Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 9: A Traitor in Our Midst

Monday, July 21, 1980 Hogwarts

Remus leaned back in the squashy chair, feeling anything but comfortable. Around him Dumbledore's instruments and magical paraphernalia whirred and spun. Remus glanced up to see a bird with plumage of crimson and gold, Dumbledore's phoenix, watching him. Small beady eyes regarded him with a scolding glare. Dumbledore stood at the window, surveyed the grounds of Hogwarts, and stroked his snowy white beard.

The last time Remus had felt this bad, he'd been sitting in this very chair. The circumstances had been different, but the feeling was the same. He remembered that prank of Sirius' that went awry in their seventh year. The detention hadn't troubled him half as much as the look of disappointment on Dumbledore's face.

Remus rehearsed his report in his mind. The Headmaster would want to know the full details of that battle in the garden. The message he had sent from Eden had been brief. Just the highlights: the news about Ahmed, Meadowes, and the failure of their mission. His failure.

Remus glanced down at his timepiece. What was keeping Sirius? He should have been here by now. Remus just wanted to get this unpleasant business over and done.

"He will be here," Dumbledore said, turning from the window. His piercing blue eyes trained on Remus' face. His look was grave.

How is it that the old man always seemed to know what he was thinking? It was quite unnerving.

"Cup of tea?" Dumbledore gestured to a steaming pewter pot that materialized on the sideboard along with a bowl of fruit, a plate of scones, and pots of jam and clotted cream.

"Thank you." Remus nodded.

Dumbledore waved his hand. The pot levitated from the table and poured the amber liquid into two china teacups.

Remus picked up his steaming cup and helped himself to the sugar and cream, grateful for something to do while he waited. Anything to distract him from the unpleasant conversation that was to come.

"I trust that your return trip was not too taxing," Dumbledore said conversationally. He picked up a scone and slathered it with jam and clotted cream. He took a bite, sprinkling the snowy beard with crumbs.

"No, fine." Remus stared down at the teacup in his hands. "Thanks."

Remus grimaced. The nightmarish trip back through the Portal had been worse than the coming. Without the benefit of Ahmed's potions, his recovery was slower as well. Peter had stayed with him for two full days, until he felt well enough to travel back to Britain.

He'd had no word from Sirius since his friend's sudden departure in Greece. Reckless Padfoot had gone after his lady love. Had he been well enough, Remus would have gone too. Why hadn't he told anyone? Dumbledore, perhaps? But that would mean betraying his friend's secret, a secret which even he shouldn't have known.

Remus felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up to see the headmaster staring down at him. Kindness glinted in the blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Have no fear," Dumbledore said. "He will come."

Dumbledore's gnarled hand patted his shoulder once more. Remus wasn't so sure. What if Padfoot was in trouble? Should he tell Dumbledore now? He glanced up at the headmaster. Dumbledore stared back out the window, a whimsical expression on his face.

"Did I ever tell you," Dumbledore mused, "about the time when, as a young Gryffindor, I set out on a quest to rescue a fair damsel in distress? Dulcinea, as I recall." His lips twitched with a faint smile at the remembrance. "An old story..." He shook his head. "Ah, the follies of youth and love. But that is neither here nor there."

The teacup jangled in Remus' hand, spilling its contents into the saucer. Remus' eyes shot up to face the headmaster. He knew?

"Matters within the Order rarely escape my notice." Dumbledore smiled. "I suspected that Sirius would go after her. As soon as I received your message, I sent my own rescue party after Dorcas."

"And?" Remus set down his teacup. The china hit against the table with an alarming ring.

Dumbledore turned to face Remus. "Sirius has returned safely."

"And Meadowes?" Remus stood up and stared at the headmaster.

Dumbledore did not answer. A troubled look passed over the old man's face. The wrinkles appeared more deeply engraved in his lined countenance. Remus sank back down in his chair. Dumbledore didn't have to say the words.

"Her body was recovered yesterday," the headmaster said, "in a field outside Wiltshire. Lord Voldemort killed her personally, I understand."

