Promises Defended

Promises Defended

Chapter Seventeen: Defiance and Honor

Arthur jumped when Sirius walked into the cave carrying Moony in his numb arms. Brown eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.

"Is he--?"

Moony whined.

Arthur's hand gripped Bill's arm nervously, his fingers white. He wasn't even trying to hide his shock, though it made Sirius want to sigh. The younger Weasley's eyes, however, were concentrated on Sirius' face, watching and noticing. The close scrutiny brought a tired smile to Sirius' face; his arms felt like lead. "He's fine," Sirius whispered, kneeling down and settling the battered wolf on the ground. "Perfectly safe."

"How?" Arthur asked.

"Don't know," Peter wheezed, helping Kingsley into a sitting position. The Auror winced in pain, nodding slightly in thanks. "Something happened. Sirius?"

"In a moment." He glanced at Bill. "Water?"

"Here."

Carefully, he dribbled a bit of water into Moony's mouth; the wolf whined gratefully in response. Peter also held a canteen to Kingsley's lips, though the human managed to swallow even less than the wolf; far more trickled down his chin and onto the floor than anywhere else. Still, he summoned a pained smile.

"Thans, Pettigrew. Guess I'be misjudge yah more than once."

Peter chuckled tightly as Bill moved to his side. "Most people do."

"I've got him," the red-haired Auror said. "You see to Remus."

"Thanks."

Bill dripped more water into Kingsley's mouth. "Let's get you to Avalon, big man," he said quietly. "I think Dana's going to have a heart attack, seeing you."

"Nah. She's a gud gal," Kingsley grunted as Bill looped an arm under his shoulders and levered him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but the smaller Auror caught him easily; replying lightly:

"At least you can be sure that Alice'll yell at you."

"Always duhs."

Even Sirius had to smile as Peter crouched next to him and Moony. Alice would yell at Kingsley--more out of worry than anything else--and Dana would get to work. The young trainee was quickly becoming the Aurors' expert healer, spending time studying with Madam Pomfrey and at St. Mungo's when Alice wasn't working her to death. Still, Remus needed more care than Dana might know how to offer. Even to Sirius' untrained eyes, he looked to be getting worse. Still, there's no safer place for him. Not with Hogwarts in Voldemort's hands.

"What will you do?" Arthur asked quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Go to Avalon, too, I think," Sirius replied quietly, then glanced at Peter. "Unless you have a better idea."

"Normally I'd suggest Hogwarts, but that's obviously a bad idea," his friend replied dryly. "And St. Mungo's is too indefensible. I think you're right. Avalon is best." He smiled crookedly. "Wherever that is."

"You'll find out soon," Sirius replied, his eyes on Moony again. Gently, he reached out to touch the wolf's uninjured ear, whispering, "Does that work for you, Remus?"

The wolf nodded weakly, his eyes still filled with pain.

"Avalon it is, then," Sirius breathed.

"Bad weather, there," Bill put in abruptly, his wand in hand and almost ready to Apparate.

"Huh?"

"Bad weather. It's been dark and stormy. No light--it feels like midnight all the time, except for no moon or stars."

Sirius froze. For a moment, the image of waves crashing into a still dark shore flashed through his mind, but this was not the past. This was not an attack. No moon. No stars. No day. Then what? He shivered as Bill's eyes searched his face.

"Do you know what it is?"

He shook his head, forced his body into motion. "No idea. But we'll see when we get there." As carefully as he could, Sirius eased Moony back into his arms. The wolf let out a high-pitched yelp of pain. Shit!

"Remus?" Peter touched the furry head gently, staring into the yellow-blue eyes before looking at Sirius. "I think we need Madam Pomfrey. She's dealt with him before. She'll know what to do."

Now why didn't I think of that? Sirius nodded quickly. "Good idea." He turned. "Arthur, can you fetch her?"

"Of course, but I can't get to Avalon."

"Take her to Grimmauld Place. James can, and he'll want to come anyway."

