Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twelve: Thrice Defied

It started again, in the dead of night, just as he had known it would. That, along with other reasons, had been why Sirius hadn't bothered sleeping--the wee hours between July 30^th and July 31^st could mean everything, and he knew it. More importantly, so did Voldemort.

And there they were, poking and prodding at the holes in the wards, holes that he and Lily and Derek had plugged carefully. Holes that shouldn't have been there at all, openings that he, Frank Longbottom, Fred Randolph, and Adam Macmillan had not put there. But they had been there, and the Death Eaters knew it. They knew. And awareness of what that meant chilled Sirius to the bone.

He took a deep breath and let it out again. The wards they had constructed should have been able to withstand anything, Voldemort included--but five Death Eaters had managed to find a way through them only two days before. Knowledge like that wasn't calculated to make Sirius confident, so tonight would not be a night for sleep. Lily and Harry had both been in bed for over an hour, but Sirius knew that Derek was also still awake, though the Auror was trying very hard to pretend that he was sleeping. Sirius, on the other hand, didn't even bother pretending. He just sat up in the kitchen, watching the wards and waiting for something to happen.

And now something was.

Sirius sat alone in the darkness, watching and listening. A hurried set of wards would have required a physical key, like a drawing, but advanced wards were almost always invisible. They centered on the caster, who would know the moment one of them went down--or should have, except for what had happened two days before. Sirius should have known then, but he hadn't because of the holes. But there were no holes this time. There was no way for someone to sneak their way in, no way to get into Grimmauld Place short of blasting the wards to pieces.

A tingle ran down his spine, and Sirius felt familiar magic testing the wards. The touch was light, subtle--nothing like Bellatrix's habit of overpowering anything she encountered. No, this was someone far sneakier than his cousin, someone for whom subtlety was a way of life. If he had to guess, Sirius would have pegged Lucius Malfoy--smart enough to avoid ever leaving any evidence behind, despite the fact that everyone knew the bastard was a Death Eater. Yet they'd never been able to bring him to trial. Not once.

Sirius growled under his breath. He'd take on Malfoy any day--slimy old Lucius was not someone that he feared. No, that singular honor belonged to the one wizard who might be able to break through the wards, as carefully constructed and layered that they were. Only Voldemort possessed the sheer power and skill necessary to break into Grimmauld Place.

11:36. The wall clock was ticking away quietly, counting down the minutes until Voldemort had to act or become a laughingstock amongst his own followers. There had only been two promises that Voldemort had ever made and failed to keep. One, of course, had been his first attempt to kill Harry. Sirius had kept that from him for years, until the Fidelius Charm had expired and James had recast it. The second, however, was known to far fewer people than the first. That had been when Voldemort had sworn that he would break Sirius Black and use him against his friends.

This night would be the third broken promise. Voldemort meant to kill Harry, and Sirius would stop him. For the third time.

There was simply no choice. He had to stop him. A line had to be drawn somewhere, and that place had to be that night, else an innocent boy would die simply because he had been born at the end of July. And Harry didn't deserve to die. Sirius had meant it, two days before, when he had said that it wasn't fair to Harry. Life hadn't been fair to any of them, but least of all for Harry. In a life that might have been, everything had descended upon his innocent shoulders, and Sirius had sacrificed a great deal to ensure that never happened again. He would not fail now. He could not.

Tick. Tick. The minutes dragged by. Midnight was only twenty minutes away, hardly the length of an eye blink in the great scheme of the universe. Yet Sirius simply waited with a patience that would have shocked every one of his Hogwarts professors, and even most of his instructors on Avalon. Time changed men, and he waited, knowing that the moment would come, and the line would have to be drawn. Finally, still alone in the darkness, he felt more than sensed the new arrival. The wards told him nothing, but Sirius knew. A shiver tore down his spine. Voldemort was there.