"Does Sirius know?" Remus' words emerged in a sort of strangled croak.

The old wizard nodded. "He found her."

Remus stared down at his lap through vision blurred by his grief. His hand clenched. Another life lost. Why couldn't he have prevented this?

A flash of light and heat burst from the fireplace hearth. Sirius stepped down from the grate looking as though he'd not slept for a week. The black hair hung in tangles over eyes red and puffy. Scraggy, dark stubble covered the unshaven chin. Sirius' teeth were gritted in a bitter scowl.

"'lo, Remus," Sirius said, in a hoarse voice. He nodded to acknowledge the headmaster. "Dumbledore."

"Welcome, Sirius." Dumbledore turned a sympathetic eye to his new guest. "Please be seated."

"No, thank you." Sirius shot the headmaster a dark stare. He paced the room like a caged beast. "Let's just get on with this, shall we?"

"Perhaps that would be best." Dumbledore sighed. He settled into his squashy chair, rested his elbows on the desk, and watched Sirius through his tented fingers. "Tell me about the attack."

"Voldemort disguised himself as an Occamy." Sirius spat the words. "He led the attack, the great disgusting winged snake. Must have transfigured them all into birds. Crows, the whole stinking lot. Meadowes and I saw them fly overhead. That's when we headed for the center of the garden."

"Ah, Crows." Dumbledore's eyes lit with sudden understanding.

Remus' mouth fell open. "So that's how?"

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded sagely. "That would explain how he was able to pass through the Portal without the usual disorienting effects or time loss. Fascinating."

"Then he must have surprised Ahmed, killed him, and set fire to his tents." Remus said. "I saw the Dark Mark over the tents...but I was too late. When I arrived, Ahmed was already dead." Remus reached into his pocket and took out a wrinkled and torn parchment, the map of Eden. "I found this in his hand."

Remus unfolded the map, smoothed out the crinkled page, and laid it before Dumbledore. The old eyes surveyed the map through the half-moon spectacles. Sirius approached and glanced down at the parchment, his eyes widening at the sight.

"This was blank." He jabbed at the center of the map. "This was bloody blank." His finger traced a path along the border where the wards had been. "Here. The wards were here. Great bloody walls all around the garden. We mapped out and tested every foot."

"But that day, they were gone," Remus said.

"We found a couple of Voldemort's followers dead at the site. Got what they deserved," Sirius said bitterly. He swiped a hand through his hair, brushing the tangled black fringe from his eyes. "And Meadowes knew that the wards had been breached. She...just seemed to know."

Sirius turned away. Remus heard a strangled sob. He choked back the lump that had risen in his own throat. He focused on the map and took over the narrative.

"I caught up with them here." Remus pointed at a clearing in the center of the garden. "Sirius and Meadowes were surrounded by Death Eaters. We fought back and they retreated..."

Remus continued the rest of his report by mechanical rote, just as he had rehearsed it. He wasn't aware of the words coming out of his own mouth. Sirius' pain and the sense of his own failure weighed on him heavier than a Pogrebin's spell. His despair grew with every word, despite his attempts to hold his feelings in check.

"...and that's when Lord Voldemort seized her and the fruit." Remus hung his head. "We failed. I'm sorry."

The hum of Dumbledore's instruments was the only sound now. Remus would have welcomed a word of reproof from Dumbledore. Anything to break the tension. Anything except stifling silence.

He glanced up, steeling himself for the look of disapproval that he so dreaded. But Dumbledore stared straight ahead, and appeared deep in thought. There was no reproach in his aged gaze, only sadness.

"Hmmmm," Dumbledore said. "It is as I feared."

"What is?" Remus leaned forward and searched the headmaster's eyes. What did he mean?

"For almost a year," Dumbledore said, "I have suspected the presence of a traitor in the Order." The old warlock's weary gaze moved from Sirius to Remus and back again. "Your mission had been compromised."

"What?" Sirius slammed his fist on Dumbledore's desk. "Who in the Order would do this? Just point them out and I will rip them limb from limb."

