Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Disclaimer: This chapter contains some lines of dialogue from the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling, which are of course not my own.

Part 45: Fidelius

Ancient Charms

In the early hours of October 25th, three owls departed together from the Owlery at Hogwarts. Lily Potter shivered as she watched them go, despite the cloak that she was wearing.

"You're cold," said James, "we'd better go back inside."

"I'm not cold," she replied, despite the fact that he could see her breath as it left her mouth. "I'm frightened."

He put his arms around her, and she snuggled against him.

"They killed your grandfather," Lily murmured, disbelief in her voice. "I didn't think it was possible. I thought he was imperturbable, like - like Dumbledore."

"Even Dumbledore isn't invincible."

"And Cronky, and the other House Elves that died ..." Lily went on, following her own train of thought. "It seems incredible. And your father ..."

"He's no loss."

"But he did try to protect you. Malcolm said that he died denying you were his son."

"Probably just trying to save his skin."

"I don't think so." Lily shivered again. "Everyone's dying, James. Our side is so much weaker now. How much longer do you think we can hold out?"

"As long as we have to," he said firmly. "We've got to. They're not going to win, we will stop them, somehow. You and me, and Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail. We won't let them win."

Lily hesitated. Then, very quietly, she asked, "James, who do you think betrayed your grandfather?"

"What do you mean?"

She stood back a little and said, "They got in through the back door, the secret door. They must have known the password. Someone told it to them. Someone gave them the means to enter the Hall, they could never have got in any other way. The same someone provided the Death Eaters with Sirius's password to the Lupins' house, and betrayed John. And much as I hate the thought, it must have been someone close to us."

"None of our friends would ever betray anyone!" James protested hotly. "You're not suggesting that one of them - Sirius, Peter or Remus ... No way!"

"Don't be angry, James," she pleaded. "I'm just trying to be realistic. We've got to look out for ourselves now, and we can't be too careful."

"I know, but suspecting our best friends is ridiculous! I would trust any one of those three with my life!"

"So would I, honestly, I can't believe any of them would betray us, but ... but then someone else must have overheard you telling Remus the password, so that leaves us with the rest of the Order to suspect, and that prospect isn't much more pleasing, is it? Who was near you when you told him?"

He shook his head irritably. "I can't remember, all right?! Anyone might have been, I don't know!"

"There's no need to shout, James."

"I'm sorry," he said, taking her into his arms once more. "I'm sorry, Lily, it's just ... I'm scared too."

They remained standing, arms around each other, in the Owlery for a long time, as though their presence could will the three owls to fly faster, and reach their destinations quicker. The first owl woke Peter Pettigrew an hour early for breakfast. The second turned plenty of heads by swooping low through the streets of London until it found Sirius Black just getting on his motorbike in the back yard before lunch. The third nearly startled Faith Lupin into dropping the Victoria sponge cake she was carrying to the kitchen table for afternoon tea.

At half past five that evening, Remus Lupin Apparated in Hogsmeade and entered the Three Broomsticks, where he ordered half a pint of mead and looked round for an empty table near the window. It was not difficult to find one. As Madam Rosmerta lamented volubly when she brought him his drink, business was bad these days. It was exactly six o'clock when the deafening roar of an engine announced Sirius's arrival, and the headlights of his motorbike briefly illuminated the village. Remus had already paid for his mead, and refastening his travelling cloak, stepped out onto the street just as Peter Apparated a few feet away.

"R-Remus, Sirius ... w-what's going on?" he stammered nervously.

"I don't know. I got an owl this morning telling me to meet you two here at six."

"So did I. Did you read the Daily Prophet?" Remus asked.

Sirius and Peter both nodded gravely.

"Couldn't believe it when I read about the old man. And Lothian. I was going to call on James, I was just getting on my bike, in fact, but then his owl arrived. Suppose we'd better make our way up to the castle?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Black, Lupin, Pettigrew," Professor McGonagall greeted them at the gate. Her expression was anxious. "The headmaster is expecting you."

She led them up to the great doors, across the entrance hall and all the way up to the seventh floor.

"Fudge Flies," she told the gargoyle, and it obliged by allowing the four of them to pass into Albus Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, waiting for them. Malcolm was there, too, sitting on one of several extra chairs that had been placed in the room.

"Ah, here you are," said Dumbledore when they entered. "Minerva, if you would be good enough to let the Potters know ..."

"Certainly."

McGonagall departed, but a few minutes later, the door opened again.

"James!"

The relief was plain on Sirius's face as he thumped his best friend on the shoulder. Lily, meanwhile, after leaving Harry's pram in front of the shelf on which the Sorting Hat rested, embraced them all in turn, rather more tightly than usual. James led her to a chair, and she kept hold of his hand when she sat down beside him. When everyone was seated, six faces turned expectantly to Dumbledore.

"By now," he began, "I assume you all know what has happened."

"You mean about James's grandfather, and Lothian? Yes, we know."

"Good. It will obviate the necessity for lengthy explanations, of which I am glad, because time is, I believe, of the essence. A way must be found to protect James and Lily, and of course Harry, before Lord Voldemort returns from a journey abroad that I understand he has taken."

"Abroad? What, is he going to get himself a tan?" Sirius joked half-heartedly.

Dumbledore smiled. "I doubt it. Yet more supporters, would be my guess, his influence expands daily. In any case, it will not be long before he seeks to eliminate the last two heirs of Godric Gryffindor. We must make good use of the little time we have to do what we can."

"Can't they just stay here?" Sirius suggested. "Surely there's nowhere safer than Hogwarts!"

"We thought about that," Malcolm replied. "But there are too many people about here. For all we know, the Death Eaters might already have a spy within the castle. Not that I suspect anyone in particular, but even the students have taken sides."

"And not only that," went on James, "but Lily and I agreed we wouldn't want to put the school and everyone in it at risk, which we'd be doing by staying here. No, we've got to go back to Godric's Hollow."

"We could form a guard," Sirius suggested. "The more wands, the better. You wouldn't have much privacy that way, of course, but it's safety first in this case. We'll put some traps round the house, too, and extra protective spells."

"Yes," Remus chimed in, "the Ancient Egyptian wizards came up with a few good charms that ought to help. I think there's a book in the Restricted Section ..."

"There isn't," Lily interrupted him, "because I've already got it. Your dad talked Madam Pince into letting him take it off school grounds, and he gave it to me not long before he died. I've been studying it ever since."

"Find anything useful?"

"Yes, she did indeed," said Dumbledore. "An ancient charm that the Pharaohs used to protect their greatest treasures. A charm that ensured that only one person would know of the treasure's location, and if that one person died, then the knowledge required to uncover the secret would die with them. There is some dispute, however, as to whether being named as Keeper of Secrets to a Pharaoh's treasure was really as great an honour as it was made out to be."

"Why?"

"Because many Pharaohs were so keen to protect their treasures from being ransacked that they would make some poor slave the Keeper, and then kill them before they got the chance to pass the secret on to anyone else," Lily explained.

Peter shuddered. "And this charm is still known today?"

"Yes. It's been refined somewhat over the centuries, though. Now, the charm is broken if the originator kills the Keeper himself, to prevent the same thing from being done as the Egyptians did in the early days. It's called the Fidelius Charm. Basically, it involves concealing a secret within the Secret-Keeper's soul."

"How does it work?" Sirius asked Lily.

"Well, take our case, for instance. The secret we'd want to protect is our location - James's, and mine, and Harry's. But it's not possible to generalise, so the charm has to be applied not to the three of us, but to the place where we'll be hiding. I've read it all up, and I should be able to perform the spell myself. We have to be in the house when we do it. Then, I'll perform the incantation that will lock the knowledge of our house in the Secret-Keeper's soul. From that moment on, though James and I will obviously still know where our house is, because we'll be in it when the spell is cast, no one else will. Even people who knew it before will forget, and even if they were standing in front of our house, they wouldn't be able to see it, let alone get in."

"That sounds completely foolproof," Remus said thoughtfully. "But it can't be, can it?"

Lily shook her head. "It only remains foolproof for as long as the Secret-Keeper keeps the secret. Once the charm has been sealed, the Secret-Keeper's the only one who can pass it on - to as many people as they like, and to anyone they like, which of course weakens the protection. The Secret-Keeper could tell the secret to Voldemort himself, and then the protection would be useless. Not only that, but if the Secret-Keeper dies, everyone they have told the secret in turn becomes a Secret-Keeper, which multiplies Voldemort's chances of finding someone they can break, even if the original Secret-Keeper remained firm."

