Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 38: Punishment

The Last Letter

The day of Philippa Pettigrew's funeral was wet and windy, as if the weather itself mourned her passing. At Dumbledore's request, not the entire Order of the Phoenix had attented, only those members who had known her best, but the gathering was still a large one, including friends and colleagues from every stage of her life since the day she had come to Hogwarts as a shy eleven-year-old, along with the twin sister who, of course, was not here today.

Professor Dumbledore made a speech that was moving not just because of the kind words he had to say about the young woman, but also because there were times when his own grief was evident in the way his voice wavered, almost preventing him from speaking.

Norman and Anthea thanked him afterwards, though it was only Anthea who spoke, her husband merely standing beside her with a dazed, absent expression on his face, as though his beloved daughter's death was more than his mind could grasp.

Peter looked on silently, lost in thoughts of his own until Lily came up to him and slid her arm through his.

"Come along, Peter. Let's go up to the castle and get you something to eat. I don't suppose you've had much breakfast."

Peter shook his head mutely, and allowed her to guide him back to the others. Thestral-drawn carriages waited outside the cemetery gates to carry them back to the school, where it had been arranged that sandwiches and hot beverages should be served to a chosen few of the mourners - a precautionary limitation, owing to the danger of allowing strangers to enter the school grounds at this time - and any students that wished to join them.

The Great Hall was hung with black drapes, and considering the vast number of students who had decided to attend, rather quiet, with people speaking only in hushed voices, if at all. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, accompanied by Heather, came over to express their condolences to Peter.

"I liked Profe... I mean, your sister, very much," Heather told Peter quietly. "She was always so nice to people, and ever so patient. She was almost the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher I've ever had," she finished with a shy smile at Remus.

He smiled back at her, feeling just a little awkward owing to the feeling that Lily's eyes were watching him closely, and said,

"I'm sure she was. Unfortunately, I didn't know her terribly well, but I know everything Dumbledore said about her was true."

"It was," Peter agreed glumly.

Lily squeezed his arm sympathetically and said to Heather,

"Has there been any talk yet about who will be teaching you next?"

"Plenty of rumours, but nothing definite," the girl replied. "People have been suggesting everyone from Dumbledore himself to Hagrid, but we don't really know. I don't think they've really found anyone to accept the position yet."

"Remus could do it," Peter said unexpectedly. "He used to give you extra tuition, and he helped me with my apparition."

"Yes," James said. "How about it, Remus? You've been saying for ages that you want to be a teacher. Peter's right, you ought to talk to Dumbledore about it."

"I think that's a brilliant idea!" Heather agreed, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm, for Fabian frowned a little and shifted closer to her.

With all their eyes fixed expectantly on him, Remus smiled again to cover his embarrassment, and said mildly,

"I think Dumbledore will be looking for someone a little more experienced."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "That's rubbish, Remus, and you know it. You can't fool us into believing you're going to give up a chance that's right under your nose without trying for any other reason than the same old ..."

"Ow!" Lily ejaculated suddenly, jerking her left hand so that the contents of her glass emptied themselves over Heather's school robes, and covering her stomach with her right. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry," she apologised to Heather.

"It's all right," Heather said, looking down at her stained robes, then up again at Lily. "No harm done, but are you okay?"

Lily nodded tightly. "I'm fine. It's just the little one." She stroked her stomach. "Takes me by surprise sometimes." She gave a rueful smile. "I'm so sorry, really."

"Don't worry about it," said Heather. "But I'd better go and change. Excuse me."

She headed for the door, and while Gideon made his way back to the buffet and Fabian hovered, apparently wondering if he should follow the girl, Lily shot Sirius a cross look.

"What?" he asked defensively. "She's all over and done with, isn't she, what does it matter now if she finds out? Anyway, are you sure you're ..."

"I'm fine," Lily snapped. "I only did that to shut you up, thickh... ouch!"

"Lily?" James queried anxiously, as this time she actually grabbed hold of his arm and bit her lip.

"I suppose that's my punishment for making out the poor little lamb had hurt me. I've done it now, this kicking's not going to stop for a while. I'm going to find a quiet corner somewhere to sit down. I said a quiet corner, Sirius," she said as he approached her.

He grinned. "Don't worry, I'll leave you all alone once you get there, but I can come along and get you settled, can't I?"

She started to protest that she could manage quite well on her own, but then smiled instead. "Thanks," she said, and allowed him to come along and find her a reasonably comfortable seat.

Up at the teachers' table, meanwhile, a similar discussion to the one Lily's feigned pain had just interrupted was proceeding between Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, and Rubeus Hagrid, whose beetle-black eyes were framed by puffy red lids today, and who still sniffed into a large polka-dot handkerchief every now and then.

"Have you put the question to him yet?" McGonagall asked quietly. "Will he do it?"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "I asked him, but he refused. He is still, to some extent, recovering from his ordeal at the hands of the Death Eaters, and his main priority at the moment is being with his wife as much as possible. It is understandable. He has done and risked much for the Order already ..."

"But this'd be different," Hagrid said between sniffs. "I mean, it'd be safer for 'im 'ere than anywhere else."

"For him, yes. But not for Bridget," Dumbledore said. "If she were that close to Hogwarts and to me ... people would start asking questions, wondering where she came from and who she really is. No, it would not be safe here for Bridget. If Malcolm did accept the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, it would mean separation from her for the greater part of the year. I can therefore do no more than offer him the post if he wants it, I cannot make him take it. The decision is his, he has made it, and I do not blame him for it. However, it still leaves us with a problem."