Fear prickled at the corner of his mind, but his hands were extraordinarily steady. Each breath came in a firm rhythm, regular and even. The fear was only instinctive, born of habit and years in hell. It was the fear of a man who had grown up under the shadow of the Dark Lord's rise to power, who had lost both friends and enemies to that unstoppable evil. He felt more cold than frightened, really. Cold and lonely and ready. Sirius took a deep breath, knowing that the attack would come soon. He had yet to face the Dark Lord for a second time, but this might indeed bring that long dreaded and awaited encounter to a head. He was not afraid. Ten years had taken away his ability to fear, just like they had taken away much of his ability to feel.

The wards told him when the first spell was cast, and Sirius felt as it was pushed aside like all of the preceding ones. Instead of withdrawing, though, the power built and built, until he knew with certainty that the wards would break--it was only a matter of time. Voldemort had none of Lucius Malfoy dangerous subtlety, none of Bellatrix's violent impatience. This was sheer power, and even the most carefully crafted wards could only hold out against it for so long. They would break, and he would have to act. For a moment, Sirius regretted not alerting Dawlish when the Death Eaters had first arrived. But it was too late for regrets, for anything. Slowly, Sirius rose from his chair and began to make his way up the stairs. When the wards shattered, he would be ready.

One step. Two. He could feel the power building outside like a storm, and stretched his awareness out to meet it. Some instinct alerted him just before the final strike--

And then the world before his eyes went black.

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Morning dawned bright and beautiful. Lily blinked, surprised that she had slept so late. The wall clock claimed that it was seven o' clock, later than she usually awoke, and she stared at the clock disbelievingly. Seven o' clock in the morning, on July 31^st, 1992. She had not expected to live this long.

Harry.

Lily bolted out of bed without conscious thought, grabbing her wand as she moved. Though she was positive that she would have awoken had anything happened during the night, she still had to know. Quickly, her quiet footsteps carried her up the hall and to her son's door. It was closed, just as it had been nine hours before. Everything seemed to be the same. Taking a deep breath, Lily pushed the door open; she had not noticed before that her hands were shaking. A corner of her brain thought briefly to pray, but the rest of her was simply afraid to hope.

Harry lay still, curled up on his side and half buried beneath the blankets. His glasses sat on the nightstand next to a half full glass of water and a bookmarked and worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry looked the exact same way that he had looked on every other morning of his life--he was motionless, relaxed, and looked entirely at peace. Fear caught in her throat. Was he too still? Could someone have made their way into Grimmauld Place unseen, despite the wards and Sirius' reassurances? Lily felt cold. I should never have gone to sleep last night. I should never have let Sirius convince me to--

Harry snored.

The feeling went out of Lily's legs and she almost collapsed in relief. Her son continued to snore, completely unaware of the nervous breakdown his mother had almost had while he slept. For a long moment, Lily stood and stared, leaning on the doorframe for support and trying to laugh at herself. But she could not. Her fears had been real, justified. Yet there was no reason to fear, now. Harry was safe and sound, sleeping through the morning like he always had. Harry was safe, and he was twelve years old today.

They had done it.

Backing up, Lily softly closed the door. She would let him sleep a little while longer. The surprise that Sirius and Remus (and Peter, but no one had let that slip to Harry, because then things might have become a tad obvious) had cooked up would not be ready for several hours yet. Harry could sleep, then, and stay out of their hair. Birthdays were much easier to plan without excited twelve year olds underfoot.

Lily padded down the stairs, liking the feel of her bare feet against the wooden steps. She still felt slightly giddy, slightly surprised--a part of her was not ready to believe that everything was okay. She had expected disaster to strike in the middle of the night, had gone to sleep with her wand under her pillow. It was almost mind-boggling to think that Voldemort hadn't acted--Lily forced herself to shrug. She was sure that they would find out in due time, and meanwhile, it was time to find some breakfast. Stress made her hungry, so she crossed the hall and headed down a second set of stairs.

There was a body at the foot of the kitchen stairs.

"Sirius!" Lily gasped, rushing to his side. Sirius was breathing, but unconscious, with his wand gripped in a white-knuckled hand. She shook him quickly, but he did not respond. He was abnormally pale, too, and Lily lifted her own wand. "Enervate."

Sirius blinked immediately, then turned his head in her direction with surprise. "Lily?"

"What happened?"

