Home is where the heart is

Home is where the Heart is - Chapter 23

And Then the Pieces Fell

Jenny watched the candle burn. She'd been watching it for hours, transfixed by its steady, unwavering light. Slowly, the wax melted, burned, and became nothing, shrinking the candle further and further. Her bottom lip quivered. What would she do, when the candle ran out? The prospect of returning to endless night was worse than anything else she could imagine.

It was one thing, to be sitting on a cold stone floor with a solitary candle. It was quite another, to be sitting on that same stone floor without any source of light or comfort. Jenny watched through the bars of her cell as another bead of wax dripped down the decreasing side of the candle, to pool and then harden in the base of the holder.

He had left the candle for her. It was a reward, he said, for being good and not struggling through the bath. She shuddered, remembering. His hands had felt like ice, as they mercilessly scrubbed her, all over. The water had made her cry out, at first - her cold limbs shocked at the onslaught of hot, clean water. But one look at his cold, grey eyes silenced her, and Jenny had obediently sunk into the huge wooden barrel, which Aiden had 'modified' to suit his needs.

Aiden had been rough. But Jenny kept her silence, all the while longing for her mother. I miss you, she whimpered to herself. Where are you? Where's daddy? Aren't you looking for me? In her heart, Jenny knew that they must be. But gloom settled upon her. Who would ever find her, down here? Herself and the boy were as good as dead. What if Aiden didn't come back? What if he forgot, and left them there to disappear?

Such thoughts began to swirl around in her head. What if I'm locked in here forever? Violent sobs swelled up in her throat. Jenny couldn't count how many days she'd spent in her stone prison. She didn't have a watch, and even so, she was still learning how to tell the time. Her mother was going to teach her, before she'd been taken away.

Jenny was on the verge of hysteria, when a sudden groan startled her out of her terror. The other child, the boy, was slowly moving. He lay in the next cell, covered by another blanket that Aiden had conjured. He'd been washed, too, Jenny thought, moving closer to the separating bars of the next cell. But the boy had remained unconscious the entire time. Jenny wished that she had been that lucky.

Gradually, his eyes fluttered open. Jenny stared through the bars intently. Blinking in a bemused way, the boy slowly turned his head, and his eyes settled upon her. A dark wisp of hair fell across his forehead.

"......who?" he whispered. Jenny didn't say anything. Slowly, the boy turned his head back the other way, and took in his surroundings. There wasn't much to see, but he obviously understood that something was very, very wrong.

"You've been asleep for ages," Jenny finally ventured, speaking to him. The boy looked at her. He was younger, Jenny realised. She was nearly seven. Being so small, he couldn't be much older than five. He looked a lot like her younger brother, Davy. But Davy wasn't here. He was staying with her Grandma, in Dublin. Before Jenny could become sadder, remembering her family, the boy spoke again.

"Are you a ghost?" he asked, in a small voice.

Jenny started. "A ghost? Don't be stupid!" She didn't realise that with her messy, corn-coloured hair, and her deathly pale complexion, she really did look like an apparition, crouching in the dim light. Jenny still wore her nightgown, but had wrapped herself snugly into her new blanket.

Little by little, the boy sat up. His face was pale. "I'm cold," he whispered. His huge, brown eyes gazed around fearfully. He didn't understand. Where was his mother? Papa? His teddy? His small, warm bed with its brightly coloured doona was gone, replaced with chilly stone and one blanket.

But there was the girl, staring back at him through the grey, metal bars. "What's your name?" she asked, curious. It was silly, to keep on referring to him as 'the boy'.

He coughed. "Benjamin."

Jenny blinked. "Benjamin? That's a funny name."

"It's not!" Benjamin said defensively. "What's your name?"

"Jennifer. But I'm called Jenny."

They both sat in silence. Until Benjamin shivered. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"I don't know," Jenny admitted honestly. Her blue eyes were hollow. "I don't know anything." Then, with a start, Jenny realised that during all of this, she had forgotten to watch the candle! Horrified, she swivelled around to gaze at the tiny flame. The candle was almost finished. Suppressing a cry, Jenny motioned to Benjamin frantically.

"Come here, quick! Bring your blanket!"

Bewildered, Benjamin did as he was told, and dragged his blanket over. He sat down on the other side of the bars, nearly touching Jenny. Her face looked even gaunter in the faint glow from the one candle, flickering from its position on top of the overturned barrel.

"Wrap your blanket around you, really tightly," she said faintly. "When it goes out, you'll feel even colder. Maybe if we sit close, we'll keep warm."

"Go out?" Benjamin repeated. His eyes found the candle. "But it can't!"

"It will." Jenny spoke with resigned gloom. She felt just as scared as he did. But, at least, this time she wasn't alone. Benjamin wrapped himself inside his blanket as well as he could, and then huddled against the bars, leaning against Jenny. She leaned against him, and they gained a little warmth from each other. Then they both took to watching the candle.

The last bit of wax melted.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Splutter.

The light gave one last spark, and then died.

Then all was black.

* * * *

It was Halloween. The feast that night was large and lavish, as always, driving even the strictest weightwatchers to try some scrumptious chocolate pudding and sticky treacle. All tables were covered in every imaginable treat that a person might fancy. Harry had to remind himself several times to slow down, as he devoured his chicken drumsticks and buttered potatoes with the kind of speed that would put a certain stray dog to shame.

In fact, that stray dog wasn't enjoying the feast, like nearly every other person in the castle. He had been forbidden to go, on the grounds of possible discovery. Dumbledore had been quite adamant. "Students already watch you. You still keep your human traits in dog form, Sirius."

"Not even a peek-in?" Sirius asked hopefully. But he already knew the answer.

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I know you miss it," he said gently. "But it's for the best."

These words brought little comfort.

That was the most recent part of the routine in his life. Hiding. Then again, perhaps it wasn't quite so recent. After all, he'd spent the past two years avoiding wizarding contact and sightings. And his patience was wearing thin. I've waited twelve years in prison. I'm not getting any younger. I'm sick of waiting.

