The Lion and the Unicorn

-The D-Day Dodgers, Unknown

"You don't have to be so pigheaded about it," Remus insisted crossly. "I said I'd go. What more do you want?"

"I want you to stop sulking," Sirius shot back. "I know you don't want to go back there and I respect that, but we all have to do things we don't want to do." He closed his eyes against the memories that brought up. 'Let it go,' he told me. Why can't he take his own advice?

"Easy for you to say- your family wasn't part of the-"

There was a slight draught in the room and Remus paused in his tirade, looking pensive. Anya peeked her head round the door. "Am I interrupting something important?"

Sirius was about to answer in the affirmative, but Remus shook his head. "Nothing we can't finish later."

"Good," she answered, entering the room fully. "Dumbledore sent me to tell you that you're to leave as soon as possible. Oh, and this just arrived via owl post." Anya unfolded something long and silvery.

Remus stiffened visibly, probably remembering the circumstances he'd last seen it. Sirius, who had known of the cloak's arrival beforehand, accepted it with a well-masked expression of somewhat painful nostalgia. "Thanks," he said awkwardly, packing it into his magically expanded duffel-bag. "Well, that's the last of it."

Anya nodded. She seemed to know how he felt about this 'mission' and probably wouldn't bring it up again. She definitely didn't like it in the least, but as Sirius had learned those past few days, Anya Dickinson was as stubborn as he was when it came to things that had to be done. "Good luck," she said at length, and turned and walked out the door.

Sirius and Remus left for Sicily via Portkey two hours later.

*

Dumbledore folded his glasses on the table. "The thirty-first of July," he said finally, regarding two of his senior officers with a somewhat tired look.

The other man in the room nodded his head sharply, feeling at least as tired as the headmaster looked. "So I've been told. It's not much of a stretch; it's an important date in the master's book. Potter's birthday. What better day for a major power plan?" Yes, and all the preparations shall be made by then, and it will be far too late to stop any plans the master might have concerning those treacherous wraiths.

Arabella Figg shook her head. "It's so soon- we'll never be ready to stop it in time. Yet we can't let it happen at all- things are dark enough as it is. But maybe if we laid some sort of other trap- one that didn't involve us being present…"

"Where is this summit supposed to take place?" Fletcher asked. "We could see about setting something up."

Severus regarded him coldly. "The Dark Ones can't wreak mischief the same place twice. Dark followers have no such laws." He waved his wand at the sheet of glass on the table and a hologram appeared. "A Muggle graveyard," he said without interest. "The one where Riddle's father is buried. A remote location, isolated even from the village it serves as a burial ground for." His lips pursed. "The Muggles have no desire to visit their dead, it seems, since the events of last year."

Fletcher nodded. "And who can blame them, after what's happened?" He tapped his wand on the table nervously. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Both Arabella and Dumbledore shook their heads. "I don't know."

*

"I don't suppose I'd be helping matters if I said I had a bad feeling about this?"

Anya shook her head absently. "I feel the same way. They've only been gone for two days, but…"

Leon voiced his protest about not being fed promptly and Anya resumed her vain attempts to get applesauce into his mouth.

"Remus really didn't want to go," Charlie mused. "I don't blame him, but I do wonder."

"About a good many more things than actually concern you. I'm sure Remus had a good reason not to go, and we should leave it at that." Anya sighed, glancing toward the wall calendar. "The full moon is in four days."

"Arabella and Mundungus will be gone in two," Charlie reminded her, still pouring over the same Care of Magical Creatures text. "But give them some credit- they have experience in the field, and they're both powerful enough wizards… besides, Remus and Sirius could be back five minutes from now. Or it could be five minutes before Mundungus and Arabella leave."

Anya smiled dryly to herself. "Tell me then, O Patient Fountain of All Wisdom, why have you been stretched tighter than the skin of a bongo drum these last two days?"

"Harry Potter," Charlie answered simply. "Ron wants to have him over for the rest of the summer, but Dumbledore won't let him go anywhere until sufficient guard is set up, and we don't have that at The Burrow."

"I thought you had two entire companies of gnomes?"

"Yes, the lawn type," Charlie answered with a bit of a smile. "Certainly not like the fancy guards you've got set up here."

Anya had not been idle during her teammates' absence- at the front door (indeed, at every door) stood two feisty guard gnomes with spears who would only allow those who knew the password to enter. Otherwise the door would seal shut until someone told it the password. Not only that, but the gnomes' spears would fuse to the legs of the unsuspecting visitor. Anya had tried it on Charlie; he hadn't been amused.

