Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Ten: That Which We Are

The weeks were twisting by, slow on one hand and burning like fire on the other. The summer was hot, and the daylight hours long--had it been any other year, they might have been at peace. 1992 was the first summer that the Marauders had shared in over a decade...but the potential happiness faded underneath the grim pressure of reality.

As August approached, the four inseparable friends remained separated. Save for a brief dinner together, each had been busy carrying out his own duties, struggling desperately to hold the world together. James (still a patient at St. Mungo's and subject to tests, experiments, and continuing efforts to bring his deadened legs back to life) was running the government from bed and the wheelchair Sirius had hurriedly constructed. Meanwhile, Remus fortified Hogwarts and continued to recruit members for the Order of the Phoenix, struggling to counter Voldemort's every move and protect his people at the same time. Peter, acting on James' behalf, traveled across Wizarding Europe, scraping up support for the war effort little by little. On the other hand, though--and surprising to many--Sirius kept a low profile, journeying to and from Avalon and sharpening his own skills. He also kept a close watch on Harry, whom Snape had warned them was Voldemort's next target.

Yet by July 29^th, nothing had happened. Harry and Lily stayed at Grimmauld Place, kept safe by the ancient house's Unplottable location and added security. Right after learning of Voldemort's renewed fixation, Sirius had "borrowed" Frank Longbottom from Avalon, and had put the senior Auror's expertise to work. Together with Fred Randolph and Adam Macmillan, they had booby trapped every inch of the Black Family home, tightening security to the point where a Muggle tank would have melted into scrap metal before successfully negotiating the front walk.

Still, fourteen days had passed, and nothing had happened.

Voldemort's followers had probed Hogwarts, twice, however, but had retreated before Remus' newest bag of tricks could be opened. The remnants of the Inner Circle couldn't help but wonder if this was only intended as a distraction, which left Lily chewing her nails over her son's safety. Remus, however, had bigger problems on his hands, because before Snape could warn the Order's fledgling head, Scott Mulciber and Lloyd Flint had assassinated three of the Order's newest members, and Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured a fourth to death. This made it evident there was a spy in their ranks, and perhaps more than one, but even Remus' harshest scrutiny could not uncover the identity of the traitor.

July 29^th, and all was still. Relatively speaking. Life continued, even as the Wizarding World quaked in fear. Recent deaths only added to the terror that had been sparked by the Ministry's destruction, and a few senior members of the Department of Mysteries had disappeared without a trace three days before. After twenty-two years of war, everyone knew what that meant--families were scheduling funerals, and tears had been shed. Life went on because it had to.

Making matters worse, though, Fudge and Umbridge continued to play the political game, asserting that James was injured, incapable, and unworthy. Though few believed the career politicians' "concerns," tensions were running tight, and Voldemort's random attacks continued with frightening impunity. People screamed for Aurors to protect them, but the division's numbers were still too small, and Sirius was not eager to sacrifice the few he had. Training time on Avalon was shortened still further, though, and the pressure ratcheted up even higher.

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

Bill covered a yawn with the back of his hand.

Dawn had yet to break over Avalon, yet Frank Longbottom and his three assistant instructors had already been up for almost an hour. After wolfing down a quick breakfast, they had adjourned deep in the Red Room. The Red Room had long ago been carved out underneath the main villa's foundations years before, and it was the deepest part of the Aurors' twelve hundred year old training facility. Traditionally, the Red Room was also the meeting place for those who ran the most strenuous training program known to Wizard kind.

No one knew why it was called the Red Room, of course; aside from the background of a painting of Viviane Merlyn, the founder of Avalon. Apart from the painting (which was the only one on any of the room's five walls), the "Red Room" was a gray and imposing cavern, furnished in deep blues, purples, and blacks. The mahogany shelves were lined with rows upon rows of training manuals, journals, and ancient documents; Bill had never gotten the chance to examine them all, all he knew that the oldest dated back to the Aurors' founding in 36 C.E. The history buff in him wished that he had the leisure time to examine them all, but unfortunately, there were more important matters to attend to.

"All right." Frank leaned back in his chair, letting its front legs dangle off the rock floor. "The last two weeks have been fun"--his three understudies laughed tiredly--"but now it's time to start thinking. Thinking hard." His joking expression became serious.

