Grim Dawn

Remus swallowed in the silence. The others, too, seemed to be doing the same--now that Snape was done speaking, shock was written on every single one of six other faces. They couldn't believe what they'd heard simply because it wasn't believable. It didn't make sense. Dumbledore, it seemed, was the only one who was unsurprised, but even Remus wasn't fooled by the calm look. It might have been three in the morning, but Snape had clearly briefed the headmaster while the others had gathered.

"Quite obviously," the old man said quietly, "this changes everything."

It was perhaps the single greatest understatement Dumbledore had ever uttered, and none of them knew what to say in reply. So they only stared, waiting and hoping that the headmaster would be able to pull one more miracle out of his sleeve and explain the entire mess.

Remus' stomach was churning wildly. Moody had said it days ago--something wasn't right. But what was going on? Why did Voldemort hold Sirius, who Snape had told them only the day before (had it only been that long) had been at the Riddle House speaking to the Dark Lord? Now, though, the Death Eater had a completely different story to tell--

"I managed to speak to Lucius about the situation in private, and he confirmed having lied about Black's presence to mislead Goyle and Flint." Snape managed to speak the words without so much as a glance in Moody's direction, despite the fact that the ex-Auror had been pestering him about the very same conversation not long before. "Apparently the Dark Lord does not want Black's resistance to become common knowledge, even amongst the Death Eaters."

"How long has he been there?" Moody asked abruptly, his brow furrowed and obviously thinking fast.

"Over a week."

"That makes no sense," McGonagall interjected flatly. "Unless this is some elaborate ruse and Harry really is in You-Know-Who's hands...?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I assure you, Minerva, that he is not. The Dark Lord is still searching obsessively for the boy."

"Then how--?" Molly broke off with a frown, shaking her head. Her husband picked up where she left off, no less happy but more composed than she.

"We've always assumed that Black has been willing to hand Harry over to You-Know-Who," he pointed out. "But from what you're saying, Black's been resisting every one of Voldemort's efforts to find out Harry's location."

"That is correct."

This time it was McGonagall's turn to roll her eyes and skewer her fellow professor with a glare. "The question you are so artfully avoiding, Severus, is the one we really need to know the answer to. Why is Black resisting?"

"If I knew, I would undoubtedly have told you by now," was the dry reply. His dark eyes suddenly flashed though, and Snape continued, "I do know, however, that Black has apparently cast the Fidelius Charm on the boy to conceal his location."

His gaze was on Remus now, who felt himself growing white and was unable to reply. He couldn't even think, but a part of his mind registered the slight twitch of Snape's lips as the other sneered slightly in his direction. The other's dark gaze was level, but Remus recognized it for what it was. Triumphant. Still, a cold lump of horror had nestled its way into his throat and even the anger he ought to have felt at Snape couldn't dispel it.

Of all the cruel twists of fate... Remus swallowed hard. He had to close his eyes for a moment, just one short moment, to regain control. This couldn't be happening--the world couldn't possibly be so ironically vindictive--but it was. And it had. Unintentionally, Remus dropped his head into his hands. How had things gone so wrong? How had everything that had once seemed so perfect withered away into nothingness? There had been four of them, once, so close and so strong...and now he was alone. Of the four, only one remained. Except... Remus tried to shut the thought out, but it wouldn't go. There is another. Yes. One of the other Marauders did remain, the man he'd once known as Padfoot and the boy he'd once loved as a brother--but he was no longer a friend. He was an enemy, now, and had been for twelve long years.

But try as he might, Remus couldn't banish the image of Sirius tortured by Voldemort. How odd and ironic it all was--the Dark Lord wanted Harry, and the man that had betrayed his parents was all that stood in the way. Damn you, Padfoot, he thought painfully. Damn you.

Moody's incredulous voice brought his head up.

"I suppose Snape was right," the ex-Auror said gruffly. "He is insane."

Molly frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Obviously, Black's forgotten what side he's on. Maybe Azkaban just unhinged him, or maybe it's some kind of maniac regret. Either way, he's not doing what we expected--he's protecting the boy." Moody's eyes flashed. "Why's not really an issue, then. The important question is how long that'll last."