There was a pause, then McGonagall said hesitantly,

"I suppose ... you haven't considered ... his nephew?"

"Yeah," said Hagrid enthusiastically. "Now there's a thought. 'ow about it, professer?"

The headmaster was silent for a moment, then he said slowly,

"I have considered Remus."

"Narbus was fond of him," McGonagall reminded him. "He often said that he believed Remus Lupin ought to be a teacher. He is intelligent, and I have always found him patient with his fellow students."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. All that is true, and I do not doubt Narbus's judgement in this matter - I agree with it. However, Remus is still very young."

"Miss Pippa was only a girl, when ye think about it," said Hagrid.

"She was only nineteen when she first went to Beauxbatons to teach," McGonagall added. "Do you consider that she was too young?"

Dumbledore said, "Sometimes I thought that she was too young, yes. Oh, I am not denying that she was clever, kind, and an excellent teacher all round. But she was too young to dedicate herself to the education of other people's children, and give up the prospect of ever having a family of her own, to lock herself away from life."

"Has it occurred to you," said McGonagall a little sharply, "that perhaps teaching was her life?"

He smiled faintly at her. "I know that you were fond of her, Minerva," he said gently. "But forgive me - she was not you. I believe Philippa Pettigrew should have had a chance to go out into the world and meet someone before she settled down to a life behind solid castle walls, with a distinct lack of eligible young men around." When McGonagall frowned, he added, "I am merely saying that a young woman like she was deserved a chance of finding love, as every human being does."

"And that's why you won't employ Remus Lupin? Because you think bringing him here to teach would make it impossible for him to find love?" the deputy headmistress queried doubtfully.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Not precisely, Minerva. But I do not think it is wise to ask him to teach students who still remember him as their equal, especially given his circumstances. Perhaps he shall teach here - one day. But not yet," he said, and he looked out across the hall again just as Heather Woodcock returned and hurried back to where the subject of their conversation was talking to Fabian Prewett.

* * *

It was two days later, just before breakfast, that Josie received another letter from Iris. Not having heard from Severus's mother for days, she had begun to wonder whether she ever would. Now, having just called down the stairs to her mother that she didn't want breakfast, she wrapped a flannel dressing gown, red with green stripes, around her and flopped back down on the bed to read. It was a short missive, the writing hurried.

My dear Josie,

I must ask you to forgive me for not having written for so long. The truth is my husband read an article in the Daily Prophet about your father's disagreement with the Ministry. The article also mentioned the fact that you are a squib, and my husband ordered me at once to break off all contact with you. This, however, is something I cannot do. I have had few friends since I married Augustus, and none whom I cared for as much as you. It pains me to think that, had things been different, I might have been able to welcome you into my family as a daughter.

I cannot write much more, for I fear that Augustus would catch me, and that is the last thing I want, although I find that I am growing less afraid of him of late, or perhaps it is just that I care less what happens to me.

What I do care about is my son, and you, my dear. I wish there were some way in which I could be of assistance to you, but all I can do is suggest you seek help closer at hand. If you have not already done so, I strongly advise again that you speak to your parents. Only they can see you through this.

Take care of yourself, dear Josie.

Ever yours,

Iris

Josie read the letter through a couple of times. Whatever Iris might say in it, the girl was sure she could not be as unafraid as she said. It was one thing to imagine herself brave and indifferent to the consequences while her husband was out, but Josie felt certain that Iris would be as terrified of him as ever if he came home unexpectedly.

And what of herself? How afraid was she? She thought about it, absent-mindedly chewing her lower lip, and came to the conclusion that she was less so than she had been before talking to Sirius. It wasn't that she was fooled by his words of comfort, his assurances that all would be well - but somehow just knowing that he wanted it to be so, and that the burden was not hers alone to bear, that a friend was willing to help her through it, made the burden itself lighter, the prospects less frightening to face. Sirius had promised to stick by her, even when she had revealed that she carried the seed of all that he hated. She began to wonder if it was just friendship that made him so loyal, or how much Sirius must like her to be able to stand her presence in spite of it. And then she began to ask herself how much she liked him. His face rose up before her quite clearly, a handsome face fully aware of its own attraction and therefore, she supposed, ever so slightly arrogant, but always an honest face, a face that kept no secret.

Unbidden, another face forced itself upon her, much less handsome, sallow-skinned and hook-nosed, bad-tempered and closed, a mask for many secrets ... and yet there had been moments when that face had not been so cold, when she, Josie, had made it soften and smile, or the stern facade crack with emotion.

Were they so very different? Sirius and Severus, each dark and proud and sure of his course, and yet so strongly opposed. Which did she care about more, really? The answer was as obvious as it was foolish, but also immaterial. Severus had turned from her, given her up when he learned that she was a squib instead of, as she had secretly hoped, finding his way to the right path through his feelings for her. And Sirius was still there, still her friend, lightening her burden simply by knowing. Perhaps Iris was right. Perhaps she should seek help, more help, close at hand. Tell her parents. She decided she would. But first ...

Josie left Iris's letter lying on the pillow and got up. She went to the wardrobe and selected a pair of orange trousers that she had bought a year ago. They had been much too wide at the time, but she had liked the colour so much that she'd bought them anyway, meaning to have them altered. But she had forgotten, and now her forgetfulness paid off. She then pulled on a baggy dark blue jumper and proceeded to apply her customary liberal amount of makeup. She looked in the mirror at the result, ruffled her strawberry blonde hair and smiled.

