Raised to the Third Power

Molly Weasley stirred in her bed and blinked sleepily. She could not say what had roused her. Perhaps it had been the quiet; she was, after all, used to the noise of the ghoul, the gnomes, and the explosions that resulted from experiments both magical and Muggle. She had never gotten in the habit of using silencing spells because she wanted to be able to hear her children. At least one of the seven was always awake and up to something.

An ear-piercing howl split the air, and Molly became uncomfortably aware that it had not been silence that had caused her to awaken after all. She had known, of course, that it was the night of the full moon and that Remus Lupin, who was living a few rooms away, was a werewolf. Molly had grown up in an old wizarding family and had long harbored many of the typical prejudices against werewolves, but Lupin was so well-loved by the five of her children he had taught at Hogwarts that she had been forced to re-evaluate her views on the role of werewolves in society. Additionally, the man had managed to hide his affliction for thirty years. If he was so dangerous as common folklore would have had her believe, he surely would have been prosecuted, executed, or jailed during such a long expanse of time.

She had never suspected that he would be so irresponsible as to run amok in a well-populated area! She reached for her wand and shrugged into a robe as she scrambled toward a window and assessed the situation.

Molly gasped in horror at the sight below her. As she should have suspected from the start, Remus Lupin was not the cause of the problem. The Dark Mark burned in the sky and served as a gruesome, unwelcome reminder of the last war. At least a dozen hooded, masked figures were rapidly casting spells, all of which were on the Ministry's list of illegal curses. Near the busily working wizards was a veritable pack of werewolves— all of which bore the familiar symbol of the Dark Lord on cloths wrapped tightly around their necks.

Dumbledore's team of six, it seemed, had been lured into an ambush.

Just as Molly's mind reached this unpleasant conclusion, one hooded figure turned what she assumed must be its face directly toward her. She ducked below her window even as she shouted a counter-curse, and the combined effect of these two actions was her escaping unscathed. She knew, though, that the other inhabitants of the town would not likely be so lucky, and she hastened from the building.

The other members of Dumbledore's team, minus Remus Lupin, arrived near a doorway just when Molly did. Most planned operations did not come together in such perfect sync.

"Plans?" asked Jim Kelly. Molly had met him several times at Ministry parties but had not become well-acquainted with him until ridiculous bureaucratic requirements had stranded them here together. She was surprised that he was the one who spoke first; he had never struck her as being much of a leader. Cynthia, the auror, probably had more experience in these situations. But then, Molly had a great deal of experience with Death Eaters herself; and while the others had been little more than children during the last war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, they had been on the front lines as well.

"Go out there. Arrest all the Death Eaters. Come back here. Have breakfast," said Sirius quickly.

Cynthia's head snapped up. "Sirius? Have you ever run a Death Eater takedown?"

Sirius smiled enigmatically. "Yes," he said. "But I'm happy to let you run this one, All-Mighty Auror."

Cynthia did not bother to acknowledge the semi-flirtatious comment. She quickly spit out a string of directions, but noise and confusion overwhelmed the senses of the small group as soon as they tore outside. Any plans were lost as they fell to free-form dueling.

Molly almost instantly found herself facing two obviously talented wizards (although perhaps the smaller one was a witch?). Two against one was less than fair, and she had been out of the business of dueling for many years. She certainly had not dueled since Percy's birth, and she had rarely been called away from Bill and Charlie in the nine years preceding that.

Nonetheless, it did not take her long to note that the two were not moving as if they were used to working together. Removing Fred and George's stash of practical jokes was more complicated than this would be.

Molly continued to block the assorted hexes sent in her direction, but stopped retaliating. She forced a few shudders to rush through her body and purposely stumbled over a non-existent root. The smaller Death Eater stepped closer to Molly. Too close.

Without giving the Death Eater a chance to react, Molly shouted a spell to cause (ultimately harmless) cramps followed by the leg-locker curse, which was a favorite of her son Ron. She raised her wand once more as if to finish the job, and when the second Death Eater stepped in to cover his comrade's half-fallen form, Molly was able to disarm both of her opponents. She quickly followed the disarming spell with Petrificus Totalus.