He felt trapped. He was safer than anywhere else, and yet trapped.

Danielle wasn't speaking to him; on the odd occasion where she was forced to, the conversation was cool and brief. Sirius felt depressed just remembering what he'd done. Remus obviously sensed that something was very wrong between the two, from the inquisitive glances that he kept on shooting Sirius during the time they were together. Sirius didn't know how much Danielle had confided in her old friend, but one thing that he did know was that Remus would not pass judgement.

At least, not until he'd heard what Sirius had to say. But the Animagus was loath to even touch the subject with his fellow Marauder.

So Sirius sat on his bed, brooding. Everyone was at the feast, and he had nowhere to go, nobody to visit, and nothing much to do. The house elves had previously sent up a large silver platter, laden with all sorts of delicious food, but he'd finished it a while ago.

Idly, Sirius twirled his wand between his fingers, and suddenly, an inner fantasy gripped him. There he was, standing before that wretched Wormtail, holding his wand above his head, ready to bring down to strike - Wormtail, on his knees before him, cowering like the pathetic scum he was -

Sirius let his hand tighten around the familiar piece of wood. His thirst for revenge hadn't died since he'd last seen Peter. In fact, with all of the spare time that Sirius had on his hands, it had intensified. To keep his hatred simmering, Sirius only had to remember the night in Godric's Hollow, and the smell of death all around him. The stench of betrayal, powerful in his nostrils. The taste of his own tears, as he cradled the lifeless body of James Potter.

Summoning the memories brought pain...pain that would only go away when Peter atoned for his sins.

And then, there was Harry, and Harry's wounds, and the seemingly endless period of time he had spent in Azkaban. Locked away from all sight, sound, and smell of the outside world. Tortured by the presence of Dementors. Wrestling with his own sanity. Desperately hanging on to what he could remember, what he knew - the truth.

Absent-mindedly, Sirius wondered which way would be better - killing Peter outright, or leisurely torturing him - giving him a taste of the sort of suffering he'd caused. Or even more fitting, they (being himself and Remus) could perform a spell that prevented him from changing, and then, at the full moon, they could both hunt him down. The idea of it made Sirius shiver.

The clock chimed, breaking him out of his daydream. It was eight o'clock. The feast would still be in full swing. Sighing, Sirius slumped backwards onto the generous amount of pillows that adorned his king-size bed. Even his desire for vengeance couldn't ease the unsettled feeling he nursed in the back of his mind.

Everything was waiting for something. There was a mood of grim anticipation, growing by the day. Snape, curse the man, reported only the day before that Voldemort was planning things behind closed doors. But what was being plotted remained a mystery. Snape would only find out when Voldemort chose to divulge his secrets.

Recalling his truce, Sirius sneered at the ceiling. He'd swallowed his pride and actually negotiated with that - that - git, all for Danielle's sake. And still, she wouldn't speak to him. Hardly even acknowledged his presence. Sirius' stomach twisted. Yes, he'd been stupid - acting on an impulse, as he always did. Now it threatened the delicate workings of the friendship between them and Remus.

Once again, Sirius returned to the subject of 'What Am I Supposed To Do Now?', with little more insight than he had before. Wistfully, he thought of James and the good, solid advice that the other man had been known for.

Thank before you act, James had constantly told Sirius, in their Hogwarts days. Remus and I won't always be there to pull you out of a mess.

How right he had been.

What are you doing now, James? Are you watching us? Laughing at me? The thought of James shaking his head and laughing quietly made Sirius smile a little. In days gone by, James would have made crude jokes and cheered Sirius up instantly. Nowadays, Sirius had only himself.

And Harry.

He and that Malfoy boy seemed to be carrying on their personal feud with just as much energy as before. But Harry had confided in Sirius that they were trying to keep up appearances. And that the small fistfight the other day was entirely for show. They hadn't really been trying to kill each other. A few black eyes and well-placed bruises were nothing. Really.

Still, Malfoy appeared to be enjoying the frequent fights far more than was necessary.

Sirius didn't trust that boy. He was a Malfoy. And if that wasn't enough reason for suspicion, the boy was an admitted Death Eater. When a Malfoy, truly a Malfoy, Sirius supposed. Draco had an off-putting resemblance to Lucius - as he got older, it would become even more apparent. Sirius frowned. He would have to keep an eye on the blonde, pale, surly Slytherin. Harry was too trusting.

Secretly, Sirius felt baffled as to how the two managed to call a truce so quickly. Unlike he and Snape, who had bickered for hours, Harry and Malfoy had been left in the room for a while, and then it was over and settled. When Malfoy emerged, he looked purposeful. It was all too neat. Too quiet. He'd been expecting explosions, at least.

Sirius rolled over onto his side and stared blankly at the bedside cabinet. And blinked. His old yearbook was sitting there, the one that Arthur had managed to slip out of the Ministry, unnoticed. He hadn't flicked through it since that meeting. In fact, in the light of all the other events crowding his life, Sirius had completely forgotten about it. Suddenly curious, he reached out and pulled it onto the bed in front of him.

It lay there, its red-leather cover lit dimly by the candlelight. On the front, inscribed in gold lettering, were the initials S.O.B. Sirius Orion Black. His friends had loved to pounce on the remarkably fitting acronym for his name. It was a target too good to be true. Sirius chuckled quietly, and opened the cover.

From there, he became utterly engrossed with each photo. They all contained a link to the past, to a time where life was good and happy and no shadows existed. And so, for a while, Sirius forgot where he was and what was worrying him. He only let himself think about the images that filled his vision, and the recollections that filled his mind.

* * * *

The first week of November came and went. The days were chilly; Danielle's attitude towards Sirius seemed to match the weather. In the end, he gave up trying to apologise, and began to avoid her completely.

Harry was back, training every Monday and Thursday night for Quidditch. The training sessions were always watched over by both Madam Hooch and another teacher. The rules were being firmly upheld; students could not set foot on the grounds without being accompanied by an adult. Sirius would often transform and tag along to watch, high up in the stands.

If Harry didn't make the national team when he left school, Sirius would eat Buckbeak, feathers and all.

