Returning from the Shadows

Author's Note: Yeah, here it is, another fic. This one is an Alternate Universe story, set in the midst of a First War that didn't end on Halloween of 1981, for reasons to be revealed within. And a "Thank You" goes out to Emma (hermione_granger4life) of MNFF for beta-ing this story! So, as I don't have much to say in this first author's note, I'll just let you get onto the story. Therefore, I present for your enjoyment, the Prologue of Returning from the Shadows, entitled, Reflection and Remembrance.

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Returning from the Shadows

By ForeverSirius77

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Prologue: Reflection and Remembrance

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16 November 1986

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Winter was just starting to truly begin on the cool, mid-November night. The clouds overhead hinted at possible storms, while the winds that blew throughout the land had a biting chill to them. Most of the streets were thinning in their people-population, as everyone had started heading home, it not being too safe to wander the roads too late after sunset.

But the paranoia and fear was nothing new to the brown-haired man who walked down the street, heading not for his home, but for the warm pub at the end of the path. Having been a part of a war that had been raging for nearly fifteen years - more, if some of the rumours were to be believed - and watching friends and colleagues succumb to horrendous death and pain had hardened the once-soft man. His normally kind face now held a permanent, harsher tone to it, his kind smile not nearly shown as much as before. Brilliant blue eyes shone out, taking in his surroundings as he walked, and a hand stayed wrapped around the cool wood of his wand in his pocket, the magical instrument ready to be pulled free within a second.

Still, he supposed a part of him ought to be thankful he hadn't suffered as much as some others had. While he had lost close friends, it was true, he was not alone - he hadn't lost absolutely everything - like some of the other families that had been hit hard by the war. Not all of his friends were gone, though his mother and father had died years ago, and he couldn't help but smile as he thought of the young, black-haired boy whose green eyes and innocent, six-year-old expression seemed to bring a sense of hope to him.

Harry saves us all, he thought, a brief smile appearing on his face once again at the memory of his best friend's son. He's the only reason none of us have given up. He's what we fight for.

The small boy, Remus knew, was the pride and joy of his parents, who never seemed to pass up a moment to spoil their son. However, such actions never seemed to turn Harry into anything resembling a rotten child. Such seemed a bit surprising to some, but for those who knew the family best, Harry's normal upbringing wasn't a shock. Not that Remus could claim he did much better in the 'Don't spoil Harry' department, of course. Every one of them - James, Lily, and Remus - couldn't help but love the child, who had been their light in the midst of darkness when he was born and who continued to fill that role over six years later.

He had brought the adults back from the edges of grief and despair over and over through the years, whether it was the death of Order friends like Marlene and the Prewetts, or the sights of horrendous carnage that graced the front page of the Daily Prophet after the Death Eaters had been behind a massacre. When both the elder Potters and Evanses passed away, Harry had been there to keep his parents from succumbing to the same darkness of loss and pain that threatened to overwhelm them both.

When threats of spies within their group were revealed, and suspicion fell upon friends, threatening to tear them apart; when Dumbledore had told the Potters of the death sentences placed upon their family; when a friend had confessed to succumbing to fear and turning to the darkness, only to be found executed - there was no other word for it - three days after saying he couldn't do it anymore ...

Harry had given every one of them a reason to continue the fight.

And even when Sirius had been taken -

Remus closed his eyes, swallowing, as the memories of that night, over five years ago, swam to the forefront of his mind. The Fidelius Charm had been performed just two days ago, with himself acting as the Potters' Secret Keeper, and everyone had felt the plan was flawless. There was no longer a spy in the Order and every known (and even some that had been unknown to Remus before now) protective ward that could be placed around a home had been installed at Sirius's. Regardless of the dangerous times and the risks they were all taking, there shouldn't have been a way for the charms and wards around his friend's home to be broken.

But they had been.

There was a brief chime that rang through the small house, signalling that someone was seeking Floo entrance. Remus rose from his seat at the table, leaving behind his half-full plate of dinner, and removed the charms keeping the visitor locked out. A moment later, his silver beard flecked with black soot, Albus Dumbledore joined Remus in the chairs next to the fireplace.