Then she sat down at her desk and took out a sheet of lavender writing paper, dipped her best peacock quill into the inkwell and wrote a reply for Iris, folding and sealing it and writing the name Iris Snape on the front with the intention of posting it after breakfast. She rose and went to the door, and was just stepping out onto the landing when the doorbell rang.

"Shall I get it?" she called.

"No, I will," said her mother, coming out of the kitchen with her wand in her hand.

But she never got as far as the door. With a noise like three crashes of thunder rolled into one and the force of a small bomb, it was blasted out from its hinges before their eyes, showering Josie's mother with splinters. She ducked away and held out her wand, warding off the splinters with a quick shield charm.

Josie's father came running, appearing through the same door his wife had just as three figures in black, masks pulled down over their faces, entered through the hole in the wall.

"Josie!" her mother cried.

Her husband acted at once. Leaving her with the Death Eaters in the downstairs hall, he came bounding up the stairs. Josie was rooted to the spot, paralysed with fright as she watched her mother fight to hold back all three attackers quite alone. She had had no idea until that moment of just how good a witch her mother was.

"Josephine," her father hissed in her ear. "Go back into your room."

When she did not react, he took her by the arms and pushed her back. It was when she could no longer see her mother, when his figure and the banisters beyond blocked her view, that Josie came back to life again. She screamed, pushed him, tried to fight her way past him, but her father would not let her go.

"Stay here, Josephine," he told her urgently. "You must stay here. And I must go to help your mother."

She stared up at him, terrified, and suddenly he gave her a sad, but heartbreakingly tender smile.

"I love you, my little one," he said, and kissed her warmly on the cheeks.

Then he left her. After he had closed the door, it glowed for a moment with a bluish hue, and from then on, Josie could only stand staring at the blank wood, listening to what was going on outside. Crashing, shouting, screaming. Footsteps pounding up the stairs, more shouts, the sound of something falling heavily against her door, scraping across the wood, hitting the floor with a thud. And then silence.

Josie backed away from the door as it began to glow again in different colours. Then it stopped glowing and the doorknob began to turn. Josie looked around her in a panic, but there was nowhere to run. Something knocked against her legs from behind. The desk chair. She dropped onto it and drew her knees up under her chin, wrapped her arms around them and sat curled into a small, shivering, terrified ball as the door opened at last. She didn't even scream when her father's body, robbed of its support, fell backwards onto her soft bedroom carpet.

Only two of the masked people she had seen below stepped into the room. Josie stared at them both with wide open eyes. It occurred to her how silly everything seemed all of a sudden. Severus. Sirius. Who to tell and who to trust. Being pretty or being plain. Banana split or nuts ... And then, in a flash of green light, it was all over.

"And that makes three," said Vindictus Lothian slowly, sliding his wand back into the pocket of his robes. "We're done here."

"You kept this one a bit tame," Evan Rosier complained, pulling off his mask.

"She was a squib," Lothian said with a shrug. "She wouldn't have stood a chance. Where's the sport in dragging it out if there's no challenge?"

"No sport, perhaps," Rosier admitted. "But pleasure, Vindictus."

His only reply was a derisive snort. Lothian stepped past the girl's body and glanced at what lay on her desk.

"What's that?" Rosier asked.

Lothian picked up the letter and opened it. He read it quietly, paused for a moment, and then screwed it up in his fist and threw it in the wastepaper basket.

"Just a letter to a school friend."

Rosier chuckled. "Well, it looks like we did the girl a favour. No need for her to trot all the way to the post office."

Lothian waited for Rosier to leave, then he bent down and retrieved the letter. Smoothing it out, he then folded it up carefully and placed it in his pocket.

* * *

Resignation

John's desk was in a state it had rarely known before, in all the years of his employment. Thirty-one years this August. He remembered the first day he had come here, his first day in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. So long ago now. Back then, he had felt strong, full of life. Now he felt weak and weary. His gaze fell to the photograph on his desk and the people that smiled up at him from it. Faith looking fresh and happy with their then two-year-old son in her arms. He himself laughing and waving, his hair still jet black and not a line on his face. Thirty-two years old. It felt like a lifetime ago. His desk had never been untidy then.

And now? Now he was starting to look like a man whose grey hair was interspersed by black, rather than the other way around. Rapidly approaching fifty. And with his desk in a total and utter mess, papers strewn all over the place because he had not been able to deal with anything, to focus his mind on any matter that he should be concerning himself with. Too worried. And jumpy, he realised, as a knock at the door nearly made him spill his tea all over his lunch sandwich.

"Come in," he muttered distractedly, but his distraction soon changed to relief when Remus walked in. "There you are," he sighed. "Shut the door. Sit down. Remus, I've been thinking. What if you just stopped turning up ..."

"I've done it," his son interrupted him.

John gaped at him. "You ... what?"

"I handed in my resignation to Macnair just now. I'm not working for him any more."

John leaned back in his chair, still staring at the young man sitting opposite him, looking between him and the photo on his desk. It occurred to him vaguely that, perhaps, it was time to get a new photo framed. He passed his hand over his eyes and Remus asked quietly,

"Dad ... is everything all right?"

His father shook his head almost imperceptibly. His face was haggard, his voice shaky.

"I thought ... I was almost certain ... if you gave Macnair an outright 'no' for an answer ..."

