Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 43: Beyond Redemption

Divided Loyalty

Everyone showed the strain in the weeks following Bridget's death. James was noticeably graver than before, more determined when he fought, and fiercer in his loyalties and affection. In that, he and Lily were very much alike - neither of them would tolerate much argument between their friends these days, and both insisted that any discord be settled before ways were parted.

"We never know," Lily said when Sirius commented impatiently on this one day, "what word we say to one another might be the last. We've no way of knowing how much time we have left - let's not waste it on trivial arguments. There are far more important things. I would hate it if anything happened to any of you, and the last words we exchanged had been spoken in anger."

The possibility of death seemed to have been brought home to them all by the recent losses. There had been a time when everyone had been aware that this conflict might claim their lives, but no one had really supposed that it would, no one had really expected to die. Now the general mood was a different one - one of waiting for the next tragedy to strike the Order and rob it of one more life, and a little more spirit.

Two of the Order's members, however, did not seem to find that prospect wholly unwelcome. Gordon Gryffindor seemed finally to have succumbed to old age since his daughter's untimely death. He appeared weary, sometimes even frail, and was often distant when spoken to. Cronky the House Elf had approached James about the change that had come over his master, revealing that the old wizard was eating far less than was good for him, and had taken to spending hour upon hour gazing into the Mirror of Erised again. He would not listen to reason when James confronted him on the subject, and so James arranged for the Mirror to be taken away secretly, and gave it to Dumbledore for safekeeping.

Malcolm, meanwhile, often gave the impression that he was carrying his own Mirror of Erised around with him in his soul, and peering into it longingly when his focus was needed elsewhere - or else that he had his own private Dementor that trailed after him like a shadow and refused to let happiness shine through. He had begun to take extreme, sometimes reckless risks whenever he came up against Voldemort's followers, and John had lectured him many times that this was not what Bridget would have wanted for him, and that besides, his apparent disregard for his own safety, arising from his love for a woman who was dead, was causing pain to those still living who loved him - in particular, of course, his sister.

Malcolm had apologised time and again for worrying Faith, for worrying John, for worrying all his friends. But he did not seem quite able to cast off his current depression just yet, and it was all Faith could do to persuade him to let her trim his hair and beard - "Before you start looking like Merlin," as she put it.

Peter Pettigrew watched all of this with ever-growing discomfort. He felt that he had so far been sitting on a fence, unsure which garden to step in, which side had the greener grass. He was sadly beginning to realise that the Order's garden appeared to be withering, while the Death Eaters' seemed to grow more fertile by the day. Dumbledore could insist all he wanted that the Order was not done yet, that they would go on fighting for as long as there was a breath left in them, that they would make a stand ... but Peter was becoming increasingly certain that it would be a last stand. He didn't like it. Whatever he had done for the Dark Lord, he had done out of fear, and while he also feared his friends finding out about it, there was a small part of him that almost wished they would, that they would discover his crime, give him a chance to explain, forgive him, help him to become one of them again ... But now he was beginning to wonder if there would be anyone left to help him before long. The time had come to choose a side - preferably one that would keep him alive. He felt sick to admit it, but there seemed much less than a fifty-fifty chance by now which side that would be.

And so, when Lord Voldemort, as confident and sure of his victory as the Order was currently shaken and insecure, began asking him for additional information, for more than names and addresses, for details, for times and places, Peter provided him with all he wanted, hating himself for doing so, but seeing no way out unless things changed dramatically by some miracle. How he wished for such a miracle, for a turn of the tide, or for the courage his friends had, courage enough to stand against the inevitable and face it with defiance.

"Peter?"

Lily placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he flinched. The Order meeting was over, and everyone was making their way back downstairs. Peter had moved along with the others as if in a dream, and hadn't been aware of Lily coming up beside him.

"Yes?" he muttered, flustered.

"Are you all right?" she asked with concern.

He nodded. "Just thinking about what was said in there," he lied, jerking his head back towards the room they had just left. "Wondering if it will do any good, changing our passwords once a week."

"It's better than keeping the same ones forever and a day, I suppose," Lily replied. "But you're right, of course. The Death Eaters can always catch us out of doors, they don't need to bother with passwords - except for a place like this, or Hogwarts, which is pretty much secure otherwise." She shook her head. "But let's not keep worrying ourselves about that. Will you be very busy this week?"

"Yes, unfortunately. They like to keep us occupied at the Ministry these days."

"You'll come on Friday though, won't you?"

"Friday?"

"Yes. Sirius has suggested a barbecue, if the weather holds. At our place. The Longbottoms are coming, and Remus, and I dare say Sirius will invite one or two other people on the spur of the moment. John's already said he's going to have to work late on Friday, so he and Faith won't be coming, and we're not sure if we'll be able to persuade Malcolm or Gordon, but we're going to keep trying. Will you be able to come?"

"I'll try. What time?"

"Oh, about seven o'clock, I think."

"All right," Peter said as they reached the front door. "See you then."

He let Lily hug him goodbye, and took his leave of the others as well, all the while going over the information she had given him in his mind, memorising it ready for passing it on ... but only if he was asked, he would not volunteer information if he did not have to. But if he did have to, he would have it ready, as much of it as possible, or the Dark Lord would be displeased, and his displeasure was ... not something Peter enjoyed.

* * *

Vindictus Lothian had become a cautious man. Ever since the night he had killed his wife, his situation had been delicate. He supposed it was greatly to his advantage that Tom Riddle had known him since school and trusted him implicitly - or rather, as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to keep him from invading Lothian's mind, anyway, which was enough to allow him to conceal the existence of his son, the son he had not known about until that day, and whom he had already alienated by murdering his mother in front of his eyes.

It was a precarious position, whichever way you looked at it. And there was the problem of Peter Pettigrew. The young man was, as Lothian now knew, one of his son's closest friends. He also knew that Pettigrew was a traitor in the service of Lord Voldemort. Lothian was a Death Eater by choice, he believed in the cause, he wanted a world ruled by wizard kind - pure-blood wizard kind - where Muggles and Squibs and Mudbloods were put in their proper places, serving those who were purer than they.

But he was also a man who had a son, and that meant more to him than he had ever suspected it might, given the circumstances. He did not want his son to come to harm. As yet, Pettigrew had not revealed the true identity of his friend James Potter to the Dark Lord, and Lothian intended to keep it that way. He had taken the opportunity to warn Pettigrew that, should he think of telling Voldemort the truth about James, the Order would learn the truth about him. But this arrangement, while effective so far, did not entirely satisfy Vindictus Lothian. His son was harbouring a spy close to him, and Lothian felt that he ought to be warned ... somehow.

* * *

Warning

Friday turned out to be the ideal day for a barbecue, just the kind of day one expected of June, and not at all the kind of day that seemed destined for disaster. Gordon had proved impossible to persuade to join the party, even when Sirius had insisted that it was partly in memory of Bridget that he had organised it, because she had loved having all her friends around her, and she would have wanted many more such events, if she had lived. That argument had, however, worked reasonably well on Malcolm. That and his sister's nagging.

The only "extra" Sirius had brought along this time was Mary Crimple, who seemed to have made an effort to look even more fetching than ever in her light summery frock, her fair curls tied back into a ponytail, her lips and nails a matching shade of pale pink. It was hard to imagine that this "walking, talking china doll", as Sirius called her, could hold her own against a Death Eater with the best of them, and had done several times. It also came as rather a surprise to some of the party that, rather than exerting her considerable charms on Sirius, she had withdrawn into a corner and played with Harry and Neville for quite a while, until they both exhibited signs of tiredness, and were put to bed by their mothers.