James and Sirius exchanged gloomy glances. Peter looked confused.

"Sorry, but ... am I the only one who still doesn't quite understand ...?"

"It is complex magic," Dumbledore agreed. "But the best option we have, I believe." He turned to James and Lily. "As I have told you, it would be my pleasure to act as your Secret-Keeper myself."

"No," James said sharply. "We want Sirius." He looked imploringly at his friend. "You will do it, won't you?"

Dumbledore frowned and interrupted before Sirius could answer, "Forgive me, James, but I do not think you quite understand ..."

"Yes, I do," James interrupted him in turn. "The Secret-Keeper has to be someone we trust absolutely, someone we believe would sooner suffer torture and death than betray us, right?"

"Correct."

"There isn't anyone in this room whom we wouldn't trust to do just that," James affirmed emphatically. "But we'd rather it was Sirius. He can go into hiding too, and we'll all be safe."

Remus caught Lily's eye at that moment. She looked as sad as he had ever seen her, and terribly pale and anxious, and yet she still incredibly found the time and the strength to shoot him what was, unmistakably, an apologetic smile.

He responded to it by saying, perhaps just with the tiniest pinch of bitterness that he could not quite suppress, "Naturally. It's only right, if Sirius is willing."

Lily looked grateful for his response. Sirius got to his feet and announced formally, "Of course I'll do it. The Death Eaters, even Voldemort himself, can threaten and torture me all they want. I'd never betray you, James, you know that."

There was a long moment where his grey eyes met James's hazel ones, and they exchanged a glance that felt weighted down with fate.

"Well," Dumbledore said discontentedly, "if you insist, I cannot change your minds for you, of course. But my offer stands, and I urge you to consider it."

He seemed to look at Lily in particular, evidently realising that she was the one more likely to be reasoned with than James, who was so adamant that his best friend must be Secret-Keeper that it made him clearly unwilling to consider any other alternative.

But Lily merely said quietly, her voice heavy with emotion, "We should do it tomorrow, I think, if that's all right with you, Sirius. Remus, Peter, you come too, I'd like us all to be together one more time before the charm's performed, because we won't be seeing you after that for I don't know how long."

Dumbledore's office emptied slowly after that, as Sirius, Peter and Remus left to return home, James accompanying them as far as the main doors, and Malcolm returned to his own office. Lily, however, hung back.

"You wanted to speak to me about something else?" she prompted Dumbledore. "You said last night ..."

The headmaster nodded. He produced a small gilded box and a tiny silver key, which he placed in the lock without turning it. There was a tinkling sound, as of tiny bells, and when it had stopped Dumbledore opened the box. Intrigued, Lily came closer, to see a small orb filled with a kind of mist resting on dark velvet padding.

"What is it?"

"A device which belonged to James's grandfather, and which I was so forward as to take from his house after his death - a globe that can see anywhere in the world, at any given moment, to the whereabouts of one particular person to whom this orb has a connection, one that is forged by a spell," he told her. "Gordon applied its magic to Bridget when she was an infant, and it allowed him to keep an eye on her whenever she left him, when she came here, after her marriage ... and all through her adult life. I do not believe she ever knew. Its spell was broken, of course, when Bridget died. And now the orb lies waiting for a new person to watch."

He did not go on, but waited. Lily looked from him to the orb, and then to Harry's pram.

"You want to use it on Harry?"

"With your permission," Dumbledore said. "It would allow me to see that he is all right. Not while the Fidelius Charm holds, of course, but in case ..."

"In case anything should happen to go wrong? In case the charm is broken and something happens to James and me? But then he would still have Sirius, and Remus, and Peter. It seems unfair to give anyone a window into his life. I mean - you would be able to spy on him whenever you wanted, and he would never know."

"I promise you I would not use it unless it were absolutely necessary. And no-one but the two of us need ever know."

"But someone might find it. In the wrong hands, it could be dangerous to him."

"I will take steps to assure its safety if I die, I promise."

Lily thought about it for a very long moment. Finally, she nodded.

"Very well. How does it work?"

"Give me Harry for a moment ..."

* * *

Change of Plan

Not one of them slept much at all that night. Peter lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling unblinking, his heart racing in his chest. The Dark Lord was out of the country, and before he returned, the Potters would have taken steps to hide themselves away from him completely. They would be out of it, out of the fighting, out of the danger. Sirius, too, would find some place to hide after the charm had been performed. He was grateful. Grateful that they would be out of harm's way by the time the Dark Lord returned, and that he would not know where they might be found. And yet ... with the Potters and Sirius in hiding, where did that leave him?

The Dark Lord would return expecting him to know where his victims were, but he would be waiting empty-handed. He could point them to Remus, perhaps, to buy himself some time - he shrugged off the twinge of guilt he felt at the thought; Remus was braver than he was, stronger, he would face up all right, and maybe by the time they had finished with him, the Dark Lord would be convinced that the Potters were too well concealed to find them and that he, Peter, could not help him, and he could get away with it, without being pressed to give information he did not have, free to go on with his life.

Free? He could almost have laughed at the word, if he hadn't felt so bitter. He was not free, he would never be free. James and Lily would be free, tucked safely away in their little house. Sirius would be free, in hiding on his own somewhere, living it rough and probably having the time of his life into the bargain. Remus - again he suppressed that pang of guilt - would probably be beyond caring. But Peter would remain, a servant of the Dark Lord constantly surrounded by enemies on all sides, with no way out, one way or the other, because he could not go back to the side of the Order, not after he had betrayed John and Gordon, and yet he would never be fully accepted among the Death Eaters either, particularly not once the Dark Lord discovered that he had known all along who James was, and had kept his silence, just as Lothian had done ...

* * *

"Remus?"

Faith was calling for the third or fourth time now, she thought, but still he had not replied. She put aside her knitting needles and flexed the fingers of both hands to loosen her stiff joints, frowning. She had never had this problem with her hands before, but now they became stiff very quickly, and often they ached, or she would wake up with pins and needles all the way up her arms in the morning. These were, she knew, effects of the Runespoor venom in her blood stream.

She got to her feet and went out into the hall, glancing as she did every time at the rug that covered the stained floorboards, and called her son's name again. The house was quiet. It was then that she noticed that Remus's travelling cloak was not on the hanger. Puzzled, she took down her own and pulled it around her. She tucked John's wand in the inside pocket just in case, and stepped out into the front garden.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the little clearing, compared to the cheery brightness of the hall, but then she could make out Remus's form, standing just on the edge of the grounds, slumped against a tree with his back to her.

"Remus!" she called.

He did not turn around immediately, although the change in posture revealed that he had heard her. She had come halfway across the clearing towards him by the time he turned, and offered her a wan smile.

"Still up?" he said. "I thought you'd be getting ready for bed."

"And I thought you would have let me know before you went wandering off in the dark. You had me worried."

"I'm sorry."

He held out his arm, and she came to him and leaned against him, his arm around her shoulder. He began to walk further into the forest, and neither of them spoke for a very long time, until they had come out on the hillside, where Faith sank wearily onto a rock. Remus took out his wand and directed it at the cold stone. There was a flash of light and it grew warmer. Faith smiled up at her son.

"Thank you."

He did not return the smile, but stood with his back to her again, peering out into the semi-darkness.

"Won't you tell me what's bothering you?"

She was actually quite surprised that he did not pretend there was nothing the matter, or say that he did not wish to talk about it, but answered her readily, telling her what had been said at Hogwarts that evening, or at least the gist of it, as much as was possible without going into too many details concerning the Fidelius Charm, merely outlining its effects.

"So," Faith mulled it over, "that means that once this charm has been performed, no-one but Sirius will be able to visit the Potters?"

"Exactly."

"But it won't be forever, will it? Surely it can only be temporary."

"It will be for however long it takes - until it's safe for them to resurface. Until then, Peter and I will be on our own."

"Oh Remus," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

"I feel terribly guilty," he admitted. "It's selfish of me, I know, but ... as much as I want them to be safe, I - I can't bear the thought of not seeing them again for who knows how long."

"Seeing them?" his mother asked softly. "Or seeing her?"

He rounded on her with alarming suddenness. "What?!"

Her expression was sad. "I'm so sorry, Remus," she repeated. "If only Greyback had never met your father ..."

"Greyback? Dad? Whatever has that got to do with anything?"

"I was just thinking, if it weren't for your misfortune ..."

"It would have changed nothing in this case," Remus said firmly. "Nothing at all."

"But you ..."

"No, Mum. Some things are better left unsaid. James is the best friend I have, and I would die before I let anything ... anything stand in the way of our friendship."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You deserve so much better, sweetheart."