"As you all are aware, Auror training has been steadily cut back over the years. What started as a three year program was compressed into two, and then one, and the war went on and on. When we came to Avalon, we knew that we had just over three months to complete the same training. We worked out plans and schedules for ten weeks here on Avalon. But things just got worse."

"How long do we have, boss?" Hestia asked as he paused, straight to the point as always.

Frank frowned. "I don't know," he admitted. "I talked to Sirius this morning, and he didn't give me a specific time that we had to be ready by. He just said that we had to finish as quickly as humanely possible."

"We already are," Kingsley pointed out in his rumbling voice. "Ten weeks was already asking for the impossible. Anything faster will only get people killed."

"Our people," Bill said quietly, speaking around the lump that had formed in his throat. As an instructor on Avalon, he wasn't hemmed in by the same communications restrictions as the candidates, and he'd spoken to his father more than once. Things were getting bad. "What about everyone else?"

"Bill's got a point," Frank replied with a nod. "Here, it's easy to forget that there's an outside world and other things to consider. But we can't afford to forget that there are people relying upon us. People who might die if we delay."

"But when does hurrying become recklessness and that become dangerous?" Hestia asked. "When does pushing the envelope become sheer stupidity?"

"When the risks outweigh the potential gain." Heads turned to look as Kingsley spoke coolly, and Hestia's eyes flashed.

"Risks?" she demanded. "For every day of training those kids miss, there's one more chance that they die. We owe them better than that. Our job is to train them, to give them every chance to succeed--not send them to their deaths!"

But Kingsley's dark eyes were hard. "We all know why we're here," he responded calmly. "Even the candidates do. They all understand that they may have to die--but they're willing to risk that to end this war. They're willing to pay the price, just like we are."

"There's a difference." Bill had seen that stubborn look on Hestia's face before, and knew it wasn't good. Kingsley, however, wasn't exactly the type to be intimidated.

"Is there?"

"We're trained to do so. In eight weeks--or maybe less--these kids are going to be little better off than N.E.W.T. qualified wizards. And most of them are kids. They don't have the emotional maturity to deal with what we do, and we're going to expect them to do it without training?"

"You underestimate them," Kingsley said quietly.

"Forgive me if I'm a realist," she retorted dryly. "I--"

"That's enough," Frank cut her off gently. "We don't have to like this, folks. We just have to find a way to get it done." He sat up in his chair, returning all four legs to the ground with a sharp crack. "In eight weeks, twenty candidates will become Aurors, no matter what we think of that. Our job is to train them. Not to complain."

Longbottom's gray gaze studied his trio of instructors. "And eight weeks is too long. Remember that while we are secure here, Sirius and the others are spread thin and dying. There are nineteen active Aurors right now, and four of us are here. We need those kids." Pain flickered in his eyes, but his voice remained strong. "And even if half of them die, we'll be better off than we are now."

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The sun was shining, and any other day would have made it beautiful.

Peter snorted. Any other year, maybe. But not this one. 1992 wasn't turning out to be like anyone had expected. He sighed.

"It's getting dark," James said abruptly.

"Huh?" Peter twisted to stare at his friend. It was early afternoon, and the sun was high in the sky. All in all, it was a perfect summer day, with the heat of July finally beginning to blend into August. The two friends were alone in St. Mungo's inner courtyard, with Peter seated on an uncomfortable wicker chair--why can no chair at a hospital ever be comfortable?--and James floating beside him in the enchanted Muggle wheelchair that had already proven so useful.

Peter had returned from France only that morning, and was due to Apparate back after lunch. By all rights, he shouldn't have left at all, but James was the head of his government, and the French were being sticky. As usual. With as close as they were to the British Wizarding world, both geographically and historically, one would think that the French would recognize the threat that Voldemort posed and would move to stop him. But no, of course not. Voldemort wasn't their problem.

So he'd come back for advice and for guidance. After all, the Ministry of Magic was James' to run, and Peter didn't want to make any promises that his friend could not later afford to keep. Yet the subject of French idiots had simply gone by the wayside as they waited for lunch, and James was staring blankly at the perfectly blue sky. There weren't even any clouds in sight.