It was then that Remus, sitting quietly on a bench with a glass of pumpkin juice for company, was surprised to be asked whether he minded if she sat with him for a while. He said that he did not, and Mary sat down. She held a glass of red wine in her hand, and turned it thoughtfully round and round, staring at the contents while Remus continued to watch Sirius struggling to get a smile out of his uncle. Finally Mary sighed, and he turned his attention to her. Only now did he notice that, beneath the makeup and the rosy cheeks, she looked quite depressed herself.

"What's the matter?" he asked politely. "Haven't you been enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, it isn't that," she replied. "I have been enjoying myself. Those two little boys are so cute."

"You like children?"

She shrugged. "I never used to be bothered about them, to tell you the truth. But lately ... I don't know, I suppose it's our age."

He gave a small laugh and she looked up quickly from her glass. The surprised look on her face, in turn, surprised him.

"What?" he asked.

"What?" she asked back.

"I just ..." He took a breath and started again, with a twinkle. "You make it sound like we're pushing sixty."

"Well, not that, but ... Time seems so much more important now, and ... when I see other people my age settling down ... with children ... It scares me a bit sometimes. Because I'm ... well ..."

"Alone?"

Mary nodded.

"I'm sure you needn't be if you wanted to."

She gave him a shy smile. "Do I detect a hidden compliment?"

He smiled back. "I suppose so."

"Well, then I don't mind returning it."

Remus's smile faded and he looked away again.

"I'm sorry," Mary said quickly. "I just ... I was only trying to be nice, I wasn't suggesting ..."

"It's all right."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It doesn't matter."

"I ... oh ..."

She got up abruptly and hurried across the lawn, leaving her wine glass on the garden table as she passed. A moment later, Lily emerged from the house, looking troubled. She came straight over to Remus and sat down.

"Did you say something to Mary?" she asked.

"Not much," he answered truthfully.

"You must have said something to her. She passed me in the hall, crying."

"Crying?" he exclaimed. "I'm sure I didn't say anything as bad as that!"

"What did you say to her?"

"She didn't actually get up and leave until I stopped talking, to be honest."

Lily searched his face, but he wasn't forthcoming. She said at last, "I suppose I can guess, to a certain extent. Remus, Mary's in a pretty delicate state, emotionally, at the moment. It isn't all that long ago since Florence was killed, and they were close friends. She's seen a lot. We all have, of course, but without Florence, she's not left with many people to turn to. Neither Alice nor I know her that well, and Sirius has never been all that good a listener."

"I hardly know her at all," Remus pointed out.

"No." Lily sighed. "But she likes you."

"I can't see why she should, I'm hardly her type. She used to like James, at one time."

Lily gave a small grin. "She has good taste." She put her hand on his arm. "Won't you talk to her, Remus?"

"I wouldn't know what to say."

"You'll find something to say, I'm sure. I'm not asking you to ask her out, just be nice to her. Lend a sympathetic ear. Do me a favour? Please?"

He looked at her, and couldn't help but smile. "All right," he said resignedly. "Where did she go?"

* * *

"I must talk to the headmaster," Severus Snape announced without preamble, entering Dumbledore's office briskly.

Dumbledore peered at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles. A few of the portraits of past headmasters adorning the walls made sounds of disapprobation. John turned slightly in his seat, then rose.

"We can talk about this on Monday," he said. "I've still got some packing to do, anyway."

He gave his younger colleague a smile as he passed, which Severus returned with a cold stare. He waited for the door to close, then approached the desk slowly.

"I gather you have urgent news," Dumbledore guessed. "What has happened, Severus?"

"Nothing yet, but I happened to overhear that something is going to happen. Tonight."

"Do you know what and where?"

"It's some ridiculous anniversary. Rabastan Lestrange's thirtieth Muggle killed, or something equally idiotic. They have decided to celebrate it with a little drink and ... entertainment at the Bouncing Banshee."

Dumbledore sighed. "And they are bound to find a fair number of innocent victims there on a Friday night. Very well, I will arrange for some of our friends to be there. I believe there is a small gathering at the Potters' tonight - it looks like their evening's entertainment is about to be cut short. Thank you, Severus."

* * *

"Mary?"

The young Auror wiped her eyes hastily on the back of her hand.

"I'm all right," she said between sniffs. "Really, Remus, I-I'll be back out in a moment."

He closed the kitchen door behind him. "I'm sorry, Mary. There was no harm in what you said, of course."

"You just didn't want me to get my hopes up. I understand that. I appreciate it. But I wasn't really going ... that far. I just wanted a bit of fun. Sometimes it feels good to be admired."

"But you are admired, Mary," he said, puzzled. "Everyone thinks a lot of you."

She laughed humourlessly. "Oh yes, everyone thinks I'm pretty, and clever, and utterly uninteresting." She wiped at another tear. "Except I'm probably not even pretty any more right now. Puffy eyes don't do well for the complexion. I've cried too much lately."

"You've had a lot to cry about, I suppose. Losing your friend ..."

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Remus reached inside his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She took it, dabbed at her eyes, and murmured a thank you.

"I've felt very lonely since Flossie died," she confessed. "She was practically the only friend I had left. I dream about her sometimes. And about Gemma. Only those aren't nice dreams, because I keep seeing her how she looked when I found her, and I wonder what did that to her, and what can have happened to her brother."

"Jeremy?"

"Yes." She looked up. "I didn't know you knew him."

Remus shrugged in what he hoped was a dismissive fashion. "I know of him." He hesitated, then added slowly, "I know that he's ... dead."

"D-dead? How? Why?"

"He was kidnapped by Fenrir Greyback."

Mary drew her breath in sharply. "That monster?" she gasped. "The one who was responsible for what happened at Fencombe?" When Remus nodded, she asked, "Did he ... bite Jeremy?"

"I'm afraid so."

She shook her fair head sadly. "Then I suppose ... he's better off dead."

"Better off dead?" Remus echoed in an oddly constricted tone that startled her slightly. He swallowed and went on, "He hardly deserved to die. He was just a child."

"He deserved the alternative even less. It's one thing for a man like Greyback, who revels in his blood lust, but for an innocent child ... He'd have lived his life by the moon, he'd never have been free of it, never able to be like other children. Can't you imagine what a life he would have led?"

Remus could not remember his mouth ever having been so dry. He tried to think of something to say, but hadn't any words. Mary seemed genuinely sorry for the boy Jeremy's fate, but her words had hurt him, all the same. She couldn't know that, of course. She was saying what she believed to be true, and after all, he couldn't deny that he had thought it himself, at times - particularly in the throes of transformation, when the pain was worst, when he began to feel himself lose control of his own body, his precious mind.

Mary, oblivious to the turmoil she had just evoked with her honest and innocent words, pressed the handkerchief to her eyes again and, to Remus's added discomfort and shock, groped for something to hold onto, and found his arm. She leaned against him and he found himself with no choice but to hold her. After a while, she calmed down and looked up at him, blushing with embarrassment.

She said shyly, "You ... really are very comforting to talk to, Remus. I ..."

But at that very moment, when her blue eyes boring into his were making him feel more uncomfortable than he could remember feeling in his entire life, the fireplace suddenly stuttered and sparked into life, and they jumped apart as their old headmaster's head made an appearance amid the flames.

"Professor!" Remus exclaimed, somewhat flustered.

"Remus, I am glad to catch you so promptly. I'm afraid I have bad news." The headmaster related what Severus had told him, though he left out any mention of his source. "I would like you to tell the others and set out immediately."

"Of course, sir. We'll be there momentarily."

Dumbledore nodded, and vanished. Remus glanced awkwardly at Mary.

She said, "It looks like we'll have to continue this ... conversation ... some other time."

He shook his head. "There won't be another time, Mary. I'm sorry, but it's better this way. You'd be better of trying Sirius, or Peter, or anyone ... not me. And now you had better go home. The party's over."

She gulped, but the hurt in her eyes slowly gave way to a hardened determination.

"I'm an Auror, Remus. I'm not going home. I'm coming along."