"Not long," Snape replied immediately, but his face was now oddly devoid of emotion. "No one ever does."

The words he'd left unspoken drifted over the table, leaving them all to remember the terrifying days of the first war and the bloody trail of broken and dead wizards Voldemort had left in his wake. Those he couldn't seduce, co-opt or intimidate fell into two categories: those he could break and those he could not. And everyone the Dark Lord caught inevitably fell into the first group.

Remus swallowed; he felt sick. He had always thought of Sirius as one of the strongest people he'd ever met--rash and a little crazy, for sure, but extremely strong, despite the corrupting influence of his awful family. The real Sirius--the pre-betrayal Sirius--had always been one of the few who would fall into the illusive third category: those who Voldemort would seek to break and fail in trying. Sirius, the old Sirius, would have rathered die than surrender. Rathered die than betray his friends. Or so I thought, anyway, he thought bitterly. Those traits had belonged to the boy he'd once known, but the man he didn't know had spent a dozen years in Azkaban. Surely some of his old stubbornness remained, but Snape was right. No one lasted long.

"So there you have it," Dumbledore said quietly. "The problem now is to get to Black before he breaks. We must find out Harry's location before Voldemort can."

"But the Fidelius Charm is unbreakable," McGonagall protested. "Unless Black tells Voldemort, no one can find Harry. Us included."

Moody nodded sharply. "Then we have to get Black first."

"Impossible," Snape stated flatly, even as Molly Weasley gasped in surprise.

"But he's--"

"The only one who knows where Harry is, dear," her husband interjected softly, laying a gentle hand on her arm. "So he's the only chance we've got."

"Arthur is correct," Dumbledore agreed. His eyes cut to Snape. "And so we must rescue Black. At all costs."

After a moment of silence, Snape nodded, his eyes unreadable but his face tight. No one had missed the silent communication between the two, but few knew what it meant. Remus understood better than most, having watched his former classmate and the headmaster interact over the past few weeks, but he was still somewhat mystified by the bond between them. He did know, however, that a word from Dumbledore could make Snape drop old animosities long enough to do the right thing, though, and that in itself was no mean feat.

"I'd say 'rescue' is rather too strong a word, Albus," Moody interjected in his gravely voice. "'Acquire' would probably be more appropriate."

"Indeed," McGonagall snorted. Her eyes were unhappy.

Remus' mind was spinning, though. The thought of seeing Sirius again, no matter what the circumstances, was downright frightening. He hadn't avoided his former friend for twelve years without reason, after all. He hadn't wanted to see him, hadn't been able to bear doing so. The bigger problem was, though, that Remus didn't know how he would react to seeing Sirius. He would either kill him outright or simply break down. Either was possible. He swallowed. Entirely too possible.

"He may not be willing to help us, either," Remus pointed out quietly. Several of the others nodded in wary agreement, and Moody went so far as to grimace openly. Dumbledore, however, replied serenely:

"We'll have to cross that bridge when we get there."

Moody's unhappy expression was in sharp contrast to the headmaster's, and the irony of his reply wasn't lost on Remus. "I suspect we'll find a way to convince him if we must," the ex-Auror growled. "But let's solve the first problem first. Snape, what I need from you is an exact layout and schedule of..."

---------------------

Remus watched quietly as the third year Gryffindors filed out of his classroom, laughing and talking amongst themselves. As much as he had come to love teaching (even though he'd spent relatively little time back at Hogwarts so far), this class was often the one he dreaded the most. Oh, that wasn't because of any of his students--there were no Weasley twins amongst McGonagall's third year lions! Rather, it was because of the one student who was so prominently missing from the mix. Remus had pinpointed Arthur and Molly's youngest boy on the first day, almost as much from his lost look as from his red hair. Immediately, the new Defense professor had also noticed Hermione Granger, who sat next to Ron Weasley an kept her voice quiet as she spoke to him worriedly. Since the very first day, the brightest pupil of the entire third year class had been subdued, and Remus knew why. She and young Weasley were Harry's best friends, and they were worried. Remus often futilely wished that he could share the Order's plans with them, but even that, he suspected, would do little good. The only solution would be to bring their friend back.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione Granger's voice jolted him out of his reverie; he hadn't even realized that she was still in the classroom.

