic bearing wrapped in an emerald shawl. The color suited her. Green brought out the highlights her eyes.

"Em," he whispered with a hint of wistfulness.

Emmeline Vance. Remus had dated her briefly, but it all came crashing down just after this picture was taken. She'd pulled him aside after a meeting one day. I like you, Remus, but...but not in that way.

The problem was that he liked her in that way. But he was not one to grovel. Lupins didn't beg or take charity...or dwell on past failings. Remus tossed the photograph back into his suitcase.

The door to the flat opened and slammed shut. Heavy footfalls stomped across the tiles. Sirius burst into the bedroom. A stormy expression clouded his grey eyes. The dark brows knitted in a brooding scowl. Apparently, his rendezvous with Meadowes had not gone well. Remus knew better than to ask.

"Where's Wormtail?" Sirius barked.

"Gone out for food," Remus answered, avoiding his friend's blistering stare.

"Talentless git," Sirius growled. "If he's smart enough to stow away in our luggage, you'd think he would have thought to bring food." Sirius threw himself down on his bed, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared up at the ceiling with a sullen expression.

Remus opened his mouth to defend Peter, then closed it without saying a word. Never cross a Black spoiling for a fight. He'd learned that lesson long ago. Best to hold his tongue.

Remus turned back to his suitcase, pulled out clean clothes, and dressed in silence. He was just pulling his trousers on, when Sirius rose from the bed.

"I'm going out," Sirius said. "Don't wait up." He crossed the flat and left without further explanation.

Remus stared down at his suitcase. Should he go after him? What good would it do anyway. There was no reasoning with Sirius when he was in a volatile mood. He'd have to let him cool down first.

He closed the suitcase. His hand brushed against the sneakoscope on the bed. Remus picked it up, holding the object to the light. Beams of sunlight refracted through the crystal, sending millions of tiny rainbows skittering across the white walls. Remus raised his wand and activated the scope. The device rested in his hand, silent and still.

Why had it gone off before? Perhaps Wormtail's presence had set it off. After all, he wasn't even supposed to be on this mission. A logical explanation. Then Remus remembered the mysterious glint in Padfoot's eyes. Sirius was planning something. Remus was certain of it. Had Sirius set the device off?