Besides these evening excursions, Sirius rarely left the castle. He had no reason to. Wormtail was untouchable, it was pointless to hunt for him. And Ministry representatives were visiting Hogsmeade more than ever, making it unsafe to venture outside.

One Friday evening, Minerva swept into the Staff Room, looking rather cross. Sirius, who was closest to the door, hastily looked up. There wasn't much that made Minerva prickly; he didn't think he'd done anything lately to earn a scolding, but with her, a person never knew.

Nobody spoke as she took off her cloak and scarf, hanging them up in the small cloakroom. Elaine, concerned, decided to draw on her courage.

"...Minerva? Is something troubling you?" she asked delicately.

For a moment, McGonagall considered her in a severe manner. "Yes," she admitted reluctantly. "Is it obvious?"

"Very," Remus affirmed.

"Weren't you in Hogsmeade?" Professor Vector asked. "What happened?"

Minerva sighed. "I was delayed by a Ministry official," she sniffed. "In the Three Broomsticks. There must have been about ten of them, all drinking heavily. How on earth Rosmerta manages that place, I'll never know-"

"Ten?" Danielle, who had been sitting behind a stack of books, leaned out to look at Minerva clearly. "Why would ten Ministry officials be in the Three Broomsticks? The offices are in London."

"I have no idea. When I asked the man who - stopped me -" Minerva appeared to be swallowing, with great difficulty, some comments about the man in question. "-I managed to discern from his drunken babble something about Fudge's new orders. Allocating Ministry members to watch over Hogsmeade."

Remus looked disturbed. "Watch Hogsmeade?"

Sirius made a growling noise. When the others turned to look at him, he was scowling. "Watch Hogsmeade - bollocks. He's watching Dumbledore, why else would he send ten? And Elaine mentioned something about seeing them all over the place regularly-"

"That's true," Elaine said, nodding. "For the past week they've been reports of Ministry officials hanging around the shops and the train station. I'd be surprised if Dumbledore didn't know already."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Danielle cautioned. "They might be taking an interest, since the Dementors are still running wild. A village like Hogsmeade is a huge tactical target..."

"Taking an interest, how many months since the Dementors escaped?" Sirius was incredulous.

She flushed. "Well, I don't know how Fudge's mind works!" she said defensively.

"God be praised-"

"Enough, you two." Remus looked deep in thought. "It's an odd move, sending them now. I can't think of what Fudge is possibly trying to achieve, but Dumbledore should certainly know about this. Is he in his office?"

Minerva shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, but I'd imagine he would be."

Remus stood. "I'll go and talk to him. Perhaps he knows more than we do."

"I'll come," Both Danielle and Sirius volunteered at the same time. They glared at each other.

"Right," Remus said, carefully maintaining a blank expression. "We'll be back. Also, has anyone seen Severus? I need to talk to him-"

"In his dungeon," Danielle cut in. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her grey robes. "He's already mixing the potion for you," she added, before Remus could continue. "It's fine. I poked my head in, he said you should come by tomorrow."

"Right," Remus said again, this time looking relieved. "Well, shall we go?" He held the door open for Danielle first. She smiled and ducked through into the corridor. Still scowling, Sirius followed them.

It was an awkward silence that they travelled in to the stone gargoyle. Even Remus, adept as he was at neutral conversation, couldn't think of much to say. It was different, when Sirius and Danielle were apart, he could talk to them individually. But the atmosphere suddenly became tense and electric when they were together, making conversation virtually impossible.

They arrived at the gargoyle, not a moment too soon. Danielle turned to Remus. "The password?"

"Fizzing Whizzbee."

The gargoyle sprung to life and hopped aside, revealing the staircase. They all crowded onto the moving stairs, which took them all the way up to the huge wooden entrance. But Dumbledore opened the door before Sirius could raise his fist to knock.

"Do come in," the Headmaster said. "I've just finished."

Curious, they went in. "Finished what?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "The lists, of course."

Remus, Sirius and Danielle exchanged baffled looks. Their bafflement only increased, as they caught view of the Headmaster's desk. Neatly rolled up and stacked into a small, triangular pyramid were a collection of scrolls - each tied with a red ribbon and sealed with the Hogwarts crest. There must have been about twenty of them.

Sirius stared for a moment, before glancing at Dumbledore. "What's this all about?"

"The beginning," Dumbledore said calmly, "of the wider call."

There was a confused silence. But Danielle's mind was already ahead...she recognised the type of scrolls. They were official summons letters - she could recall their use from only one other occasion. "You're contacting the Affiliates, aren't you?" she said, gazing at him in awe. In answer, Dumbledore merely nodded and swept back behind his desk.

"Excellent guess, my dear. And quite correct, too."

"Affiliates..." Remus was stunned. "You mean, the overseas contacts? Part of the underground?"

"Precisely. I felt it was time to get in touch with our friends, before Fudge tried to gain their support first."

"Fudge!" The reasoning behind their visit sprang back to Remus immediately. "Then you must know about Hogsmeade and his orders. Is that what prompted...this?" By 'this', Remus waved his hand to indicate the very official-looking rolls of parchment lying on the desk.

Dumbledore appeared thoughtful. "Partly, I suppose. But I believe that sooner or later, something will happen which will require international assistance."

Sirius started. "How do you know?"

The Headmaster looked vague. "I don't, simply put. But Voldemort is far too quiet. Even Severus can't put a finger on what, exactly, he is planning." Dumbledore's forehead creased, as he frowned, going deeper into thought. "I have lived far too long in this world to wait for the trouble to come to me. I believe in being prepared. And so I have decided to do what I must to keep one step ahead of those we oppose."

Remus looked like he was in serious conflicting thoughts, while Sirius was just staring blankly. Danielle had doubts of her own. "It's a good idea, sir, but how do you expect to...well, convince them that you haven't lost your mind? Nobody in the press or the Ministry believes that Voldemort is back. And while I respect that these people know you and fought with you in the last war, it's a bit hard to..."