She shrugged. "Can't be too careful, especially when, if a pact is made between Death Eaters and Drifters, we could be attacked at any moment." She stopped. "I'm too young to be paranoid."

"Nonsense," Charlie said. "With paranoia, you can never start too young. Take my brother Percy, for example-"

Anya had to giggle, recalling how, at one Weasley dinner, Percy had campaigned against the dangers of Tooth-flossing Stringmints. "Funny how he can be so blind to other, significant dangers."

Charlie sighed. "Don't remind me. Dad is about at the end of his rope where Percy is concerned. It frustrates him to know that one of his own sons is a devout follower of that incompetent, feather-brained-"

"Charlie. We've had this conversation before."

"Right," he answered, visibly tense. "I just-"

"I know," Anya said gently, laying a comforting hand on his arm. "But try to relax, okay? There's no sense in both of us being paranoid."

"I'm not-" Charlie was about to protest when they heard a loud crash coming from the sitting room.

"Save it," Anya told him as he rushed to the doorway. She snatched Leon out of his high chair and followed close behind him. "Are they back?" she asked, trying to look around him.

Charlie swore under his breath. "Yes," he answered, fingering his wand.

Deciding that she had to see for herself, Anya stepped past him into the sitting room and almost dropped Leon in shock. "Get Madam Pomfrey or Arabella," she commanded him. "Now." She put Leon in his arms as well. "Go!"

Sirius Black had just appeared in her living room. In his arms was an unconscious and bleeding Remus Lupin.

*

Anya wasted no time in telling Sirius what to do. "Towels and rags in the closet down that hallway. Mobilicorpus."

By the time he got back, Anya had Remus stretched out on a cot which hadn't been there before. "What happened?" she asked, peeling off Remus' blood-soaked shirt.

"Gangsters," Sirius answered, sterilizing the towels with a spell. He felt so useless- his friend was gong to die right in front of him- "What should I do?"

"Go into a bit more detail," Anya answered, cursing softly as she saw the wound. "Aine! Didn't he sense them coming? And shouldn't he be somewhat more immune-?"

"Wizard Mafia," Sirius corrected himself. "Cursed silver knife. Which explains the burn marks around the- oh, my God." A wave of nausea swept over him as Anya passed her wand over Remus' chest and all of the blood coalesced into one thick puddle, which she wiped up with one of the towels. The wound laid bare was revealed to be worse than Sirius had thought- deep, wide, and far too close to the heart.

"Unless you know some really good First Aid Charms, I suggest you sit down somewhere, Sirius," Anya told him, sounding a little strange as she moved her hands over the wound again.

Sirius didn't budge. I knew the charm for this. I did. I do. What is it? "I can't-"

"Go, Sirius," Anya ground out, pressing the towel against Remus' chest. She mumbled something Sirius couldn't hear under her breath.

"I can't just-"

The chanting grew louder and it became apparent that Anya was not paying him any mind whatsoever. "Beannacht Ahine, bligh mé a cnáigh-"

Sirius knew a little Gaelic, but he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. It was all he could do to watch, as his friend's breathing grew shallower and shallower. He is not going to die. He is not going- Why can't I remember that bloody charm?

Something thudded loudly into the fireplace and Charlie Weasley stumbled out again, followed closely by Arabella Figg. "Knife wound," Anya said without looking up. "Silver; poisoned with some sort of curse. I can't figure out what it is, and he's already lost a lot of blood-" Even as she finished her sentence, she was moving away from Remus, letting Arabella do her work.

Sirius was just beginning to feel like he was watching a Quidditch match without registering any of the important plays when Charlie approached him, balancing Leon against his side. "He's going to be alright," Sirius said, not sure if he were saying it to assure himself or if it were a question.

"If Arabella and Anya can't help him, no one can," Charlie said heavily. "Mundungus broke his leg spying on Severus Snape while he was round the Whomping Willow yesterday and she mended it as quickly as Madam Pomfrey ever could." He watched the two witches at work for a moment. "I don't know how she is with curse wounds, though."

Sirius could only nod. This is your own fault, you know. Yes, you brought this on yourself. Who had dragged Remus, practically kicking and screaming, down to Sicily to buy Muggle weapons? He had. Who had insisted on going on that little 'tour' to see if they could scout out any Dark activity? He had. And who had gotten stabbed? Remus, because Sirius had been wearing the cloak at the time. Stupid, foolish-

"This is for your own good, Sirius," Charlie said, shaking his head. He pulled out his wand. "Stupefy."

*

"Was that really necessary, Charlie?"