"I know," said Remus, allowing a hint of relief to creep into his own face and voice. "I did think myself that he wouldn't like it. I thought he was bound to start some kind of argument. But he didn't."

"He must have said something, though."

"No, not really. He asked me if I was sure, and when I said yes, he told me I could go."

"You don't think he just wanted you to think that ... that he'd let you go without a fuss ... so that afterwards ..."

"He could kill me? There wouldn't be much point in that, would there? Besides," he added, frowning, "I think he's already found a more cooperative test subject."

"What? What do you mean? Not ... another werewolf?"

Remus nodded grimly. "Jeremy Crowe," he said thoughtfully. "Gemma Crowe's brother."

"Gemma Crowe? She was murdered, wasn't she?"

"Yes. Her brother disappeared at the time. He's reappeared now."

"As a werewolf?"

"The Death Eaters kidnapped him, it seems. And then they had him bitten."

"But he was a child, wasn't he?" John queried. "Who would do such a ..." He glanced back at the photograph on his desk, and suddenly he paled visibly, and to such an extent Remus was glad he was sitting down. Any thoughts he might have had of disregarding his uncle's advice and coming out with the whole truth at this point flew right out of the imaginary window. "No," John said quietly, as if to himself. "It couldn't be ..."

"I managed to get a word with Jeremy before I came up," Remus said, taking care to keep his tone casual, innocent. "He says it was a man called Greyback who bit him."

John looked up, his expression haunted. "That's impossible. Greyback's in prison. On a life sentence."

Remus shrugged his shoulders. "We've known for some time that Azkaban's not as safe as it used to be. I should imagine the promise of a favour to the Death Eaters has allowed more than one dangerous inidividual to walk free in the past year or so."

Slowly, John nodded his agreement. "Yes. Yes, I dare say you're right. But all the same ... Greyback ..."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, a welcome interruption, as it happened, for it opened to reveal Lily's smiling face.

"Hello, John," she said brightly. "Oh, hello Remus. I didn't expect to see you here. Does this mean you've spoken to Macnair?"

Remus nodded. "I have. And now I'm out of the committee - and out of a job, of course."

"You're out? Just like that?" Lily's tone was surprised.

"Yes," Remus confirmed. "Just like that." He added with a faint smile, "No death threats, no hexes aimed at my back ..."

"That's not funny," Lily reprimanded him with a glance at John. "Anyway," she went on, "I've resigned, too."

"You have?"

"Yes. James has been on edge about me still working here ever since the auror business - after all, the Death Eaters know well enough, or wouldn't have any trouble finding out, that I'm married to one. And then there's Prongs Junior, of course." She stroked a hand across her stomach. "I know I've still got half a year ahead of me, but the healers say it's time to stop apparating, and floo powder makes me feel sick nowadays."

"How will you get home then?" asked John.

Lily smiled. "That's where you come in. James dropped me off under that cloak of his on the way here, but he insisted I shouldn't travel home on my own on the Knight Bus, so I had to promise I'd ask you. Of course, I didn't know then that Remus was going to be so quick about handing in his notice. Now it's up to you two. I don't mind who takes me, as long as it's soon. I did tell James not to worry, but I'm not too comfortable being in this building for too long myself."

"I'll take you home," Remus said. "After all, I'm finished for the day."

"Lovely," said Lily.

* * *

Remus stepped off the Knight Bus first and held out his hand to help Lily. She said,

"That was a remarkably smooth ride. How much extra did they charge you for that?"

"A mere trifle", he said with a smile.

Lily grinned back. "Well, the bribery was very thoughtful of you, and much appreciated."

"Then it was worth it."

They proceeded down the garden path, and Lily began lifting the anti-intruder jinxes and charms to let herself in.

"Have you got time for tea?" she asked.

"I don't know. I forgot my appointment book," he quipped.

She shot him a glance as she closed the front door behind them and he helped her off with her cloak.

"Resigning seems to have put you in a very witty mood," she remarked as Remus put her cloak on a hook and hung up his own.

"Not resigning, exactly," Remus said. "But I think having survived resigning is worth a celebration."

"Did you really think it was as dangerous as all that? That they might have ... killed you?"

"Didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you walked into Dad's office, you looked surprised to see me in one piece."

"I wasn't surprised. Just ... relieved."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed. "All right, you win. So ... tea?"

"I'll make it," he offered, leading the way into the kitchen.

Shortly after, they were sitting in the kitchen in silence, sipping tea and listening to the fire crackling in the grate. Eventually Lily asked,

"So, what will you do now?"

He smiled and asked, "Is that a polite way of saying you've had enough of my company, and would rather I left?"

"No! I wasn't talking about the next five minutes, I meant ..."

"Look for a new job, I suppose. Perhaps, if Dad has a word with Mr. Westmore ..."

"You want to go back to the Ministry? Why?"

Shrugging, he replied,

"What else is there?"

She snorted. "What else? Your dreams, Remus. What about what Peter said? About your becoming a teacher?"

"I've said all there is to say about that," he replied tightly. "I'm too young."

"Pippa was no older than you when she started teaching."

"That was different, Lily. In my case ... it's too dangerous."

"Nonsense!"

"No, Lily, it's not," he said firmly. "And you know it. You know what werewolves are capable of."

"Not you."

He shook his head. "I'm no different to any other of my kind. No," he went on rather sharply, when he saw that she was about to protest again, "I'm sorry, Lily, but you don't know what I'm talking about. You've never seen me in that condition."