"It's getting dark," his friend replied. "Darker than I would have thought possible."

Peter stared, and James' head slowly came around to face him. Worry made the other man's hazel eyes dark, made him look decades older than he really was. Do we all look like that? Peter wondered suddenly. Have so many years of war turned us all into old men? His chest felt tight. Where did the innocence of childhood go?

"The war has three sides, now," James explained sadly. "Those with us...those against us...and those who fear too much to fight."

Peter blinked, feeling the tightness in his chest grow. But James continued before he could speak.

"The French are just another example, Wormtail," the wheelchair-bound wizard said. "They're cornered, and they're afraid, and they hope that if Voldemort doesn't notice them, everything will be all right. We see the same thing here--members of the Order firecall Remus and say that they want out. Surviving members of the government flee overseas with their families." He sighed.

"I can't blame them for wanting to be safe," James said quietly. "But I can blame them for seeking that security at the expense of others."

Peter swallowed. "But can we stop them?"

"I don't know," James admitted. "We can encourage, and we can inspire. We can remind them what everyone stands to lose if we fail. But can we stop them from running?" He shook his head slowly. "No, probably not.

"Tell the French that we'll fight, Peter. We'll fight until the end, not because we want to, but because we have to. And we'll do it with or without them."

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Sirius and Harry were playing chess when the smell first became noticeable. Lily, who was sitting closer to the library's door, was the first to recognize it, and she came to her feet immediately when the banging began. They had spent so long expecting something to go wrong, living on pins and needles and simply waiting...

"What the--" he began, but cut himself off before saying something somewhat unclean in front of Lily's eleven year old son--and in front of Harry's thirty-two year old mother.

"That's smoke," Harry said redundantly, looking up.

Lily was moving out of the library even before Sirius could cast a diagnostic spell on the house. He'd spent days working up the wards on Grimmauld Place, and even though he'd had help--lots of it--every single ward was keyed to him. Others could sense them, and a few could even control them under desperate circumstances, but Sirius was the key. He was the only person who could remove any of them, and the only person who knew them all. It only took seconds for him to be sure that the fire wasn't inside the house, but by then, Lily was shouting.

"Get your wand, Harry!" Sirius commanded, bolting out of his armchair and through the library door. Hard ebony wood felt cool beneath his fingertips; he didn't remember reaching for his own wand, but an Auror's instincts had brought it to hand.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Fire Brigade! Open up!" A male voice shouted from outside as the banging on the door continued. Instinct prickled.

Sirius sprinted past the front door, peering out of a window over Lily's shoulder. Unlike his best friend's wife, however, he was careful to lurk behind an old curtain, hoping that it would obscure his outline. Doing so was ninety percent training, and only ten percent calculation, but his instincts were saying that there was something wrong, and if there was anything that Alastor Moody had drilled into his pupil, it was that instincts were important. Intuition knew what the mind did not, and Sirius wasn't supposed to be at Grimmauld Place. Had things gone a little bit differently, he would have been with James at St. Mungo's, working out the details of yet another press release--a knot formed in his gut, and he didn't know why.

A large fire truck sat right in the street, with five firefighters scattered within his field of vision. All were suited and masked in the way that Muggle firefighters always were, with giant tanks strapped to their backs and axes--axes?--in their hands. Two of the firefighters were by the truck, fooling with a giant hose, and another pair was jogging up to join the one who had been banging on the door. To Sirius' left, Number Thirteen, Grimmauld Place, was smoking dangerously.

But there were no firefighters at Number Thirteen. Two were at the truck, and three were on Sirius' doorstep.

BANG! BANG!

"Open up or we shall break the door down!" the same voice shouted. Then, as if an afterthought: "We need to break through your wall to get into Number Thirteen!"

Sirius knew a bit of Muggle history, which wasn't much but had seemed to be a great deal back in his Hogwarts days, especially when looked at in comparison to the rest of his xenophobic family. However, he did know that Muggle townhouses were always in danger of burning down if a neighboring structure caught fire. Because they shared side walls, a fire in one could quickly spread to another--unless, of course, the normal seeming townhouse was magically warded against fire.