"Got it," Arthur replied decisively. "I'll go now." Crack. Without a further word, he was gone.

Peter's big eyes focused on Sirius. "What about me?" he asked quietly.

"Hold tight to my arm and come along," Sirius replied in surprise. "You didn't think I'd leave you out, did you?"

Peter shrugged. "Well, I've got the Dark Mark, you know," he answered uneasily. "It's the Isle of Light."

"So do I, Peter," Sirius replied with a half-smile. "So do I." He shivered unconsciously. Enough memories. "Let's go."

"Yeah." Both hands gripped his arm, not as tight as they might have been, years ago--had today shown nothing else, it was how much Peter had grown, and that was more than even Sirius had expected. "Let's go."

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Dunston's dead body had been left in the courtyard; they'd deal with it along with the other two, a moment that would come soon enough. Fawcett was mangled beyond belief, mercifully spared the werewolf's bite but torn to pieces by his claws (What little good that mercy will give him, I do not know. Did Remus?). Nott was completely fine, of course, having bolted away from the attack, seeking to warn the Dark Lord--or so he said. Their combined efforts would come to naught.

The two survivors and Lily Fawcett--who had so foolishly tried to beg for her beloved Terrance's life--now slumped against the outer wall of Hogwarts, on display for both Death Eaters and children alike. Such was the lesson taught. The necessary lesson.

Not one of them was dying. Not yet.

"Kill them, Severus," the cool voice commanded. The awesome temper had faded, now.

"Yes, My Lord."

He stepped forward immediately, wand pointed first in Ronald Nott's direction, his mother's old friend, study partner, and second cousin--the coward deserved to perish first, because they all knew why he had run. Smart, perhaps, for a moment--but not for a Death Eater. They all knew the consequences of failure, and those who had forgotten would remember now. The grass would be stained crimson for months, and it would grow tall. Blood made good fertilizer.

"Avada Kedavra!"

There could be no hesitation. To Voldemort's left, Lucius shifted slightly; he would have preferred to be honored by this duty, to slay those who had failed in front of all eyes. But Severus could not look at him.

Terrance Fawcett.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lily Fawcett stared at him with disbelieving eyes, waiting for the joke to end. All she had done was plead for her husband's life.

One more time. His voice was cold iron. He felt no pity.

"Avada Kedavra!"

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The Sword of Gryffindor sat on the table in front of her, and Harry sat to her right. Lily was cross-legged on the old and worn couch in the Unicorn Group's Muggle house, watching the other's reactions as they digested Harry's story. It was amazing, really--no one had ever killed a Dementor, even Lord Voldemort, who claimed the ability. No one even knew much about them, only that they could breed and had in the past. Never, not once, had an effective method of destruction been invented.

Now they had one, or the ingredients for one, anyway. All the Unicorn Group had to figure out was how to put the pieces together, how to make one isolated act of love and friendship extend into a spell. How to make the potent combination of Gryffindor's sword and a boy defending his friends work for everyone.

"It sounds a lot like the Patronus," Ted Tonks finally commented, looking exhausted.

Sinistra shook her head. "Not quite," she replied softly, sounding hoarse. "A Patronus only frightens Dementors away. This sword--without a spell and with no preparation--killed two Dementors. That's different. More so than meets the eye, I think."

"How so?" Montague countered. "Positive emotions, happy thoughts, it's the same principle."

"I don't think so." Lily bit her lip, her mind racing. "Auriga is right--what do we know about the sword?"

Their newest member spoke up, having been invited by a last-minute owl from Lily. She wasn't even sure why she'd invited Julia--

"Legend tells us that there were two swords, initially," the silver-haired witch put in quietly. "Forged by the same smith and forged to be nearly identical, charmed by Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff to be unbreakable. They were gifts to two best friends--one with emeralds in the hilt and one with rubies." She smiled wanly.