She trailed off, but Dumbledore smiled. "I understand, Danielle. Most people do view me as an odd and somewhat eccentric old man. One becomes accustomed to their reputation in the media - especially after Rita Skeeter's impressive articles..."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. Sirius, leaning against the back wall, cocked his head to one side and continued to study Albus closely. "You seem unworried," he observed. "Surely, if you're caught, Fudge can arrest you for mass rebellion against authority - or something equally ridiculous?"

"He can," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But the people I am contacting will keep this entirely confidential. I've known them for a large portion of my life - indeed, many of them aided me in the fight against Grindelwald."

"But that would have been fifty years ago!" Danielle exclaimed, impressed.

"Indeed it was. I assure you all, the people I am about to owl are to be entrusted entirely with the secret of our Order. You needn't fear betrayal - they know the price of such an act."

The room was still. Fascinated, Remus moved closer to the desk and peered at the stack. "May I ask, Albus, what you included in the letters?"

"I gave them a very general overview of our situation. The truth behind the Triwizard Tournament, the Order, what we are hoping to achieve, and..." Professor Dumbledore paused. "A request for support. Nothing binding as yet."

"And you think they'll respond?"

"I hope so."

And that was all he would say on the matter. Sirius crossed his arms. "What are we going to do about Fudge's men?" he enquired politely. "I, for one, am not comfortable with the Ministry breathing down my neck. Isn't there some way of getting rid of them?"

"I sincerely wish there was," Dumbledore said regretfully. "But I cannot threaten Fudge, nor back down from him. We must simply learn to cope with their presence." Dumbledore made a point of locking eyes with Sirius, willing him to co-operate.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. He'd developed a curious and somewhat unnecessary hatred for the Ministry in the past few years. What Dumbledore wanted him to do was to keep hiding. Ignore the bastards sitting on his doorstep. Pretend that they didn't anger him. Keep his temper in check - and to do that, he must stay away from them, and Hogsmeade as well.

He couldn't hope to keep that promise. Sirius avoided giving an answer and instead turned his head away. It wasn't a satisfying reply, he knew. Dumbledore would want to speak to him privately, it was almost standard procedure.

Dumbledore tugged his impressive beard gently and surveyed the three adults.

"I see," he murmured to himself. "Well, how are you all managing with things?"

Danielle could never understand why Dumbledore asked questions he already knew the answer to. Sometimes, she suspected that it wasn't so much for him to hear, but for them to realise the lies they tried to create - and believe.

"We're fine," Remus said, glancing at Danielle tactfully.

"Nothing to worry about," added Sirius, speaking up and astonishing Remus. The other man was telling an absolute lie. Things certainly were not fine. Things wouldn't be fine, until Danielle warmed up and forgave Sirius for whatever he did. And Remus was sure he had a fairly good idea.

Really, Padfoot, you could have found a more discreet method...

Dumbledore could sense that not all was being brought forward. But he let it drop. "It's getting late - best if you went back to the staff room. I really should start assigning patrols after curfew...the students don't like the idea of sitting in their Houses from eight o'clock onwards."

For somebody discussing safety curfews, Dumbledore appeared remarkably cheerful.

"Why, I still haven't put those Elite Prefect badges to good use, and it's November! Yes, I think I will call a meeting for them at lunchtime tomorrow. Remus, would you assist me in organising...?"

"Of course. Where do you want to hold it?"

"...The Defence classroom, I think, would be an appropriate place. That is, if you don't mind, Danielle."

"Oh, no. Go ahead, I don't spend my lunchtime in there, anyway." Danielle glanced at her watch. "Professor, are we supposed to inform the others about the contacting?"

Professor Dumbledore raised a hand. "No, I believe it would be for the best if I did it. I'm sure Minerva will be more than eager to cross-examine my reasoning in person."

Remus hid his smile behind a hand. "In that case, we'll leave you in peace. Tomorrow it is, then." Nodding, he and the others turned to leave, when -

"Sirius, would you stay back a moment?"

Sirius had been waiting for him to say that. Resigned and dutiful, he stood up straight and watched as Remus and Danielle filed out through the doorway. They both shot him a fleeting look, before the door shut softly behind them.

Dumbledore folded his hands and just gazed at Sirius for a good long while. Sirius found that he couldn't think of a polite and effective way to say, 'hurry up with it!' and so had to settle for waiting. Eventually, the old man sighed. "Sirius, why must you torture yourself?"

He remained silent. Dumbledore came around the desk to stand in front of Sirius serenely. His bright blue eyes were kind. "I've known you since you were a young boy, Sirius. I saw you grow up at Hogwarts, and I saw you become a young, decent man. I was there when you were convicted, I was there at the inquest of your escape..."

"What are you trying to tell me, Professor?"

Sirius was not in the mood for a long story. Dumbledore ignored his rude tone. "My point is, I know you very well. And I also know enough to tell that you will most likely go down to Hogsmeade on your own and get into some sort of a fix, sooner or later."

The younger man exhaled. "I can't stand the thought of them being so close," he muttered. "After everything Fudge has done - to me and to Harry's reputation, as well - he's as bad as old Barty Crouch was."

Dumbledore regarded him solemnly. "Perhaps he is. But these are Fudge's men in the village, not Fudge himself. You mustn't lash out at them - they have to follow their orders - it is their job. You cannot hate them for wanting to keep their job. They do not even know the basis behind their assignment in Hogsmeade. I implore that you do not let yourself be seen by them. It could be fatal, and I would be powerless to stop it."

When Sirius still looked rebellious, Dumbledore bowed his head slightly. "Not even for Harry?"

That stopped Sirius in his tracks. The consequences of confronting the Ministry...Sirius shut his eyes briefly. I can't let Harry down again. Even if I have to lock myself into a room to stop myself, I'll never leave him alone with his relatives for a lack of anywhere else to go. Never again.

"I've been running from the Ministry for over two years," he said softly. "I don't want to run anymore, and I won't. But I'll do what you say, and I'll keep out of their way - for Harry's sake."

Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "One day, you will be a free man," he told Sirius quietly. "And none will be as glad to see it than I."