"I--" He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. Then Sirius turned that boyish half-smile on her. "I fell down the stairs."

Lily stared, stuttering "What?" But long years of practice warned her that he was telling only a partial truth. Her eyes narrowed. "What else?"

Sirius was silent for a moment, and then the boyish gleam left his eyes. "They came," he finally responded.

"The Death Eaters?" Fear seized up in her chest.

"And Voldemort."

"Voldemort? Why didn't you tell me?" Lily demanded. Still, her instincts warned her that a great deal was being left unsaid. Sirius was hiding something.

"Because they failed." He shrugged. "They tested the wards and could not break them. So they left." The grin came back, but it was only a ghostly impression of his old innocence. "And I fell down the stairs."

"Just like that," she replied warily. He wasn't lying, but...

Sirius rose, somewhat shakily. "More or less."

"There's something you aren't telling me," Lily said bluntly, looking him in the eye. But Sirius' crystal blue eyes only reflected her gaze like a glass mirror. He shrugged again.

"There's not much to say, Lily. The wards held, and they left."

"But--" She cut herself off with a sigh. Lily could sense the wall she had just run into; Sirius would say no more. She forced her tone to lighten. "All right. Breakfast?"

He smiled wanly. "Sure."

Ten minutes later, Dawlish wandered in, drawn by the smell of bacon. He took one look at Sirius, though, and asked what had happened. There was something different in the still drawn and pale face. But again, Sirius shrugged. He explained in a few short sentences.

"They're gone?" the Auror echoed. "Voldemort included?"

Sirius nodded; Lily thought he looked weary. "Yes."

"But I--I heard nothing." Dawlish stared. "And I was awake until two or three. Did it happen later?"

"No. About eleven-forty, actually." Sirius shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Derek. You didn't miss much."

"Didn't miss much?" Dawlish's eyebrows rose suddenly. He sat down, staring across the table at Sirius with suspicion. "What did you do?"

Sirius half smiled, then glanced at Lily, who almost dropped the carton of orange juice she had been carrying. There was something different in his eyes, something she had never seen before. "Let's just say that I think Voldemort is suitably distracted. Harry will no longer be his primary target."

"What did you do?" Lily echoed.

"Me?" he asked tonelessly. "I fell down the stairs."

"That's a lie." She hadn't meant it to sound so accusing, but... Sirius' lips quirked into a cold smile.

"True."

"Sirius?" There was something frightening in his expression. His blue eyes were startlingly light in his face, and for a moment Lily thought she saw something dangerous flash through them--but then it was gone as Sirius smiled tiredly. And this time, it was a real smile.

"Sorry." He shrugged. "It's not a big deal, Lily. Really. What matters is that Voldemort is distracted. That's all."

Again, the wall.

Dawlish, however, was still staring at Sirius, and the look in his face made Lily abruptly remember that he had been there, in Azkaban, when Sirius had faced Voldemort for the first time. Was last night the second time? she wondered silently, reading the same question in Dawlish's eyes. Or was it something different?

"Mum!"

With a rush of footsteps on the stairs, Harry burst into the room, and the remaining darkness left Sirius' eyes.

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Four hours later, Dawlish had departed and Remus and Peter arrived, bringing "Sirius and Remus' Surprise" with them. That, of course, amounted to something far different from anything Harry would have expected--and more valuable than an entire roomful of presents could ever be. A part of Lily hadn't wanted to keep this a secret from her son, but the look on his face when Sirius opened the front door made all the waiting worthwhile.

"Dad!" Harry leapt forward as Remus pushed the "wheelchair" (although it resembled the Muggle device and had started life as one, Lily wasn't sure if any creation of Sirius' could be called anything as simple as a "wheelchair") through the door.

James' face split into a grin as he opened his arms to catch his excited son. Harry might have been twelve, but he wasn't too old to hug his father on this day. "Hey, kid."

"Are you home, then? Did it work? Do you have to go back to St. Mungo's? Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?" A delighted glare pointed in Remus' direction. "How long are you here for? And Peter?"