* * *

Knock Knock

The lift at the Bouncing Banshee was in motion. It was rather crowded. Remus stood at the back, studying the people around him - Uncle Malcolm, grim as ever; James and Sirius nearest the door, looking determined; Peter glancing this way and that, clearly nervous; Frank sliding his hand into his pocket, presumably gripping his wand; Lily, who had won the coin toss against Alice to determine which of them would be allowed to come, and which would stay at home with the children, and whose eyes Remus avoided so he would not have to explain anything; Mary Crimple, leaning against the wall, looking put out.

The lift stopped with a shudder, and the doors opened to allow them into the ivy-covered courtyard. They passed through among the trees that served as pillars down here, paying little attention to the atmospheric sparkle of myriad twinkling lights. Like the first time they had ever come here, Sirius led the way, tapping the great wooden entrance with his wand. The door swung open to the wail of the banshee.

"Yes?" croaked the voice of the goblin who guarded the door on the other side.

"Here we go again," Sirius sighed, remembering the problems he always had communicating with the creature. He motioned to Remus. "Would you mind, Moony?"

Remus stiffened slightly. Mary frowned at him, and he stepped past her rather quickly. Crouching down in front of the blind old goblin, he asked in a loud voice, "Mr. Bramley? We're here to visit the Bouncing Banshee. Is everything ... all right inside?"

"No, you can't spend all night inside," said Bobbin Bramley. "We close at midnight." He bowed low and let them pass, wishing them a pleasant evening.

They crossed the age line and passed through the bead curtain into the vaulted chamber of the night club. The music was deafening as ever, but the place was nowhere near as crowded as it had once been. Nevertheless, there were a good few people about, though they mostly seemed to move about in small, tight groups. They scanned the cave with their eyes.

"Everything looks peaceful so far," Frank remarked.

"Hm. We'd better split up," said Sirius. "What do you reckon, Malcolm?"

Malcolm, his eyes still on the move as he spoke, said, "Yes, that's the best bet. Try to blend with the crowd, such as it is. James, Lily ..."

"Yes?"

"I suggest you have a dance. Frank and Peter, take up positions near the bar."

"All right."

Malcolm glanced at the other three. There was an awkward moment when no one said anything, then Sirius took Mary by the hand.

"Come on, we'll join James and Lily."

This left Remus standing alone with his uncle, but not for long. A tall young man came purposefully towards them, a cheery smile on his face.

"Hello, Lupin!" he exclaimed, shaking Remus by the hand. "Haven't seen you around for a while, how are you?"

He glanced at the man by Remus's side, and Remus hastily made the introduction.

"Hello, Belby," he said. "This is my uncle, Malcolm Marley. Uncle Malcolm - Damocles Belby. We worked together at the Ministry."

"I see," said Malcolm, shaking the young man's hand and studying him somewhat warily.

"Not very busy here tonight, is it?" Belby commented, looking around. "Still, I suppose it could be worse. I went to the Leaky Cauldron yesterday, it was practically empty ... Oh, nice girl!"

Remus glanced in the direction Belby was looking, and gave a start. The girl Belby had spotted had her back to him at the moment, but Remus would have recognised that brown curly head anywhere. He sighed. Hadn't he had enough problems for one evening? Just then, Heather Woodcock turned around and spotted him. She waved. Remus waved back. Belby turned round and stared at him.

"You know her?"

Malcolm began to move discreetly away, while Heather now came towards them.

"Hello, Remus," she said, then turned to look questioningly at his companion.

Remus made another introduction. He felt very uncomfortable. Why people couldn't leave him alone ... Heather was hardly paying any attention to Belby, who seemed very eager to get to know her better, and he could feel Mary's eyes boring into him from the direction of the dance floor, not to mention reproachful glances from Lily. Honestly, there were times when he thought the world could be so much more peaceful if there weren't girls everywhere you looked. He almost wished the Death Eaters would hurry up and interrupt the peace of the evening ... until they did.

* * *

Faith glanced at the clock on the bedside cabinet. Nine o'clock. It would be a while yet before John got home, he had warned her that he would be late this week. Well, it didn't matter. She would wait for him, all night if she had to. She smiled to herself. Funny how she still loved him so much, after all these years; how she still missed him the minute he was gone, and waited for his return like a schoolgirl excited about her first Valentine's Day date.

Like the schoolgirl she had been on that memorable day in summer when she had run crying up the hill in Hogsmeade after the boy she had half-heartedly been going out with had tried to kiss her - only to find John standing there. It was almost as though he had been waiting for her, except that he had been as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. He had come there, he explained, because he wanted peace and quiet and a place to think. She had come there because she had met him there often during the past months, whenever he could make it on Hogsmeade weekends. They had talked together about home and his father's health.

She remembered his concern at the sight of her tears, and how she had turned away from him while she confessed what had made her cry. She had not wanted him to see in her eyes that what really pained her was nothing to do with that other boy - it was her feelings for John himself. She also remembered him coming up behind her, the warmth of his hands on her shoulders as he turned her around, and her amazement when he had suddenly bent his head to hers and brushed her lips in a first, tender kiss. It still made her blush to think of it.

She glanced at the clock again. Ten past nine. With a sigh, she propped her book up a little higher and searched the page to find the spot she had got up to before pleasant memories had intervened. The candle beside her flickered and caused a shadow to flit momentarily across the opposite wall. Faith caught her breath. For the briefest instant, that shadow had looked like a figure, the figure of a woman holding out her hand ... But that was fanciful. It was only the shadow of the hangings around the four-poster bed, that was all. It was foolish to interpret things into it, and to let her mind play tricks on her, it was her memory that conjured up the whisper of a familiar voice in hear head now, a voice she recognised, although she could hear no words. Memory, imagination, fancy, and wishful thinking. Bridget was gone, it was silly to imagine feeling her presence in the empty house - silly, but oddly comforting, in a way.

Faith shook herself and tried to go back to her book, but she couldn't concentrate. She decided to go downstairs and make herself a cup of tea. Getting out of bed, she pulled her dressing gown on over her night dress and went out into the hall. The sudden impatient knocking on the front door made her jump. Surely it couldn't be John, not yet.

She approached the door and called out, "Who is it?"

The knocking stopped. "Faith, it's me, Sirius. Quick, open the door!"

"Sirius?" she exclaimed, surprised. What was Sirius doing here at this hour, when he was supposed to be at the barbecue in Godric's Hollow? And why did he sound so rushed?

"Get a move on, Faith," he called through the wood, "we haven't got much time. Ask me the question."

"Oh ... who is most on your mind?"

"Bridget," he answered sombrely.

Faith opened the door. Sirius looked dishevelled, his hair was in a tangle and his robes torn in several places. There was a cut above his left eyebrow that was bleeding.

"Good lord!" Faith exclaimed, taking a step back. "What's happened? I thought you were at Lily and James's ..."

"We were," he replied grimly, stepping into the hall.

* * *

Severus Snape was hurrying along the corridor to the headmaster's office for the second time that day.

"Jelly slugs," he spat at the gargoyle, which leapt aside and allowed him onto the moving spiral staircase.

He rapped at the door impatiently, and entered almost before Dumbledore had asked him to.

"Headmaster," he announced, "I have made a mistake."

The blue eyes studied him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"What I warned you about earlier ... The Dark Lord wanted it to reach your ears, though not so soon. He wanted you to find out about it now, so that you would do exactly what you have already done."

"He wanted me to send the others to the Bouncing Banshee? Why?"

"To keep them distracted while his other plan is carried out. 'One by one', Headmaster ... I did warn you ..."

Dumbledore gripped the arms of his chair. "Who?"

* * *

Faith was staring at Sirius, her anxiety growing with every breath.

"What went wrong?" she asked. "Where are the others? Where ... where's Remus?"