Remus shook his head. "You mustn't think like that, Mum. I feel very fortunate to have such great friends, and such a good family." He came closer and put his arms around her. "Don't cry, Mum," he said quietly. "Please don't cry."

But she did cry, nonetheless. Remus held her all the time, feeling quite glad that she could not see his face. The truth was that he was not, at this moment, thinking only of Lily as she seemed to think he was. He would miss them both, and little Harry, and he was only just beginning to realise how much. He would miss James. His first friend, and his best friend. James the loyal, James the brave. The noble stag, the staunchest friend a man could have.

*But it won't be forever,* he told himself. *It won't be forever ...*

* * *

"Where have you been?" James asked when Lily returned to the Room of Requirement.

"I was talking to Dumbledore," she said, gently bending to take Harry out of his pram and lay him in the cot that the Room had provided.

"About anything special?"

She shook her head.

"I want to talk to him too," James said, laying back and crossing his arms behind his head as he watched her. "I've decided to leave Grandfather's cloak with him. You never know, the Order might need it, and we certainly won't."

Lily nodded tightly, fussing a little too long over Harry's blanket. Leaning up again, James looked at her seriously.

"Hey ..."

She turned and answered the appeal by coming towards him, and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He took her hand.

"It's going to be all right, Lily," he told her. "We'll perform the charm tomorrow, and then we'll be safe. Sirius will protect us. You trust him, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but ..."

"But?"

"I wish we didn't have to do something so drastic. Cutting ourselves off from all our other friends. Remus and Peter, and the Longbottoms, and Faith and Malcolm and Dumbledore and - oh, everyone!"

"We can write to them, Lily," said James eagerly, reaching up to wipe away the tear that was now making its way down her cheek. "We can write to them. Look, I don't like the idea any more than you do. You know me, I'd rather be out there fighting with our friends, rather than hiding away while they risk their necks - but we've got to do this, for Harry's sake, if nothing else."

"I know, I know, I just ... I just wish so much that we didn't have to," she sobbed, and suddenly threw her arms around his neck to cry on his shoulder.

* * *

Sirius was drinking Firewhisky in the dark. He was tossing it down one glass at a time, but the bottle was becoming empty alarmingly fast. His thoughts were confused. He kept coming back to the same thing: There was a traitor in the Order, and that traitor had given old Gordon's password to the Death Eaters, who had used it to get in and kill him. And all of this had happened the night after James had given the password to Remus.

Another glass of Firewhisky went down his throat as he thought that, and he refilled it with an unsteady hand. He was making a fool of himself again, surely. As Lily had said, whenever he had voiced suspicions of Remus in the past, they had proved to be unfounded, and he had been left looking like an idiot. He did not like to feel an idiot. Maybe that was why there had always been more suspicions, maybe he had been trying to cover up his own folly the first time round by proving to others, and to himself, that he had been right all along. It was crazy. Completely crazy, because when it came down to it, he didn't want to be right, he never had. Remus was just ... different than he was, he didn't think or feel - and he certainly didn't act - in the same way. Except for the day of the funeral. That had been strange, not like Remus at all, that violent outburst, the gleam of anger in his eye, the shadow of the wolf Sirius had imagined seeing for a moment.

That thought hurt more than any other. The thought that all of this, all the doubts he had ever had about Remus, might after all boil down to nothing more than plain, old-fashioned prejudice. Surely he was above that! Surely he knew better than to judge someone he called one of his closest friends the way others would judge him. *The spy must be Remus, because he's a werewolf?* The thought made him disgusted with himself, and yet ... and yet, being a werewolf gave Remus no reason to love the rest of the wizarding world. He would have every right to be bitter and angry. As bitter and as angry as he had been at his own grandmother, a frail old woman who had just lost her only son.

The trouble with Moony was that you never could tell what he was thinking. Anything might be going on behind that calm exterior. Sirius had always, through all their disagreements, been happy to be proven wrong, and to discover that apparently, what was going on inside Remus was not what he had feared. But hadn't it been one too many times?

And what about Lily? Whatever the appearance, and whatever Remus said, Sirius remained convinced that Remus was in love with her. In which case, he would not want her to be harmed. But James? If James were to die, and maybe Harry as well, who was James's son ... Could that be a reason? A reason to betray a venerable old wizard, and one of his closest friends? It might be, for someone otherwise starved of affection, and the attention of women. And after all, whenever Sirius had tried to help him in that respect, Remus had rebuffed it. Why? Was he really so keen to condemn himself to loneliness for the sake of protecting every woman with whom he came into contact? Or was it because he had already found a woman he wanted? Could he be willing to pay such a price - his friend, his brother, for the woman he loved?

Sirius drank some more Firewhisky. Part of him despised himself for allowing these thoughts to cloud his brain, but he was desperate, desperate to give James all the protection he could. James was all he had. He loved Lily, too, and his little godson. They must be kept safe, and in order to keep them so, he could not afford to wear blinkers because he was afraid to accept certain possibilities. It was better to be too careful than too trusting. Remus might well be innocent. He hoped it was so. But he could not rely on it. And if he were guilty ...

Sirius shrugged it off. There was time enough to think about that, to follow up on his suspicions and, hopefully, disprove them to himself when he had dealt with the problem at hand. The enemy was clever, very clever. So the idea was to be even cleverer. A false trail, Sirius decided, was indicated. A false trail that had already been laid. Himself as the Secret-Keeper. All Voldemort's efforts concentrated on him, looking for him, capturing him, torturing him, possibly eventually killing him - but it would be no use to him. A grim smile spread across his face. The problem, of course, would be selling the idea to James and Lily. They would not like it, but it was necessary. It was safer that way. He made up his mind to start preparing first thing the next day.

* * *

A Hearty Meal

The next evening, Sirius, Remus and Peter met in Hogsmeade as before and made their way up to the castle together, but no-one spoke, each was lost in his own thoughts. Lily, James and little Harry were waiting for them in the headmaster's office again, together with Dumbledore and Malcolm.

"How are we getting back from here to Godric's Hollow?" Peter asked. "We can't Disapparate from inside Hogwarts, can we? Do we use the Floo network?"

"Certainly not," said Dumbledore. "And I would advise you all to cease using it immediately. Voldemort will have told his supporters within the Ministry to keep a very sharp lookout for Lily and James. No. I have set up a Portkey to leave in ..." - he checked his watch - "... four minutes exactly."

Malcolm, who had been leaning against the desk, straightened up and said solemnly, "Well, James ... Lily ... I wish you all the best. I hope to God this will work."

"It will," Lily said, and she hugged him warmly.

He held out his hand to James, who after just clasping it at first, then embraced his stepfather, too.

"Thanks for everything, Malcolm," he said.

"Two minutes," Dumbledore pointed out. "You had better get ready."

Lily took Harry out of his pram and held him to her. James took hold of the pram itself, but they were taking no chances of losing the baby halfway to Godric's Hollow. Remus, Peter and Sirius picked up the rest of the luggage.

"So where's this Portkey?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore reached behind his desk and produced a child's seaside bucket. It was dark blue, with a picture of a bright red grinning crab painted on the side. Despite the gravity of the occasion, they couldn't help but smile as they all reached out and touched it. The headmaster's blue eyes flickered from Lily, to James, to Harry.

"Goodbye," he said softly, "and good luck. My thoughts go with you."

And then, in a flash, they had left Dumbledore's office and Dumbledore himself, the phoenix on its perch, Malcolm and all of Hogwarts behind them, to land seconds later on the doorstep of the Potters' own cottage in Godric's Hollow, pram, luggage and all. James hastened to the door and unlocked it with his wand, and they all entered quickly, before they could be spotted. Once inside, Lily drew her wand, too, and began performing several protective charms intended to last until the Fidelius Charm was performed. An awkward silence followed, as they all stood in the dark hallway, no-one speaking or moving, for a long moment. Finally, with a wave of his wand, James turned on the lights and looked round at his friends' faces, all equally sombre.

"Come on," he said, "let's go through into the living room. I don't know about anyone else, but I could do with a glass of Firewhisky."

There was a murmur of agreement from Sirius and Peter. Lily, however, announced that she would begin getting dinner ready, and Remus offered his assistance. So, leaving Harry to go and play with his godfather, they went into the kitchen, and Lily at once became very busy fetching ingredients from cupboards.

She was so busy, in fact, that it was unnatural, and Remus began, "Lily ..."