The adults all laughed. There were moments when Harry was far too old for his age, but other times, he was pure child. Lily grinned as James made a show of trying to figure out which question to answer first, assuming the famous "thinker" pose until Harry shouted "Hey!" in exasperation. They all laughed again.

"Well, yes, obviously, I am home. Or Sirius' home, anyway." James' hazel eyes danced. "Assuming you'll let me out of the doorway, that is."

"Oh!" Harry reddened a bit as his family laughed, but also eyed James' wheelchair warily as they all wandered into the library.

"As for the rest," James began, "No, I don't have to go back to St. Mungo's, but I do have some interesting medicines to take while I'm here. So, no, I'm not better yet...but I hope to be soon." Harry's face fell a little bit, but his father's smile was contagious. "And Remus and Peter are here for the day. For some reason, Wormtail's superior at the Ministry decided to let him have the day off. I can't imagine why."

"Perhaps because you always have an ulterior motive," Sirius retorted with a grin.

"Moi? I am the soul of innocence and virtue!"

Lily choked. James looked hurt.

"Of course you are, dear," she snickered, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "And I am Glinda the Good Witch."

"Wasn't she fat?" Peter quipped.

"Peter!" Lily tried to give him a playful slap, but Remus got in the way as he laughed, and her hand bounced off of the headmaster's shoulder.

"Hey! I thought Glinda was supposed to be nice, not abusive."

Lily smiled sweetly. "Depends on who's doing the thinking, Remus."

"Sirius, kick him for me," James interjected.

"Gladly."

"Ow!"

"Awh, did little Remy bump his knee--Yikes!" Peter dodged as Remus tried to shove him, and then Sirius was suddenly in the mix. Within two seconds, chaos had ensued, and they were all laughing. Several crazy moments passed before anyone could concentrate on anything besides tickling, kicking, or dodging. Finally, though, Lily--who had ended up in James' lap somehow--managed to catch enough breath to ask:

"Lunch, anyone?"

"Food?" Peter perked up. "Excellent! I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Wormtail."

"So sayeth the 'picky' one, huh?" Peter countered. Everyone knew that Remus would eat anything, provided it had stopped moving long enough to stick a fork into. He only had looked skinny during their Hogwarts years, and that had been caused by his difficult transformations. Lily grinned; before she'd gotten to know Remus better, she had often wondered if he had a tapeworm trapped in his belly. Where he put the food, she didn't know, but his ability to consume massive amounts of anything outclassed even Sirius and James, who Lily knew could eat a troll out of house and home. Especially together.

Remus grinned, and then shrugged. "You'll have that sometimes."

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Lunch was, to put it mildly, entertaining. By the time Peter, Remus, Sirius, and James were even halfway through the meal, Kreacher was thoroughly traumatized, and if Lily hadn't known what a nasty little creature he was, she would have felt sorry for him. Bits and pieces of presents were strewn all over the kitchen, too, because none of them were stupid enough to think that they'd manage to eat before a twelve-year-old got his birthday presents. Besides, James and his friends usually acted right around Harry's maturity level, and enjoyed the gift-giving almost as much as Harry enjoyed receiving them.

Lily, however, knew that this was only the beginning. Fred and George Weasley, seemingly determined to create trouble, had sent Harry a box of Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, which her son had been entirely too delighted to receive--and worse yet, so had her husband. Ron had sent Harry a brand new book which Lily was certain Molly hadn't seen, entitled How to Make Your Own Dungbombs--Better Than Ever. Hermione's gift had been a bit more conventional; she'd sent him a very nice broomstick servicing kit that made Lily sigh in relief. She had noticed, however, a noticeable lack of a gift from Lee Jordan, and saw worry flash across her son's face. Biting her lip, Lily fought back the urge to say something. She'd had several Muggleborn friends while at Hogwarts, and remembered when some of their parents hadn't let them come back. It hurt, and it was wrong. Magic could not be forgotten.