Looking pained, he took her by the elbow and turned her towards the stairs. "You'd better go and get dressed," he said quietly.

Faith gave a small cry and turned to look back at him, but what she saw made the questions she wanted to ask stick in her throat. Sirius had left the front door open behind him, and other shapes were moving towards it on the outside, silhouettes blotting out the moonlight.

"Sirius," she breathed, "wha..."

She looked up at him, at the same time trying to free her arm from his grip, but his fingers had closed more tightly by now, and his expression was no longer heavy and sorry, but superior and triumphant. He looked back over his shoulder.

"In you come!" he called.

The shapes that had been waiting outside stepped into the hall. There were three of them, all wearing black hooded robes and masks over their faces that revealed only their eyes.

"Well done, lad," said the first one, the tallest of the three. "You had better leave us now, before anyone notices you're missing."

Sirius gave a nod and let go of Faith's arm. He stepped towards the door.

"W-what?" she stammered. "No! Wait! S-Sirius? Don't go - SIRIUS!"

"Shut up!" spat the second Death Eater, a burly man carrying a large sack, and brought his wand up in her face.

Faith shrank back. The door closed behind the figure of Sirius Black, leaving her alone with these three strangers. Her heart raced with fear.

"What do you want?" she asked timidly.

"When will your husband be home?" the first man asked.

"John?" she gasped, wide-eyed. "Is that why you're here?" She shook her head frantically, backing away even further in horror. "No. No, please ..."

"When will he be home?" the second Death Eater repeated, waving his wand menacingly.

But Faith's voice seemed unable to get past the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Crucio!" the man bellowed, and Faith felt pain erupt in her every nerve, and found her voice again, but only to scream in agony.

"Stop that!" snapped the first Death Eater, and the pain subsided as quickly as it had begun. "Fool," he shot at his companion. "If we don't know when he'll be here, we have to count on him turning up at any moment. The idea is to catch him unawares, remember? We don't want her screams warning him. Now, take her upstairs and have a look around. We'll see what's down here. And take that thing" - he indicated the sack - "with you."

With a grunt, the thickset Death Eater did as he was told. He followed Faith back upstairs and peered into every room, before nodding towards the bedroom.

"This where you were when we arrived?" he demanded, his eyes travelling over her dressing gown.

Faith nodded.

"Then get back in there," he ordered, prodding her with his wand.

She moved slowly - too slowly for his liking, apparently, because he suddenly gave her a shove that sent her sprawling backwards onto the bed. She shrieked.

"Keep it down, up there!" yelled a voice from downstairs.

"Spoilsport," the Death Eater in the bedroom grumbled. He dropped his sack on the floor and said, "You stay up here and keep your mouth shut. Make one murmur or false move, and HE will see to it you never do either again." He pointed at the sack, which to Faith's horror had begun moving. "He's been trained well by the Dark Lord himself to keep guard and not attack, but he hasn't had his dinner yet. So I'd keep really still, if I were you," the man added, then he stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

Faith stared at the writhing sack. The cord that tied it was loose. For a second she thought if she was quick enough, she could hurry over and tie it up - but it was already too late. A flat, orange head with black stripes and slit-like eyes was rising up, a tongue shooting out of its mouth for split seconds every now and then, and soon after it was followed by a second head of the same colour, and then a third, which at once began to hiss continuously. The creature uncoiled its long, black-and-orange body bit by bit, and the eyes of the left head, the one that had appeared first, fixed on Faith where she lay trembling on the bed. She had never seen anything like this in real life before, but she had heard and read enough about it to recognise it for what it was - a Runespoor. She tried to remember more about the creature, but Care of Magical Creatures had never been her strong point. Now, if John were here ...

A cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought. John would be coming home tonight, and there were three Death Eaters in the house, waiting for him. She couldn't let him walk into the trap unawares, she had to do something. If only she had even an ounce of Bridget's courage and ingenuity.

"Of course," she breathed, as an idea struck her suddenly.

She turned her head as far as she could while still keeping an eye on the three heads by the door. The candle was still flickering on the bedside table, she hadn't bothered to extinguish it earlier. If she could get a hold of it, she would at least have a weapon against this beast. The trouble was that she couldn't remember which head was the really dangerous one, the one that held the venom. She was pretty sure it was one of the outside heads, but which one? Well, there was little point in worrying about that now.

Thinking of John, Faith summoned what courage she had and began inching closer to the bedside table. The Runespoor hissed more loudly, and she froze for a second. When its hissing returned to the usual irritating monotone, she extended her hand for the candle. Bit by bit, her fingers came closer to it. At last, they closed around the brass handle. She suppressed a sigh of relief, and brought the candle closer to her just as slowly.

But what to do now?

* * *

In Motion

Alice was breathless. She hadn't had a chance to catch her breath since Dumbledore had called by Floo. He had been urgent and visibly upset, particularly as, so he had quickly explained, his phoenix had just had a burning day and was therefore no earthly use as a beast of burden to bear him to the rescue tonight. Alice had assured him that she would pass the message on as quickly as she could. She had picked up both children and taken them quickly to her in-laws, wasting no time on explanations, merely shoving them both into Richard Longbottom's arms with a promise that he would hear all about it later, and then she had Disapparated again to London.

She was now sprinting across the age line at the Bouncing Banshee, and stepping into the middle of the fight that was going on there, only just ducking in time to evade a hex sent hurling her way. From off to her left, a flash of light flew past her and caught the Death Eater who had aimed at her between the eyes, disorienting him for a few seconds. Remus came up beside her.

"Alice," he panted, "what are you doing here?"

"I've got a message from Dumbledore," she explained hurriedly. "You've got to come, quickly."

"What? Where?"

They dodged another hex, fired back, and saw the Death Eater turn tail and run. Others seemed to be doing the same. The other members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as Mary, Heather and Belby, grouped around them.

"Where's Harry?" Lily demanded at once.

"Safe," said Alice quickly. "Listen, Dumbledore called to tell me all of this was mainly a diversion, to keep everyone distracted from what's really happening tonight."

"What's that?" Sirius asked breathlessly, sending another Death Eater running with a well-aimed jinx.

Alice turned gravely to Remus. "They're at your place."

He gaped at her disbelievingly. It was a good thing the Death Eaters were on the retreat already, because everyone was needing a moment to take in what she had just said. Frank was the first to turn practical again.

"Go," he said. "There's no time to lose. Alice and I can finish up here."

"I'll help you," Belby promised, gripping his wand more firmly and pulling Heather behind him.

"Me too," said Mary. "Go on!"

* * *

Faith had made it all the way to the bedroom window at the back of the house, crawling across the bed little by little. There was a tree just outside, with a branch that ought to be just close enough for her to reach - not that she had ever been much good at tree-climbing, but it was her only chance. The latch was stuck. She set the candle down and fumbled with it, and finally it gave way. Faith pushed the window open with relief, reached down to move the candle out of her way ... and cried out in pain. The Runespoor's right head, no longer hissing, had shot up at just that moment, and its sharp fangs embedded themselves in her left wrist, sending incredible pain shooting up through her entire arm. Faith grabbed the candle with her right hand and jabbed it at the creature, aiming at the right head first. It lunged as though to bite her again, but missed this time. The candle's flame caught the Runespoor at the point where the three heads joined, and the creature hissed and spat loudly in agony, writhing as the flames took hold and engulfed it. A spark caught the curtains, and within seconds the entire window frame was on fire.

Faith backed away, cradling her arm, and fled into the hall, across it, and into Remus's room, where she tore open the window without really knowing where she expected to go from here. As it happened, she received no chance to go anywhere. Footsteps bounded up the stairs and in an instant, a strong pair of hands had grabbed her from behind and pulled her back.

"That was an incredibly foolish thing to do," the tall Death Eater hissed in her ear.