But she cut him short. "Remus, I don't want to talk about anything right now. At least, not about this. I - I hate the thought of being cut off from all our friends, probably as much as you hate the thought of being cut off from us, but I'm trying not to think about it at the moment, so please, can we just ... can we get on with making dinner and pretend nothing's happened? Please?"

She shot him a pleading glance, and he nodded. "I can't promise I'll be very good at it, but I'm willing to try ... which apron's mine, the pink one?"

Lily smiled gratefully at him. "Whichever one you like."

He helped her prepare all the ingredients and then, firmly dismissed from the kitchen, joined the other three in the living room.

"Moony!" James exclaimed cheerfully, taking him by the elbow and leading him to a seat. "Sit down, come on ... Have a glass of Firewhisky ... There. I'd like to propose a toast."

He raised his glass, and the other three held theirs at the ready expectantly.

"To Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. May we always be the marauders we were, and may we always be together - even when we're apart." He grinned. "And may Hogwarts never forget us. To us, my friends!"

They all drank the toast solemnly.

Then, on a sudden impulse, Sirius said, "I have a toast, too." He too raised his glass. "To the downfall of Lord Voldemort, the ruin of the Death Eaters, and may his spy rot in hell!"

Secretly, he watched Remus as he proposed this toast, but Remus drank it as readily as the first, and Sirius was half reassured, half disconcerted. He shrugged off the thought. By his right elbow, unnoticed, Peter took a very small, hesitant sip from his glass.

They let Harry fly his toy broomstick around the living room until dinner was ready, and under the influence of the Firewhisky, Lily's cooking and several glasses of elf-made wine, their spirits lifted until they had almost forgotten that this would be their last meal together for quite some time. But when the time came to part, no amount of wine could cheer them. Sirius hung back, and Remus watched as Peter embraced first Lily, then James. Then it was his own turn. He wanted to say something, something meaningful for them to remember during their time apart, but there was a lump so large in his throat that he could barely speak at all, and fine words simply would not come.

"James," he managed. "I ... I ..."

"Moony," James said quickly, and pulled him into a crushing hug. "Take care, old friend."

"Yes ... you too."

Lily's eyes were damp. Remus gulped as he faced her, and could find even less to say. He savoured the softness and the sweet scent of her when she embraced him, and squeezed her back as tightly as he dared. She kissed his cheek with a sad little smile.

"We'll write," she said, slipping her arm around her husband's waist and leaning against him. "I promise."

Remus gave a tight little nod, and finally faced Sirius, who had meanwhile stepped forward and hugged Peter goodbye.

"You'll be going into hiding immediately?" he asked.

"Yes," Sirius replied. "Look out for yourself, Remus."

"And you." The moment dragged on, becoming awkward. At last, Remus took the initiative, and hugged Sirius, too.

Then he and Peter said goodbye to little Harry and stepped out into the night, looking back over their shoulders to wave all the way down the garden path, and along the street, until the waving figures of the two dark-haired young men, and the red-haired woman between them, had turned into tiny specks in the distance before vanishing completely.

"Will I see you this week?" Remus asked hoarsely as they stopped safely outside the lamplight, in the lane that led up to the Hall.

"I don't think so, the Ministry's so busy these days, I don't think even Saturday will be much better. Sunday, perhaps?"

"Sounds good. Why don't you come for dinner?"

"Love to."

"Good. See you then," Remus finished, patting Peter on the shoulder. Then he Disapparated.

* * *

Harry was yawning widely, and immediately snuggled comfortably against his father's shoulder as James picked him up and said, "I'll put Harry to bed. You don't need me for the charm anyway, do you?"

"No. As long as you're in the house, it only takes two of us - me to perform the charm and Sirius as the Secret-Keeper."

James nodded, and left them alone together. Lily led the way back into the living room and drew her wand purposefully. She directed it at Sirius.

"Are you ready?"

"No," he replied.

Amazed, Lily's wand arm dropped. "What? But I thought ..."

"It's not that I'm not willing," he told her quickly. "I am. I'm more than willing. But I've been thinking about this, and I've come to the conclusion that it's too simple."

"Simple?" she echoed somewhat crossly. "Didn't you understand a word of what Dumbledore and I were saying yesterday evening? This isn't simple, it's some of the most complex magic in existence, it's taken centuries and longer to perfect. I have been up studying the charm for nights on end, there's nothing simple about it, Sirius."

He raised his hands defensively. "I'm not talking about the magic involved, I'm talking about the plan as a whole. Let's face it, Lily, everyone's going to know that if James picked anyone as Secret-Keeper, it'd be me. No, don't scowl," he went on, when she did, "you know it's true. I'm not being conceited or anything, it's just the simple truth."

"So you're scared, is that it?"

"No, of course not! I would never betray the three of you, or any of my friends, and I'm perfectly willing to be the target for Voldemort and his cronies. That's my point. I've worked out a plan ..."

"We've got a perfectly good plan already."

"Mine is better. You see, my plan means that they'll be coming after me, but they'll be barking up the wrong tree, because I won't even be able to tell them what they want to know. Your secret will be perfectly safe, because they'll never suspect who's really keeping it."

"What are you driving at? Who ...?"

"Wormtail," Sirius announced. "He's going to be your Secret-Keeper. It's the perfect solution! They won't be expecting you to use him, they'll come after me, and your secret will be doubly secure because if, by some stroke of bad luck, they should get Peter, he'll have told me the secret and you'll still be safe, because I will have become your new Secret-Keeper. It makes perfect sense. I ..." - he hesitated, then decided he might as well admit it - "I've already arranged it all with Peter. He'll be back in half an hour."

At this, Lily stared at him open-mouthed. "You ... what? You arranged this with him, secretly, without telling us? And y-you made him pretend to leave, but come back?"

"Yes," Sirius said firmly, steeling himself for the inevitable question.

"For heaven's sake, Sirius, why?"

"I have my reasons," he said stiffly. "We can't be too careful."

"Too careful? Too careful of what?" When he did not reply, merely looked defiant, she began to understand, and her cheeks flushed with anger. "Or should I be asking 'too careful of whom'?"

"This isn't the time to be too trusting," he retorted.

Lily shook her head irritably. "I don't believe this. Not again, Sirius!"

"Think, Lily! For once, stop seeing what you want to see, and think! Gordon wasn't killed until Remus had learned the password!"

"In the presence of nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix!" she yelled. "It may have been foolish to tell him with all those others present, I'll admit that, but if you think it was Remus who betrayed Gordon, if you think he could possibly be working for the enemy ... they killed his father, Sirius!"

"He didn't seem terribly cut up about it though, did he? And he almost let Faith die ..."

"Not terribly cut up? You have no idea how he felt! He was heartbroken! You just don't understand him!"

"But you do, I suppose?"

"Yes, I think so!"

"Do you, Lily?" Sirius asked, his voice suddenly dropping to a quiet hiss so that James, whose footsteps he could hear on the landing upstairs, would not hear. "Do you really understand him? Do you know he's in love with you?"

Lily's jaw dropped. From red, her cheeks turned to white. She sank into an arm chair, and there was a moment's tense silence. Then she nodded, staring at the floor.

"Of course I know," she whispered. "Or at least, I have suspected it for a long time. I didn't think anyone else had realised. I - I've been trying not to think about it, because it makes me sad. I've tried to be kind ..."

"I think that's half the problem. If you hadn't been, it might never have happened."

Sirius crouched down and touched her arm, inviting her to look at him. She did so.

"I'm not blaming you, Lily. But it's happened, and it means a risk."

"No," she said quietly. "No, it doesn't. I stick by what I said, Sirius, and this makes no difference. You don't understand Remus. I hope you will, some day, because whenever you've got over your differences in the past, you two have been good friends, and I think you could be even better, I think you could be great friends - if only you'd see past the fact that he just isn't like you, and never will be. But you and he have one thing in common, if nothing else: you both feel very deeply, you're passionate."

Sirius snorted, but she went on.

"You may scoff, but it's true. He loves James every bit as much as you do, Sirius. And if you think that John's death made little difference to him, then you hardly know him at all! You told me to think. Well, now I'm telling you. Think, Sirius. For once, try to stop seeing everything only from your own point of view, stop allowing circumstances and a lack of understanding to blind you, and remember why you became friends in the first place. Think about what you know about Remus, not what you suspect."

Sirius did not reply. For one thing, he could think of nothing to answer her with. For another, he could now hear James coming down the stairs to join them. With an abrupt movement, he stood up again and strode away a few paces. James entered the room.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. "I thought I heard raised voices, but then everything went quiet. Is it done?"

"Not yet," Lily said tightly. "Sirius has suggested a change of plan."