But Harry could at least put the thought aside long enough to enjoy his birthday, and he was all but buried underneath a pile of presents. James had, predictably, insisted that Lily buy a practice Snitch for their "budding Seeker," and Sirius didn't help matters one bit by getting Harry a gift certificate to Quality Quidditch Supplies, on top of a new Wizarding Chess Set (Harry's had been destroyed along with Godric's Hollow) and a gigantic box of Chocolate Frog Cards. They were spoiling the boy, and Remus was hardly any better. He must have conspired with Sirius, because the headmaster got Harry a display case for his Chocolate Frog Cards, a Screaming Yo-Yo (Lily could only imagine where that would lead) and an oversized Puddlemere United poster. Peter chimed in with a box of Whizzing Worms, a Grow Your Own Warts Kit, a first edition of The History of Magical Pranking, and a beautiful red and gold photo album, adorned with the Gryffindor crest. Years ago, Lily had tried (energetically) to convince James' best friends that they needn't buy so much for Harry, but all her protests had fallen on deaf ears. Then again, with those four, lots of things went unheard--all in all, it was amazing that the Marauders weren't completely deaf, because they certainly acted like it sometimes.

This day, however, Lily could put all her worries aside. Harry wasn't a spoiled child, and he was absolutely glowing--it was his birthday, and twelve years old or not, Harry knew how close he had come to never reaching twelve years old at all. So Lily wasn't about to argue. Not now, and not ever. Not with those three, anyway.

Various other friends had sent presents, and combined with everything Lily had bought (much according to James' insistence, but not all), Harry had a virtual mountain of gifts. Most of them he could not wait to show his friends, of course, and--

"But Mum, it's not like the Weasleys' aren't wizards or anything and it's not like I'm asking to go to the Grangers!" Harry pleaded long after the birthday cake had been eaten.

Lily sighed. Why was it that those big green eyes always won her over? She should have been immune to their allure, seeing as how they were hers to start with, but somehow, the pleading look always worked.

"Now you know how I feel," James chuckled, reading her mind for the millionth time.

"Unfortunately," she groused, making both husband and son grin. But James' smile faded quickly as he became serious.

"She hasn't said no, Harry," he explained. "Just that we have to be careful. I have to talk to Arthur tonight, anyway. We'll work something out for next week, so that everyone is safe."

Harry's look became mulish. "Next week?"

Lily opened her mouth to reply, but Peter beat her to it. "Don't worry, Harry. You'll have plenty of things to do between now and then."

"Besides," Sirius interjected with a grin, "I think that's the best you're going to get, judging from the look on Daddy Prong's face. He's gone serious again. There's no use trying to make him change his mind. Darn responsibility."

"And your mother has a point," Remus added. "You don't want to endanger your friends, do you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then let us work on the details," James seamlessly picked up where his friends had left off. "Believe me, Harry. I had no intention of trying to keep you away from your friends from the summer." Four sets of eyes met, and four identical smirks flourished. "After all, I know how dangerous trying to do that can prove to be."

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"How're the legs, Prongs?" Sirius asked several hours later. The four had gathered in the Library while Lily helped Harry put his birthday presents away--Peter hadn't been able to miss the hurt in James' eyes when Harry had accidentally asked his father to help him hang up his new Puddlemere United poster. Some things just weren't the same.

James shrugged. "Sometimes I think I'm getting feeling back, but the healers tell me that's mostly my imagination, especially since it's usually when all the potions start wearing off. So, no different, really."

"I'm sure we'll find something." But even Sirius', the eternal optimist, eyes were dark. Hope was hard to come by these days.

"Have you thought about asking Severus if he knows of anything that may help?" Remus asked unexpectedly, making Peter and Sirius exchange a distasteful look. Snape might have been on the right side, but that didn't make him a friend.

Except for Remus. But then again, Remus was a saint. Everyone knew that.

"Not really. But then again, I haven't seen him in...awhile," James replied with another shrug. "While all you special Order people were meeting at Hogwarts, remember, I was stuck at St. Mungo's, thanks to Peter here."

Peter snorted. "Damn straight. With no help from you, mind."

The others snickered, but the amusement did not last long. They all knew that there was little time for humor these days, even for them.

"So, what happened last night?" James asked Sirius, whose crystal blue eyes narrowed at the question.

"Lily put you up to asking, did she?"

