Grim Dawn

Grim Dawn

Before Albus had even finished first gathering the Order of the Phoenix, he had received the most frightful message of his life. The letter was short, bittersweet, and to the point; it was from Mrs. Arabella Doreen Figg.

Harry Potter is missing, it read. Sirius Black has taken him.

The owl arrived battered and bleeding; obviously, someone had tired to impede her journey. Hence, the letter arrived five days late and much missed; for the first time in his long life, Albus Dumbledore nearly gave into an insurmountable urge to fly into a temper and break things. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that his fury would do no one any good, least of all Harry, the boy he had promised--promised!--to protect. The boy he had failed.

He wanted to weep.

Quickly, though, he put his mind to work at more useful tasks, and notified the small group of people who would be essential to the hunt. The reaction was most likely too little and too late, he knew, but one had to try. He couldn't quit until he knew for sure of Harry's death...he owed the poor boy that much, at the very least. And the Wizarding world would never be able to withstand Harry's loss, Albus knew, especially if it was coupled with the knowledge of the Dark Lord's return, which thus far the Ministry had refused to believe, and he had no solid evidence to support--unless, of course, he intended to expose and kill Severus for his pains.

Sirius Black has taken him. The thought was enough to send a chill down the headmaster's spine; although he knew that Harry hadn't been present at Voldemort's return, that certainly didn't mean that Harry wasn't in the Dark Lord's hands now. Black's role in the mess practically insured that Harry had already been turned over to Voldemort, for Albus was under no illusions. The brilliant boy that he had brought into the Order of the Phoenixhad nearly proved to be the death of them all. Honest, blunt, and mischievous Sirius Black, the Auror who'd turned his back on a family tradition of darkness and bigotry, had been the best liar of them all. If it hadn't been for Harry...

Harry. Dumbledore swallowed worry back, and added another name to the list, thinking quickly of the few who knew Black well enough to catch him. His group of hunters would prove to be highly unorthodox...but he wasn't looking for witches and wizards who played by the rules. He was looking for Harry.

And he had to succeed.

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Violent exclamations echoed down the front hall.

Harry snickered. Sirius certainly had a habit of using foul language when he thought Harry wasn't listening, but at least it made him much easier to track down. Five solid days of work had decontaminated the drawing room and made two bedrooms livable, but the old house was definitely still fighting back with a vengeance. His schoolbooks had arrived the day before, brought by an angry and mumbling Kreacher who the boy had learned to view with mild amusement. In the meantime, Harry had been finishing up his homework while Sirius kept waging war on the house. The break was welcome (after all, Grimmauld Place still gave him the creeps), but he was growing bored with the monotony and decided to see he could lend a hand.

"I take it that the coat rack isn't cooperating?" Harry asked philosophically, trying not to smile.

Sirius' head snapped up and he shot his godson a decidedly guilty glance. "More like Malfoy's wand creating problems again."

"Oh." Sirius had been having problems with Lucius Malfoy's wand from moment one; while he admitted that it worked for him much better than Avery's, he still maintained that the wand was bent on getting revenge for all the pranks the Marauders had played on the Slytherins back at school. He'd told Harry about a few of the more colorful ones, and had the younger wizard shaking in laughter, so it wasn't hard to imagine that Malfoy's wand might not like Sirius any more than the wizard himself did. "Need any help?"

"Nah. I was just about finished, anyway." A carefully aimed spell finally brought the coat rack under control; with a final squeal, it laid still against the floor. One of the portraits started to protest, but Sirius gestured menacingly and the portrait fell silent. Apparently not everyone was of the belief that wand didn't work perfectly well. "Interested in lunch?"

"Sure."

Together, they made their way downstairs and to the kitchen. Harry and Sirius had reached an uneasy truce with Kreacher--they desperately needed the house elf, after all, because it wasn't like either one of them could go gallivanting around outside the house--but they still wouldn't eat anything he prepared. Of course, Kreacher wasn't about to cook a darned thing for that "mangy, ill-mannered, disgrace upon the house of Black" anyway...but they could hardly have cared. It didn't take very long for Harry and Sirius to slap a few sandwiches together, anyway, and that was a perfectly edible solution.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry studied his godfather. Sirius was gaining some weight back, slowly, and was no longer the skeletal and frightening ghost he'd seemed to be at first. His hair was both shorter and cleaner (though he kept it long enough to have driven Mrs. Weasley batty), and his eyes were beginning to look less sunken into his face. Overall, he seemed so much more alive, and he smiled more, too, despite the bouts of melancholy that Sirius was still subject to indulging in.