"Yes, Hermione?" He forced himself to speak pleasantly, despite his worries. That was something he had plenty of practice with, after all...

"Is there any news about Harry, sir?" She was smart enough to realize that he knew something. As Remus glanced around the room, searching for a suitable reply, he spotted young Weasley lurking in the doorway with an identically hopeful look in his eyes. Those two were smart, he knew, and noticed far more than most of the other professors realized.

"Not yet," Remus said gently, wishing that wasn't partially a lie. Then again, he couldn't exactly tell them that Moody and the others were converging upon Riddle House at that very moment, that they might have already returned--

Her face fell, and his heart wrenched. "Oh. Thank you, Professor."

She turned to go. "Hermione--" Remus spoke almost against his own will, stopping the young witch in her tracks. "We ought to know something soon," he said quietly. "If things go right--"

He stopped, swallowed, and then shrugged helplessly. Hermione's bright eyes were fastened on him, but she didn't press, even though Ron had wandered back through the still-open door and was watching Remus with equal anticipation. Looking at their young and hopeful faces, though, only made the professor think of Harry. These were his friends, friends who were dying a little bit inside every day as they prayed for his return. They missed him like Remus missed James and Peter, or would have missed Sirius at a point so long ago--Don't think about that!--and their love for James' son was plain on both faces. Remus shook himself.

"We'll know soon," he repeated quietly, refusing to lie to them. "One way or another."

"Thanks, Professor Lupin," Ron spoke for the first time. His voice was hoarse. "Let's go, Hermione."

Remus forced a smile for the pair as they left, and he hoped that they didn't see right through him. He bent slowly to gather his books, placing them in his tattered briefcase and trying to focus his mind on anything but the Riddle House raid. He would have given anything to accompany Moody and the others, but Dumbledore had forbidden it. Even if he didn't have classes to teach, the headmaster had reminded him, Remus' personal feelings could only confuse such a tense situation. The Defense professor tried not to snort. As if Moody doesn't have a personal stake in this, either! He smiled ruefully. The ex-Auror's emotions were at least as muddled up as his own, but Remus couldn't honestly doubt Moody's professionalism. As usual, Moody would get the job done, no matter--

"They're here."

McGonagall's voice halted his thoughts in midstream and made Remus' head jerk up so hard that his neck hurt. The deputy headmistress' face was tight and forcibly composed, but her conflicted eyes were focused unerringly on Remus. His old professor stood framed in the door of his classroom, unknowingly occupying the exact same place Harry's best friend had a handful of minutes before.

"Are they--?" Remus' hands were shaking. "Is he--?"

He didn't want to know, couldn't want to know--but he had to. And that was when Remus realized that he'd been lying to himself up until that moment. He might not want to see Sirius, but he had to.

"Yes." Her voice was flat, but Remus heard fury. "Moody brought him to the Hospital Wing." Her eyes flashed. "Albus asked me to tell you."

His mouth was dry. "Thanks."

McGonagall pursed her lips. She didn't seem to want him to go, but couldn't she see that he had to? The anger in her face wasn't aimed at him, though; it was intended for a boy that she'd once loved, too, in her own hard way. Remus wasn't the only one who was tormented by Sirius' presence, and it had never been so clear as in that moment. After a moment, though, her eyes softened. "Go on, Remus," his former head of House said gently. "You need to, at least, to end this again."

"Thanks," he repeated, unable to say more, to thank her for understanding, but she nodded, knowing anyway.

"Come."