"I do not know the identity of the guilty party." Dumbledore sighed. His shoulders drooped, making him look aged and frail.

"Then how can you be so sure?" Sirius said. His grey eyes bored into Dumbledore's tired face.

"It is the only logical explanation," Dumbledore said. "This mission was carefully orchestrated. Only a handful of people had knowledge of it. And I am the only one who possessed knowledge of all the details." He leaned back in his chair and stared at Sirius through the joined fingertips. "I find it quite remarkable that Lord Voldemort's followers would be able to track you to the Portal, discover how to work it, and then overcome the wards in the garden without the help of inside information."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, remembering the Death Eater attack in Akrotiri. How did the Death Eaters find them that day? Had they been tracking them all along? And how did they know the passwords to activate the Portal? Only Dorcas had those. Dorcas? Could she be the one? No, that woman played strictly by the book.

Sirius paced the room. His boots drummed a path across the carpet, punctuating Remus' internal questions with the beat of his footfalls. How did the Death Eaters discover the secrets of the Portal? And how had they been able to circumvent the wards? Neither he nor Sirius nor Dorcas had been able to do that.

Sirius spun around. "What about Ahmed?" he growled. "He knew more than any of us about the wards and the Portal."

"Ahmed al Ibrahim was an old and trusted friend." Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, his piercing stare trained on Sirius. "He was one of only three wizards sent by the Department of Mysteries to investigate the Portal after its discovery. It was he who found Eden, and discovered the rare plants in the garden and their potential for healing. That became his life's work, his obsession. We all knew the dangers, but Ahmed persuaded the counsel to not to destroy the Portal. And so he became its guardian. Of course, he knew the wards. He created them."

"I knew it." Sirius slammed his fist on Dumbledore's desk. "And he tore them down for Voldemort."

Dumbledore appeared unfazed. He stared back at Sirius, solemn and calm. "The three wizards were bound by magical oath to protect the secrets of Eden. If the pledge was violated, I would know. For you see, I was one of the three." He shook his head. "No, Ahmed was not the traitor."

Sirius' grey eyes flashed with his anger. Remus watched the muscles on his friend's jaw tighten. Sirius was spoiling for a fight. He needed someone to blame.

A spy in the Order? Remus ticked off their names in his head: the Prewetts, the McKinnons, Emmeline, Mad-Eye... He shook his head. While they were an odd lot, they'd all put their lives on the line to stop Voldemort. And none of them were directly involved in this particular mission. How could they have known if Dumbledore had kept the details secret?

Perhaps Dumbledore was wrong. The old man was remarkably astute, it's true. But he wasn't infallible. How could he know these things with such certainty?

"A spy?" Remus stared into the old warlock's blue gaze, looking for confirmation. "A spy on this mission? Are you sure?"

Dumbledore nodded his head. The old eyes looked more tired than Remus had ever seen them.

"But if it wasn't Ahmed or Dorcas, then who?" Remus' voice sounded strangely hollow, even to his own ears.

Remus swallowed hard. That only left one of his friends. One of the Marauders? Ridiculous! Absurd! He shook his head.

He didn't know what to think anymore. His whole world was crashing down around him. The mission had failed. Voldemort was invincible. And now a spy? How could they win now? The weight of this revelation was unbearable. He hunched forward in the chair and buried his head in his hands. He felt his hope ebbing away. Nothing mattered now.

"Whether the mission was compromised or not is immaterial," Remus said, looking up. He could feel the heat of Sirius' stare. He focused on Dumbledore instead. "The outcome is still the same. Voldemort has the fruit of immortality. We are outnumbered twenty to one by Death Eaters and they're picking us off one by one. How can we hope to win?"

"Does Lord Voldemort indeed have the fruit of the Tree of Life?" The blue eyes of the ancient warlock glittered.

"We saw him take it," Sirius barked.

"You saw him take a piece of golden fruit," Dumbledore said. "But, by your own admission, there were two trees in the center of the Eden. Two trees that bore yellow fruit. But the fruits were different, were they not?"