"I'm going to Hogwarts today," Sirius said abruptly.

"Err--today?" Harry squeaked, taken completely off guard.

"I've got to sometime," his godfather replied. "You need to go back to school in a week, and getting you to King's Cross might be complicated, considering..."

"Right," he agreed quickly, mostly because he didn't want to hear Sirius say the words. Aside from asking a few questions, Harry had avoided the subject of Voldemort, of if they knew for sure or not that he was back. It wasn't that he was afraid to talk about that, of course...he just didn't want to ruin his happy summer with the dark shadow that threatened to fall across them all. The Daily Prophet had said nothing about it (quite typically), but the clues were there. Mysterious deaths and disappearances, increased amounts of dark creatures wandering around at night--no one had added the signs together yet, but Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made his move.

Things were only made worse by the fact that his nightmares often matched faces to the names of those who died during the night. There was simply nothing else that it could be, and the future was beginning to look very dark. There had even been rumors of Dementors straying away from Azkaban and preying upon innocent and unaware souls during the dark hours of the night.

But Dementors were another subject to be avoided around Sirius. Entirely avoided.

Sirius smiled slightly, unaware of his godson's dark thoughts. "Don't worry, Harry. I know ways into Hogwarts that even Dumbledore isn't aware of."

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"Thank you for coming, Arthur, Molly," Dumbledore said quietly, gesturing the Weasleys into seats at the table. The couple glanced at one another silently, wondering exactly what they were doing in Hogwarts' staff room, but trusting Dumbledore enough not to ask yet. As they sat, the door opened, and Molly turned to see another wizard enter the room.

He seemed quite young, though his brown hair was speckled with gray. Sadness in his eyes made him seem older than his physical appearance indicated, too, and Molly sensed a quietness around him that somehow indicated great and ancient pain. His robes were patched and faded in places, and for a long moment she wondered what he was doing at Hogwarts, until the next person clomped into the room.

Mad-Eye Moody she knew of, though Molly certainly didn't know him very well. Although many called the ex-Auror a paranoid and shady figure who had long since put his sanity out to dry, Molly and Arthur both knew better. He'd been a genius in his day and still bore the scars; there was hardly an inch of his grizzled face that wasn't marked from his legendary battles against dark witches and wizards. Moody walked with a limp, now, clunking along on his wooden leg and glaring at the world. But his gaze softened as Arthur rose to greet him.

"Mad-Eye!"

"Hello, Arthur," the other replied gruffly, taking the offered hand after a slight hesitation. He nodded in her direction. "Molly."

"Hello," she replied politely, then turned her gaze as two others walked in.

Professor McGonagall she did know well--probably too well, considering all the owls she received about Fred and George's antics. All the same, Molly had the utmost of respect for Gryffindor's strict head of house; all her children had been Gryffindors, and none of them could ever find a fault with the knowledgeable and intelligent Transfiguration professor. McGonagall's normally stern face cracked into a slight smile of greeting before she took her seat, though Molly received no such welcome from the last man to enter.

Professor Snape was, as always, greasy, slimy, and simply sneaky. If anyone had asked Molly to describe the perfect Slytherin, Snape would immediately have come to mind. He was just dark. Snape was also an absolutely horrid teacher, to boot; Molly might not have believed Fred and George's complaints about him if she hadn't heard Percy and Charlie say the same things. Although competent (quite possibly brilliant, if Dumbledore was to be believed), Snape wasn't even fair. He wasn't fit to teach, either, in her opinion, and Molly wasn't surprised when the oily Potions Master refused to even acknowledge her or Arthur's gaze.

Dumbledore finally sat down and smiled a welcome to all of them. "Now that I believe everyone is here, we can get started," he said cheerfully. "First, though, I believe some introductions are in order. Arthur, Molly, this is Professor Remus Lupin, our new Defense Againstthe Dark Arts professor. Remus, this is Arthur and Molly Weasley."