"Slytherin's--the emerald-hilted sword--was either stolen or broken during his lifetime. Some legends say that Gyffindor's son, Harold, stole it after Slytherin killed his father, but if so, the blade was never found. A few believe that Harold Gryffindor transformed it into this blade"--she gestured--"but the story is unlikely. I searched for the Sword of Slytherin for years on Voldemort's orders, and I believe it was destroyed."

"So this is definitely Gryffindor's sword," Lily stated, nodding thoughtfully.

"I believe so, yes."

"It's an interesting story, but what's the point?" Ted asked shortly. His eyes looked ready to slide shut from exhaustion.

"Perhaps there isn't one," Julia replied, unruffled. "But there are a few clues, at least."

"Unbreakable," Sinistra interjected. "Charmed to be unbreakable."

Julia smiled enigmatically. "By Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, the two most talented witches of their age."

"The real question is what other spells they cast," Lily put in, thinking fast.

"And what relationship those have to dead Dementors," Ted added, seeming interested for the first time.

"Dumbledore's letter said that the sword was a gift of love and friendship," Harry said quietly. "I'm not sure what that did, but maybe it meant something."

"Dementors don't feel love. Or friendship," Montague rubbed at his goatee absentmindedly. "Could that be it?"

"They can't abide love," Julia corrected him softly. "They draw out good memories so that they can feed off of misery--not on the happy thoughts. It's a common misconception. Voldemort controls them through fear; oddly enough, they can feed on other Dementors' fear as well."

"That's...strange," Ted commented. Next to Lily, Harry shivered. She couldn't blame him, really--there were now shadows in her son's eyes that had never been there before, and he had aged a dozen years in that one moment. Slowly, Lily reached out to squeeze Harry's shoulder, and received a wan smile in return.

"Maybe not." Auriga shoved her glasses higher on her nose. "Maybe the success of a Patronus and the sword is due to the fact that Dementors can sense love and other good emotions. Love is arguably the strongest 'happy thought'--is it strong enough? Can it kill them?"

"Because what is friendship if not another form of love?" Montague asked, chewing on one knuckle now. "If not a 'happy memory'?"

"But how does the sword work where a Patronus will not?" Ted wondered.

"Strength," Auriga answered immediately. "Remember Albus Dumbledore's funeral?"

"Dementors didn't die there," Ted objected.

"They still ran," Montague pointed out.

"So we're left with the same problem," Lily interjected. "What's so different about the sword? Why has love never killed them before?"

"Strength," Sinistra repeated just as Julia blurted out:

"Unbreakable. They charmed them to be unbreakable."

"So?" Montague asked.

"What if there was a clause? A key?" Julia's eyes were wide. "What if the unbreakable charm was somehow related to love?"

"We could replicate that." Lily grabbed a sheet of paper and started scribbling. "With elements of the Patronus Charm, love, and...?"

"Devotion?" Ted supplied.

"No. It's too close," Julia shook her head, earning a strange look in return. So far as they knew, she'd never crafted a spell before, but she seemed certain, so Ted just shrugged.

"Hope, maybe," Julia continued quietly. "That's hard to break."

Lily nodded. "What else? We need at least one more element."

Why, she did not know--most spells were crafted with one or two 'elements'; the more complicated and powerful ones usually used three, but rarely five. Sometimes four, but only the upper edge of advanced magic used five. Well, if this spell was easy, it would have been created years ago.

"Heat," Auriga suddenly said, then explained. "Dementors always make you feel cold. The opposite can't hurt."

"True," Lily conceded, still scribbling. "But we need another."

Six total, then. Even stranger. Maybe seven was the number? That would fit, especially when destroying a magic-made creature.

"Soul," Harry said softly; everyone nodded immediately. Lily's son smiled uneasily. "After all, isn't that what they want? Can't we use it against them?"

"Good idea."

Lily smiled at him again, speaking softly. Harry was growing up to be an interesting twist between her and James. On one hand, he was the same kind of forward and powerful wizard that his father was, but on the other, he had her curiosity and her flare for theoretical magic. The two were a potent combination.

"Anything else?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from her son.