Her victory, though, was short-lived. She had somehow managed to forget about the howling that had lured her outside in the first place.

Fangs gleamed in the dim light as the mangy monster, much bigger than a true wolf and also much more menacing.

"Accio silver!" she shouted, but in truth she was not able to perform the spell. She could not focus her thoughts on a certain piece of silver. She only hoped that the wolf would back down, would buy her bluff as the human wizards had.

The animal did not believe her. It lunged at her once, and she was just able to step away from its fangs. She felt herself fall, and as the hot breath tickled her cheek, she saw Jim struggling with a powerful-looking Death Eater.

In what she assumed would be her last action before beginning a life of exile, she cast a stunning spell. The Death Eater collapsed in front of Jim. The fangs approached Molly's outstretched leg.

Then, suddenly, the wolf was flipped onto its back and an outraged howling shriek escaped its hungry jaws. As Molly jumped back to her feet, she managed to perceive the dark shape that was Sirius' animal form. A werewolf, dangerous as it was to a human, could not harm a dog.

Sirius lunged toward the wolf. He presented no more sympathy or mercy than a charter member of the Anti-Werewolf Alliance would have shown. Fur flew through the air, and blood spurted onto the ground.

The fangs of the dog met the neck of the wolf. Jaws clamped down harder until, with a great wrench, the wolf freed itself and ran from the battleground, screaming and howling.

The other wolves were reacting to the cry of their comrade and were circling around Sirius. His hackles were raised and his teeth still bared as two wolves leapt for his back and a third for his throat. Molly, nearly transfixed, was wondering what she could possibly do to rescue Sirius as he had rescued her when another battle cry split the night.

Another animal, one that could only be called beautiful despite its obvious ability to do bodily harm to the most powerful of wizards, had joined the fray. Snarling, it jumped on top of the wolf at Sirius' throat. The offending wolf screamed in agony.

A flash of green light illuminated the front of the hotel. Molly only hoped that the light was not the result of an Unforgivable Curse. In its glow, though, she was able to see that the new wolf— stronger and more striking in appearance than the mangy pack it fought— was none other than Remus. Something of his face still lingered about the face of the wolf. Animagi retained some of their human characteristics when they were in animal form. There was no reason, Molly now reflected, that the situation should not be the same for werewolves.

The full moon was mostly covered by clouds, but the silver hairs that marked Remus as an Alpha Wolf still made him easy to spot in the midst of the fighting, struggling mass of fur and muscle.

Molly forced her eyes away from the engrossing spectacle and gave chase to a running black-robed form. She shouted curses at his retreating back, and found herself lured away from the band of fighters and into a straightforward duel. She was hit twice by minor hexes but deflected the major ones. When she had emerged victorious once more, her magic felt drained, and she was terrified to see that not all of her comrades had fared as well as she.

Jim's body was stretched on the ground. Snape (after years of hearing her children's derisive comments about the man, Molly could not bring herself to think of him as "Professor" let alone "Severus") had planted his feet on either side of the fallen man's head and was dueling rather successfully despite the restrictions placed on his ability to move. Cynthia was limping. Sirius and Remus, who had at last glance been standing tail-to-tail in the center of the circle of vicious canines, were nowhere to be seen.

For the umpteenth time that night, a noise split the air. This reverberation, though, was a welcome one comprised of the pops of Disapparation.

The Death Eaters were leaving.

"They were counting on the element of surprise," Snape rasped, his voice a mixture of tiredness and gloating. "We weren't as surprised as they hoped." He knelt beside Jim, and his long fingers sought a pulse. "He's alive."

"Do you know what hit him?" Molly asked.

"No. I was a bit too busy trying to keep all of us from being hit by Avada Kedavra," he answered with more heat than Molly felt was strictly necessary.

"You did well," she said softly.