"For the last time, open the door or--"

"Those aren't Muggles," Lily said abruptly.

"What?" Sirius jumped back from the window, casting a quick spell to check on the wards. They were fine, but instinct prickled again.

"They've dropped their axes," she explained calmly, heading towards the front door. "Muggles can't break down the door without axes."

"There's smoke in here," Harry said quietly, making Lily and Sirius jump. They hadn't noticed his approach, hadn't had time. Things were moving too quickly.

And there was. Sirius dearly hoped that it was just the ventilation system, which was undoubtedly older than Phineas Nigellus and hadn't been serviced since before Sirius was born, if not longer. But there wasn't time to check.

There was only time to hope.

Still, he had to try, and Sirius cast a fast diagnostic spell. If the Death Eaters--and they had to be Death Eaters because no one else would dare try--had found a way through the wards to light Grimmauld Place on fire, they were doomed. But the Fire Extinguishing Spells and Flame Retardant Charms that he and the Aurors had so carefully worked on the townhouse were still in place. Consequently, there was no way for any type of fire to get inside Grimmauld Place...Except the Floo. Oh, damn. Sirius felt cold. The Floo--the fireplace!

"Lily!" he spun to face her even as she reached the front door. "The--"

All hell broke loose.

Crack.

It started with the wards--as one, at least three wizards cast a spell that didn't immediately send off any danger signals, except for the fact that it was a spell, and had been cast in the vicinity of Grimmauld Place. The noise, however, made Lily jump back, and wood splinters sprayed all over the front hall, striking Sirius and Harry. That, however, proved to be the least of their worries.

Silver metal was peeking through a hole in the door. A hole. Lily had been wrong about the axes. Apparently, at least one of the "firefighters" hadn't dropped his; instead, the trio had propelled it by magic into the hardwood door. Even as Sirius stared, though, the axe blade disappeared, offering him a very narrow view of the world outside. Almost immediately, the slit was filled by the round end of a wooden stick. Stick. Right. His mind was working extraordinarily slow.

Time sped up, and instinct reactivated his brain.

"Get back!"

Unceremoniously, he grabbed Lily and threw her backwards; Harry yelped as his mother's body crashed into his own. But Sirius had acted none too soon--

"Reducto!"

This time, he recognized the voice, and the reinforced door rocked and Sirius dove aside, barely missed by the fringes of the spell. The hole was wider, now, wide enough that he could recognize a firefighter-clothed midsection that undoubtedly belonged to Lloyd Flint. Then there was movement as Flint stepped aside, and another voice:

"You idiot! Don't use that spell! Cadovallum!" Rodolphus Lestrange (the only remaining Lestrange brother after Remus had killed the younger one) snarled. The entire front wall shook and shuddered, but did not fall.

Whether due to good architecture or sound spell work, Sirius really didn't care. Either way, they didn't have long, and he dropped into a crouch. Five against two, but they had the advantage of being inside--for the moment. Soon, their safety might become their death trap.

From behind him, Lily shouted, "Stupefy!" and Flint crumbled.

Outside, three angry voices returned with "Diffindo!"

"Aboriscum," Lily hissed from behind Sirius, shoving Harry back as the door shattered into a thousand pieces. Sirius didn't have to look, but even if he had, he wouldn't have seen the boy. Lily, with her customary efficiency, had simply cast a complicated charm to make her son invisible. Training, however, guided his hands more than conscious thought.

"Capitiscindo!" Sirius shouted, and watched Igor Karkaroff's head twist off like a top. It flew through the air and struck Rodolphus Lestrange in the shoulder, making the thin Death Eater jump. But Sirius wasted no time in watching their reactions. He aimed another curse at Lestrange and missed, but it forced Rodolphus to jump away from the door.

"Bar the door behind me, Lily!" Sirius shouted, coming up out of his crouch and firing off a Shield Charm at the same time. A red jet of light sizzled past his right ear, and one of the far Death Eaters crumbled to the ground. The other, however, kept coming, and she wasn't wearing a mask any more. "And close the Floo!"

Sirius was through the door before she could object.