There was a long moment of silence as everyone racked their minds, but no one seemed able to find anything more. Still, not one of the Unicorn Group even stopped to ask if seven elements might not be the correct amount. For this, what else stood a chance?

"Hatred," Julia suddenly added. Eyes opened wide, so she went on: "Hatred is every bit as strong as love, and can often start--or end--as love. And legend tells us of two best friends, once unbreakable as brothers...and later implacable enemies. We need a destruction element. Hatred will do it."

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He'd sent Tonks to fetch Pomfrey while Dana set to work on Kingsley; James was on his way, but had not been at Grimmauld Place when Arthur brought the matron there. No matter; Hogwarts' healer had arrived only a few minutes later, setting to work on Moony with a vengeance. By the time dawn broke, she had finished, Remus was human, and Sirius and Peter were exhausted. They sat for a long time, watching their friend sleep in silence and waiting for James to arrive. Once he did, the three exchanged tight smiles and weary embraces, and then settled down together without a further word. None were necessary.

But he left James and Peter by Remus' bedside, Apparating off of Avalon after exchanging a significant glance or two. They understood, and Sirius Disapparated just outside the doors to the Daily Prophet's London Office, #71 Diagon Alley.

He walked right inside and was met by a green-haired Welcome Witch who looked entirely too perky for seven o'clock in the morning.

"Good morning, sir, and welcome to the Daily Prophet!" she said chirpily. "My name is Wendy and I am sorry to inform you that the Daily Prophet does not allow visitors until nine o'clock on alternating Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The next open day this month is the twenty-fourth. If you'll put your name and Floo Address on the sign up wall"--she gestured to her left--"we will call you at the first available tour and arrange for the VIB (Very Important Being) tour. It's our special this week, you see." She shot him a dazzling smile. "We've been very busy."

Sirius let her finish. It amused him to do so and then reply in a quiet voice (clasping his hands behind his back in a businesslike manner!):

"My name is Sirius Black. I am here to see Barnabas Cuffe."

"But Editor Cuffe is not--" Wendy gaped. "Who did you say you were?"

"Sirius Black."

"But you're surely not..."

He smiled, adding enough of a secretive edge to it to drive a young-not-long-out-of-Hogwarts-receptionist mad. Sirius had grown up enough that sometimes he hated to play this old game, but it worked, and he wasn't very particular about his methods these days.

"I'd like to talk to him about where I was last night." He paused dramatically. "Hogwarts."

"What--oh!" Wendy's eyes went so wide that Sirius thought they might pop out of her head and roll around on the floor for awhile. "I'll--I'll--"

"Get him?" he suggested helpfully.

"Oh, yes!"

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January 20, 1993

VICTORY AMONGST DARKNESS

By Barnabas Cuffe, Editor

An unexpected visitor walked into the Daily Prophet's London

office this morning to reveal the most unexpected truth--of a

daring raid against a Death Eater-held Hogwarts and the rescue

of both prisoners still held there.

Hogwarts students will rejoice to know that longtime Headmaster

Remus Lupin and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor

Kingsley Shacklebolt (a former Auror, injured in the famed Riddle

House Raid) are now safe in an undisclosed location. Both are

reported to have received healing and are on the mend.

Who rescued them? Who told the Daily Prophet? The answer

ought to be self-evident: the Wizarding world's best known hero

and the only man to survive Lord Voldemort more than three

times--Sirius Black. He was accompanied by lifelong friend and

reformed Death Eater Peter Pettigrew, who publicly renounced

allegiance to the Dark Lord over one year ago. Together, they

accomplished the impossible.

And now what? Black only smiles. "Victory." But his grin fades

quickly. "There's still a lot more to do, but nothing is impossible.

I'm not giving up. Neither is Peter, or Remus, or James Potter--

or a lot of others. This isn't over, and we're going to win."

Ministry of Magic officials refused to comment on the episode,

but anonymous sources suggest that this was not a Ministry-

sponsored mission. Minister Fudge is reportedly outraged by

Black's audacity, but only time will tell if the Ministry dares to

strike against him. Will they replace him as head of the Aurors

and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Certainly

Fudge is within his legal rights to do so, but will they dare?