---------------------

Remus had always likened Madam Pomfrey to a lioness guarding her cubs as far as patients were concerned, and this day was no different. Of course, he had plenty of personal experience with Poppy Pomfrey's aggressive protection of her patients, but there were few Hogwarts students (or former students, for that matter) who were foolish enough to provoke Pomfrey into a full-blown rant. By the sounds his sensitive ears were picking up, though, someone had clearly been that stupid. Before he'd even walked into the Hospital Wing, Remus could hear her muffled voice speaking to someone. Once he had the doors open, however, there was nothing quiet about her words.

"Get out!" she snapped at Alastor Moody, gesturing angrily with both hands. The ex-Auror glared back at her, standing tensely next to the bed with his wand in hand. "I don't care about your security concerns--you are not going to hex my patient the moment he wakes up! It's quite bad enough that you all ready Stunned him to bring him here--"

"I don't think you understand the situation," Moody cut her off grimly. "You're forgetting that this is Sirius Black--"

"I wouldn't care if it was Grindelwald himself!" the matron snarled, interrupting the scarred wizard in turn. Pomfrey gestured furiously at the bed. "He's hardly going to do anything in that condition!"

Remus' stride faltered as he finally came far enough into the Hospital Wing to see. Part of him struggled to be dispassionate, not to care, but his eyes were still drawn to Sirius' battered form. His one-time friend lay bloodied and unconscious, with his chest rising and falling with ragged slowness. There was blood on his face, on his robes--Snape had not been exaggerating when he'd briefly described Voldemort's torture. He had, in fact, understated Sirius' condition, which Remus should have expected but hadn't stopped to think about. Even as he watched, the figure on the bed twitched.

"Transform and you're dead," Moody rumbled as McGonagall led a resisting Pomfrey from the Hospital Wing.

Sirius' eyes flickered open; they were the same brilliant blue that Remus remembered and were unshadowed by insanity--but they held a haunted quality that had never been there before. Still, the escaped convict's gaze zeroed in on Moody immediately, and if a shadow of something crossed his face, it passed quickly enough.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," he replied bitterly.

"Don't be coy, Black," Moody snapped in reply, his eyes flashing darkly. "Four words from me will bring Dementors crashing down on your head. Don't think you've got an inch of leeway just because we rescued you from Voldemort's hands. You don't have any friends here."

"You won't do it." Sirius' flat voice made Moody's magical eye roll wildly, but the prisoner only sighed, slumping weakly against the pillows and looking blankly at the ceiling. His tone was slightly exasperated. "Because you want the same thing he does. You want Harry."

His words made something deep and furious well up inside Remus' soul. How dare Sirius speak Harry's name in that smug tone of voice? How could he stomach it, knowing what he'd done? Sirius' role in this whole affair required the greatest of hypocrisy--he'd killed James and Lily. What right did he have to protect their son?

"Don't think there aren't ways, Black," Moody rumbled.

Sirius snorted. "Sure there are. That's why he's still hidden, and Voldemort's still looking." His eyes suddenly focused on Moody again, and the emptiness vanished, replaced by a bitter and dark fire. "D'you think I care what you threaten me with? I survived twelve years in Azkaban and two weeks in Voldemort's hands. Do your worst."

Those words even gave Moody pause, and the older wizard's gruff demeanor faltered briefly, replaced by confusion. He blinked, and his magical eye zeroed in on Sirius, scrutinizing him carefully. But Remus just went cold.

"If you're trying to keep Potter safe, you'd do well to tell us where he is," Moody replied dubiously, clearly biting his temper back. But his voice was still very tight. "And you're misinterpreting my intentions. We are not Death Eaters."

"Right," Sirius snorted again. "Could have fooled me."

A long moment of silence stretched between them in which Remus could sense Moody's temper boiling. Neither of them were quite able to believe that Sirius had dared to say that, of all things and in all places. Finally, the ex-Auror demanded, "Do you or do you not care about Potter's safety?"

"Do you think I'd look like this if I didn't?"

"Then answer the damned question before Voldemort can find him!" Moody roared.

A shadow crossed over Sirius' face. "He won't."

"So sure of that, are you?" the scarred wizard snarled. Any attempts at controlling his temper had clearly been abandoned. "And I suppose the possibility of you being under the Imperius Curse has never crossed your mind?"