Seconds later, his burly ally appeared in the doorway, his shoulders heaving with rage. He started towards Faith, wand raised and fist balled, but the other stopped him.

"Have you put out the fire?"

"Yes," the man snarled.

"Then stay up here and keep watch."

"What about her?"

"I'll watch her," said the tall man.

He took Faith by the arm roughly and marched her downstairs. The third Death Eater approached from the direction of the kitchen.

"Vat has happened?" he asked in a foreign accent Faith could not place.

"She killed his pet," snapped the other. "Now stay in there and keep watch out the back. I don't want any more surprises."

He led Faith into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. He peered out of the living room window, towards the front of the house, then looked out into the hall. Finally he strode over to the sofa, extended a hand and pulled her left wrist towards him. It was sore and already swelling, the marks where the Runespoor's fangs had penetrated the skin a horrible black-and-blue mess. To Faith's surprise, the man glanced back over his shoulder, then waved his wand over the wound. It stung for a moment, then throbbed dully.

"That won't stop the poison spreading completely," he said quietly, "but it will slow it down."

He dropped her wrist and returned to the hall doorway. Faith drew back her aching arm.

"What's the point?" she asked through gritted teeth. "You're going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"

Slowly, he shook his head and said quickly, but quietly, "I don't want you dead. I want you to take a message to someone for me ... my son."

"Your ... son?" she echoed, then understood. "You're Vindictus Lothian!"

"Shhh!" he warned her. Then he said, "Yes, I am."

"You killed Bridget!"

"I said be quiet!"

She whispered, "Bridget was my friend, as well as my sister-in-law. You murdered her. Broke my brother's heart ..."

"Never mind that now," he urged. "We haven't got much time. I want you to tell my son that I have kept his existence a secret from the Dark Lord, and intend to continue doing so. Also tell him to be careful - there is a spy in the Order of the Phoenix, the last person he would suspect ..."

"I know that," Faith remarked bitterly.

"You know nothing," he hissed, then broke off at the sound of a movement across the hall. He waited until all was quiet once more, then said, "Promise to do this for me, and I'll try to make sure you escape tonight."

"What about John?" she asked fearfully.

He shook his head. "Nothing will save him now."

"You could," Faith ploughed on, desperate. "You could stand beside him, help him ... and earn your son's trust much more than by sending him useless messages. If you help John ..."

"I can't," he said sharply, and turned away.

Faith closed her eyes for a second, partly because of the pain, partly because she needed to think. She opened them again, and as if by a miracle, a hint of a plan presented itself to her. Keeping close watch on Lothian's back, she carefully extended her right hand to reach inside her basket of needlework, which stood on the floor beside the sofa. John had often teased her that this was a strange place to keep a wand, but it was proving useful now. By the time Lothian turned around again, Faith was leaning back on the sofa, her wand tucked carefully up the left sleeve of her dressing gown.

* * *

James made a futile turn on the spot.

"It's no use," he grumbled, "the Anti-Disapparition Jinx is still active."

Malcolm uttered a string of colourful swear words no one had ever heard him use before. They were already several blocks away from the Bouncing Banshee, and still they had not been able to find a spot from which they could Disapparate to the Lupins' cottage. His desperation was evident.

"Well, there's no use hanging about," Lily said shakily. "We've got to keep moving, keep trying. Come on, Remus!"

He seemed as if he was miles away, just standing there looking dazed. Lily and James exchanged a glance, then each seized one of his sleeves and dragged him on. Sirius and Peter were running on ahead, Malcolm close behind. They had to get out of the Anti-Disapparition zone the Death Eaters had imposed before the attack, and fast.

* * *

Lothian was pacing up and down. He stopped at the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs. The burly Death Eater's head appeared in the doorway.

"He's here!" he declared triumphantly.

Faith had not known, until this moment, that one's heart was capable of leaping to the sky and sinking to the floor, both in the same instant. John was here. He was close to her at last, as she longed for him to be, but at the same time he was too close, because every step closer to her brought him nearer to these people who wanted to take him from her for good. She seized her opportunity, and the Death Eaters reacted just a split second too slow.

Outside on the Apparition spot, John looked up sharply when he heard a shout.

* * *

A Hard Choice

Dropping his suitcase and drawing his wand instinctively, John backed into the shadow of the trees. Everything was silent now, so silent that he almost began to doubt he had heard anything at all. He peered at the cottage closely through the gloom. There was a light on in the living room, which was not too unusual. What was unusual was that the window to Remus's bedroom had been left open. Faith never left a window open when she was alone in the house, it made her feel unsafe. Besides, if she was in the living room, as the light seemed to indicate, she would normally be waiting by the window, and he could see no movement there, no movement at all. His heart pounded at the thought of what that might mean.

* * *

Faith was paying for her warning shout. The burly Death Eater, who was still enraged about the loss of his pet, had not hesitated to conjure a gag and ram it roughly into her mouth, and was now holding her back against the wall, making sure no shadow or movement would be seen behind the curtains from outside. The third Death Eater appeared in the doorway.

"Can you two not keep the voman quiet?" he complained in his accented voice.

"She'll be quiet now," Lothian said impatiently. "Get out into the hall and keep alert. If Lupin heard that, he'll be forewarned, and he'll come through that door with his wand at the ready."

"If he comes through it at all," the other man grumbled. "He'd have to be a fool not to go for help first, if he suspects something's up."

Lothian looked at Faith and shook his head. "I don't think he'll risk it."

Faith struggled vainly against the strong arms that held her back. Lothian, unfortunately, was right. Even if her warning had worked, if John had heard her, it was very doubtful that he would do the sensible thing and leave, go and find Malcolm, come back with support ... but she prayed that he would. Her arm was hurting her badly, she could barely breathe past the gag in her mouth, she was surrounded by enemies, but somehow none of that mattered, she wasn't even afraid of them - not for herself, only for John. If only she had not insisted on seeing him so often, if only he had not been coming home tonight, if he had stayed at Hogwarts like the other teachers did, he would have been safe. But he was out there, in the garden, and sooner or later he would enter the house, and then ... the thought alone frightened her more than anything ever had in her whole life, made her feel faint, but she could not afford to pass out now, she had to hold on somehow, hold on and pray ...

* * *

John was circling the house. He kept to the trees around the edge of the clearing, and darted from one trunk to the other until he finally reached the back of the house. He looked up, and froze with shock. The area around the bedroom window was blackened and charred and giving off faint wisps of black smoke. What on earth could have happened here?

But he didn't have time to think about that. What he was seeing convinced him that his worst fears were true, his worst nightmare had come to life. Faith was in danger. He realised what he was about to do was the height of folly, but he couldn't bear the thought of going back, of leaving her on her own. But he must send a message.

He stared at the tree that stood against the back of the house, and concentrated briefly on the message he needed to send. Then he recalled the day he had stood at the altar, with Faith by his side, and the happiness he had felt when they had walked out of the church as man and wife - the happiest memory he had, or would ever have.

"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, and a wisp of silvery smoke shot out of the end of his wand and formed into the shape of a cockerel, which hurried off through the forest in search of the person for whom his message was intended.

Then John turned his attention back to the tree, and began silently removing the protective anti-intruder charms he had put in place himself as he approached it.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the hall was ticking. Faith could hear it, even in the living room. She had always found it a soothing sound until now, but today it seemed to mock her, as though reminding her of every second of their lives that was slipping past, bringing them closer to whatever lay in store tonight. Tick-tock, tick-tock it went, and nothing happened. No other sound was heard. She began to think that maybe her prayer had worked, that John had chosen to be cautious after all, and had gone to get help. Then there was an odd sort of scuffling sound in the hall, a muffled murmur, and a dull thud.

Faith jumped. The Death Eaters exchanged glances. Silence fell again. Lothian stepped close to the hall door and glanced out cautiously. He drew his head back in with an angry exclamation.

"What is it?" the burly man whispered.