* * * *

Saturday was the night of the full moon. Remus kept out of the way of the students and the rest of the staff until lunchtime, when he arrived in his old classroom to meet Dumbledore and the Elite Prefects. Hermione was already there, with Ron in tow. "Professor," she said in surprise, when he came in. "Are you here for the meeting?"

"Yes, and Professor Dumbledore should be along shortly..." Remus was aware of the shadows under his eyes and how pale he must seem. Hermione, the clever witch that she was, must have instantly known what time of month it was, because she smiled sympathetically but said nothing. Remus appreciated it. He didn't want any fussing over his transformations - especially now that he was back teaching.

Ron was looking around the room with a trace of perplexity. "What's going to happen to us?" he asked, looking a tad nervous. "Dumble - I mean, Professor Dumbledore said that he was giving out official jobs, but I still don't understand what an Elite Prefect is supposed to do."

Remus tried to be encouraging. "The Headmaster will explain all that, Ron. There's nothing to panic about, you were picked for the part because Professor Dumbledore believes you - all of you Elite Prefects - to be good, solid, dependable members of the student body. Whatever he assigns you to do, I'm positive you'll be up to it." Personally, Remus felt like he was giving a mild form of a pep talk, which made him feel a bit silly. But he didn't have much time to cringe, because a group of chattering students flooded into the room. Amongst them was Draco Malfoy, who was deep in discussion with Blaise Zambini.

Lastly, Dumbledore came in behind them. "Ah, you're all here," he said approvingly, peering at the gathered fifth years. Most of them chose to lean against desks casually. Ron scowled at Malfoy and chose to stand as far away as possible. Draco returned his venomous glare with a cool smirk.

"You are all privileged to be Elite Prefects," Dumbledore began. "So far, you've only been told of your title, but have not received any of the responsibilities - or advantages - of your position. Allow me to elaborate. You will be presented with your badges after I have explained everything, and a certificate will be sent to your parents. I'm sure they are all going to be very proud of you."

Draco averted his eyes. His father wouldn't even notice, probably - too caught up in running errands for Voldemort. But his mother might. Or, at least, it'd be nice if she did.

"I am going to be assigning you all special duties that, sadly, come with the badge. One such duty is patrolling the corridors after curfew, in case any students are loathe to return to their Houses and are wondering around. You are also permitted to award or deduct up to one hundred house points at a time. Being the people that you are, I trust that this power will be used sparingly and wisely."

The semi-circle of students muttered between themselves for a moment. Hermione caught Draco's eye and gave him a searching look. Harry had told her and Ron all about the truce between them. Ron had instantly started on a million things that Draco might be hiding, until Harry had - to both her and Ron's surprise - told him to shut up. Harry had sworn that Draco was on their side. Hermione was less credulous. In answer to her stare, Draco just raised an eyebrow in return.

'But - Professor - how late are we supposed to patrol? The OWL's are this year, will we even have time?" Terry Boot asked. Beside him, Mandy Brocklehurst nodded in agreement. Both Ravenclaws, the idea of staying ahead in their academic studies was clearly a priority.

"Oh, we know that you need time for your studies," Dumbledore assured him. "As we get nearer to the OWL's, I will personally ensure that you have enough time to complete your work without rushing." Terry, Mandy, and Hermione looked quite relieved.

Remus shifted from his position at the back. As interesting as this was, he couldn't understand why his presence was required. Surely Dumbledore could have organised this little meeting by himself?

"Professor," Draco Malfoy spoke up clearly. "You say that we're to watch the other students and make sure they don't break rules. But who's going to watch us?"

Remus' gaze wavered and settled on the boy. He's more insightful that I thought.

"Ah," Dumbledore, unlike the rest of the students who were staring at Draco in dismay, appeared to be delighted he had asked. "A exceptional question, Mr Malfoy. Though you Prefects are admirable individuals, you are still forbidden to wonder the halls at night - hence, the need for a teacher to be on duty with you. I have allocated the job between a few teachers who have volunteered - one of them being Professor Lupin, who will oversee the patrols next week. Isn't that correct, Remus?"

Startled, Remus met the amused gaze of Professor Dumbledore.

What?"Er, of course, Headmaster."

"Excellent!" said Dumbledore, rubbing his hands together. "Well, now that's settled, let's quickly move on and cover your other responsibilities, before you trundle off to lunch."

"Other responsibilities..." Ron didn't appear too pleased. Hermione nudged him warningly.

"Well, you have the power to deduct points for rule-breaking, as you are aware - you also may have access to the Restricted Section in the library without consent from a teacher. However, for this advantage, you must offer your help to Madam Pince in the maintenance of the library."

There was a mutual cringe that passed around the students. Madam Pince was not the sort of woman that one would volunteer to spend extra time with. "Look's like you've gotten your life's wish, Hermione," Ron muttered under his breath.

"You may leave classes at the request of a teacher, if your assistance is needed for a particular task. Students with any queries or troubles can come to you, and you will pass along suggestions and problems to Professor McGonagall or myself. And..." Dumbledore scratched his head. "I believe that basically covers everything. Anything you think we should add, Professor Lupin?"

"Well," Remus said, again caught off guard. "I...no. That seems to be it."

Dumbledore smiled; and then he pulled out a small wooden box that had somehow been concealed within the folds on his cloak. "Your badges," he told the Prefects. Eagerly, they all leaned forward as Dumbledore opened the box and showed them eight silver, polished, brand-new pins resting on a velvet cloth. They were all the letter 'P' - but far more detailed and articulate than the normal prefect badge.

Gently, Dumbledore offered the box to each student, and they carefully took a badge each. Ron couldn't help but regard his own in awe. Draco, holding his own badge, caressed it tenderly. This was a symbol of authority. It was something he'd craved since starting in first year. And now, after everything, he'd finally gotten what he wanted.

Breaking the quiet, Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands together once. "Everything seems to be in order," he said. "Off you go, then."

The Elite Prefects quickly exited the room, muttering to each other and admiring their newly minted badges as they left. Remus watched them go with a reflective expression. James was like that when he got his Prefect badge, he remembered. He never took anything for granted, even though it was practically in the bag.