"Actually, I'm quite sure," was the tight reply. "I know where my breaking point is--I became quite well acquainted with it in Azkaban, as you well know."

Moody jerked back as if struck, and for the first time in his life, Remus saw the famous Dark Wizard catcher at a loss for words. There were undercurrents here, deep ones, that he didn't understand, and Remus knew that Sirius had hit a sore spot. Despite his battered appearance, Remus' former friend was struggling into a sitting position, and fury filled his eyes as he glared back at Moody. Before, Sirius could drive the bolt further home, though, the Defense professor stepped forward.

"Where is he, Sirius?" Remus demanded tightly. He ached to ask why, why he'd done it all, but Harry's safety was more important. "What have you done with Harry?"

The battered wizard's head snapped around, shock playing all over his features. He clearly hadn't expected to see Remus, there, but it didn't take long for a snarl to replace the surprise.

"Done with him?" Sirius' blue eyes focused on him now, angry and bitter and haunted once more. "I'm glad that you, too, think so little of me."

It was a not-so-subtle jab at their dead friendship, but Remus didn't let it affect him. "He needs to come to Hogwarts," he pressed on, struggling to sound reasonable, though he felt nothing of the sort. "If you really want to keep Harry safe, this is the best place for him."

"Really? I don't trust the lot of you to keep him safe. You did a bang up job of it when Death Eaters came knocking at Privet Drive, after all."

"And I suppose that you've had more success?" Remus bristled before he could stop himself.

"At least I made the effort."

The knife stabbed and twisted brutally in his heart, just where he was sure it had been intended to hit. Remus felt a great emptiness threaten to engulf him. Sirius had no right to say those words--but that didn't keep them from being true. "At least I made the effort." The bastard. He'd taken Harry for his own purposes and then had the gall to point out the fact that Remus' condition had kept him separated from James and Lily's son for twelve years--

"This argument is getting nowhere," Moody interjected, having found his voice once more. "Whatever else you might be, Black, you're not stupid. Even hidden, Potter is still in danger, and you certainly aren't going to be protecting him any time soon."

"I--" Sirius blinked, and Remus saw him swallow. Yes, he knew what awaited him, and knew that no one at Hogwarts would protect him from the Dementor's Kiss. Something haunted flared up in the prisoner's eyes, and a part of the Defense professor judiciously rejoiced to see something finally deflate Sirius' anger. He had no pity left for Sirius; what happened now was nothing less than what he deserved.

"You know he'll be safer here than anywhere else," Moody pressed, taking advantage of the other's discomfort. "So just tell us where he is so that we can--"

"No." The reply was flat, almost dead. But it was defiant, too.

"What?"

"No." Another moment of silence stretched between them, and even Moody seemed speechless. When threats and reason both failed, what was there left to try? Worry for Harry still filled Remus' mind, though, because a new thought had occurred to him. What would happen to the Fidelius Charm if the caster was subjected to the Kiss? It could be that Sirius was hoping for that very doubt to arise. Did he count on it to save him from that fate? The stubborn look on the battered wizard's face revealed no answers, but Sirius finally continued. "I want to speak to Dumbledore."

Moody's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And why is that?"

"Because I don't expect you to believe me," Sirius replied pointedly. Then his eyes cut to Remus without warning and his voice grew bitter. "And he's too emotionally involved, too ready to hate me for what he thinks is the truth--"

Remus had had it. "Don't presume to judge me," he snarled before he could stop himself. Twelve years of betrayal and loneliness bubbled to the surface after having been locked away for too long. "You, of all people, have no idea what I feel."

"Don't I?" his onetime friend retorted. "Feeling betrayed, alone? Feeling lied to and abandoned and tossed aside just because of what others think you are? Oh, stay up on your moral high horse and tell me that I don't understand. Then you can tell me what a hero you think little Peter was for standing up to me and I'll laugh in your face."

That was the last straw. Remus took one further step forward and his right hook landed with all the power that his werewolf-enhanced muscles could deliver.

---------------------