Dumbledore rose from his chair and extracted a large, leather-bound tome from his shelves. He opened to the beginning. His long finger trailed down the page to find his place. Then he adjusted his spectacles on the end of the crooked nose, cleared his throat, and read: "et ad vescendum suave lignum etiam vitae in medio paradisi lignumque scientiae boni et mali."

Dumbledore looked up from the book. "There were two trees in the middle of Eden," he said. "The Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Thus, there is the possibility that Voldemort did not succeed after all."

Remus' mouth fell open. He leaned forward to read the passage himself. Could this be?

"What?" Sirius leaned over the book and inspected the page. "You mean he may have taken the fruit of the wrong tree."

"Precisely." An odd smile worked over the old warlock's face.

"What is this other tree?" Remus asked, pointing at the book.

"The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil," Dumbledore said. "Mankind has already tasted the fruit of that tree and suffered its consequences." Dumbledore plucked a shiny red apple from the fruit bowl and polished it on his robes. "It holds no more threat than this apple." He took a bite. Juice dribbled into his snowy beard. He dabbed at his beard with his handkerchief.

"How will we know?" Remus said.

"We shall know in time." Dumbledore placed the partially-eaten apple on the page of the book. His piercing blue eyes stared at Remus. The old twinkle had returned. "My sources inform me that Voldemort has not ended his quest for immortality. Thus we can conclude that even he is uncertain of his success."

Hope began to rise in Remus' breast. Had they succeeded after all? Perhaps Dorcas' death had not been in vain. He glanced over at Sirius. The dark brows were knitted in brooding thought.

"What now?" Sirius scoffed. "The Fountain of Youth?"

"Curious that you should mention that, Sirius." Dumbledore cocked a snowy brow. "For that is precisely his next target."

* * *

Wednesday, July 23, 1980

Candlelight from floating tapers flickered across the dark paneled walls. Sprays of flowers in pastel hues surrounded an open coffin. Inside the mahogany casket on satin pillows laid Dorcas Meadowes. Remus approached the casket.

Brown hair framed her face in delicate curls. She was dressed in a gown made of some filmy orange material, all feminine and curves. Laid in state, she looked more like the seductive Eleni than the Meadowes that Remus knew. Except for the stiff posture. That was Dorcas, all right.

He stared at her face. Softness marked her features, the curve of her cheek, her lip. This vulnerability was a side of her that he'd rarely seen. What was she really like behind the business-like facade that she presented to the world? He recalled her secret affair with Sirius. What did he really know about her?

A shiny golden medal glittered on her chest. An Order of Merlin. Minister Bagnold had awarded the posthumous medal for supreme sacrifice in the line of duty. A wan smile crossed Remus' lips. The Meadowes he knew, the consummate professional, would have liked that.

"It was an honor to serve under your command, Meadowes," he whispered and turned from the casket.

Remus surveyed the other mourners at the wake. A middle-aged witch with mousey brown hair sobbed in the first row. Her tear-streaked face was an almost perfect replica of Dorcas', a haunting reminder of how Dorcas might have looked had she lived. A Muggle General stood by her side with a military bearing, straight, tall, and proud. Even in grief, his face was the picture of control. Only his eyes betrayed any sign of emotion. Dorcas' parents.

Sirius in his black dress robes was shaved and groomed for the occasion. James Potter stood by his side with his arm on Sirius' shoulder, comforting him. Of course, Sirius had shared his secret with Prongs. Those two kept nothing from each other. A sudden pang rose in Remus' breast. Why hadn't Padfoot trusted him with the secret? Why had he been left out? Remus stuffed the feeling down and approached his friend to express his condolences.

"I'm so sorry, Padfoot." Remus laid his hand on Sirius' shoulder. "I know how much she meant to you."

Sirius nodded. The sullen eyes, red and swollen, searched Remus' face. Grey coldness seemed to cloud them. Or was it Remus' imagination?

Remus turned to James. The familiar shock of black hair stuck straight up in ruffled disarray. Remus could just imagine Lily's futile attempts to tame the windblown tangles.