It was Dumbledore's turn to lean gently against a desk. "You don't mind, do you?" he inquired gently.

Remus turned to look at the Headmaster. The old man, with his silver, waist-long beard and complacent expression, appeared entirely innocent. Inside, Remus cringed. "Of course not. I just don't see why you didn't ask before, I would have said yes."

"Oh, I know," said Dumbledore. "But, truth be told, I wanted to see your reaction."

Thank you, Albus.

"Well. Erm. I need to finish marking some papers, so if you'll excuse me..." Remus edged towards the door.

But before he left, Dumbledore called out to him. "Take Sirius with you tonight," he advised. "Especially with the Ministry prowling around Hogsmeade. Better two pairs of eyes than only one."

Remus stared. Albus Dumbledore smiled.

* * * *

"Your potion," Snape said sourly. He pushed the plain, wooden goblet towards Remus, who reluctantly picked it up. It looked and smelt terrible, as usual. The Wolfsbane Potion was his only guarantee of staying in control, of remaining conscious of his actions at the full moon.

But even though he was incredibly privileged to have access to the Wolfsbane Potion for free - when few, if any other werewolves did - he found it an altogether unpleasant business. Conscious of Snape's critical stare, Remus steeled himself and tipped his head back, draining the entire goblet in one go. He found it easier to cope with the terribly bitter and entirely disagreeable taste in that fashion.

Swallowing the potion was bad enough - feeling a nasty weight settle in his stomach was even worse. Remus shuddered slightly, before placing the goblet solidly back on the bench before him. "Thank you, Severus," he said, once he felt he could get the words out. "Quite up to standard, as usual."

Snape scowled. "I don't know why I even bother," he muttered. "You will, of course, forgive me for such tardy deliverance of the potion...I have been slightly busy of late." His tone suggested that while Snape had been doing important errands for the good of the Order, Remus' activities were hardly worth any mention.

"Oh, no, it's perfectly fine," Remus said politely. "I understand that things are rather hectic at the moment. I'll see you on Monday." With that, Remus turned and took leave of the dungeons. Behind him, he could practically feel the resentment oozing out of Snape's demeanour.

Sometimes, Remus wondered if it was God's twisted sense of humour that had landed him the situation he was in. The only person who could help Remus at the full moon was the person who was most likely more afraid of him than anyone else. As his quick stride slowed to a more leisurely pace, Remus found himself remembering that night in sixth year, when everything had become complicated. There had been the pain of transforming. Scratching and biting. A whiff of scent, which had wafted down through the tunnel. Prey. The pounding of heavy paws on rock. A stronger scent - fear. Yelling. A blur. Then nothing.

Halfway up a flight of steps, Remus halted. His memory of the incident was as clear as the day afterward, when James had come to visit him. James, his saviour, and Snape's as well. If Snape had succeeded in following him...it was a thought that plagued him, even after all these years.

Shaking his head, Remus continued up the stairs and doggedly made his way to his own rooms. It was getting harder to see where he was going. Side affects of the potion - always the same. Grogginess. Difficulty in concentrating. Lethargy. Induced sleep. It was the sleeping part that Remus mostly looked forward to. He would spend the rest of the day resting, before the stressful night ahead. By the time he reached his rooms, Remus was staggering. It was a good thing that no Houses were on this level, it would be altogether too embarrassing if any students caught him looking this drunk.

But before Remus could disappear behind the painting which concealed his rooms (he had separate ones to Sirius now, as a Hogwarts teacher) a voice called out to him to wait. He twisted around and saw Danielle jogging down the hall to meet him. She came to a disorganised halt beside him and took a few deep breaths. Remus watched, amused.

"Are you in a particular hurry?" he asked. "Is it the Quick-Correct Quill I borrowed? Because I can get it for-"

"Oh no, no, it's not that," Frazzled, Danielle wrung her hands. Her hair was standing up crazily around her head, and she was looking extremely flustered. "Listen, is Snape still in his office?"

"Snape? No, he's in his dungeons..what is it?"

"My cat," Danielle said simply. "He - er - do you remember that influenza brew he made me?"

"Yes..." Remus said slowly.

"Zacharias has - well, he's - he's gone and knocked it over, and it's everywhere, and he drank some, and now I can't stop him being sick everywhere...I have to find out what exactly Severus put in that potion, Zaccy's reacting awfully violently-"

"Okay, Danielle, breathe," Concerned, Remus awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "Severus is in Dungeon Three - or, at least, he was when I left about ten minutes ago. Either there or his office, I'm not sure..." These words didn't seem to console Danielle very much. She pecked him on the cheek gratefully and dashed off down the corridor.

Danielle had always been rather attached to Zacharias, for as long as Remus could recall her acquiring him. She'd received a tiny black kitten for her fifteenth birthday, and the two had been smitten with each other, ever since.

Now I think about it, that cat has got to be well over twenty years of age, Remus mused. It still looked awfully good for its time.

Sighing, he turned back to the painting, gave the password, and ducked inside.

* * * *

"See you on Monday, Joe!"

The cleaner acknowledged his friend with a small wave, as the other man tucked his hands into his robes and ambled out of the cosy foyer of the Ministry offices, into the freezing night. Winter was nearly here; the bitter wind was getting colder and colder each day. Joe rubbed his nose and turned his attention back to polishing the gold statue of the dragon. His shift was nearly over and he could leave at eleven. Ellen would be waiting at home, hopefully with a pot of hot tea.

There weren't many officials working this late. So when a tall man wearing a dark robe with his hood up walked past, Joe glanced up in attention. All he saw was the broad back of the man, as he made his way towards some stairs. "'Scuse me," he called.

The man stopped, and turned.

"Are you visiting somebody?"

No movement. Then, a nod.

"Well, you can take the elevator, it's just been installed. It'll save you at least five minutes...unless you want the Department of Mysteries level, that's restricted access."

The dark figure paused, and then nodded once again. "Thank you," said the deep voice of the man. "You've helped me a great deal."