"Antonin," Lothian replied. "He's out cold. Lupin must be in the house - must have got in upstairs somehow." He turned back towards the door. "Lupin!" he called.

There was no reply.

"Lupin," he repeated, "you may as well come out. We know you're there. There's no need to make this any harder on yourself than it has to be. We can finish this quickly."

Silence. Only the clock ticked on. Lothian glanced at his comrade, then at Faith. His eyes were cold, and she shivered with fright. The Death Eater jerked his head towards the door. He pulled the gag out of Faith's mouth, and the other gave her a rough shove that sent her stumbling into the hall.

"John!" she cried quickly. "Go! Don't ..."

Her words were cut short as the man who had been holding her back seconds ago raised his wand and barked, "Crucio!" for the second time that night.

The pain was no less terrible than the first time - if anything it was worse, because added to it was the knowledge of what this would be doing to John, but still she could not stop herself screaming.

Upstairs on the landing, hidden from view, John heard her screams of agony and fought with himself, pacing up and down and running his hands through his hair. Up here he had a vantage point, he had a chance ... but he couldn't bear to hear that hideous sound, couldn't bear to stand by and let her suffer. It was so much worse than anything they could do to him.

"Stop it!" he yelled, gripping the banisters convulsively. "For God's sake, stop it!"

"You can stop it, Lupin!" Lothian called out. "Come down and surrender your wand."

"No!" Faith managed between screams. "No ... don't ..."

But it was no use. John simply wasn't capable of turning away as she wanted him to, as he ought to if he had any sense. He hurried down the stairs and threw his wand at the Death Eaters' feet, then he bent down beside Faith and tried to hold her.

"Stop!" he cried desperately as she writhed in his arms. "You've got me, let her go, for pity's sake!"

The curse was lifted. Faith jerked a few more times, then lay still, panting, clutching at John as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

"My love," he whispered, "are you all right?"

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to let them in, it was ..."

"Shhh," he soothed her, kissing her again and stroking her hair.

"Get up!" Lothian ordered.

John sighed heavily. Faith stopped crying and stared, terrified, into his face. He gave her a faint, sad smile, and helped her to her feet. Holding her against him, he looked Lothian in the eye while the other man went to revive their fallen comrade.

"All right," John said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Here I am. I suppose I should have known it would be my turn soon. So what happens now? Do we duel, three against one? Or do you just kill me?"

Faith flinched against him, her fingers closing more tightly around the fabric of his robes, and he kissed the top of her head tenderly.

"Personally," Lothian said, "I prefer a decent duel. I imagine you and I would be quite well matched. But I'm afraid we don't have time for that tonight. You are rather late. Besides, your wife was so unfortunate as to anger my friend over there by burning his pet to a cinder. I trust you saw it upstairs?"

John nodded. He said, "Very well. I won't put up a fight, under one condition."

"You are hardly in a position to make conditions," the foreign Death Eater, the one called Antonin, pointed out angrily, getting unsteadily to his feet.

"Then call it a last request, if you will. Or don't you people believe in that kind of thing?"

"We might occasionally allow a condemned man a hearty meal," said Lothian. "But as I have pointed out, we are short of time."

"I won't hold you up," John replied. "Just promise me you'll let my wife go."

Faith looked up sharply, and shook her head. "No, John. No."

She slid her left hand into his, and looked into his eyes meaningfully as she allowed the wand to slip down her sleeve and touch his palm. He quickly concealed his surprise, but did not take the weapon she was offering him.

Instead he repeated, "Let my wife go, and I won't cause you any trouble."

"I'd say I'll do you a favour and not hand her over to your old pal, Greyback, when we're done with you," the burly Death Eater spat, "but it's too late for that already. She's dying anyway, there's no way either of you will get out of here alive. She may have killed the Runespoor, but it got her first," he finished triumphantly.

John's eyes filled with fear. He glanced anxiously down at Faith, and she gave the faintest of nods.

"When?" he mouthed.

"About half an hour ago," Lothian supplied.

John's eyes met the Death Eater's, then Faith's again. He had seen the charred remains of the Runespoor upstairs, and dreaded something like this, but she had seemed all right ... Half an hour. He made a quick calculation. There was still hope, if she could be sent on her way to St. Mungo's now, but the Death Eaters would never allow that, they would insist on keeping her here at least until the deed was done. There was only one thing he could do to try and save her. His right hand closed around Faith's wand, and he touched her cheek with his left and brought his lips close to hers.

"Get behind me," he whispered into the kiss.

"That's enough!" the Death Eater called Antonin bellowed.

He raised his wand, but John was quicker. Performing a shield charm with Faith's wand, he pulled her round behind him and backed towards the kitchen. The burly Death Eater fired a curse, but John blocked that, too, and the next instant Faith had pulled him into the kitchen after her, and he slammed the door and protected it with a quick series of charms, then rammed a chair under the handle and shoved the table up against it for good measure.

"John!" Faith cried.

He quickly covered the distance between them and clutched her to him once more. She was trembling all over, but then so was he, and his voice shook as he said in a hollow tone, "Please, God, tell me this is a nightmare!"

Faith looked up at him in alarm. His desperate expression startled her.

"John?" she whispered. "What ...?"

He avoided her eyes, and examined her arm quickly. "The poison's been slowed," he said in wonder.

"That was Lothian," she told him. "He's the tall one. He said he didn't want me dead. He wants me to give James a message from him."

Hope was rekindled in her husband's eyes. "Then he'll help you get away."

She shook her head. "He said he wouldn't help you ..."

"That's not important, as long as you're safe."

"John!"

"Shhh."

There was a murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which shone in many different colours as the Death Eaters worked to weaken the charms protecting it.

"I'll go round the back," said one voice.

"Was that Lothian?" John asked eagerly.

"I-I don't know."

John glanced from the hall door to the back door, and began guiding her towards the latter.

"Let's hope it is. Go out the back way, then go round to the Apparition spot. Go straight to St. Mungo's and don't let them hold you up at reception, go up to the first floor and show them your arm."

"But John ..."

She extricated herself from his firm hand that was propelling her towards the way out, and turned back to stare at him intently. Behind John, the door into the hall was beginning to splinter and give way. His eyes were tender and over bright.

"Don't look back, my love," he said in a choked voice, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Faith shook her head frantically. "No. No, John, I won't go. Not without you."

She clutched at his sleeve. He took her hand and gently peeled her fingers off the fabric, then pressed it to his lips.

"I swore I would die before I let any harm come to you," John said softly. "I meant that."

"But I don't want you to die for me," Faith said miserably. "I never wanted that."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified.

He gasped, "For God's sake, Faith, don't look at me like that. It breaks my heart!"

"What about mine, John?"

He held her to him once more at that, and kissed her more tenderly than ever. Then, reluctantly, he drew back and turned her around so she wouldn't see his face.

"Don't look back," he repeated. "Take care, my love."

* * *

Making a Stand

Behind her, Faith heard the kitchen door give way with one final crash. She heard John as he flung himself through it, and she heard shouts and incantations, furniture crashing, and flashes of coloured light appeared at the edge of her vision, blurred by tears. She took a first, unsteady step towards the back door, and quickly forced herself to take another. Her legs felt leaden, and her chest burned as if it was on fire. She had no idea whether these were effects of the poison, or her grief. And then there was a flash of purple, and she heard John scream with pain. She flinched as if someone had struck her. The back door opened and Lothian stepped in. His eyes stared at her from behind the mask for a second, then he stood aside, leaving the doorway open for her.

Faith bit her lip. She knew this was what John wanted, for her to escape. But just as she was getting ready to walk on, he screamed again, and she could stand it no longer. She whirled round, even as Lothian lunged to grab her arm and hold her back, and flew across the kitchen and into the hall. She was just in time to see John stumble, and to lodge her shoulder under his arm as he sank to his knees. Her wand fell from his hand with a clutter, and Faith stared at him in horror. He was bleeding profusely. The Death Eater who faced him, the one called Antonin, raised his wand arm high.