He shrugged, levitating Sirius a few feet off the floor. "Better than having him conscious but in shock. Point me to a bedroom?"

Anya gestured down the west wing. "Pick any room down there… there's no point in bringing him upstairs, I think. He'll be lost when he wakes up."

"You've forgotten about his Animagus senses," Charlie said, but followed her directions to a room down the corridor. He let Sirius' body drop onto the bed and then, shifting Leon (who was half-asleep) in his arms, he crossed the hallway to lay him down for a nap.

"That should take care of the curse, then," Arabella was saying as he reentered the sitting room. "It looks like he might have a concussion, though- he must have hit his head on something. We'll have to wake him up as soon as we can. I'll need your help for that."

"Just Enervate?" Anya asked, taking her wand out from her sleeve again.

"Yes. On three, now. One… two…"

Charlie watched as the werewolf's form stirred a bit. "Merlin… Sirius, what have you done this time?" he groaned, trying to put a hand over his eyes. Apparently he didn't have the strength to do so, because his arm flopped back at his side. "Okay. You're not Sirius," he mumbled. "Where is Sirius and what the hell happened to me?"

"Easy, Remus," Anya said soothingly. "Do you know where you are?"

The werewolf squinted at the ceiling, then moved his head a bit. Sniffing the air, he said, "Dromore House again, I guess. It's cold in here." His body went relatively limp. "I think I'll just- take a nap-"

"No, Remus," Arabella insisted. "You have to stay awake. You're concussed. You've also lost a lot of blood, which means you're staying here for a while. I don't want you out of bed for the next three days. Do you understand me?"

"Bed," Remus repeated slowly. "Three days. Sleep."

"Not now. Evigilo. You can rest after we make sure you're okay. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four," Remus said, slightly livelier than he'd been a few seconds before.

"Birthday?" Arabella queried, checking his pupil dilation.

"June third," Remus answered. "Do I have to say the year?"

"Are you implying that you're old? Because that would make me positively ancient. What's your full name?"

"Remus Johannes Lupin."

"Remus…"

"Remus Johannes Lupin, the Third," he said sulkily. "I'm so glad you remember that. It was rather cruel of you to make me write it on my Potions essays, though."

"But it's such a nice name," Arabella protested, letting a weary smile cross her face now that it seemed sure that Remus could recover. "Now that we're done the test- did you get what you were sent for?"

"In a shrunken trunk in Sirius' robe pocket," Remus answered. "Couple big guns, Sirius says they're called machine guns or some such thing. Looked kind of old-fashioned, he said. Some nasty-looking knives. Handguns, some of those little egg things you pull the pin and throw. I think that's about it."

"It'll do," Anya assured him, patting his hand. "We should let him rest now. We can check up on him again in the morning- or later this evening, as the case may be." She had just checked the time, surprised to find that it wasn't yet time for supper. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in eating anything right about now, Arabella?"

"Not now, no," Arabella admitted. "Well, I'll take Remus to a room- the one beside Sirius'?" Anya nodded. "Wonderful. And then we can have a nice chat about what on earth we are going to do with his friend." She shook her head. "He blames himself, you know."

Anya snorted. "Anyone would."

"Yes, but he could do nothing about it. And I fear that the interlude with the Wizard Mafia was not a totally unplanned one on their part. But I'll tell you about that when I'm done with this one, shall I? Mobilicorpus."

"Now then," Arabella began, returning to the room and lowering herself slowly into a chair. "This is something of a strange tale, child, and one that requires more than a little guesswork." She pulled a battered old book out of the rucksack she'd appeared with. "The first clue we got was the burning of this very house," she said slowly, now flipping through the pages. Somewhere near the back of the book she stopped, skimmed the page she was on, and nodded to herself.

"But we know the purpose for that- the Drifters want to wipe out the Shee," Anya said, confused. "Hence the burning."

"Not quite," Arabella responded cryptically. She handed Anya the book. "The purpose for this burning, at least, was the acquisition of a crucial ingredient."

"Shee ashes?" Anya asked, reading from the book. Her stomach twanged unpleasantly and she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. My brother- they used my brother's ashes in a potion-

"Indeed," Arabella replied, taking the book again and flipping away from the general ingredients page. "After that, there were other clues- Mr. Weasley meeting a Drifter under Stonehenge, for instance. Or the fact that someone took the risk of stripping some of the bark off of the Whomping Willow. At the very least, I should have seen this coming." She tapped her finger against the page and Anya leaned over to read it.