And then he kept walking away and turned the corner. Joe was completely baffled.

You've helped me a great deal? I showed him the elevator, that's all...

He didn't really understand why the Ministry had paid to install the odd Muggle contraption - it was, of course, magically modified, but probably was just a crazy little whim of Fudge, who appeared to be gaining quite a hefty stomach. Well, good luck to him, then. Shaking his head at the strange people one met these days, Joe continued to polish. His shift was nearly done.

* * * *

"Aarrrgghhhooooo..." The werewolf howled, rearing back on its haunches and voicing its rage. Beside it, the large, shaggy black dog joined in, echoing the wail. It was an eerie sound. Although Padfoot wasn't far off werewolf size, he still couldn't match the fierce appearance of his counterpart. Ending his howl, Remus-the-werewolf bounded away through the trees - a huge, fleeting form.

Sirius wagged his tail and followed. This was what he had missed, for so long. This was what he'd been dreaming of, for a long time. The nightly romps through the Forbidden Forest were forever branded into his memory, and he was getting a brief chance to relive them again.

It was true - the experience would never be the same, certainly without James in stag form. But as Sirius tore through the underbrush, with twigs and leaves brushing past and the wind rushing in his face, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else.

The moon was full, and lit up the world so everything was silver. Together, the two enormous canines ruled the forest. This was their territory. They were the kings of the night, the forest was theirs. The Wolfsbane Potion was working, so that Remus wasn't violent in any way. But the wolf's blood was rushing through his veins, and in pure elation, Remus howled as he ran. Behind him, Sirius nipped his tail playfully.

All was well.

From her window, Danielle gazed down at the grounds and caught a momentary flash of moving figures through the edge of the trees. She smiled. It seemed that all was going to plan - Remus had been very doubtful when Dumbledore suggested the two take a run of the grounds for the night. He'd been terrified of injuring somebody. But with the Wolfsbane, Dumbledore reasoned, surely everything was perfectly safe?

Remus had finally agreed, and Danielle was glad. Perhaps the experience would lessen the worry lines that creased his brow, and put a smile back on his face. After all, they were the same age...but Remus had grey hairs already. Sobered, Danielle moved away from the window and slumped on her bed. Sirius would look after him, she was sure - those two seemed like chalk and cheese, but they were close. Closer than she and Remus could be, because she hadn't been a boy and shared their dormitory in school.

Sirius' face lodged itself in her mind before she could push it away. How he'd seemed so desperate. The look in his eyes when he'd stared down at her. For the first time, Danielle thought she'd seen behind the shutters that still lay there from Azkaban. It frightened her.

She put her face in her hands. How many times had she been over this? Sirius was not somebody she could love. He wasn't her sort of man. Too violent, for one thing. Arrogant, brash. And suspicious, too. Certainly not the sort of man she thought she'd end up with. But she'd hurt him, when she pushed him away and fled the scene. On one hand, all Danielle had wanted to do was stay put. On the other, she'd wished desperately to run somewhere. And she had. Fight or flight mechanism, as any new-age therapy book could tell her.

If only everything could go back to the way it was.

Depressed, she flopped onto her back and stared at the canopy above. Surely she was getting old for this kind of teenage angst? But the only resolution she could think of was talking to Sirius about it. It was a daunting idea. Danielle ran through a few different scenarios in her head, trying to think of the best way to do it. None were appealing.

Suddenly, a heavy hammering started up from the entrance to her rooms. Startled, Danielle rolled off her bed and stared. A visitor, at this time of night?

She quickly darted forward to unlock the heavy door. It swung back to reveal Snape, who was clutching a stitch in his side and panting heavily. Immediately, she got a heavy feeling in her stomach, as she looked at him and he stared back. "What-"

"Never mind that, Dumbledore needs you now," Snape said urgently, glancing up and down the hallway warily. "It's a disaster, the Ministry's a mess-"

"What?" Concerned, Danielle stepped out and resealed the hidden door, before taking off after Snape, who was striding down the corridor quickly. "What's happened? What's wrong with the Ministry?"

"Murder," Snape said grimly.

Danielle stopped in her tracks. "Murder? Who?"

"The Minister of Magic."

"Fudge?!" Horrified, Danielle covered her mouth with her hands. "He's dead? How? Where - who?"

Snape halted and looked back at her. "The Dark Lord, who else? But Dumbledore knows more, he wants us in his office now-"

Still stunned, Danielle dashed forward, right on Snape's heels. They reached the gargoyle at the same time that Sirius and Flitwick did. Nobody said anything, just stared at the gargoyle expectantly. It didn't move. Sirius did his best to gaze at it imploringly, but to no avail. "Doesn't anyone know the password?" Danielle asked desperately.

"Nope, forgot to ask," Sirius said gloomily.

"Typical," Snape muttered. He stepped forward. "Let us in," he ordered. "This is of dire importance." For added effect, he glared menacingly at the stone statue.

The gargoyle grunted. "All right, all right, no need to get high and mighty-" It stepped to the side to let them all pass and crowd onto the stairs. At the top, Snape unceremoniously pushed the door open and led them into Dumbledore's office.

It was already crowded with people, all of whom were babbling hysterically to Albus Dumbledore, the one calm person in the room. Sirius stopped dead- some of the people were from the Ministry. "Shit," he said quietly.

"Transform!" Danielle hissed. But it was too late. One of the witches turned around and stared at the newcomers. Sirius froze. Strangely enough, the witch didn't scream, or gasp, or even blink in recognition. Instead, she turned back to Dumbledore and continued her babble.

"-There was blood everywhere, the office was trashed, the Aurors won't let anyone within a square mile of the scene - oh, Albus, it was terrible, You-Know-Who really must be back-"

"Dumbledore, what do we do, we've got no Minister-" cried a balding man, wringing his hands.

Danielle glanced sideways at Sirius. He had a baffled expression on his face, as he stared at the frantic crowd. Nobody recognised him. Nobody.