"Hello." The newcomer inclined his head politely and spoke in a pleasant voice; across the table, Snape was glaring daggers at him.

So this is the new Dark Arts professor, Molly couldn't help but thinking. He seemed rather young for the post, though she supposed that he wasn't really much younger than Snape, if at all. But his eyes were intelligent, and they were kind, too, which Molly supposed made for a good beginning. His shabby dress didn't do much to upset her, either, because she knew what hardship was like. That, and Snape seemed highly put out that Lupin had gotten the job, so something told Molly that this was one professor her children might actually come to respect.

"I suppose many of you are wondering why you are here," Dumbledore continued. "And I will not leave you wondering. This morning, I received a letter from Arabella Figg, a Squib who lives near Harry Potter."

Molly felt her breath grow short. Ever since she'd heard of his escape, she'd known that something bad was going to--

"The letter was somewhat delayed in reaching me, but its contents are confirmation of something that I believe you have already guessed. Sirius Black has taken Harry."

Molly clamped a hand over her mouth to keep a cry back; distantly, she felt Arthur take her hand, trying to comfort her, but it was no use. Her heart felt like it was going to break. "Is he--?"

"Dead?" Dumbledore finished gently what she could not bear to say. "We have no reason to believe so, but honestly, I do not know.

"As some of you know, Lord Voldemort has returned," the headmaster continued gravely; his words made Molly go cold. It isn't possible. It isn't possible! She hardly heard the rest of what he said. "Therefore, it is now doubly imperative that we can find Harry before Black can bring him to his master. For I am certain that if Voldemort gets him, Harry will not survive."

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Less than an hour later, Dumbledore and McGonagall had both left to meet with Hogwarts' Board of Governors, a duty that neither could escape. Their absence, however, left the unorthodox group with no clear leader, and they all sat in silence until Arthur Weasley cleared his throat.

"I guess we ought to start by trying to figure out where Black might have taken Harry," he suggested carefully.

No one objected, but then again, no one really agreed either. The only noise in the staff room was pages turning as Moody sifted through a folder full of papers labeled with the Ministry's seal. Seeing no arguments, Arthur looked at Snape.

"I suppose you knew him from school--?" he began, only to be cut off by Snape's disbelieving sneer. The Potions Master's black eyes widened furiously, and he almost launched into a tirade before Remus could interject.

"No," he said quietly. "I did."

Both Weasleys' eyes swiveled to look at him, and Remus had to fight not to flinch under their confused stares. "I was friends with him at Hogwarts...and with Harry's parents."

Snape snorted.

Arthur started to say, "But James and Lily were--"

"Gryffindors," Remus finished flatly. He knew what they had expected, what everyone had expected. "So was I. So was Sirius."

"Oh," Molly said quietly.

"That's why I'm here," the Defense professor continued grimly. "Because I know him. Or at least I thought I did. Severus here"--he gestured at his increasingly displeased comrade--"is here because he hates him. But I didn't always. And if anyone can find him, I can."

"Don't overrate yourself, Lupin," Snape sneered. Remus didn't even let his facial expression change; he was not surprised. "Any fool with half a brain can guess where Black's gone. He's gone to Grimmauld Place."

"That's where you're wrong, Severus." Slowly, he glanced at the other wizard. "He hated that place, hated everything it stood for. Sirius would rather spend time in a tomb than go there."

Snape snorted. "You just said that you thought you knew him, Lupin. But maybe he wasn't as different as you thought."

"Stuff it, Snape." Moody finally looked up from the papers he'd been studying. "You of all people out to know about change." Snape reared back as if slapped, but the ex-Auror continued, his magical eye rolling wildly. "Lupin's assessment is right. Black hated that place more than he even hated you. So jump off your high horse and don't forget that I know all about your night job."

"I fail to see what that has to do with this discussion," the other replied stiffly.

"Everything." Moody leered unpleasantly at him. "You find out what you can, Lupin figures it out, and I catch him. End of story."

"It's that simple, is it? And I suppose the Weasleys, McGonagall, and Dumbledore are just here for moral support?" the Potions Master snapped back, making Remus sigh. He'd known that leaving the two of them alone in a room was like mixing oil and fire.