"Prongs, old mate," Remus said, shaking James' hand. "How've you been? How's Lily?"

"Fine," James replied in a tone so curt that Remus felt as if he'd been butted in the chest by a rack of antlers.

Winded, Remus caught in his breath. He released James' hand. Prongs eyed him with a watchful, protective stare. Oh, Merlin. It had happened. Of course, they wouldn't want his kind around Lily and the baby. The due date was...imminent.

Remus stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared down at his old wingtips. The collar of his second-hand dress robes seemed to have shrunken around his neck. Every swallow, every breath required tremendous effort. The backdrop of chatter around him became a drowning roar against the icy silence of his friends. Remus steeled himself and looked up.

"Right then," he said, forcing a consoling smile. "If there's anything I can do, you know where to find me. Anything at all."

He turned and walked away. Careful, measured steps. The room seemed to close in around him, suffocating, dark, and condemning. Just like that tunnel to the Shrieking Shack before his hideous monthly transformations.

He rounded the corner and headed for the foyer of the funeral home, quickening his pace. The door lay just ahead. Air. He needed fresh air.

"Remus!" A familiar woman's voice called after him.

Part of him wanted to keep going, but it was not in his nature to flee. He checked his steps and turned around. A woman with lustrous, dark red hair and effervescent green eyes approached. Her graceful movements belied the swollen abdomen, nine months pregnant. Lily Potter.

"Good to see you, Lily." Remus' smile was genuine this time.

"Glad you made it back," Lily replied, taking his hand. She glanced around.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"It's just that I needed to talk to you." Lily looked back to Remus, then added, "Alone."

Remus frowned, pulled his hand free, and stuffed it in his pocket. He took a deep breath and looked away. "No need to explain...I...I understand...I'd be a danger to you and the baby...what with the full moon coming."

"No, that's not it. How could you think that?"

Remus' head snapped up. What did she mean?

"Sirius told us about your discussion with Dumbledore." Lily's green eyes stared into his. "He said the mission had been compromised...He said..." She broke off and didn't appear to know how to continue. Her gaze held a questioning stare. "Did the Death Eaters really follow you to the Portal?"

Remus' mouth fell open. So that was it! Sirius thought he was the turncoat! And had convinced James, as well.

"You don't think that I--" The words stuck in Remus' throat. He shook his head. "I would never."

"No, of course not, Remus." Lily gripped his arm. "You'd never do anything like that. I...I just needed to hear it from you, that's all."

Remus replaced his hand over hers. Her slender hand felt small in his, but warm and somehow comforting. At least, she believed him. And it took some of the sting out of the revelation.

"I'd better go," Lily said, with a kind smile. "Take care, Remus."

"And you." Remus nodded and watched her disappear around the corner.

He turned. Standing right behind him was Peter. The round face wore a scowl. Anger glinted in the watery eyes. Had Peter turned against him too?

"Peter, I...I didn't see you there," Remus said. He forced a congenial smile.

"I knew it would come to this, Moony." Peter shot a darting look after Lily.

Remus regarded Peter with a puzzled stare. What did Peter know? Had he overheard the entire conversation?

"What do you mean?" Remus arranged his face into a look of feigned innocence.

"Don't think I don't know what Sirius says about me behind my back?" Peter scowled. "Peter, that weak, talentless thing. But I never thought he'd turn against you, too."

Remus' mouth had dropped open, but nothing came out. For a moment, he was at a complete loss for words.

"You know he doesn't mean it," Remus said, recovering his voice.

"No, I think he does." Peter's watery eyes stared at Remus with their most earnest look yet. "You and me, mate, we always were second class in the gang. Prongs and Padfoot, the most popular and talented in school. It was just a matter of time before they realized they didn't need us anymore."

"That will never happen." Remus stared at Peter with disbelief. Sirius' behavior was all about Dorcas. It had nothing to do with them. "This will all blow over, you'll see."

"You? A spy?" Peter shook his head. "Sirius is the clever one. It would take someone brilliant to get past those wards or to send messages without Ahmed noticing." His rotund chest puffed out a bit.