"Oh?"

"Yes." She gave her husband the basics of the idea.

"What?" he exclaimed. "No! Sirius, we agreed we'd do it this way, we agreed you'd be Secret-Keeper! You know I don't want anyone else but you!"

"I know, but this is for my own peace of mind, James," Sirius said urgently. "I may be paranoid, but I just feel we can't be careful enough. I want to feel you're safe, really safe. I couldn't bear anything happening to you, so I want to be sure. Please, Prongs! I'll look out for Peter, I promise, I've already found him a hiding place, and I'll take care of him as best I can, and it'll be me they come after anyway, he'll be quite safe and, most importantly, so will you."

The grey eyes that faced him where so desperate that James finally relented.

"Fine, have it your own way. You'll have to let Moony know, though, or he'll be wondering why Peter's vanished, too."

The look that Sirius and Lily exchanged did not escape him.

"What is this?" James demanded suspiciously.

"Sirius," Lily told him sharply, "seems to be under the impression that Remus is the most likely suspect for Voldemort's spy in the Order."

James gaped at her, and then at Sirius. Suddenly he burst out laughing.

"Oh, come off it, Padfoot!" he cried when he was able to stop, taking a seat on the sofa and clutching his side. "You've come up with some pretty crazy theories in the past, but this takes the biscuit! Moony's still not got over eating the cat when he was a kid, and you think he could live with allying himself with people who'd murder babies in their beds if they thought they weren't pure-blood? He's not even pure-blood himself, do you honestly think Voldemort would want a half-blood, half-breed for a Death Eater?"

"What about Greyback?"

James's hilarity faded. "You're not comparing Remus to Greyback, I hope," he said quietly. "God, Sirius, I thought we were above such prejudices. I thought that's what the Marauders were all about."

"I haven't forgotten what we went through for him."

"And you think he has? Then you're a fool," James said harshly.

"I hope I am," Sirius said sincerely. "I swear, James, I hope I am. But I'd rather be too cautious than live to regret it. I won't take any risks, not with your life."

There was a knock at the front door.

"That'll be Peter."

* * *

Farewell

Despite being cooped up in one place, unable to go any further than a few paces out of the back door, it was a few days before Lily got around to writing any letters. Her letter to Remus reached him Thursday morning over breakfast, and he opened it eagerly, reading the words she had penned in her neat, elegant writing.

Dear Remus,

I'm sorry for not writing sooner, but you wouldn't believe how busy we've found ourselves, now that we haven't really got anything to do.

James and I miss you terribly. Being stuck indoors is driving him absolutely mad already, even though it hasn't been that long, I don't know what he'll be like by the end of the week. He broods a lot over the Prophet and wishes he was out there with you, fighting, rather than skulking indoors. For that matter, so do I.

Harry misses you, too. I've been encouraging James to read to him lately, it keeps them both out of mischief, and we've been looking at loads of photos. Harry's getting quite good at saying people's names now, so I think that next time you see him, he'll be able to call you "Uncle Moony" properly, rather than just "Oony".

I've been testing the Fidelius Charm by trying to write our address on this piece of parchment, by the way, but I couldn't, so it really does seem to be working, which is good. I really do hope, though, that we won't have to keep this up long, because James is already complaining of prison pallor, and I suspect if I don't find something to occupy him again soon, he'll start transfiguring the furniture alive and practising hexes on it.

I hope you're well, and that you're looking after yourself, Moony. I'm sorry. I know you didn't want me to call you that, but it just sort of slipped out of the end of my quill, and I thought "Why not". I think you should be proud of it, and not associate it with the bad things that have happened to you, but with the good - the friendship to which you owe the nickname. I like it, anyway.

Give our love to your mother, and to Malcolm if you see him, and anyone else in the Order. Tell them we're all right.

Here the first page ended, and Remus turned to the second, where the gaps between the words were slightly larger, and the ends of some words bore marks of a quill having rested longer on the page, while the writer paused to think.

There is one other thing I want to say, and this is very private. Forgive me if it seems intrusive, but you know I'm only saying this because I care. I know things have been difficult for you, but don't give up hope, dear. Don't ever give up hope. Some day you'll find a wonderful young woman who will love you just the way you are. I know you'll say that can't happen, but I'm sure you're wrong. Because in spite of everything we've been through, I sort of can't stop believing in miracles.

Well, it's time to say goodbye for now, but I'll write again soon, I promise. Take care of yourself, Moony. We wish you were here.

Lots of love,

Lily (and James and Harry, of course)

She had ended the letter with a row of small Xs, and Remus stared down at it for a long moment, half smiling, half sad.

"What does it say?" Faith asked, recalling him to the present.

Remus found that he had to skim over it again before he could answer.

"That they're all right," he said, "and that James is already fed up with playing hide-and-seek. They send their love."

His mother looked at him curiously, but his face betrayed nothing. She let it lie for the present, and continued to eat her toast. Remus, meanwhile, kept glancing at the letter again, picking out certain phrases that felt warm and comforting after days of wondering how his friends were getting along. He looked again at one particular line.

I've been testing the Fidelius Charm by trying to write our address on this piece of parchment ...

He tried to think about the place where James and Lily lived, but he could not for the life of him remember the name of the village or town, the look of the house or anything about it. He pictured the Potters in an almost featureless, enclosed space that he supposed vaguely resembled a living room, because the odd arm chair and photograph presented itself to his mind's eye, but they were all very unfamiliar, as though he was only projecting them onto his image of Lily and James at home because they ought to be there, but he could not really remember having seen them. The charm, he thought, did indeed seem to be working. It was at the same time a comforting thought, and one that made him feel incredibly lonely all of a sudden.

* * *

Peter's feelings were confused. There was still that feeling of wishing a hand would extend to him out of the blue and lift him clean out of the mess that had had somehow landed in. How had that happened, anyway? He had never asked to be placed in such a hopeless net of intrigue and danger. He had never claimed to be as brave as the others, but always they had encouraged him, dragged him along, promised to look out for him.

But in the end, they had not been able to. They had not been there on the one occasion when he had been really helpless. Only Pippa had been there, the sister he had loved and who had loved him, and who had died at the hands of the very person he served. Part of him felt that that alone should have given him enough incentive to resist, if he had really loved Pippa. But the other part of him protested that, if Pippa had really loved him, she would not have wanted him to go the same way as she had, she would have wanted him to stay alive, and as he knew Pippa had loved him, consequently he must be doing what she would have wanted him to.

That, he knew, was a crazy notion. But it sustained him, as did the thought that it was the others - James, Sirius and Remus - who had made him join the Order, who had placed him in a position where he might prove valuable to the enemy, who had exposed him to the danger of attack, torture, coercion, blackmail ... without a second thought, because they had simply assumed that he was like they were. Only he wasn't. Never had been, never would be. He knew fear better than they did, and he did not want to die.

Die. The word seemed to echo around his brain. If he went through with what he had made up his mind to do, then people would die. People he had called friends. Little Harry, who was too young to know what was going on around him, what desperate times his parents lived in; Lily, who had always been gentle and kind to Peter, and had treated him like a member of the family; and finally, James.

It was the thought of James that aroused the greatest turmoil within him. James had been his friend from the very beginning, ever since the train ride to Hogwarts. Thinking about it, Peter realised there were not many people in his life he had ever really cared deeply about. Pippa had been one. He had certainly never cared about Paula. And his parents? He had to admit he did not feel terribly close to them. His friends had been his family. James, Sirius and Remus. But he had been willing, in the past, to cast suspicion on both the latter, to protect himself. And now ...

He loved James. The realisation confused him greatly, because he had never really considered it before, never paused to think that brotherly love could be as strong as any other kind - a kind he had often craved, but never known. James was like a brother to him, as close or closer than Pippa had been. He had stood by and watched Pippa die for him. Could he do the same again? Could he do it, knowing that he himself had led James to the slaughter?

The answer, unfortunately, was yes. Because he was still afraid. Because he knew that James would face death bravely, and be praised a hero for it, whereas he had not the courage to resist that snakelike face, those blood-red eyes, that high-pitched voice that sent shivers down his spine. He loved James, but he loved his own life more. Or perhaps it was not love of life so much as fear of death.

Peter pulled on his long black cloak and drew the mask down over his face. His wand was tucked securely in the pocket of his robes. It was Friday night and the Dark Lord, he knew, had returned. He would be at Malfoy Manor.

* * *

The Last Enemy

"Do you want help with that?" James Potter asked his wife as she pointed her wand at the dinner plates and sent them soaring over to the sink, where the tap turned on obligingly.