"Don't be childish," the ex-Auror retorted.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" Remus interjected mildly, trying to head off the storm before it could start. For a moment, he was sure that Moody would snap back at him, but the older wizard backed off, grunting in agreement.

"Indeed."

"So what are we going to do?" Molly wondered. Remus resisted the urge to thank her; he was sick of being the only voice of reason between Snape and Moody. It was like riding one of those Muggle roller coasters that Lily had been so fond of.

"Check everywhere, of course," Mad-Eye replied as if it had been obvious. "Starting with Grimmauld Place, and then moving onto every cave, abandoned house and building in the Londonarea--"

"The Shrieking Shack," Remus interjected, thinking out loud and speaking before he'd intended to. Both Weasleys and Moody gave him an odd look, but Snape understood instantly, and his face curled up furiously.

"Whatever for?" Arthur replied.

"We used to go there, when we were in school--"

"Oh, yes, Lupin, tell them all your secrets, why don't you?" Snape jeered. "See what they think of you then--"

Crack! Moody's hand slapped down on the table. "That's enough out of you!"

For a moment, it looked like Snape was going to argue, but he finally backed down under the molten fire of Moody's gaze. A guilty part of Remus really didn't blame the other man for his anger, or for the lingering result of bad experiences and even worse memories--and even then, I should have known, he reproached himself once again. How is it that we could miss the signs when they were right in front of our faces all along? He felt cold inside, remembering. We all thought that it was an honest mistake, and I even accepted Sirius' apology--damn him!

Even as the memories threatened to assault him, though, he knew what he had to do.

"He's an Animagus," Remus said suddenly, forcing the words out before he lost the courage to do so. His throat felt tight. "Sirius is."

"What?" Moody's voice thundered out with fury that Remus could understand all too well. The ex-Auror was all but shaking in rage--or was it something else? Even Snape looked shocked. "When did this happen?"

Remus sucked in a deep breath. "In our fifth year. They all were--James, Peter, and Sirius...he's a dog. A big, black, dog. He looks like a grim." He forced a laugh that sounded fake even to his own ears. "Sirius used to think it was funny."

"All that time..." Moody growled the words under his breath. His scarred face was pinched in anger, and Remus couldn't blame him. They'd all been betrayed.

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Night was falling over Grimmauld Place.

Harry stared out the window, wondering. Waiting. He had begun to feel cold inside, despite the warm dinner he'd had a little while before...at first, Harry had tried to wait for Sirius, but his godfather was not yet back. He supposed that Sirius was still talking to Dumbledore, trying to convince the headmaster that he was innocent--Unless--

Don't think about that! he told himself sternly. Dumbledore wouldn't... Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. These things took time, he knew. Guilty men didn't become innocent overnight, no matter how much he might want them to. Dumbledore would probably have lots of questions, and Sirius would have to tell his story over and over again...not to mention the fact that they'd have to find Scabbers--Peter--in order to prove him right. It might take awhile. Sirius had warned Harry that it might even take all day, but he'd let him know if it did.

Except it was night now, and Sirius hadn't gotten in touch with him. Harry hadn't heard anything at all. He was starting to feel very cold.

He hadn't really been listening when Sirius had lectured him about what to do if he didn't come back. Harry hadn't thought it possible...but now he started to think of the hundred things that could have gone wrong. Sirius could have been caught by a dogcatcher, found by the Ministry, found by Voldemort--

Harry shuddered. Or maybe Dumbledore just didn't believe him. Maybe Sirius was back in Azkaban already. Maybe the only family he had was lost...

Impulse almost made him grab his father's invisibility cloak and head outside on his own, but while Harry hadn't been listening to Sirius telling him what to do if he didn't come back, he hadn't been able to avoid promising Sirius that he wouldn't leave Grimmauld Place no matter what. No matter what, Sirius had made him promise. Harry knew it was for his own safety, but that didn't mean it was right. He'd made a promise, though...and now it hurt like mad.

Please come back Sirius, he begged the night. Harry didn't think that he could losing Sirius; not now, when he'd just started to get to know him. Sirius was the only family he'd ever had, and Harry wasn't about to let go without a fight. Grimly, he made himself a new and different promise. If Sirius wasn't back by morning, he'd go find him. Some things were more important than his own safety.

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