Deny the world the only hero we have? We think not.

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"Rubbish," Sirius snorted. "Complete and utter crap." He dropped the newspaper on the table over seven hours after visiting the Daily Prophet; it had been in the noon edition--on the very front page, of course. With inch tall headlines. Spare me. He glared at Lily, daring her to disagree. She did, of course.

"You asked for this, you know."

"I did. The article," he stressed. "Not the overemotional and foolish crap."

"And yet it's true," she said softly.

"No. It's not." Sirius glared again, but cut her response off with an impatient wave of one hand. "I set myself up as a hero, I know--not that I asked to be one, but someone had to step forward and challenge him, and that someone wound up being me." His voice dropped. "Why doesn't matter any more."

Lily stared. He shrugged and gestured irritably at the article.

"But that bull about me being the only 'true' hero? That's a lie, and they ought to know better." Sirius had to shiver, couldn't help it. The soft tone unintentionally warped into a whisper. "If they don't, we're in for some very bad times."

"In more ways than one," Lily agreed, then nodded towards his arm. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

Sirius sighed. "I guess I have to be, don't I?"

"No, you don't," she replied seriously. "I could talk to Peter or Julia, or one of several others--"

"Their memories aren't as clear as mine. A by-product of the Memory Enhancer." And of the pain.

"All right, then," Lily said quietly. "Tell me about the Dark Mark."

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Green light.

Shouting.

Screaming.

James' pale and stricken face.

Running figures--

Remus jerked awake, his eyes darting around the room. To his surprise, James was seated at his bedside, dark circles ringing his eyes. He looked old, suddenly, old and worn out.

"Remus?" he asked raggedly.

"Yeah?" The response came out muffled; his lips were dry and a bit chapped. Remus had gone to sleep as the wolf and had woken human during the healing, but Pomfrey had spelled him back into bliss. He'd drifted in and out for hours after, dreaming, seeing, knowing--but it was evening, now, and Remus hadn't meant to sleep all day. He blinked confusedly, but gladly accepted the glass of water James offered, levering himself into a sitting position to drink it. "Thanks."

James nodded, seeming numb. "I had to tell you," he said abruptly. "Myself."

"Tell me what?" Remus was suddenly wide awake. Screaming figures. Frightened glances. Dark spells coloring a strangely blue sky--he started. Shivered. Stared. "James?"

"We failed." His old friend swallowed hard, closing his eyes briefly. When the hazel eyes opened, though, they stared back unerringly. Courageously. "I failed."

"Hogwarts." It could not be a question, and Remus sank back against the pillows, exhausted once more.

"Yes." There was a bruise on James' face that hadn't been there the day before. "The Order--we tried. And we fought and it looked like the battle was going well...just like he wanted us to think." He snorted bitterly. "It was a trap, of course, and I led them right into it. Six died before we could pull out."

"Who?" Remus asked woodenly.

James' voice was flat, dead. He rattled the list off without pausing. "Elphias Dodge. Sturgis Podmore. Minnie Dearborn. Bradley Sanders. Alice Weber. Tobias Lindskold."

He swallowed. Six old friends. Six witches and wizards who had fought against the darkness almost from the beginning. Remus had to close his eyes, had to shut James' voice out as he described the trap that Voldemort had so craftily drawn them into. James said nothing to spare himself, even as his face burned red in shame. Every word was the truth; Remus could tell from the heartbreak in James' voice.

To make matters worse, Emmeline Vance had turned out to be a spy on Lord Voldemort's side, defecting after neatly dragging a good part of the Order of the Phoenix down with her.

"Everyone makes mistakes, James," he whispered when his friend had run down. "You had no way to know."

"Maybe not. Still, I knew that I was wrong, but I wanted to do something, anything. I was sick of feeling helpless," James admitted, grimacing. "I didn't even tell Sirius we were going, because I knew he'd try to stop us. But damnit if I didn't want to stop him, to end this here and now before he dies..."