He did not return the compliment, and in any case Cynthia interrupted. "Can we get the Death Eaters who weren't able to Disapparate into my room, please? We'll need to contact the Ministry of Magic."

"Which one?" asked Sirius, who had just re-appeared.

"Both." The auror was now in charge once more. "This place is full of Muggles. The more people we have doing memory charms, the better."

By the early hours of the morning, the Irish Ministry of Magic had handled the situation itself. Fewer than thirty Memory Charms had needed to be cast, seven Death Eaters were in containment and awaiting charging, and four werewolves were anticipating the setting of the moon in specially designed cells.

Sirius could not help but shudder at the fate of the werewolves. They supported the cause of Dark Magic, certainly, and he had spent the night securing their imprisonment, but the treatment of werewolves had long been disturbing to Sirius. Not that the justice system treated me all that well, either he smirked to himself.

He leaned against the door that led to Remus' room and glanced at the sky through an oddly shaped window. The moon was setting. Soon he would be able to see Moony. A faint moan confirmed his suspicions that the change was occurring.

Remus, Sirius knew, was not fond of being seen in his wolf form (except of course by Padfoot). He was even less fond of being observed during the change. Sirius had long since learned from inadvertent first-hand experience that the intermediate stages of the werewolf transformation were truly hideous, but all the same he wished that he was inside the room and not outside it. Remus had necessarily hidden himself as soon as the battle had ended. A wolf was unable to help with confinement charms or discussions with Ministry members. The law enforcement officials might even have insisted that Remus, as an inherently dangerous creature, be confined with the other wolves. As a result, Sirius had no idea if his friend had been badly injured in the battle.

The sky brightened further, and Sirius cautiously pushed open the unlocked door which he had been guarding.

"Moony?"

"Come in, Padfoot." Sirius stepped the rest of the way inside and locked the door behind himself.

"How are you?"

Remus shrugged. "All right."

"You were bleeding pretty spectacularly by the time we got out of there."

"As were you."

"As was everyone. Everyone else has been checked out."

"Anything bad? Jim was out cold the last time I saw him."

"He came around."

"Did the Death Eaters get away?"

"We got eleven counting the werewolves." Sirius, who had been inspecting Remus' physical condition as they spoke, pulled his wand and began to mend the cuts that stood out on his friend's exposed skin. The healing process went un-commented upon, as if to acknowledge the process would have been to cheapen the depth of the understanding between the Remus and Sirius.

Remus was looking healthy, if tired, when a hesitant knock interrupted Sirius' re-telling of the events of the previous night. (Remus remembered the previous night perfectly well, but he didn't remember it as being as exciting, dramatic, and heroism-filled as Sirius made it seem. Sirius was busily swearing his undying loyalty to Remus— who, as it happened, suspected that he had already had Sirius' undying loyalty— for jumping in front of a curse aimed at Sirius. No curse, save Avada Kedavra, and no human weapon, save a silver bullet, could have harmed Remus during the full moon, but this fact would have taken some of the drama out of Sirius' story so he chose not to recall it.)

"Come in," called Remus.

"Break through the locking spell! Show us what you've got!" Sirius added. Remus rolled his eyes and removed the spell himself.

"How did you know which one I used?" asked Sirius petulantly.

"That's your favorite."

"I don't have a favorite locking spell! Who has a favorite locking spell?"

"You, obviously." Remus grinned tiredly. "Good morning, Molly."

"Good morning, Remus and Sirius." She favored Remus with a motherly sort of gaze. All hints of the highly trained warrior had vanished with the light of dawn. She seemed about to comment on Remus' appearance and the think better of it. "Dumbledore would like us to go through with the protective spells today."

"After last night?" Sirius asked, outraged. "We could have cast the spells days ago, and the only reason we didn't was because someone wanted to keep us here and try to kill us!"

"Professor Snape's friend claims he knew nothing about these plans."

"Does Snape believe him?"

"No."

"Do you?"

"No."

"You, Moony?"