There was an awkward silence, in which he avoided her eyes with determination. Nevertheless, he knew that they were damp by the small, choked voice in which she said,"

"Moony ..."

"Please don't call me that."

"Why not? James does. Sirius and Peter do ..."

"That's different. They know what I am. They've seen me at my worst, they have no illusions about me. I ... I don't want you to see me that way."

He looked at her, preparing to say more, but at that moment her expression changed, her lips twisted as though in pain, and his previous concerns flew from his mind.

"Lily?" he said anxiously. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She smiled reassuringly. "Little Prongs is a bit of a fidget, that's all."

"Oh. Does he ... it ... the baby do that often?"

Her smile broadening, Lily said,

"Fairly often. James insists he's practicing Quidditch."

With a chuckle, Remus asked,

"You're assuming it's a boy?"

"Well, I've often said it could just as easily be ballet practice, for all I know ... but yes, I do think it's a boy. Here ..."

She got up, came around the table, and taking his hand without warning, placed it on her bulging stomach.

"What do you think?" she asked.

At first, Remus was too startled to think anything. But she was smiling expectantly at him, so he said,

"I'm ... afraid ... it probably is Quidditch. But you know, girls can play Quidditch, too."

Lily laughed, but just as quickly stopped laughing and said seriously,

"You've been studying hard, Remus. You've taken tests. Whatever you may say, I don't believe you've given up on your dream of being a teacher."

"Then maybe it's time I did," he said quietly, staring distantly at his hand where it still rested, feeling the kicks of his friends' baby.

Lily shook her head. "No, you mustn't. Dreams are there to be followed, Remus. You must become a teacher. I want you to teach this Little Prongs, and any little brothers and sisters he may have."

"You make it sound tempting," Remus said distantly.

Just then, they heard a noise from across the room, and Remus removed his hand as they both turned to look into the fire, where Sirius's head was bobbing.

"Hello," Lily said, crossing the room. "Come in."

Sirius spun for a moment in the fireplace, more of him appearing as he turned, then stepped out, frowning a little.

"Hope I'm not bothering you," he said.

"Of course not," Lily said. "Sit down and join us."

Sirius shook his head. "No thanks. I can't stay, just popped in to see how you were."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"Not really. It was James's idea. He knew he'd be out all day, so he asked me to look in and make sure you were all right. I didn't realise you already had company."

He looked across at Remus, who explained.

"I handed in my resignation this morning."

"Did you? How did Macnair take it?"

"Without question," Remus replied, a furrow appearing on his brow. "I was surprised."

"Most odd," Sirius agreed slowly.

"It was very lucky," Lily put in. "Sirius, won't you at least have a sandwich before you go?"

"No, really. I must be off. See you this evening. Lily ... Remus ..."

As suddenly as he had appeared, Sirius threw a pinch of floo powder onto the fire, stepped back into it and departed. Remus stood.

"I had better be going, too."

"What, you're deserting me as well? What am I supposed to do with myself all day?"

"Enjoy the peace and quiet. Call your mother, call Alice ... I'm sure you'll think of something." He stepped towards the fireplace. "See you this evening, Lily."

* * *

The End of a Family

Peter was just coming down the stairs at Slytherin's Rock when the front doors opened and the three Death Eaters returned from their morning's work.

"You, boy," Rosier said, waving him over. "Hang this up for me."

He threw his cloak at Peter, who just managed to catch it. Lothian swept past him without a word. The last man, Dolohov, looked down his own cloak, examining the stains that covered it, and said with an unpleasant grin,

"I think I vill keep mine on for a while."

Peter tried not to ask himself whose blood - for he was sure that was what had caused the stains - was on Dolohov's cloak, but went to the closet to hang up Rosier's. Lothian, meanwhile, proceeded along a corridor and knocked on a door, entering when a woman's voice called out.

The Lestranges and Augustus Snape were seated around a table, talking. It was to the latter that the tall, dark man addressed himself.

"I believe this will interest you," he said, handing the other the letter he had found on Josie's desk.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Sirius asked Frank.

After his return from the Potters' house, he had found his fellow auror waiting at Moody's. Frank had insisted that Sirius come with him at once.

"It's not far," was all Frank would say now. "Just around the corner."

"Round the ..." Sirius examined his surroundings and stopped in his tracks. Frank stopped, too, a little further on.

"What are we doing here?" Sirius asked heavily. Frank walked slowly back to him.

"There's been an attack. It happened this morning. The Death Eaters blasted down the door of a house ..."

"Whose house?" Sirius asked, but began to walk on, more hurriedly now, before Frank had a chance to answer him.

By the time Frank caught up with him again, Sirius no longer needed an answer. He could see for himself what house had been attacked. It was Josephine's. Hesitantly, Frank reached for Sirius's shoulder. Sirius brushed him away and crossed the street quickly, passing straight through the remains of the front door frame.

A group of people were standing, crouching or kneeling around the mangled remains of a woman at the foot of the stairs. They glanced towards Sirius as he entered, followed by Frank, and Benjy Fenwick came towards them.

"What happened to her?" Frank asked.

"Hit by a combination of hexes," Benjy replied. "She must have put up a good fight."

"Judging from the wreckage, yes," Frank agreed, looking around at the devastation that had been caused. He glanced once more at the body, and winced. "I don't think I even want to know what combination of hexes would cause that."

Benjy nodded. "Moody reckons she survived quite a lot of them, too, before they killed her."