Remus watched Dumbledore for a moment, neither wizard having said anything more than a brief "Hello" and other minor greetings since the headmaster had arrived. Dumbledore looked older than Remus ever remembered seeing him, even after watching him lead the Order and help keep the Light side of the Wizarding World from falling irreversibly into the shadows that threatened them. His wise face was heavy with fatigue, the lines standing out more starkly than ever in the lighting of the room. But what perhaps worried the twenty-one-year-old werewolf the most was the complete lack of the headmaster's customary twinkle in his eyes.

"Sir, what happened?" he asked, not being able to stand the silence anymore. "It's something bad, isn't it?" Well, of course it is, Remus, he thought. Everything is always bad news these days. Remus pushed the inner voice aside as he realised Dumbledore was answering him.

"There was an attack, just outside of London," he said. "Aurors didn't arrive until after it was over, it seems, and the Dark Mark had already been fired into the sky. There were obvious signs of a battle; the house was very nearly destroyed by the time they arrived."

"Who - Who was it?" Remus muttered, the question sticking in his throat. He didn't want to think of the one person he knew who lived 'just outside of London'. Sirius was protected perfectly well; there would be no way for the Death Eaters to have found him, especially not this soon.

Dumbledore sighed, his eyes closing for the briefest of moments before he fixed them back on Remus. It was almost like the older wizard was steeling and preparing himself, but Remus didn't want his mind to go to the meaning that such an action seemed to indicate. No, he thought. It's not Sirius ... It can't be ... And he prayed to whoever might listen that Dumbledore wasn't going to confirm Remus's fear.

"It was Sirius."

Remus couldn't bring himself to speak, the three words just going over and over in his mind. It couldn't be real; it just couldn't be. He must have misunderstood the headmaster; for surely Dumbledore had not told him Sirius had been killed -

"He - He's dead?"

A nearly imperceptible shake of the silver-haired wizard accompanied the words that Dumbledore spoke to his former student - and friend. "Remus," he started, pausing as if to force himself to utter news that would be even worse than his confirmation of the attack on being Sirius's place. But that isn't possible, Remus thought. Nothing could be worse than my best friend dead - Unless -

"He was captured, wasn't he?" The question was barely muttered, Remus's voice only slightly above the volume of a low whisper, but the words seemed to echo around the room, reverberating in and out of both men's ears. Dumbledore's answer, likewise, felt the same.

"He was."

Remus reached the pub just as the memory faded, stubbornly blinking away tears that threatened to fall every time he thought of those few weeks in 1981. While it was true that five years had passed since that night, it was just as true that none of them had really gotten over the fact of what happened - And they didn't even really know what had happened. The Aurors hadn't been able to gather anything that could answer questions, the only evidence telling them that a battle had occurred and, obviously, Sirius had been taken by the Death Eaters.

Searches turned up nothing, the Order's own spies had no knowledge of his whereabouts, and the war raged on. Voldemort and his followers still attacked, and the Order of the Phoenix, even in the midst of grief for lost companions, still fought. For all appearances, it seemed Sirius had just vanished into thin air.

"Your drink, sir."

Remus tore his mind from the memories, accepting the mug from the young server with a nod of thanks. As she walked away, he glanced at his watch, seeing that it was approaching ten in the evening. He hadn't originally planned on being out this late, having already made plans to be in Godric's Hollow early in the morning, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Raising his glass in a toast, he drank a long swig of the liquid within before returning it to the table.

"Happy Birthday, Sirius," he whispered, toasting once again the friend who would have been twenty-seven years old today.

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Author's Note: Well, there you have it, the start of another new fic, and one that's been floating around in my head for over six months, as a matter of fact. I had planned out a lot of this fic's main ideas at first, but then realised that I didn't like some of them, so significant changes were made to the plot outlines before I started writing. Therefore, what's being written is quite different from the Version One of the plan. But hopefully, none of these changes will have a negative effect. And now, I'd really appreciate knowing what you think!

~Megan