Two against one. Flint was down. Karkaroff was dead. Whoever Lily had struck the second time was unconscious as well, but that still left Sirius to deal with two of Voldemort's most feared Death Eaters on his own. Let's even the odds a little bit, then. Twisting right, he dodged his cousin-in-law's Imperius Curse and took aim.

"Incendio!" Sirius shouted, and watched Rodolphus howl as flames engulfed him. The poor fool had taken off his Muggle jacket, undoubtedly because it was heavy. What Rodolphus didn't realize, though, was that the jacket was also fire resistant, and would have kept Sirius from lighting him on fire. For a split second, the Auror grinned coldly. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?

Lestrange kept screaming, but Sirius didn't have the time to pay any more attention to him. Instead, he bounced off of the wall he'd twisted into, and sprinted forward, casting a defensive shield as he went. Lights flashed in the afternoon sun even as he did so; a few seconds slower and he would have been cooked. Fifty feet away, Bellatrix Lestrange had somehow shed the firefighter's gear that she'd been wearing, and was rushing at him as well. Rodolphus would have to deal with himself.

"Imperio!"

"Everbero!"

The two spells impacted in midair and sent a shower of flames spraying all over the square. Sirius thought he saw a patch of grass catch on fire to his right, but there wasn't time to look--he dove in that direction as green light flashed past, casting the first spell that came to mind. Oddly enough, it was another Strike Spell, and this time he got through.

Bellatrix flew through the air, and even though she landed on her feet almost immediately, the spell gave Sirius time to roll behind the abandoned fire truck. Quickly, he peered around the back left tire, and saw Bellatrix standing in the open, staring at him.

"Afraid to stand up to me, cousin?" she shouted, laughing.

"I'm not the one who brought four friends along to play!" Sirius yelled back, thinking quickly. Lily would call for help, he knew, but how long would it take to get there? And Rodolphus was on his feet now, having extinguished the fire. He looked rather charbroiled and very upset, but he was storming towards the front door like a man on a mission.

Suddenly, red light flashed from one of the windows, barely missing him, and Sirius saw his chance. The range was rather long, but--"Reducto!"

There wasn't time to be nice or honorable; in battle, both of those sensitive topics went right out the window. Even if Sirius' spell had managed to blast Rodolphus Lestrange into a billion tiny pieces, he wouldn't have felt bad, but from the angle he was at, all he was really hoping to do was distract the other wizard.

And it worked. Spinning around to cast a spell at Sirius--who was hidden from Bellatrix by the fire truck but was completely open to Rodolphus--the Death Eater turned his back on Grimmauld Place. On Lily.

He hadn't even brought his wand up before he landed face first on the front lawn of Number Thirteen, which continued to smolder.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Trixie!" Sirius taunted her.

Bellatrix screeched in rage, and he barely had time to leap aside before the fire truck became a raging fireball. Rolling, Sirius came up into the same crouch that had driven dozens of opponents insane, and aimed an Incinerator Curse in her direction for good measure. He missed, of course, because Bella had always been fast, but fire seemed to be the order of the day, and he was more than willing to play by her rules. For now.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Reducto!"

"Evanescorpus!"

"Imperio!"

This time, the mess of spells crossed in the air, impacting shields and one another and creating something like a Muggle light show on a much grander scale. Both dodged and cast counters without even thinking about them, and Sirius was only distantly aware of the burning fire truck to his right and the smoking townhouse to his left. Everything had narrowed down to one opponent, and this moment. Distraction would be suicide.

"Avada Kedavra!" she screeched, and Sirius barely dodged in time. He dove behind a nearby car, pointing his wand at the closest street lamp.

"Resiacio!" The tall metal post ripped itself out of the ground and shot towards Bellatrix. Lightning fast, she jumped aside, but Sirius had already aimed a second spell. There was a crash somewhere off to the side, but he couldn't afford to guess where it came from. "Conjunctivits!"

It missed, but her return curse did not, and Sirius flew backwards as a giant weight slammed into his chest. Bellatrix's Strike Spell had been hastily cast, otherwise he'd probably be unconscious--frantically, he rolled to the right, and watched green light flash over his nose. Still on his side, Sirius thrust his wand forward and they cast at the same time.