A feeling Remus well knew. A solution he tried to find every day. "Yeah," he breathed. "Me, too. I understand."

"That doesn't make things better," the former Minister replied. "That doesn't bring the dead back to life."

"No, it doesn't," Remus replied quietly. "But neither does blaming yourself."

"True. But if you tell me that you would have attacked, I'll forgive myself. Not before." James winced. "We shouldn't have gone."

Remus sighed. Their friendship demanded that the honest words be spoken, no matter how they hurt. "I wouldn't have," he answered. "But it might have worked. If Vance hadn't been lying--"

"If," James cut him off. "If."

"It's not your fault, James."

"Then whose is it?"

"Blame Voldemort." The quiet voice came form the doorway, where Sirius and Peter stood, their faces tight with anger. "Or blame Fudge," Sirius spat. "Because he's already blaming you."

"And why not? It's my fault," was the dejected reply.

Remus spoke softly before Sirius could interject angrily. "Maybe. Maybe not. You tried, James, and that shows the world that we're still fighting back. That's important."

"And it reminds Fudge that he isn't King of Britain," Peter added perceptively. In the one conversation he and Remus had shared since Remus' rescue from Hogwarts (during Remus' one bout of coherency), the headmaster had noticed the difference in his old friend. Was it strange that one large act of courage could give a man so much more confidence? There had been a thousand small ones throughout the years, but none of them seemed to matter like this one. Everyone must have thought Sirius crazy for bringing Peter along, but for once Sirius' hair-brained scheme had come out well. Peter continued calmly:

"As bad as it sounds, this may turn out for the best. Between what we did, and what you did, people are starting to realize what Fudge is."

"And what's that?" James asked irritably.

"A complete and total dirtbag," Peter said bluntly. "An opportunist. A disaster."

James glared.

"He's right, Prongs," Remus added softly. "Right or wrong, success or failure, you have shown the world that we are all still fighting."

"And that I'm incompetent," the former Minister muttered darkly.

"You aren't, you know," Sirius replied. "We all lose sometimes."

"Even you?" James snapped, snorting bitterly.

Remus knew that Prongs would regret those words later, but Sirius smiled easily, almost oblivious. "Especially me."

"Right."

"There have been plenty of times, and you know it," Sirius replied, his face darkening slightly. But James was too tired, too frustrated, and too angry to notice.

"Like when?" he demanded.

"Plenty." Sirius' right hand drifted towards his left forearm before he snatched it away, and the other three Marauders swallowed. Even they sometimes fell into the trap of viewing Sirius as that much-needed hero, despite their close friendship. Forgetting the price Sirius had paid was easy. Too easy--suddenly, the image of him broken, bleeding, and barely breathing in Hogwarts' courtyard filled Remus' mind, and this was no vision. Or at least he hoped it wasn't.

"I'm sorry," James said in a small voice.

"I know," Sirius replied, sitting down next to James. "Usually, even I manage to forget."

The answer made James' expression ease a bit, but Remus knew better. Sirius had not forgotten, and he never would. Remus had seen far too many visions of the hell Sirius had been through to think differently. Still, he let the comment go, understanding that it was easier for Sirius to pretend.

James sighed again, seeming to sense the same thing. "What is Fudge saying, anyway?"

"That the Order of the Phoenix attacked Hogwarts and failed," Peter replied shortly. "He's named those who died...and even named Vance as a traitor."

"Oh." Remus expected an explosion but did not get one--what he saw was worrisome. James' bow merely crinkled. "I guess that means we've got a bug in our midst, doesn't it?" James asked.

"That aside, he's advertised the Order to the world," Peter continued quietly. "We've got to do something about that, if nothing else."

"No." Remus shook his head. "I'll take care of that."

The others nodded, and James' face seemed to clear a little, focus more.

"And I'll find our leak," he said immediately, his expression grim. Either he'd locked his earlier depression away or he felt better--with James, it was impossible to tell. But he had a purpose now, and perhaps that was enough.