Remus furrowed his brow. What was Peter implying? Did he really think that Sirius was the traitor? That Sirius would betray Dorcas or the Order. That simply couldn't be.

Remus gestured back over his shoulder toward the other room. "You don't honestly think that Sirius--"

"No, no, not Sirius," Peter said, his voice becoming squeaky. The nose twitched with that nervous tic. "I'm just saying that it couldn't be me or you. That would be far-fetched. Lunacy."

"Yes, of course," Remus replied, but suspicion had been planted nonetheless. "Padfoot's just had a run of bad luck. This will all blow over, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," Peter said. His watery eyes brightened. "You've always got me, mate." He clapped Remus on the back and walked off.

Remus found a nearby bench and sank onto it. His head reeled. He stared straight ahead, unseeing. How could Padfoot suspect him? After all they'd been through together. Padfoot was closer than a brother.

No! It was just the grief talking. Padfoot would realize the truth. He'd come around. Things would be back to normal soon enough.

Remus dropped his head and stared at the intricate swirls on the Oriental carpet on the floor. He'd never felt so alone.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and brushed against the smooth glass of Dorcas' sneakoscope. His fingers grasped the object, remembering that afternoon in the boarding house: the siren warning of the scope, Sirius' odd behavior, his sudden departure that afternoon.

Disturbing questions began to intrude on his consciousness. What was Sirius plotting? Had he set off the scope? After all, he did try to thwart their mission in the ruins. Was there some truth to Peter's allegations of madness?

No, he couldn't accept this. It couldn't be true. SIRIUS WAS NOT THE SPY!

"Oh, Remus," a female voice sobbed nearby.

He looked up to see a young witch wrapped in a shawl of deepest emerald. She blew her nose in her handkerchief and dabbed at her tear-stained face.

"Emmeline," Remus whispered.

Memories of his brief relationship with Emmeline Vance resurfaced, along with twinges of his attraction to her. He needed someone now. No, he would manage just fine on his own. Why couldn't those feelings just stay buried? He squelched them down.

"Isn't it awful what happened to Dorcas, the poor dear?" Emmeline sniffled and settled into the bench next to Remus. "You know something like this could happen, but you just never think that it will happen to you...And poor Dorcas...poor, poor Dorcas." She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.

"There now." Remus gave her shoulder an awkward pat. "Em, please don't."

Emmeline leaned her head against Remus' shoulder, while a torrent of tears ran down her face. A prickling discomfort trickled over Remus. Oh, Merlin. Why did women always think he could handle these sorts of things?

Just then two small boys ran past. One was just a bit taller than the other, but the family resemblance in the freckles and red hair marked them as brothers. The elder boy held a ripe yellow pear in one hand and staved off his sibling with the other.

"It's mine," he said. "Mum gave it to me."

"She said to share," the younger one said. He leapt toward his older brother and swatted at the fruit.

His mark was true. He landed the hit. The pear flew from the child's hand and rolled away under a heavy credenza topped with urns and flowers. Both boys watched the fruit roll away with horror.

"You stupid prat," said the elder, turning to his brother. "Now look what you've done." He gave his brother a sideways shove. "You did it. You fish it out."

"Uh uh, not me." The younger boy eyed the urns and the cabinet. "You go get it. I'm not reaching under there."

"It's your fault."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is not."

The two boys jostled and pushed until they became aware of Remus' shocked stare. Two sets of eyes turned on Remus, wide and round. Then both boys pelted from the room.

Remus' tongue swelled in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump. Emmeline's tears began to soak through the fabric of his robes. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, feeling the soft hair against his cheek. The heaviness of his loss seemed to pour out in her mourning. And he found a flicker of solace in the simple act of comforting her.

"It'll be all right," he said in a hoarse whisper, not at all convinced by his own words.

He stared across the foyer. From his seat on the bench, he could just make out the outline of the golden pear in the shadows. Forbidden fruit had ripened and fallen to the ground. The seeds of distrust had been sown. In time, they would all reap of its harvest.