"No."

"That makes four of us. Does Cynthia—"

"Shut up, Padfoot," Remus interrupted.

Sirius was undeterred. "Why in Merlin's name would we place a safe house in a location known to someone who has just tried to kill us?"

"Dumbledore's orders," said Molly smoothly, as if this reason should be enough for anyone. Perhaps it should have been. She turned her full attention to Remus. "He said you'd be up to doing your part."

"I am," answered Remus, a trifle insulted that anyone would even ask. "Is Jim? Is Severus?"

"Jim is recovering nicely. Professor Snape is fine except for his foul mood." Remus made an effort not to join Sirius in snickering.

"I assure you that I am perfectly capable of performing the spells," Remus repeated.

Molly nodded. "I was just making certain. Ron told me in great detail about your casting a Patronus Charm on the Hogwarts Express two years ago."

"And I'm sure he also warned you that on the day after the full moon I look like one good hex would finish me off nonetheless."

Molly paled. "Did he say that to you?"

"No."

"Honestly, that's the exact phrase he used—"

Remus held up a hand. "He said it to Harry and Harry repeated it to me last summer. So Harry's the one due for a lecture if anyone is. Right, Sirius?"

"Right," Sirius agreed. He had calmed down slightly. "But as a rule I don't reprimand Harry for commenting on you. I like to encourage that."

The last of the tension that had lingered in the room drained away in their laughter, and before nightfall the spells had been cast. Molly Apparated home almost as soon as the last wand had been lowered. Her son Charlie was visiting the Burrow, and she was anxious to see him as well as her husband. Cynthia and Jim left as well. Their respective supervisors at the Ministry were demanding personal reports. Sirius, Remus, and Snape remained for a final night. The spells needed testing in the morning.

Sirius wandered boredly through the town and back toward the hotel. He knew that he ought to be exhausted after spending the previous day casting complicated spells that might cost hundreds of lives were they not done properly and the previous night fighting for his own life. However, he was not even slightly tired.

Just bored.

Remus had fallen asleep almost as soon as the wards had been cast. The other members of Dumbledore's team were gone. Sirius' only option for companionship, then, was Severus Snape.

He preferred the company of dementors.

He at least preferred the company of boggarts.

Sirius made a face at the thought of boggarts. He had had the misfortune to meet one while he and Davina had been holding preliminary discussions about this miserable project. The boggart had lived in a beautiful trunk that sat near her front door, and she had found it amusing. The boggart was a defense against thieves and other uninvited guests, Davina had claimed.

Sirius had been invited, but his accidental exposure to the boggart had still encouraged him to get out of Ireland as fast as he could. It had also encouraged him to refuse to come back to this miserable island without Remus.

"What are you doing, Black?" a hissing voice inquired.

"None of your concern, Snape." Snape was wandering about near the hotel, just as Sirius was, but his movements seemed to be much more purposeful and controlled. He was examining the body of a dead snake. Sirius suddenly found himself wishing he had simply answered Snape's question. He would have liked to have asked the same question of Snape.

Now that it had been brought to his attention, Sirius realized that there were a great many bodies of snakes littering the area that twenty-four hours before had been a battleground. Snape watched the curious expression on Sirius' face with hateful amusement.

"Didn't notice them last night, Black? Not even when you were snuffling around down there, too scared to fight like a man with a wand?"

"Did any of those werewolves I was fighting get away from me and bite you, Snape?"

Snape glared. "No."

"Too bad."

"Better luck next time."

"I certainly hope so." Sirius jumped over the three steps leading into the hotel and was startled when Snape called him back. "What?"

"I spoke to Dumbledore an hour ago."

"I'll send him my condolences."

"He wants the werewolf to know that the other werewolves are being returned to Romania by way of the Ministry satellite office in Hogsmeade."

"Returned to Romania?"

"There aren't very many British werewolves. Irish ones, either. Or didn't you know that? Were you too busy plotting murder to learn about your weapon's origin?"