"Stop!" Faith screamed desperately. "Can't you see you've done enough?!"

Lothian reached the hall behind her and assessed the situation quickly. The burly Death Eater was struggling to stand, propped up against the wall, bent over and holding his leg. Antonin was bleeding from the shoulder and seemed shaky on his feet, his wand hand wavering.

"Let's go," Lothian said. "Time's running short."

"They're not dead yet," the burly Death Eater panted.

"As good as," Lothian insisted. "Come on."

With a shrug, Antonin bent to pick up Faith's wand where John had dropped it. He snapped it in half and threw it back on the ground, then he and his burly fellow turned and followed Lothian out through the kitchen. Faith heard one of them utter an incantation she had not heard before, and a moment later they walked away, and were soon gone. All went quiet. All except John's horribly ragged breathing.

"John, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I tried to do what you wanted, but I couldn't, I couldn't."

Shaking his head, John said weakly, "I'm glad you're here."

He raised his eyes to her face, and painfully lifted his free hand to wipe a tear off her cheek, though it left a smear of blood. Then he doubled over with a sudden cry, and she helped him to lie down.

"I-I'll get some bandages."

"No," he objected. "No, my love. You really must go now ... to St. Mungo's."

She nodded. "I'll go," she said, stroking his cheek. "I'll go and get help."

* * *

John's Patronus reached Malcolm just as Sirius announced that he thought they must be far enough from the Banshee to Disapparate now. They tried it, and found he was correct. They Apparated to the cottage, but once there, all six of them froze at the sight that met their eyes. Malcolm gasped. Lily clutched James's arm, and glanced sideways at Remus. He was very pale and quiet, staring unblinkingly at the Dark Mark where it hovered just above his home. As they watched, still too stunned to move, the front door was opened from the inside and a figure staggered out, stumbling against the door frame.

"It's Faith - come on!" yelled Sirius, the first to recover and start moving again.

The others followed his example, and Malcolm reached his sister first. She practically fell into his arms.

"Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed, clinging onto him.

"Faith, what ...?" Malcolm began, looking down at the blood that covered her hands and arms, now being smeared onto his sleeves. "You're bleeding!"

"It's not mine," she said tearfully, and looked back over her shoulder.

For a second, Malcolm stared at her. Then he pushed her towards Remus, shoved everyone out of his way and burst into the hall. A cry of horror gave the others a hint of what he must have found. They followed him in warily, to find him kneeling on the floor beside John, desperately running his wand tip over his friend's wounds, trying to heal them as best he could, but clearly losing the battle. John's hand closed over his wrist.

"Malcolm," he said gently. "Stop. It's ... too late ..."

"No," Malcolm said with a half-sob, clutching the hand that held his wrist.

Remus helped his mother down beside Malcolm, and knelt next to her himself, one arm still supporting her. His father's face turned towards them both, and he held out his other hand. Remus clasped it.

"Remus," John whispered, as though preparing to say something, give him some message. "Remus ..." He winced and broke off.

Remus just squeezed the hand he held, he didn't seem able to say anything. John's head turned, and he looked at his wife. A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Faith."

He seemed to be straining, to try to lift his head. She bent towards him, but at that very moment, he stiffened with a grunt, then relaxed, his head rolling gently against Malcolm's knee.

"John!" Faith cried brokenly. "John! No ..." Her voice rose to an almost hysterical wail. "Nooo!"

Remus dropped his father's hand abruptly, and sat back, just staring. James and Lily crouched on either side of Faith and got her to her feet slowly, trying to calm her down. Suddenly she gave a huge gasp and writhed alarmingly between them, before suddenly falling against James, unconscious. Malcolm's head snapped up.

"What is it?"

He was on his feet in a second, and took Faith from James, picking her up in his arms. Sirius was first to spot the hideous mark on her arm.

"Oh hell!" he exclaimed, pointing. "What's that?!"

Malcolm looked down. He swore under his breath. "It's a Runespoor bite," he said. "I've got to get her to St. Mungo's."

He ran with Faith in his arms back out to the Apparition spot. A second later, he was gone. The others stood in the hall, none of them saying a word, no one moving, for rather a long time.

Then Remus said in a dry, strangely calm voice, "That Runespoor could still be about here somewhere. I'll check the bedrooms."

His friends exchanged glances. James excused himself quietly, and followed Remus up the stairs. Peter, who had been leaning heavily against the wall, straightened up. His hand over his mouth, looking distinctly sick, he edged through the shattered remains of the kitchen door. Lily turned her gaze back to John. She crouched down next to him and gently, her hand shaking, she closed his eyes. She stood again, slowly, and backed away.

"Poor Faith," she murmured. "I don't think I've ever heard anything so heart-rending."

"You weren't there when Bridget ... when Malcolm found her ... dead, he ..." Sirius broke off.

Lily shuddered. "I don't think I could bear it. If anything happened to James, and I saw it happen."

She gave a sudden sob. Sirius came forward and put his arm around her, and she shed a few tears on his shoulder.

After a while he said, "We ought to clean up here a bit, before Remus comes back down." He shook his head heavily. "You wonder sometimes, don't you, why something as terrible as this happens to people as decent as he was."

"This shouldn't happen to anyone," Lily said quietly, "whoever they are."

Upstairs, Remus and James had long since found the dead Runespoor on the floor by the window. Remus had then dropped down on the end of the bed and stared silently at the floorboards. James came to sit beside him. He hesitated, then put one hand on his friend's shoulder. Neither of them spoke at all. James felt it would be out of place for him to be the one to break the silence, and Remus did not seem inclined to say anything. In fact, he was so still that James grew worried, and was relieved when Lily and Sirius joined them at last.

"We've sent Peter to let the others know what's happened," Sirius told them.

Lily added, "We thought it would be better if he didn't linger here, he's badly shaken. Frank and Alice will take care of him when he gets back to the Banshee. Hadn't we better go to St. Mungo's?"

Remus looked at her blankly.

"We should go and find out how your mother is," Lily said gently, taking his hand.

He took a deep breath. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "Yes, of course."

* * *

Malcolm had Apparated straight to St. Mungo's hospital. It was a mark of the times that no one was shocked, or even particularly surprised by the sudden appearance of a man with blood-stained hands, carrying an unconscious woman in his arms. He had made straight for the stairs without pausing to join the queue at the reception desk, and hurried up to the first floor as fast as he could. Bursting into the ward, he walked up to two Healers who were sipping coffee and chattering animatedly to one another.

"Hey," he snapped breathlessly, "you two - I need your help here!"

"Excuse me," one of them, the older Healer, a short and plump woman with her hair in a black bun retorted, turning round with one hand on her hip. "If you don't mind, we're talking here. Politeness costs no..."

"I could cost a life!" Malcolm yelled. "I've brought you a patient here, bitten by a Runespoor, and if you two don't get your act together and do something about it ..."

"Well, I ..."

"If she dies, I swear you'll wish you'd run into Lord Voldemort himself by the time I'm done with you!" he roared. "MOVE!"

The older Healer stared at him incredulously. Clearly, she was not accustomed to being yelled at like this. The other Healer, a freckle-faced trainee, became flustered, but nonetheless led Malcolm to a bed where he deposited Faith gently. Her colleague, meanwhile, had regained a little of her composure and began summoning assistance.

"When was your ... er ..."

"Sister," Malcolm provided.

"That's right. When exactly was she bitten?" the trainee asked.

He shook his head distractedly. "I'm not sure."

The older Healer sighed, as if commiserating the lack of sensible information one received from distraught relations these days. "Well, do you at least know when she passed out?"