"They used my brother's remains in a Strengthening Potion?" she asked incredulously. Of all the disgusting, dirty things to do… "That doesn't sound like an ordinary Strengthening Potion to me."

"No," Arabella said. "It's highly illegal and very powerful, for good reason. It requires not only Shee ashes, Whomping Willow bark, and a collection of various mosses from a place of great magical significance- but the heart and bones of a fully grown werewolf."

The sick sensation in Anya's stomach increased and her insides twisted; her face became a mask of grotesque disgust. "Remus' heart and bones. And since they don't have access to him anymore-"

"They've gone after another by now, I'm sure," Arabella said softly. "It's probably too late."

"But from what Dumbledore said, Voldemort is already back at full power." Too late either way.

"I do not think," Arabella confided, "that this Strengthening Potion was for him."

*

Sirius awoke in a room he had never seen before. It was dark, and quiet, and altogether warm and comfortable. At the end of the bed he was lying on there was a dark mahogany wardrobe that looked to be several decades old. Hanging beside it on the wall was a tapestry hand-embroidered with a rearing lion; the words below it read Cead Mille Failte.

Back at Dromore House, I suppose, he thought, sitting up slowly. Something poked into his side and he realized that his robes were twisted about him in a most uncomfortable manner and that there was a small case still in his pocket from the journey.

Italy. Where's Remus? He swung his feet off of the bed and stood up, intending to find his friend, but the blood rushed from his head. In an effort to still the room's spinning, he leaned heavily on what he thought was a high, peculiarly shaped black table. He found, upon inspection of the mystery piece of furniture, that it was an old piano, possibly out of tune, and somewhat out of place as well. He did remember that Anya had been doing some serious redecorating, though, and its placement was not likely to be permanent.

Sirius sat down on the bench, running his fingers over the ivory keys. His curiosity got the better of him, and he curled his fingers gently and pressed down, surprised at the solid, harmonious notes that came out. Apparently it wasn't out of tune after all. He tapped out a simple melody, and the spell he seemed to have been under was broken. Remus again took precedence in his mind, and he set off in the dark house to find him.

*

"Sirius? Good, you're awake. I don't suppose I could interest you in some lasagna?"

He turned, startled both by the tone and by the offer, and his stomach growled. "Where's Remus?"

"Resting," Anya answered tiredly. "He'll be fine, provided he doesn't do too much for the next few days. Recovering from this just before the full moon is the best thing for him- the only thing, if we ever want him back at full strength."

Sirius winced inwardly. He had almost forgotten about the transformation his friend would have to endure. The cursed wound would only make the whole process more complicated. "Oh." Not feeling comfortable discussing the situation further, he switched the topic back to Anya's original question. "I'll pass on dinner. I've had quite enough Italian food."

"So I imagine," Anya replied sympathetically. "You probably wouldn't want any, anyway. Charlie's cooking is, er, questionable."

Sirius snorted. "Does Charlie's cooking end up resembling something that has been sitting at the bottom of a trash heap?"

Anya smiled a bit. "It's not quite that bad, but close."

"Well," Sirius said with a shake of his head, "then it can't possibly be any worse than Remus'." Not that Remus will be cooking for a while… that, at least, is a blessing.

"And here I was wondering why you were so skinny," she joked. "Everything is much clearer now- it's not that you've been on the run for a year, it's just that you can't eat while you're staying with Remus! And of course you would never think of cooking for yourself-"

"On the contrary," Sirius said. "I'm not too bad when it comes to making food. There are just too many windows in Moony's kitchen."

"And neither of you knows a good enough One-way Charm?"

Sirius sighed. "To tell you the absolute truth, I'm not living with Remus anyway. It's too risky."

She looked at him incredulously. "So you're staying at Hogwarts? There's no reason for you to complain about food, then."

They both paused at a slight noise from down the west wing. "I'll get him," Sirius said, not quite sure why he had taken such a liking to the young lad. It was perhaps a little unnatural, but it reminded him of the life he was denied… and that he had a second chance at it, or could have if he played his cards right. Leon was a baby, completely removed from the worries and prejudices that adults inevitably develop. He trusted although there was nothing to base trust upon and loved without condition, and if there was one thing that Sirius needed, that was it. Add on top of that the fact that he still felt guilty for not being there for Harry while he was growing up, and it was fairly obvious why Sirius adored Leon so much.

Of course, he would never admit any of those reasons to anyone, not even to himself, so he contented himself with pretending that he didn't know.

Holding the fussing child in his arms, Sirius closed his eyes and resolved that this war would not ruin the lives of any more children. Not if he could help it.