"I think I can just about manage," she said with an amused grin. James did have a habit of offering assistance for those tasks about the house that could be performed easily with magic. "You boys go and play, I won't be long."

"Okay." He came round the table and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, kissing her on the cheek. "I love you, you know that?" he whispered.

She twisted round in his arms and nodded, and kissed his lips. Behind her back, the tap had turned itself on and the sink began to fill up with hot water. They stayed like this, arms around each other, while the washing up saw to itself, until Harry grew restless at last, and started trying to clamber out of the high chair on his own.

"Now now, none of that, young man," said James, lifting the child out of the chair, and tickling the front of his blue pyjamas.

Harry laughed, little hands trying to catch his daddy's fingers. James planted a kiss on top of the little black-haired head.

"Come on then," he said, "let's get out of Mummy's way."

He carried Harry into the living room, while Lily remained to oversee the kitchen while it tidied itself up. Through the window that no-one could see from outside, she watched children running and dancing in the streets, despite the wind and the rain, dressed up in their Halloween costumes, imagining themselves to be real witches and wizards - although most of the witches actually looked more like they were made out to be hags, but then, what did Muggle children know of what witches were really like?

"Trick or treat!" she heard them call as they knocked at everyone's door but her own. Two little pumpkins on legs waddled by, and Lily smiled to herself. She could remember her own earliest Halloween experiences. Pet had been quite enthusiastic about dressing up as a witch, she had made her own costume and covered her face in ugly warts and stuck a large, false nose over the top of her own. Somehow Lily never had quite believed that real witches looked like that.

She could almost hear Sirius say "Amateurs!" in that only slightly superior, rather affectionately amused tone he adopted whenever he commented on Muggles pretending to be wizards. She wondered vaguely whether he would be popping in later. He and James always enjoyed watching the Muggles on what they called 'Amateur Night'.

By now, the dishes were clean, and at Lily's command, they soared obediently into the open cupboards. She left her wand by the draining board, and went out into the hall, and from there into the living room. James had his wand out, and was sending out puffs of brightly-coloured smoke. Harry toddled and crawled around the floor, giggling happily, trying to catch them in his tiny hands. Lily watched for a moment, smiling.

James turned his head to look at her, and she said, "I think it's bedtime for little wizards."

"Sorry, Harry," James sighed, picking his son up off the floor. "Mummy's being a spoilsport again."

She laughed. "That's it, teach him I'm always the one who spoils his fun."

James grinned, handing Harry over, and Lily carried him from the room. James threw his wand on the sofa, dropped down beside it and leaned back, stretching his arms with a wide yawn and preparing to wait for Lily to return.

A loud bang startled him to his feet in a flash. What on earth could have caused it, he had no idea, but it sounded like more than just Lily dropping something in Harry's room. It sounded - his heart pounded in his chest at the thought - like a massive explosion. He tore open the door into the hallway and darted through it.

And then, in one split second, everything had changed. What had been a normal, quiet evening in the safety of his home became a living nightmare. He was facing him. Lord Voldemort himself, here, in his own hall, his hood drawn up to cover his head, his red eyes glinting menacingly in the gloom. One thought flitted through James's brain in that moment, and his lips mouthed silently and incredulously - Peter? But he had no time to dwell on the terrible realisation, no time for anything at all but to do as instinct dictated, for already he could hear footsteps on the upstairs landing, and he must not let her come down.

"Lily!" he screamed in a panic. "Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off ..."

How he would do it, he did not know, but he rushed at Voldemort anyway, knowing that he had to put up a fight for as long as he possibly could to buy them time. Too late he realised he had left his wand behind ...

From above Lily, with Harry still in her arms, heard Voldemort's cruel laugh before he raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" cried the horrible, high-pitched voice.

She saw the hallway below fill with bright green light, saw the curse hit James in the chest, and screamed as he fell.

"James! No! James!"

In her anguish, she almost flew down the stairs to his side, but Voldemort was already coming that way, and she froze. There was nothing left for her to do but retreat. Tears streaming down her face, she raced back into Harry's room and slammed the door behind her. Reaching for everything within her grasp, she desperately piled it all up against the door and clutched Harry closer to her. It took mere seconds for Voldemort to blast through her meagre barricade. Panic filled her. James was dead, and he wanted Harry next, her baby ... But he should not have him. Without really knowing what she was doing or why, she half turned and dropped Harry into his bed, then stepped in front of him, her fragile and slender figure all that stood between him and the man who wanted to kill him, wanted to see him die like James. She saw James fall again in her mind's eye, and she no longer cared what happened to her, as long as Harry was safe.

Throwing her arms wide, she yelled frantically, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl," Lord Voldemort said coldly. "Stand aside, now ..."

But she did not budge. She would die, die before she let him hurt a hair of her son's head, he was only a baby.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead ..."

"This is my last warning ..."

He advanced further, but Lily stayed where she was, the thought of running never even entering her head. He could have her life, if he wanted, she would give it gladly so that Harry might live.

"Not Harry!" she screamed again. "Please ... have mercy ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything ..."

"Stand aside ... stand aside, girl ..."

But she did not stand aside. Not even when he raised his wand to the level of her chest, not when she saw his lips begin to form the words of the same curse that had killed her husband, not when the green light left his wand. She made no movement at all, but stood perfectly still until the curse struck her, Harry standing in his cot behind her, watching until his mother's body crumpled, lifeless, to the floor, until Voldemort's wand pointed at his own forehead, and then he started to cry.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew, cloaked all in black, stood in the shadows between two buildings across the street, watching the house of his friends. He saw the Dark Lord blast open the front door, he was even near enough to hear James's voice shout something desperately, though he could not make out the words. He felt a pain that was almost physical when the flash of green light illuminated the shattered doorway, and James's shouts died with him. Moments passed and he crept across to the dark garden hedge. He could hear Lily screaming something now, and he paused by the gate, unwilling to go any closer lest he see James's body on the floor. There was another flash of green, fainter this time because it had all of the upstairs landing and the stairs to travel before he could see it, and Lily went silent, too. He could hear Harry crying.

*Any second now,* he thought. *Any second it will be over. They'll be gone, all three of them. I won't be able to hide what I am any more then. Sirius will know, and he'll tell the others ... but I'll be safe. I have shown my loyalty to my master, and he will reward me, he'll protect me, better than Sirius or Remus or James ever could.*

Even as he thought this, there was a third and final flash of green. And then, unexpectedly, a scream. The most terrible scream he had ever heard, and he backed away in terror, eyes wide open and staring up towards Harry's room on the right-hand side of the upstairs floor, where the green light had not ceased as it should have done, but continued to flash angrily, like green lightning in some freakish electric storm trapped within the nursery, then bursting through the window and sending shards of shattered glass flying in all directions. Bricks followed next, blown outwards by some inexplicable force and then falling to the ground below with a crash, along with pieces of furniture, cuddly toys ripped apart, their stuffing scattered amongst the rubble, and Harry's cot landed awry on top of the pile, the child, incredibly, still alive and yelling his little lungs out, though his scream was nowhere near as piercing as the other that still echoed from what remained of the upstairs floor of the cottage.

Finally, the screaming stopped, and no more rubble fell from above. Trembling from head to foot, Peter inched towards the gaping hole where the front door hung on its hinges, and sidled through it. People were running along the street outside, screaming and pointing, but he hardly noticed them. His eyes were fixed in horror on the motionless face of James Potter, whose unblinking hazel eyes seemed to stare up at him accusingly from behind the cracked glass of his spectacles.

Peter backed gingerly up the stairs and along the hallway until he reached the corner of the top floor, now mostly open to the outdoors, the wind and the rain already claiming it for their own. Lily's body now lay at his feet, but thankfully she had fallen forward and he could not see her face. Beside her on the ground lay a wand, one that he recognised only too well, but of its owner there was no sign. He bent to pick the wand up in his shaking hand and stared at it with confusion and dismay.

Something terrible had happened to Lord Voldemort, and he had disappeared, and Harry Potter was alive. Harry, but not his parents. Lily and James were dead, and Peter was responsible, just as he was responsible for the deaths of John Lupin and Gordon Gryffindor. He had betrayed them all, and it would not be long before Sirius realised it. Panic seized him. It had all gone wrong. In his eagerness to pick the side that would win, to support the man who would keep him safe, he had done just the opposite, and still he was not free, for now the Death Eaters would hunt him for indirectly leading the Dark Lord to his doom, and Sirius would kill him for bringing about James's death, he could expect no mercy there. He struggled frantically to think of a way out. Was there no-one who would protect him now?