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

The next day, listening to James Potter on the WWN, few understood what the effort cost him, only that he was still what they needed him to be--steadfast, strong, and willing to fight.

"There's a certain trust placed in those who hold public office," his voice said calmly through a speaker in a thousand homes. "Or at least there ought to be."

Peter sat next to him, just watching. James was as fragile as anyone else, and he'd been beaten down entirely too much...especially in the last few weeks. He'd never wanted to be Minister of Magic, but in taking the job, James had poured heart and soul into saving their world, only to have his hard work stomped upon by an incompetent and dishonest successor. Watching Fudge fumble killed James, Peter knew, if only because something had to be done, and nothing was.

"We ought to be able to trust those who lead us, and to believe that they will not act maliciously or dishonorably. We ought to be able to believe that they will try to do the right thing.

"When I was a child, my parents taught me that integrity was defined by doing the right thing, even when no one is looking." He took a deep breath. "But there are many watching now, and few right things being done."

James' voice went hard and his eyes narrowed. Anyone watching him had to know how serious he was, how truthful he was being. "I'm not enjoying this broadcast. I hope no one thinks that I am. But someone must say what needs to be said:

"We are no longer winning this war. We are no longer even fighting it. I'll not blame anyone for the lack of victories any more than I blame myself, but the hesitation to do battle is what will kill us. And every one of you should know that.

"Is peace worth any price? Is it worth surrendering after so long? Is it worth accepting slavery, dishonor? I don't think so. I think honor is the only thing we have left in this war, the only thing that separates us from murderers, torturers, and thieves. Honor. Doing the right thing. Fighting back.

"I leave it to you to decide what we ought to do. Such decisions are no longer mine to make. But I hope someone makes them...while honor remains."

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

"He's right, you know," Hestia Jones said, looking awake for the first time since her sister's death.

"About what?" Jason Clearwater asked curiously, his voice as sharp as ever. His eyes, however, were focused on Alice Longbottom, not his mentor.

"Someone has to do something."

Lupin had left shortly after James Potter and Peter Pettigrew had departed; rumor said that Lupin was headed for the old Black home, but Sirius would be back. No one knew when he'd return to the Aurors' Island, of course, but they were used to his disappearances by now. "I don't think he meant us," Alice said quietly.

"I agree. He's too honorable to imply such a thing," Hestia replied without hesitation. "But I still think we ought to."

Austin Fenwick eyed her suspiciously. "The Aurors have been ordered to stand down."

Frank and Alice exchanged a look, and she saw the slight smile playing on her husband's lips. She returned it, and then glanced back at Austin. "By a government we don't particularly care for."

"By Sirius Black," Clearwater shot back.

"Who doesn't exactly adore Fudge, either," Frank put in.

Alice grinned. "Sirius is the easy one."

Bill glanced between the two Longbottoms. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?"

Together: "Yes."

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Remus Lupin was the quiet kind, not prone to calling a press conference, talking to reporters, or going public on the WWN. By nature he was, much like Dumbledore before him, a silent mover of events. He was perfectly capable of fighting if the need should arise--even willing to do so--but not so ready to advertise his intentions to the world. Peter used to call him a natural secret keeper, and he'd always been right.

So he sat quietly in the library and regained his strength, waiting and wondering. Sirius sat with him for a long while, playing chess (reluctantly) and speaking softly about dealing with the aftermath of time spent in Voldemort's hands. At first, Remus was a bit uncomfortable sharing his worst memories, but doing so became easier as the minutes ticked by. He hadn't expected to share such things, but Sirius understood entirely too well.

So they talked about nightmares, and Silencing Charms, too.

Now, however, Sirius was gone, called to Avalon after shooting Remus a boyish smile. Immediately, Remus suspected that something was up--even suspected what Sirius' plans were--but he was content to wait. He could find out with the rest of the world, though Sirius had promised to warn him first...and it had only been nine days. Just nine.

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