"Crucio!"

"Vindireperio!"

He'd hoped that Bellatrix would cast another Killing Curse, but the Cruciatus Curse was almost as good. She screamed as his counter curse sent her spell back in her face, and as his cousin howled in pain, Sirius leapt to his feet. Unfortunately, even the Mirror Curse only bought him seconds, and before he could hit her with another spell, Bellatrix dove behind an upturned car. How did that get there? No matter. One of their deflected spells must have struck it.

"Afraid to play dirty, Sirius?" she taunted him. "Afraid of doing something Unforgivable?"

He dodged as the lamp post came sailing back in his direction, and heard it crunch into the pavement behind him. Sirius dropped back into his crouch before replying, "And what are you hiding from, cousin?" he laughed. "Is dueling more complicated than torturing the helpless?"

His heart pounded like drums in his ears while he waited for her reply. Balancing on one knee in the street, with his wand held at the ready, all Sirius could do was wait for her to act. Bellatrix was hidden behind the car, and though he could see her distorted shadow trailing out to the vehicle's right, there was no way to know exactly where she was. Of course, Sirius was certain that Bella could see him perfectly well, but to hit him, she would have to expose herself. And that was enough to make the odds even.

Besides, all he had to do was wait, and she knew it. Lily would have called Remus, undoubtedly, and members of the Order would be there soon. In fact, Sirius was half surprised that they hadn't arrived already, but then again, tense duels always seemed to take longer than they felt to those who were involved--There!

Bellatrix's head poked up. "Cruico!" she shouted.

"Extundo!"

Both curses struck. Sirius' hit Bellatrix like the hammer it was supposed to be, even as pain exploded in his body and he screamed, sailing backwards. But pain was something he had dealt with before, and the Unforgivables required concentration that she didn't have at the moment. Rolling, Sirius came back into his crouch and fired off another spell at his now exposed cousin.

"Imperio!"

Now, he would play dirty. She dodged, of course, and Sirius heard a shout from his left--the Death Eater that Lily had stunned at the very beginning had awoken, and Sirius barely had time to put up a shield before a Stunner came sizzling towards him. Near the front door, Flint was clambering to his feet, while Avery--it had to be Avery, not one else sounded like that--dodged Sirius' hurried Reductor Curse. I am so doomed.

Red light from the house made Flint dodge and almost fall, but the assassin crawled towards the unconscious Rodolphus Lestrange with purpose. Any moment now, Sirius knew that Lily would come sailing out of Grimmauld Place, and things would start to play right into the Death Eater's hands--dirty was the word of the day. He looked for Bellatrix, but she had dived behind the car again. Instead, he twisted and aimed for Avery.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light flashed, and Avery went down. Sirius continued his turn, and set his sights on Bellatrix's annoying husband, who Flint had just reached and was in the process of waking up.

"Stupefy!" Bellatrix shouted.

Maybe she did like Rodolphus more than most people thought; Sirius dodged quickly, but the fringes of the spell hit him anyway, and suddenly everything was slow. He rolled, but every movement seemed to take a lifetime, and he knew that he didn't have the seconds to spare. Any moment, and things would get really bad--

"Everbero!" a familiar voice cried, and Bellatrix howled in fury.

Sirius' head turned with excruciating slowness to face the newcomers as spells exploded all around him. Alice Longbottom, Francine Hoyt, and Derek Dawlish were suddenly in the street, and a very familiar set of hands was dragging him back. Remus.

"Ennervate," his friend said quietly, and though Sirius hadn't been unconscious, the reviving spell had the desired effect. Fortunately, it worked fast, restoring Sirius' reflexes fast enough for him to drag Remus down as green light flashed over the headmaster's head. Shoving his friend aside, Sirius rolled and brought his wand up.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, aiming for Bellatrix once again. She'd tried to kill Remus, though she might very well have been aiming for Sirius--

The red light hit her square in the chest, and Bellatrix crumbled. A shout came from somewhere to the right, and Sirius saw Dawlish stagger out of the corner of his eye--but then Rodolphus was at his wife's side, and before anyone could blink, the Death Eaters Apparated away, leaving the decapitated Karkaroff and dead Avery behind.

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