He thought of Remus. Remus, he knew, was more forgiving than Sirius, and if he told the story right, if he emphasised his fears and doubts and his remorse, Remus might be able to find it in his heart to understand an old friend's dilemma, the impossible situation that had led to his crimes, maybe even help him ... The thought only went so far. There was one thing, Peter was sure, that Remus would never agree to, and that was allowing Sirius to be blamed and punished, send to Azkaban or worse, for something of which he was innocent. Remus might show sympathy, but he would expect Peter to confess publicly and exonerate Sirius, and bear the consequences of his own actions.

It occurred to him then that, as yet, no-one but Sirius actually knew anything about his involvement at all. Sirius would be the one who was blamed, but that would not last long, not once Sirius explained ... Oh, if only the earth could swallow him up. And then he had another thought, and hope sprang up inside him once more. It was a desperate and risky plan, but it might just work. He would find a place to hide for now, and think about it some more, work it out properly. Turning on the spot, both wands held in his hand, Peter Disapparated.

* * *

Discovery

Every night at approximately the same time, Albus Dumbledore would take out the orb that had been enchanted to watch over Harry, and stare at it for long moments to check that all was well. And every night, the mist within the orb would remain just that - a murky, impenetrable substance that revealed nothing, but told him that all was well, that Harry and his parents were still safely hidden. Therefore, when he removed the orb from its little chest and set it gently on his desk at Halloween, Dumbledore really paid it very little attention. He turned his back to it, scooping up a handful of seeds to feed to Fawkes, who had recently had a burning day and was merely a tiny, grey fledgling at present. But glancing back over his shoulder, he experienced a shock that caused him to drop the seeds on the floor, much to the baby phoenix's dismay, and stride quickly back to his desk, gripping the back of the chair so tightly with both hands that his knuckles stood out white. Harry's face swam before his eyes, the green eyes red and puffy from crying, a singularly shaped slash across his forehead.

* * *

Sirius had mounted his motorbike and was soaring through the sky, following the tracks of the Hogwarts Express northwards for a time, then swerving off to the east for several miles. He descended on a hillside and drove his bike up an uneven track to where a lonely cottage stood overlooking a valley - the place where he had arranged for Peter to hide while the Fidelius Charm was in place. But almost immediately, as he pulled up in front of the battered little front door with its peeling red paint, he sensed that something was strangely amiss. The cottage was in total darkness. He knocked at the door, but received no answer. Drawing his wand, he tried the door and found it unlocked.

"Peter?" he called into the darkness, but was greeted by silence.

He turned on the lights with a wave of his wand, and investigated the whole house, his apprehension increasing with every step he took. Not only was there no sign of Peter, but there was no sign of anything at all. Peter's personal belongings had gone, his clothes, his photographs, his books, his trunk, his broomstick. Nothing remained but eerie silence, broken only by the creaking floorboards beneath his feet, the place emptied out completely without sign that it had ever been inhabited, and without even the tiniest hint of a struggle. Sirius literally felt the colour drain from his face, his footsteps faltering on his second investigation of the small lounge.

"No," he whispered to himself. Cold fear took hold of him. It was a new experience. He had never been this scared before. "No," he murmured again. "It - it can't be ..." And then, as he realised the depth of his mistake, "What ... have I done?"

For several seconds, he stood as if Petrified by the spell of an invisible hand. Then he whirled around abruptly, raced out the door and leapt back onto his bike, revving up the engine with a tremendous noise and taking flight at a speed even he had never dared to attempt before. It felt like an age before, at long last, he could make out the looming shape of Gryffindor Hall, and the collection of much smaller shapes nearby, the village of Godric's Hollow, a hive of activity full of people running back and forth like ants, every window lit and torchlight darting this way and that in the streets. Not caring who saw him arrive and how, Sirius rode his flying motorbike right up to the front door of the Potters' cottage, and barely suppressed a scream at the sight of it, half the top floor blown apart, the rubble piled high on the ground beside it where Hagrid stood, a minuscule bundle held in his vast arms, his enormous shoulders heaving, but Sirius ignored him.

He swung his leg over his bike and stumbled through the open gate. Clutching at the frame of what had been the front door, he staggered into the hall like a drunk. And then he really did give a strangled scream, he couldn't help himself. He fell to his knees beside James's body and clutched at his dead friend's arm, shaking him violently.

"No! James, James, get up, James! Don't leave me ... No ... no ... JAMES!"

Heavy footsteps behind him caused the ground to tremble slightly, and Hagrid sniffed loudly. He tried to touch Sirius's shoulder, but the young man shrugged him off roughly, pulling his dead friend's body closer to him, shaking like a leaf. Several minutes passed before Sirius calmed down and, still shaking, struggled to his feet, holding onto the empty pram for support. He looked around wildly.

"H-Hagrid," he stammered weakly, seeming to really take in the presence half giant for the first time. "W-where's ... Lily ... Harry ...?"

"Lily's upstairs," Hagrid replied heavily. "She's dead, too."

Sirius's sore grey eyes, hollow with pain, darted upwards for a second, until Hagrid said, "I've got 'Arry right 'ere. Seems un'armed, 'part from this cut ..."

Sirius came unsteadily closer and gazed at his godson. He held out his arms and murmured distractedly, "Y-you'd better give him to me, Hagrid. I'm his godfather ... I - I'll look after him."

"Sorry," Hagrid said uncomfortably. "Can't do that. Dumbledore's orders, 'e wants me ter take 'Arry ter his aunt."

"No, no, Harry should come to me! Lily's sister's no good, she hated her, she won't show Harry any kindness. Besides, James and Lily wanted it that way, they made me godfather ..."

"I know, Sirius, but Dumbledore insisted, an' I've got ter do what 'e says. I'm sorry. Maybe ye can pick 'Arry up there in day or two."

Sirius's arms dropped to his sides. "Yes," he muttered. "Yes, maybe it's for the best, after all." He looked back, staring down at James's body once more. His voice trembled. "This is all my fault. My fault ..."

"Now don' go on like tha'," Hagrid protested kindly. "Snot anyone's fault but You-Know-Who's. Don' go blamin' yerself, now."

"How can I not?" There was a silence, then Sirius gave himself a wrench. He could grieve later, for now there was work to be done. There was indeed a traitor in the Order, and he was going to pay ... In a more matter-of-fact tone, Sirius said, "Take my bike, it'll get you to the Dursleys' all right. Better engorge it before you go. I don't think I'll be needing it."

And with these words, he took one last, longing look at James's body, then turned on the spot and was gone.

* * *

Faith Lupin gave a surprised start when, as she was preparing breakfast on the morning of November 1st, the wireless that had stood silently in the corner of the kitchen for so long suddenly crackled to life. The only thing that could possibly startle her even more were the words that the man from the WWN spoke as he made his first broadcast. She could not quite believe it at first, yet her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a cry. She could hear Remus moving about, first upstairs, then descending the stairs at a measured pace, as yet unaware of what had happened, and she quickly reached across to switch off the set, just as he pushed aside the curtain and entered, looking around with a puzzled expression.

"Hello. That's funny, I could have sworn I heard another voice, I thought maybe Uncle Mal... What's wrong?" he added, seeing the look on her face.

"Oh ... oh, Remus," his mother began, approaching him and, as he thought rather unnecessarily, stroking his cheek. "I - I hardly know how to tell you ..."

"Tell me what?"

"The wireless came back on just now ... the WWN's back, and ... and they said ..."

"The WWN?" His eyebrows rose, and he moved over to switch on the device, but she caught his hand and pulled him back.

"No, no, don't. Remus, there was some news, they said that something happened last night, something that I - I wouldn't want you to hear like that, from the wireless."

"Why, what do you mean? What has happened?"

His mother's voice was tearful. "They say You-Know-Who has been defeated, that he's ... gone."

He gaped at her. "Voldemort?" he queried. "Gone? But ... how ... what ...?"

"It's ... Lily and James ..."

"Lily and James?" he repeated with an apprehensive tremor.

And before his mother could say any more, an image sprang to his mind. He could see it as clearly as if he were standing there now, the ivy-covered cottage surrounded by a hedge, he could picture the little narrow hallway, the kitchen door, the living room, and the upstairs floor, Harry's room where he had stayed just after his father had died ...

"Godric's Hollow," he murmured incredulously, pain creeping into his voice. "I know where they are. Godric's Hollow. I shouldn't be able to say that, I shouldn't be able to remember."