"No." James' smile was fleeting. "But since Grimmauld Place is still standing and everyone is still alive, I gather something must have come to a head. Likewise, since there's been nothing appropriately grisly plastered all over the Prophet, I assume that it must have been something very different--and unexpectedly quiet. All my logic, however, just leaves me wondering what in the name of Merlin it was that you did."

Sirius shrugged too quickly. "Not much."

"Right." Remus rolled his eyes before James had to bother. "You're a bad liar, Padfoot."

Peter, however, was studying Sirius' face, and thought he saw something flash in his friend's eyes. Coldness crept down his spine, and he had to wait a moment before speaking to make sure that his voice did not shake. Peter took a deep breath, then asked, "He was here, wasn't he?"

No one would ever have to ask who that he was.

"Yes."

One word made three hearts stop cold. More important than what Sirius had said though, was how he had said it. His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and...cold? No, cold was the wrong word. Accepting. Something had happened, and he accepted the fact that it had.

The silence was killing them all, but Sirius did not seem eager to continue. They all waited, trying to figure out how to ask, but he remained quiet. Finally, James broke the uneasy silence. Marauders weren't supposed to have uneasy silences.

"Are you going to tell us what happened, Sirius, or leave us here holding our breaths?"

"Sorry." The distant look faded, replaced by an embarrassed half smile. "I wasn't really lying when I said that not much happened...Voldemort and the Death Eaters came, but they couldn't get through the wards. So they left."

"You're leaving a lot out," Remus said gently. But even his quiet tone was strong enough to make Sirius testy.

"Yes, Moony, I am," he snapped, then colored immediately. "Sorry."

"Are you all right?" Peter asked. Sirius wasn't one to snap.

"Yes. No." Sirius sighed. "I don't know."

"What happened?" James asked again.

"I'm not sure," Sirius admitted. He broke off to stare at a bookshelf for a moment; following his gaze, Peter noticed that it was the most innocent shelf in the room, full of books on Transfiguration, Runes, and Divination, unlike the nastier works common in this library. He shrugged. "I don't understand it myself, yet."

"That's not good," Peter said before he could stop himself, and then promptly wanted to smack his own forehead. There were moments when he wished that he could cut his own tongue out...but fortunately, they were a lot less common these days.

Sirius shot an unexpected but tired smile in his direction. "Tell me about it, Wormtail."

"What don't you understand?" Remus, ever the professor, asked contemplatively.

"Everything." Then the tired look became almost mischievous. "I told Lily that I fell down the stairs."

"And she believed you?" James asked dubiously.

"Of course she did." Sirius grinned. "I'm the soul of innocence and virtue!"

"Or course you are," Peter agreed sarcastically as Remus snorted.

"The day I transform into a bunny rabbit, you are!"

"Hey!" Sirius objected. "I did!" He snickered. "Fall down the stairs, I mean. Not become innocent and virtuous overnight."

"Why?" Peter asked.

"And for that matter, which stairs?" James added.

"Kitchen. And good question." Again, Sirius' eyes became distant, and Peter realized that he was still trying to figure this out for himself. It was odd to see Sirius with that expression on his face, because he had always been the carefree one, the reckless one--he understood so much through simple instinct that Peter had rarely seen him commence intellectual soul-searching. Finally, though, he continued.

"It was when he tested the wards." Again, a pause, and again, no one had to ask who that he was. "I started up the stairs because I knew the wards would break...and then everything went black. And they didn't. Break, I mean."

Remus was studying Sirius closely. "Why not?"

"That's what I'm not sure about..." he trailed off, and Peter thought he heard an unfamiliar undertone in Sirius' voice. "I've still got to figure it out. Find some answers for myself." His eyes flickered to each one of them in turn, and Peter shivered at the intensity that was buried somewhere beneath the surface. Ten years in Azkaban had changed Sirius, and now something else had, too--or maybe the change was just reemerging, coming to the surface once more.

"I'll tell you when I know," Sirius promised quietly. "I promise. But right now...I can't tell you what I don't know myself. I can say, though, that Voldemort won't be coming after Harry again." He smiled coldly. "I think I've got him suitably distracted."

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