"Are there any more bodies?" Sirius asked hoarsely.

"One up there on the landing," Benjy informed him, pointing. "And another one inside that room. Moody's in there now."

Sirius began climbing the stairs, Frank still just behind him. The body of Josephine's father lay at an awkward angle against the door, the eyes open and staring, the back twisted, blood covering his face and congealing around a wound to his chest. Sirius stepped over the dead man, while Frank crouched to close his eyes. In the room beyond, Alastor Moody was bending over a figure in the desk chair. He looked up as Sirius, and then Frank walked in. His expression was grim.

Sirius stepped past him without a word and looked down at the huddled body. There was no blood here, and Sirius felt oddly grateful for that. He held out an unsteady hand and touched the white skin of Josie's cheek, but said nothing. Downstairs, there was a murmur of voices. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Sirius knew that it was James long before his friend walked into the room, slowed down and came to stand by his side. James stood there for a long moment. Then he said,

"Sirius, I'm so sorry."

Sirius shook his head. "It's not like there was anything between us ..."

His voice sounded strange, a little higher than usual, and much less commanding. James brought his hand to rest on Sirius's shoulder.

"It doesn't matter what there was or wasn't between you," he said gently. "Even the loss of a friend can be more painful than anyone can imagine."

"They had no right ..." Sirius said fiercely. "She was no danger to them. She couldn't have fought them if she'd tried. She was completely defenceless."

"Her father tried to defend her, by the looks of it."

"But I didn't, James, and I should have done. I told her it would be all right. I said I'd look after her."

"Sirius, this isn't your fault," James said firmly. "She was a squib, her father openly opposed the Death Eaters, they were bound to ...

"She was pregnant," Sirius said abruptly, silencing James for a startled moment in which his mouth hung open very unflatteringly.

"She ... what?" James stammered. "I mean ... who ... whose ..."

Sirius looked at him, and gave a dry laugh. "There's no need to look quite so shocked, James. It wasn't mine."

"Of course not," James said indignantly, though he did look just a little embarassed. "So then ... Snape?"

He spoke the name quietly, and somewhat incredulously. Sirius nodded tightly. Then, with clenched fists, he said,

"What if he did it, James? What if he found out, and he killed her?"

"No one would kill his own child, Sirius. Be reasonable."

"Reasonable?!" Sirius flared briefly, then calmed himself once more with a few deep breaths.

He turned away, trying to hide his face, but it was futile in the presence of his best friend, as futile as it was that evening when, back at Godric's Hollow, Lily greeted him with more warmth than usual and refrained from teasing him or arguing with him all evening.

* * *

Iris sat at her dressing table, watching her reflection in the mirror while she combed her hair, noticing more than ever the streaks of silver that were beginning to creep in amongst the fair, the dark rims of her eyes and the lines on her face. She cleaned the brush as she always did, and gave a sigh. She remembered the days when her reflection had brought her pleasure, not sorrow, when she had smiled at herself and enjoyed the feel of her own, soft hair, and been proud of her pale skin and rosy cheeks. But the rose had faded, along with her smiles, more and more each year, and her once joyful spirit had crumbled.

Once upon a time, she had had hopes, dreams of a life filled with joy and happiness, of a handful of children clinging to her skirts, of playing and laughing with them, looking up at a husband who smiled back at her, who gave her both love and respect and never caused her a moment's grief. These dreams had been shattered, one by one, and her heart had broken along with them, into a multitude of little pieces that sometimes regretted their capacity to keep beating so disconnectedly, and their continued ability to feel misery, despair ... even love.

"What are you thinking, Iris?"

Iris was so startled she almost cried out. She had been staring so intently at the mirror that she had no longer seen what it reflected, that her husband had long since appeared behind her. She sprang to her feet, knocking over the stool she had been sitting on.

"Augustus," she breathed. "I didn't hear you come in."

"That much was obvious," he said. His face was grimly set, his eyes narrowed and his mouth - she felt a renewed shock - was drawn up into what could almost be called a smile.

"W-what is it?" she asked timidly. "What's happened?"

He held up his right hand. Iris stared at the sheet of parchment he held in it.

"What's that?"

Lowering his hand, he held it out to her. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, half expecting him to pounce on her the moment her hand took the parchment from his, but he did not. He watched her as she unfolded it, saw what it was, and gasped,

"Where did you get this?"

"I told you not to write to her any more," was his only reply.

"Where did you get it?" she repeated. His expression was cold, and though he gave her no answer, she knew it already. "No," she whispered. Shaking her head repeatedly, she backed away, staring down at the letter in her hands. "She's dead," she uttered, dismayed. "Dead. An innocent girl ... hardly more than a child. And ... the baby ..."

She looked across at him suddenly. "You killed her!"

"No."

"No? But you would have, wouldn't you? You would have killed her if you had had the chance. Even if you'd known ..."

"I would not have allowed a filthy little squib like her to give birth to my son's impure bastard," he spat.

"His child!" Iris screamed at him, her anguish causing her to forget her terror, preventing her from even considering the consequences of her words. "His helpless, unborn baby!"

"I did not kill her," her husband repeated evenly.

"It doesn't matter who performed the act. You or one of your Death Eater friends, or even your precious master!"

She paused for breath, then suddenly began to laugh, mirthlessly and almost hysterically, holding onto the bedpost.

"Shut up!" Augustus yelled at her, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her.

Iris stopped laughing, but smiled at him with a strange mixture of resignation and triumph gleaming in her eyes.