The haircut,she thought. And he's got meat on his bones now, he's not half-starved, he's got his good looks back- Instinctively, Danielle slammed down her defences. No thinking about him like that. Especially not now.

"Order," Dumbledore finally called. "Please, everybody remain calm." A sudden silence descended upon the room. Everyone had fixed their eyes upon the elderly wizard, who was evenly tucking his hands into his robes. "This is a situation that cannot be solved by panic or hasty actions. There isn't anything we can do until the Auror squad has finished the...the clean-up."

From the back, a middle-aged witch let out a muffled sort of groan.

"I ask you all to return home, and try to get some sleep." Here, Albus seemed to deflate slightly. "We're going to need all the rest we can get to get through the next few days."

"But You-Know-Who-" The balding man started again.

"-will not likely touch anyone else tonight. Please, go home and ward your homes." Dumbledore gazed around at everybody, his eyes bright and full of intensity. "I will contact the Ministry and find an answer. Until then, it is pointless to stay in my office."

Slowly, the gathered wizards and witches began to mutter among themselves, all looking extremely pale and frightened. One by one, they leaned in and said something to Dumbledore, before using his fireplace to Floo back to their homes. Sirius, Danielle, Flitwick and Snape all watched this from the corner nearest to the door.

"Do you know more about what happened?" Danielle muttered out of the corner of her mouth to Snape.

"Not much," he muttered back. "The Dark Lord never revealed his plans to do something like this." From what Danielle could see from his profile, Snape looked hard and menacing. He was still dressed in his normal robes from that day. She doubted he ever got much more than four hours of sleep a night.

Eventually, all of the other people had left. Dumbledore was staring into the fire pensively, his brow furrowed.

"Albus," Sirius said, stepping forward quickly. "What can we do?"

On closer inspection, Danielle saw the twigs and leaves still stuck in his hair. She gaped. "Aren't you supposed to be on the grounds with Remus?"

"Left," Sirius said shortly. "Remus is fine, he took the potion."

"I sent for him, Danielle." Dumbledore turned away from the fire. He looked tired. "It was a chance I was willing to take. You are all aware of how serious this situation is. We must act quickly."

"Yes, but do what, Albus?" Flitwick looked extremely nervous. "Fudge is gone, the entire community is thrown into turmoil...how on earth can we keep people calm?"

Dumbledore straightened. "I'll have to go into the Ministry," he said. "They'll most likely want me to investigate, along with the rest of the Wizengamot." At that moment, a screech came from outside one of the windows. A pale shape fluttered near the glass.

"That will be them now," Dumbledore sighed, swiftly moving over to the window and opening it, letting in both the owl and a chilly blast of air. The roll of parchment did, indeed, bear the crest of the Ministry of Magic.

Holding her breath, Danielle watched as he unrolled the parchment and scanned over it, his expression not altering one bit. "They want me to come in immediately," Dumbledore said, looking up when he was finished. "The Ministry needs a stand-in until a new Minister can be elected."

"What do you want us to do?" Sirius repeated his question, this time with more composure.

"Well, this has only confirmed my suspicions. If the murderer could manage to penetrate the Ministry of Magic itself, then Hogwarts security must be increased dramatically. In the morning, Fidelius, I want you and Minerva to begin casting the strongest wards you have found to date on the entrance to the grounds, and then, eventually, we can aim to cover the entire exterior of the castle with these."

"The entire castle?" Flitwick looked a bit doubtful. "That could take over a month."

"I will enlist the Aurors to aid you," said Dumbledore quietly. "And outside of lessons, the other teachers should be able to lend you a hand. Once Remus is recovered, he'll be able to put all of his research into action."

"What will I be able to do?" Sirius looked desperate. "I have to do something."

Snape sneered at Sirius, but refrained from throwing a barb at him. Dumbledore was in the process of tucking the Ministry scroll into his robes and heading towards the fire. "I have a task for you when I return," he said. "Until then, guard the school closely. Keep an eye on the mail and the state of the owls - they might be intercepted. Say nothing in a letter. And Sirius-"

Dumbledore turned and shot him a momentary look full of deepest understanding. "Do nothing until my return. To be seen is to be caught." A quick nod, and he disappeared into the roaring green flames.

Sirius stared after him with an expression of utter frustration on his face. But he spoke to no one, and turned away. Snape scowled. "Now is not the time to sulk, Black," he said in a clipped tone. "We need to find Minerva. And then, the castle must be secured as soon as possible."

"Right," Danielle agreed. She pulled out her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown. "We need to split up and spread the word to the teachers. Lock every door, and put a guard at all the known entrances. Try not to wake the students though...it's going to be a long day. They need their rest, and so do we."

"Rest? I doubt we'll be seeing much of that," said Sirius.

* * * *

The werewolf ran through the forest, its massive paws thumping the ground with every giant leap. The full moon shone down, its silvery light washing out all colour and giving the scenery a surreal appearance. Powerful scents greeted the wolf's nose as he ran - spoor of the many creatures which shared the forest, and the overwhelming stench of dry, rotting leaves.

Remus ran alone. Padfoot had left him, abandoning the fun and thrill of the hunt. Not that Remus had any desire to kill something, because he didn't. It was all in good spirits, a game, for a playful canine to pass the time with. On the wind, Remus suddenly caught a whiff of movement, an aroma of panic and stress. He halted abruptly, and sniffed.

It was stronger now, catching his attention fully. It was the scent of a human, a male - nearby, and coming closer. Remus' hackles rose. This was his territory. Humans were prey - humans had no place in the dark forest at the full moon. Remus felt his instincts rise up viciously - attack, kill, kill!

However, the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion were still in the works. The bloodthirsty messages were still pounding in his head, but as if they were muffled by a blanket. Remus growled deeply in the back of his throat, and started forward, towards the scent.

The rest was a blur.

Paws pounding. Growling. A yelp of horror. A whirl of silvery hair. Widening eyes, a stumble - excitement, screaming, the scent of fear pouring into the werewolf's nostrils-

A flash of light.

Pain.

Snarling.

Skidding around, preparing to spring again-

Impact. Blood. More pain.

Then, darkness.