"They said on the wireless that Harry survived," Faith went on, somehow feeling that she had to say something, anything, rather than linger on in silence. "The rumour seems to be that he somehow stopped You-Know-Who, though no-one knows why or how. Remus," she added anxiously, as he turned away and passed back through the curtain like a sleepwalker. "Remus, where are you going?"

He did not reply, did not even seem to hear her, and without even bothering to take his cloak off the hook, just as he was, in his everyday Muggle shirt and trousers, he walked out of the house.

* * *

Swallowed up by the Earth

The streets of Godric's Hollow had been cleared of Muggles by now. Golden, red and brown leaves, damp with last night's rainwater, made the cobblestones slippery as Remus blindly made his way along the familiar paths. The site where the ruin of the Potters' house stood was swarming with officious-looking persons, remnants from the old Ministry of Magic that had kept going in hiding somewhere even after Voldemort had seized the building, investigating the scene, picking everything apart, tossing aside photographs and other mementoes without a second glance. No-one took any notice of the solitary young man with the windswept, light-brown hair streaked with grey, who stepped through the open gate and tremulously made his way to where two tell-tale shapes lay on the ground at the side of the house, white sheets draped over them. His footsteps slowed as he approached them, and he crouched down slowly. With trembling fingers, he drew back the sheets.

A muffled cry escaped him. It was true. Here they lay, James and Lily, both of them dead, though their eyes had been closed and they looked, now, rather as if they had fallen asleep peacefully, and had simply forgotten to wake up. And it did not matter any more whether he had loved Lily more than a friend, because he had lost them both, and the pain he felt did not distinguish between the two.

"Remus, you should not be here."

Everything felt so unreal at that moment that the voice by his side did not even startle him. He knew it at once, before Dumbledore's hand came down gently on his shoulder, inviting him to stand, and he straightened up, turning a white and miserable face to his former headmaster.

"I needed to see them for myself," he heard himself say hoarsely. "I couldn't believe ... didn't want to believe ..." He broke off, hesitated, then asked, "Where is Harry?"

"He is safe," Dumbledore assured him. He spoke very gently. "Trust me, Remus, he is safe. That is all you need to know for know. I suppose," he added cautiously, "that you do not know where we might find Sirius?"

Remus's eyes widened. At first, he did not quite understand. And then he realised.

"Sirius?" he gasped, horror-struck. "But ... no ... no, that's impossible ... Sirius ... Sirius loved James. He could never have betrayed him, never!"

"Remus," the headmaster reminded him, still in that gentle tone, "you were there when Lily explained the Fidelius Charm. You know as well as I do that no-one else could have revealed this spot to Lord Voldemort once the charm was in place. Incredible as it may seem, and I won't deny I had trouble accepting it myself, there is no other explanation but that Sirius was the spy all along."

Remus shook his head frantically. "No! No, not Sirius, no ..."

"I must ask you again. Do you know where he might be?"

There was a heavy pause, then Remus said in a defeated, hollow voice, "No, I've no idea." He reached inside his pocket for his wand. "But I'll find him somehow."

"You will do no such thing!" said his former teacher, now suddenly commanding. "Your present frame of mind is not one in which you should face a wizard more determined and more desperate than yourself. Others are already looking for him. Your uncle is with them. They will catch up with Sirius soon enough without your help, I think." He softened and added kindly, "Go home, Remus. There is nothing more you can do here, and your mother will be worrying."

His words were true. Faith had been pacing the front garden, her cloak wrapped around her to keep out the cold and John's wand clasped in her hand just in case, ever since Remus had Disapparated. When he returned, she hurried towards him. He stumbled readily into her embrace, and allowed her to lead him back into the house. He felt like a small boy again, running home to his mother, but what else could he do? He did not feel as he had done when his father had died, perhaps because his friends had helped him then, had taught him how to let go and allow himself to grieve. This time, the tears came readily and unstoppably, and he was grateful that his mother was there to hold him, to gently pull his head against her chest and stroke his hair while he sobbed, reduced once more to the small boy who, so many years ago, had lain at his mother's chest and cried after being told that he would be a werewolf for the rest of his life, only this time it was worse, so much worse.

* * *

Sirius's stomach was so empty that it ached and rumbled, but he paid it no attention. He had not eaten for twenty-four hours, and he had not slept for thirty-six, not since he had woken up at seven in the morning yesterday, the last morning when the world had still been, for the most part, all right. When James had still been alive.

*I was a fool,* he thought glumly. *Just like James said. Remus?* He inwardly gave a mirthless laugh. *How could I be so stupid? So blind? John Lupin was the first to be betrayed, damn it, I must have known Remus would never betray his own dad, that he worshipped him! What a fool. They were right all along. Lily and James, they told me so, they knew Remus was loyal, they knew him better than I did, because I was blinded by my stupid notions, because I expected the poor devil to act like I would have done, but damn it all, I should have trusted him!*

These thoughts ran through his mind over and over again. If only he had listened to Lily and James. If only he had trusted Remus rather than Peter. If only he had never changed the plan. It was his fault they were dead, his fault Harry had been left an orphan - his own, stupid fault that the entire wizarding world must now be convinced that he himself had been the traitor. But they would soon know better. He had searched high and low for Peter Pettigrew since leaving Godric's Hollow last night, and he had not yet found him, but he would, he was determined, he would find him. He was close now, he could sense it, because his fingers itched close to the pocket of his cloak where his wand was hidden, and because his heart told him that the person he now loathed with a passion stronger than any other feeling he had had in his life was close by. He would kill him. Nothing and nobody would prevent it. Peter Pettigrew would die at his hands, just as James and Lily had died, and he would enjoy doing it.

And suddenly, there he was. He stepped out of a side street into the middle of the crowded space, packed with Muggles going about their daily business without the faintest clue of what was really happening in the world. Anger and hatred burned inside Sirius, and his fingers closed around his wand. He opened his mouth to speak, but Peter got in first, and his words amazed Sirius so much that he forgot to say anything at all.

Making a great show of sobbing, with genuine tears running down his cheeks, Peter yelled, "Traitor! You sold them out! You betrayed your best friends! Lily and James, damn it! Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?!"

Before Sirius could think how to react, Peter had drawn his wand. Sirius drew his own, but to his utter astonishment, Peter made no attempt to curse him, but gave a sort of flourish, and even as Sirius's own curse shot forward at his former friend, the street blew up in a massive explosion all around him, and through the dust and debris he could just make out a glint of triumph in Wormtail's eye before he transformed and disappeared into the sewers like the filthy sewer rat that he was, swallowed up by the earth.

All around him, the Muggles were screaming. A fire had broken out. Sirens sounded and people fought to subdue the flames while others ran about assisting those closest to the blast, many of whom had long since stopped moving. But Sirius only stared at the spot where Peter had disappeared.

*He fooled me,* he thought. *He fooled us all. Peter Pettigrew, of all people. We thought we knew him. We thought he was harmless. Not very bright, but soft-hearted. And yet he betrayed us. I thought I was using him to protect James, but all along he was using me instead. I made it so easy for him, too. I insisted no-one be told. I made sure everyone would believe I was the Secret-Keeper, that no-one would ever doubt that, whatever happened. No-one will doubt it, now. They'll say I was the traitor, they'll say I betrayed James, they'll say I killed Peter and all of these Muggles. And the crazy thing is that, in a way, they'll be right. I was the one who talked Peter into becoming an Animagus. I persuaded him to join the Order. I made him agree to be James's Secret-Keeper, I hid him away, I made sure it stayed a secret, and I chose to confront him alone, giving him the chance he needed to fake his death, and make it look as though I'd done it. He didn't even have to frame me. I framed myself. All I wanted was to prevent James being killed, and in the end, I killed him. Isn't irony a wonderful thing?*

And there and then, in the middle of the mayhem, Sirius threw back his head and laughed, laughed because the irony of it really allowed for nothing else, and because if he didn't laugh, he knew the grief would be too much, more than breaking down and crying could ever wash away. He was still laughing when, several minutes later, a group of official-looking witches and wizards Apparated on the scene to clear up the mess. Malcolm stepped out of the crowd and approached the hideously laughing man cautiously.

"Sirius," he breathed. "Why? They were your friends. We all thought ... Why?"

His expression was incredulous, his face haggard under the beard. He did not understand, and Sirius could not explain it to him. He could do nothing, nothing at all, except go on laughing. He didn't even resist when Malcolm took his wand. He laughed and laughed, a crazed gleam in his eye, until Malcolm, unable to bear the unnatural sound any longer, raised his wand arm higher and said painfully, "Stupefy."