"About five minutes ago," he supplied, "at the most. I-I brought her straight here. Will she ..." - he gulped - "will she be all right?"

"That remains to be seen," said the Healer.

The trainee said more kindly, "We'll be sure to do our best, sir."

Malcolm nodded. "O-of course. Thank you, I'll ... wait outside."

He stumbled out of the ward. A stitch in his side was only just starting to cause him pain, and he only now began to feel the stinging of a cut on his chin which he had sustained during the fight at the Banshee. He was short of breath, and his heart was thumping like a great drum. Once outside, he leaned against the wall, throwing his head back. Then he slowly slid down it until he was sitting on the ground, and let out a cry. He drew his knees up in front of him and wrapped his arms around them, sobbing and not caring who saw or heard him. In fact, no one seemed to notice him at all. Healers rushed past him in both directions, some almost tripping over him, but no one offered any kind of comfort or assistance.

By the time the other four joined him, however, he seemed to have cried himself dry for the present.

"How's Mum?" Remus asked.

"I don't know," Malcolm replied distractedly. "I-I haven't been back in since the Healers took over."

Just then, the older Healer made an appearance. She eyed the newcomers questioningly.

"My nephew," Malcolm explained, "and his friends. H-how ...?"

"I'm sorry to say the poison has spread quite far."

"Can't you just shove a bezoar down her throat, or something?" Sirius suggested. "That's supposed to cure anything."

The Healer gave him a reproachful look. "We do know what we're doing, young man. However, a bezoar happens to be precisely what we are considering."

"Considering?" Sirius echoed. "If you think it'll help, get on with it."

"It's not that simple. In her present condition, Mrs. ... er ..."

"Lupin," said James.

"Mrs. Lupin's whole body is tense," the Healer went on. "She could choke on the bezoar, and even if she doesn't, I'm afraid the effects of the Runespoor poison will not be wholly negated."

"And if you don't try with the bezoar?" Remus asked quietly.

The Healer looked uncomfortable. "She would have another hour, two at most. She probably wouldn't even regain consciousness."

"Then what are you hanging about for? Give it to her!" Sirius said heatedly.

But the Healer seemed to be waiting for Remus to say something. When he did not, Malcolm spoke up. "I brought my sister here to be saved, not so you could stand around debating the odds of some rock saving her life or finishing her off!"

"It is your nephew's consent we need."

"Consent? To save her life?"

"To attempt a remedy that might only kill her faster, and will almost certainly not effect a complete cure."

Everyone looked at Remus, expecting him to agree at once, but to their amazement, he hesitated. He opened his mouth once as though to speak, then closed it again, shook his head, and paced up and down.

"Remus," Malcolm said urgently, "what are you waiting for?"

"For God's sake, Moony," Sirius chimed in. "She's your mother!"

Remus closed his eyes for a second, then nodded slowly. "Go ahead," he said quietly.

* * *

No Return

Faith woke to find her left arm throbbing , and the lights painfully bright when she opened her eyes. She felt a hand touch hers and turned her head to look up at her brother's anxious face.

"M-Malcolm," she stammered faintly. Then added tremulously, "Where's John?"

He swallowed and glanced over his shoulder. Remus came up beside him. He sat on his mother's bedside and said very gently, "Dad's dead, Mum. Don't you remember?"

Her eyes filled with tears. She murmured, "I thought ... I ... remembered ... but I did so hope it was just a bad dream."

"I'm afraid not."

She started to cry, and Remus quickly pulled her into his arms to comfort her. Malcolm dropped back onto his chair.

When Faith had calmed down a little, James asked her, "Can you tell us what happened? I mean, the house was protected, how could they get in?"

Faith sat back and looked his way, and suddenly stiffened.

"You?" she exclaimed. "W-what are you doing here? How - how dare you show your face after what you've done, you ..."

"Mum," Remus said, taking her hand in an attempt to calm her. "What is it, what are you talking about?"

"Ask him!" she cried, pointing past James. "He knows what happened."

Remus turned his head, as did Malcolm, Lily and James. Sirius was staring back at Faith blankly.

"Me?" he said incredulously. "What's it got to do with me?"

Faith turned to Remus. "He let them in," she said urgently. "He knocked on the door and gave me his password and everything, he made me think something had happened to you, and then he let them in!"

"What?! No, I never ..." Sirius protested, but James cut across him.

Endeavouring to keep his voice mild and calm, he said reasonably, "Faith, it can't have been Sirius, he was with us the whole evening. Ask anyone - ask Remus. Sirius was never out of our sight."

Remus thought for a moment, as though trying to remember, then he nodded. "It's true," he said, puzzled. "Sirius was with us the whole time."

His mother shook her head . "It was Sirius I let in, I'm sure of it." She turned to James. "Your father confirmed it. Vindictus Lothian. He wanted me to tell you to be careful. He said someone in the Order is a spy, and he said it was the last person you'd suspect."

"If someone posed as me to get to you, and through you to John," Sirius said grimly, "then it's true, there must be a traitor among us. But I swear it wasn't me you saw tonight, Faith. I'll swear it on anything you like."

"Polyjuice Potion?" Lily guessed. "Did someone use Polyjuice Potion, do you think? Yes, that must be it. But who would do such a thing? John is ... was liked. I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt him."

"If there is a traitor in the Order," Malcolm said slowly, "and it looks like there must be, then it doesn't matter who their treason hurts, not individually. To whoever betrayed him, John was just another enemy. But by God, if I ever find out who did this to him ..."

"Dad didn't believe in revenge," Remus reminded him.

His uncle looked up, amazed. "Is that all you can say? Your father was betrayed, Remus, by someone he trusted! Someone he considered a friend, someone he would willingly have given his life to protect! You can't tell me that person doesn't deserve the worst punishment imaginable!"

"Do any of us get what we deserve - or deserve what we get?"

* * *

Peter knew that he was green in the face. He had been sick, several times over. First in the Lupins' kitchen, and then again, later on, when he had got home. He walked into the Dark Lord's presence and did not even have the energy to bow. Lord Voldemort smiled contentedly.

"You have done well, Peter," he said appreciatively. "You have proved your allegiance to me properly at last. The information you provided was accurate, and with the help of the sample of Sirius Black's hair, our young comrade was able to hoodwink Mrs. Lupin into believing she was admitting a friend. I am a little disappointed that the Runespoor's bite did not kill her, but still - she will be protesting to everyone that it was Sirius Black who betrayed her husband to his death, and that is all to our advantage. Now, next, I want you to ..."

"I won't," Peter found himself saying.

Voldemort looked up sharply. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said I-I won't," the young man spoke up, starting to stammer as tears began to flood down his face. "I won't do it. Never again. I-I don't care what you do to me. J-John Lupin was ... a good man. He was a-always friendly, always k-kind to me. He n-never hurt anyone and y-you ... you killed him!"

The Dark Lord's smile broadened. "No," he said in barely more than a whisper. "Oh no, Peter. I did not kill him. I couldn't have killed him ... if it hadn't been for you. He was safe at Hogwarts, safe in his home, but you ... you made it unsafe. You betrayed him, you gave us the key, and you are responsible for his death. What will you do if you no longer wish to serve me, Peter? Will you go to your friends and confess? Rely on their big hearts? Do you really think they'll forgive you? Your friend Sirius Black ... will he forgive you for using him like that? And what about Remus Lupin? Do you think it likely that he will pat you on the back and say all is well, when your treason has so recently caused the death of his so kind, so friendly, so good father? I think not."

Peter gulped. Voldemort was right. He had betrayed John Lupin to his death. He, and only he, had made it possible for the Death Eaters to proceed as they had done, to force their way into his home, threaten and injure his wife, and murder him in that brutal way. He had killed John, and the others would never forgive him for that. He had reached the point where there was no more sitting on the fence, no more hope of going back. He had become, once and for all, a Death Eater.