Sirius gnashed his teeth. "Dumbledore wants Remus to know about the other werewolves."

"Yes. He wants him to be there for the interrogations, if he can manage to wake up for long enough to Apparate."

"Touching of you to be concerned."

"I'm concerned about the future of light magic."

"You'll excuse me if I don't—" Sirius stopped himself in mid-insult. He had promised Dumbledore almost a year ago that he would accept that he and Snape were fighting for the same cause and that he would not display outward hostility. "I know."

Snape sneered. "I'm sure."

"I promised to work with you. I didn't promise to like you."

"If I suspected for a moment that you liked me, I would do my absolute best to find the same fate as these snakes have."

Sirius looked at the mess of scales, bones, and eyes with distaste. "I'd offer to help you with your work, but I know how you enjoy cutting up dead things."

"I wouldn't trust you with this. This requires patience and precision and more care than you have ever taken with anything in your miserable life."

"Are you extracting venom?"

"One point to Gryffindor."

"Is Gryffindor out of the negatives yet?" Sirius asked, feeling humorous in spite of himself.

"No."

"Will you be donating the venom to the Ministry in all its glorious incompetence?"

"Have you nothing better to do than interrogate me?"

"Unfortunately, no, I haven't. But I'll be leaving anyway. Speaking to you has made me long to stare at a wall." Or even a boggart. I wonder what it would take to accidentally wake Remus up?

Sirius shook his head as he walked inside. He knew that nothing would wake Remus up "accidentally." He further knew that Remus ought to be allowed to sleep, and that as Remus' friend he should not even be considering waking him up.

But here he was.

He was bored.

He was so bored he had voluntarily had a conversation with Snape.

He wasn't bored at all.

Sirius let himself into Remus' room, noting that the locking spell had been the one Remus claimed was Sirius' own favorite.

Remus was lying slack-limbed on his bed. He had probably not moved since falling onto the bed after completing the wards they had come to Ireland to cast. Sirius continued to stare at his friend and mentally began to order himself out of his friend's room. An internal debate ensued.

Don't you dare wake him up.

But I want to talk to him.

You can talk to him later. It's downright cruel to wake him up when he's worked all day after a full moon.

You're right.

Yes. Now get out of the room.

I'm going, I'm going. But.

NO!

I need to talk to him.

Before the more thoughtful, saner internal voice could re-assert itself, Sirius found himself seizing Remus by the shoulders and roughly shaking him awake.

What did you do that for? I told you not to! You know you weren't supposed to do that, Sirius!

"Sirius?" Remus asked groggily. "What's wrong?"

Sirius, for one of very few times in his life, found himself unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Are the Death Eaters back?" Remus had his wand in his hand and his patented alert-but-weary look in his eyes. (Sirius had heard, through Lily, that a girl who had fancied Remus when they had still been Hogwarts students had called this look 'exhausted-but-sexy.' Sirius felt more comfortable thinking 'alert-but-weary,' however.)

"No." Sirius found his voice. "No, Moony, go back to sleep. I'm sorry."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine."

"What happened?"

"I accidentally woke you up. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not sorry. What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Well, Dumbledore wants you to be at the interrogations of the werewolves we caught."

"That's not why you woke me up. Unless it's later than I thought." Remus craned his neck, trying to see the clock sitting behind his bed. Seeing that he had not lost track of time, he turned back to Sirius.

"You spoke to Dumbledore?"

"Snape did."

"You argued with Snape."

"Naturally. I'm starting to think that your way of handling him might be better. Perhaps I shouldn't automatically say the nastiest thing I can think of every time I see him."

Remus' tired eyes widened in amazement and the back of one hand rose to brush Sirius' forehead, as if checking for a fever. "You really have had a bad evening."

Sirius forced a laugh. "Moony."

"Padfoot. Sit down and tell me what's bothering you."

Sirius sighed and obeyed.