"You should tell me the name of the Death Eater who killed Josie. I want to thank him. I do believe he has achieved what I have been trying to do for years, but in vain."

"What do you mean?"

"Severus," she said breathlessly. "I wanted Severus to see the error of his ways ... your ways. I couldn't. But now ... He will never serve the man who is responsible for the death of his child."

Augustus took a turn at laughing. "My son is not as sentimental as your vivid imagination likes to paint him, you stupid woman."

"He is my son, too," she said quietly. "Don't make the mistake of forgetting that. You may think you are the one who has raised him, moulded him into a younger copy of yourself. But he is not as heartless as you are. He still has the ability to care about people. He cared about Josie."

"He doesn't even care about you!" her husband said harshly. "You're nothing to him."

"You're wrong," she said, growing calmer with every moment that passed now. "He may not know it himself, but he does care. And one day, perhaps, you will discover that."

"No. I will prove you wrong, you fool. But you won't be here to witness it."

"What are you going to do? Kill me?"

"Aren't you afraid I might?"

Iris considered the question. Then she said slowly,

"I've been afraid for years. Afraid of your anger, afraid of your strength. I've never seen you this angry. I've never been more aware of your strength. But I'm not afraid any more. Why should I be afraid of you killing me? I've not been alive - really alive - since I married you. Go ahead, kill me. I think ... yes, I think I shall welcome the release."

* * *

Severus had not thought of Josephine all day. For the first time in months, his mind had been clear, free of her. And then, he had caught sight of the Evening Prophet. An elderly wizard had been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, reading it, and Severus had recognised the picture of her house. He had snatched the newspaper out of the old man's hand, and handed it back moments later, dumbfounded.

She was dead. Josephine, the only girl he had ever let into his life, was dead. She and her parents had been killed that very morning, the morning of the first day that he had stopped thinking about her. And he had no idea how that made him feel. Of course, he told himself, she had been a squib, and was therefore no great loss. But ... Josephine? Colourful, boisterous, lively Josephine? Dead?

After an hour's walk up and down the deserted Diagon Alley, Severus realised for the first time in his life that he needed to talk to someone. To one particular person, in fact. He made his way home, entered the hall, and found the house dark and quiet.

"Mother!" he called.

There was no answer. He looked for her in the drawing room, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen ... there was no sign of her anywhere. Concluding that she must have gone up to bed, he climbed the stairs, calling again as he went.

"Mother!"

Still no answer. Well, if she was already asleep, he would just have to wake her. But when he burst into the bedroom without stopping to knock, when he directed his impatient gaze towards the bed and saw her lying there, he knew at once that he could not wake her. Nothing would ever wake her again. She lay spread-eagled on the bedspread, one arm hanging limply down the side of the bed.

Severus stood in silence, staring at her body for a long moment and feeling frozen, as though the doorway he had entered through had been a sheet of ice. He was not even aware that he was not alone in the room until his father's voice spoke at his left elbow.

"Isn't it peaceful?"

Severus leapt on the spot, and spun to face the voice.

"W-what?" he stammered.

His father repeated. "Peaceful. This silence. No more arguing, no more complaining, crying, begging ... Just you and me, my son. Free to do whatever our master requires of us."

Severus stared at his father, not knowing what to say, his mind a total blank. His father's face was red and shining, and his eyes glowed with macabre delight as they shifted from Severus's face to the body on the bed.

"I strangled her," he whispered in a voice that quavered with a gloating note. "For the first time in my life, I did something the muggle way." He gave a harsh laugh. "You know, I can almost understand the wretched creatures a little? It is so much more satisfying to kill that way. To feel the pulse under your fingers, strong at first, then weakening. Hands clutching and tearing at your robes and finally going limp."

He walked over to the bed as he spoke and raised Iris's hand, only to let it fall back at her side. He smiled. Slowly he said,

"Your mother was a good-looking woman, Severus. It was part of the reason I agreed to marry her. The other part was her submissiveness. I thought it would be easy to make her accept anything I said, that she would never disagree with me. I was wrong. She was against me every inch of the way, even when it came to you. She didn't want you at first - she didn't want any child of mine. But I had my way. And yet she died claiming her right as a mother over mine as a father. Can you believe that? She actually thought you considered yourself truly her son, that there was some of her in you ... that you would care what happened to her. She always was a fool."

He reached out and took Iris's chin between his fingers, turning her face to him contemplatively, and for some reason, something inside Severus seemed to snap, filling him with revulsion at the man he was watching and what he had done.

"Don't touch her," he said sharply.

Augustus looked up in mild surprise. "It's nothing but a dead body, Severus. That's all."

"She's still my mother," Severus said through gritted teeth.

His father laughed. "Oh, come on, Severus. You can't pretend to care ..."

"Move away from her," Severus said, a faint menace creeping into his voice. He drew his wand without thinking, levelling it at his father.

"What's got into you?" Augustus demanded, stepping slowly back from the bed.

"You killed her."

"It was about time, don't you think?"

"She was my mother."

"So what?"

"I won't have my mother's murderer gloating over her. And I won't have his body found by her side."

"Severus, don't be stupid," his father reprimanded him, his voice rising, at the same time betraying a trace of nervousness.

He began to reach for his wand, but Severus disarmed him with ease. After his initial shock passed, Augustus tried a different tack. He smiled approvingly.