"I was wandering around town. I didn't know what to do with myself, and I thought of talking to Snape, and let me tell you, it disturbs me that I wanted to talk to him, almost as much as it disturbs me that I considered being civil to him even though he wasn't civil to me," Sirius rambled. Remus stared at him as if willing him to say something that made sense. Sirius drew a deep breath. "I thought to myself that I liked boggarts better than I like Snape. And I started thinking about the last time I saw a boggart."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Remus asked carefully.

"James," Sirius muttered so tightly that Remus would not have been able to understand him had he not given the expected answer.

"Doing what?"

"Telling me. Blaming me. Saying-- saying I'd failed him. Betrayed him. Killed him. Murdered him. Murdered his wife. Orphaned his child, and then had the nerve to slink back into Harry's life and buy his affection."

Remus regarded his friend sadly. "You know— intellectually— that none of that's true."

"Some of it is."

"Which part?"

"Slinking back into Harry's life."

"You only slinked, or slunk, or . . ." Remus rolled his eyes and Sirius half-smiled "because you were on the run. There was no other way into Harry's life. You certainly didn't buy his affection. I'd hope you think more of him than that."

"I do. I think the world of him."

"Good. You know that the rest of your boggart is unrealistic as well?"

Sirius' voice grew firmer as he noted that Remus' classroom demeanor seemed to be asserting itself. "You may argue that I didn't kill James and Lily, or even that I didn't betray them, but you can hardly claim that I didn't fail them. I'm truly a failure as a friend."

"I'm seriously considering being insulted by that remark."

Sirius ignored the comment. "It should have been me who died."

"No one should have died."

"James said it should have been me."

"James adored you."

"James was stupid to adore me." Self-loathing crept into Sirius' voice.

"Most people thought James was pretty smart," Remus returned with attempted nonchalance.

"Smart enough to make it rain and not smart enough to come in out of it?"

"What?"

"Muggle phrase. Harry used it the other day. It means being very intelligent without having any common sense."

"Muggles can make it rain?"

"I guess so."

Remus rescued the conversation from its tangent. "He might not have had all the common sense in the world, but he hardly made a mistake by trusting you with his life."

"He did."

"I'm now officially insulted, just so you know."

"Why?"

"I trust you with my life."

"Then you have no common sense, either."

"Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"You're the first person who's ever told me that. I enjoy new experiences."

"The people who are laboring under the mistaken impression that you have common sense didn't see you on top of the astronomy tower in the snow with a winged foal."

"That wasn't a lack of common sense. That was two severely mischievous friends."

Sirius smiled, and then sighed deeply, and for a long moment Remus was afraid he might cry. "It was awful. The boggart. And I couldn't do anything with it. I couldn't just, oh, turn James' hair purple or something. James being dead isn't funny."

"You'll learn to get around boggarts again."

"That's not so much what I'm worried about."

"James is not going to come back from the dead and tell you off. If James could come back from the dead, he'd thank you for taking care of Harry."

"You have no way of knowing that."

"Yes, I do. It's what I'd do in his place." Sirius was silent. "Don't believe me?" Remus prompted.

"You're a decent person in a situation where you can't say anything else."

To Sirius' slight alarm, Remus' eyes flashed with conviction. "Draw your wand."

"My wand?"

"Yes. You know, the one that we broke into the Ministry warehouse to steal last summer?"

"Was that another indication of your common sense?"

"Yes, as it happens, but that isn't the point. We're going to take a page out of your esteemed godson's book. We're going to cast a Loyalty Oath."

"A real one?"

"I'm thinking Amicitia Aeternitas."

"Isn't that one of the most difficult ones?"

"It's two words."

"That's not—"

"Draw your wand," repeated Remus with pretended ennui.

They pressed their wands against one another's hearts. "Amicitia Aeternitas," they said in unison. A rush of heat flooded into both.

"That'll keep you warm in Azkaban," said Sirius, more than slightly stunned.

"Good," said Remus calmly, although he was unnerved himself. "Now go to your room and go to sleep."

Sirius found that he was tired at last. He did as Remus suggested.