"Very good. I see you have decided to teach me a lesson. I should not underestimate you, I see. You have become a powerful wizard, my son. Perhaps more powerful than I am. And you will not let family sentiment stand in your way ..."

"I have no family sentiment for you," Severus hissed. "Murderer."

"She meant nothing to you," his father insisted. "She was timid and weak, and you were as repulsed by her lack of courage as I was. Don't deny it, Severus, I have seen it in your face. Her weakness disgusted you, and you certainly never loved her, you have never loved anyone - any more than I have. You are far more like me than her."

"That may be true," Severus admitted. "But if it is, then I wish I were more like her. She knew love. She loved me, and it can't have been easy. I owe her revenge."

"Nonsense!"

"Shut up!" Severus raised his wand a little higher. "If you insist on speaking, beg for mercy. I am my mother's son. You never know, I might grant it ..."

"Severus ..."

"Then again," Severus said bitterly, "maybe not ... Avada Kedavra."

His words were followed by a flash of blinding green light. A heartbeat later, his father lay dead on the floor before him. Severus stood motionless, staring down at the man he had just killed. Then he remembered his original purpose in coming into the room. He tried to discern his current feelings, but could not. His mother was dead. His father was dead. But he did not know what their deaths meant to him. He felt ... empty.

Severus lowered his wand and walked up to the bed. He reached for his mother's limp hand and placed it gently on her chest. His voice shook a little as he said,

"Josephine is dead, Mother. I came to tell you that. I meant to talk to you, as you always wanted me to. I ... regret that it was too late. You were always good to me. I wish ... I wish I had heeded your advice, just once. "

He glanced at the second body in the room. "I have killed my father. How do I explain that to the Dark Lord? If I lie, he will know. So, I suppose ... I must tell the truth. But how to explain why I did what I did, when I do not know myself? Mother ..."

He touched her hand once more and said quietly, "I wish you could tell me what to do."

He sat looking at her for a very long time. He did not notice the letter she held crumpled in her other hand.

* * *

Vindictus Lothian hesitated on his way along the passage that led to the Dark Lord's chamber. It was the strong smell of sweat and dried blood that halted him, and he studied the man who stood a few paces away, sniffing the air, with revulsion. Finally he approached and said,

"Good evening, Fenrir."

Fenrir Greyback did not turn, but kept his gaze fixed out the window and merely gave a grunt of acknowledgement and said in his rasping, terrifying voice,

"The full moon is approaching."

"Yes," said Lothian slowly. "Yes, I suppose it must be."

"I am hungry."

Lothian saw the werewolf lick his lips, and shuddered slightly. Aloud he said,

"You should have joined us for dinner."

Greyback's laugh was one of the most unpleasant sounds the other had ever heard. "My hunger is not for shepherd's pie, friend. Unless it were made with real shepherd, that is." He laughed again, greatly amused by his own joke.

Lothian did not answer, but went on his way. He found Voldemort in his chamber as usual, poring over an old book. The Dark Lord looked up as his Death Eater entered.

"Vindictus," he said. "You look troubled."

"It's ... nothing."

"That is not true," Voldemort said accurately.

With a sigh, Lothian admitted, "Fenrir Greyback makes me uneasy, especially now, when the full moon is near."

"Ah," the Dark Lord said with a faint smile. "That. Do not worry, Vindictus. His hunger will soon be sated, I assure you. This full moon will leave him more than satisfied, and our enemies weakened. Peter Pettigrew should also be pleased."

"Pettigrew? What do you mean?"

"He is afraid of being unveiled as a traitor by his so-called friends. But Fenrir has come up with the ideal solution that ought to ensure that, if suspicion is aroused, it will fall in another quarter."

Lothian looked at his master questioningly, but Voldemort said no more.

* * *

At the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow, Remus Lupin also stood watching the waxing moon, but it did not fill him with hunger, only with dread. He did not hear his friends speak his name until James's hand touched his shoulder.

"Come on, Moony," he said amiably. "You won't stop it swelling by staring at it."

"Actually, it seems to grow faster when I watch it," said Remus. "I know it's only my fancy, but it's almost as though I can see it grow."

"And because that makes you so happy, you can't bear to tear yourself away from it, I suppose?" Sirius grunted sarcastically.

Remus smiled faintly. It was good to hear Sirius starting to make jokes again, even if he did so grumpily. He looked around at them all. It was good to see them together, to feel the understanding and sympathy between them all. He turned away from the window, and sat down in the armchair next to Peter's.

"What are you beating us at today, Padfoot?" he asked Sirius.

It was James who answered, though he sounded a little awkward.

"Actually, just one thing ... Lily and I have been thinking ... discussing ... When our child is born, we'll be wanting godparents, and ... well, we've selected Lily's mother and ... Sirius."

Sirius almost choked on his butterbeer, and broke into a fit of coughing. Peter clapped him on the back, as much to congratulate him as to try to alleviate his cough, and Remus said quietly,

"Congratulations, Uncle Sirius."

James began apologetically, "We don't want either of you to think ... I mean ..."

Remus smiled. "Of course. It was always going to be Sirius."

Sirius was still looking bewildered, but betraying the first hint of a smile since Josephine's death. "Godfather? Me?" He stared at Lily. "And you agreed to this?"

She said with a twinkle, "I'm fully resigned to the fact that my child will grow up to be a reckless little rule-breaker anyway. So yes, I agreed to it."

"But it doesn't mean that anyone in this room is free of responsibility," James put in. "All three of you will be our baby's uncles, of course."