Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Sixteen: Clouds on the Horizon

The last few days had left James Potter feeling anything but mischievous and also rather unfortunately un-romantic. He was, to put it simply, overworked and underpaid, despite the fact that the job he'd never really wanted was his now in name as well as fact. James had campaigned honestly and tirelessly to become Minister of Magic, not because he wanted the task, but because he knew that he had to do it.

More to the point, his useless lower body kept him out of the other profession that he would have chosen (James would never quite claim to love the Aurors; that was a sentiment that he reserved for the blissful season and a half of professional Quidditch he had played), and he had to do something useful. So he was left with a very lonely job that no one in their right mind would have asked for, not envying Albus Dumbledore one iota. How the old man had made being Minister of Magic look so damned easy, James would never know, but he was certain that he'd never be able to do the same. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

James sighed heavily and tore his mind away from such dismal thoughts. At least he had good friends to help him, friends he could trust. While he was perfectly confident in his own ability to make decisions, the Old Prophecy had made one thing extraordinarily clear: the fate of the Wizarding World did not rest in his hands alone. Minister of Magic or not, three others would influence events as much, if not more, than he. James was just fortunate enough that those three men were the best friends he had ever had.

"How was day one on the job?" Peter asked quietly. It was the evening of the tenth of August, and the Marauders had met in Peter's flat to share a very simple dinner. Muggle take out, however, never tasted so good as when it was shared with friends, even when the food was gone and the business had started.

"Oh, about as wonderful as every day that I unofficially had the job," James replied. "Except worse."

"How so?" Remus asked.

"More pressure, I guess," he shrugged, wishing that his shoulders did not feel so heavy when he did so. "I feel like I'm staring across a massive and deadly chessboard at Voldemort and he's twelve moves ahead of me already."

His response made Sirius snort. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin," he mused. "This is starting to sound familiar. Why does history have that damn habit of repeating itself?"

"At least Gryffindor won in the end," Peter supplied.

"Gryffindor died in the end, Pete." James replied irritably, trying not to groan. "Let's do try and avoid that this time."

Peter reddened slightly. "Sorry. I forgot about that."

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry." James sighed again. "I'm just tired. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"If you can't snap at me, who can you snap at?" Peter said with a smile.

"Sirius," both James and Remus replied at the same time, making the long-haired Marauder object.

"Hey! What'd I do to deserve that?"

"You exist, Padfoot," Remus said dryly. "And that's punishment enough for the rest of us."

"Exactly!" Despite himself, James smiled. Somehow, his friends could always pry him out of even the darkest of moods. "I blame you for existing."

Turning to Peter, Sirius groaned theatrically. "Do you feel as loved as I do?"

"Oh, definitely," the other snickered. "Because it is your fault. All of it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail replied cheerfully.

"I hate you all."

"Sure you do," Remus snickered. "Now, back to the subject at hand: keeping James from dying like his illustrious ancestors."

"Hey, they didn't all die," James objected.

"Of course they did, Prongs. Why else would they be your ancestors?" Peter pointed out.

"Shut up. All of you. Just shut up."

"Not so funny when it's aimed at you, eh, Jimmy?" Sirius retorted.

James rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"Oh, that's original," Remus grinned.

"As if you're any help," James shot back, making the others laugh again.

"Ahem?" Peter tried to say. "Maybe we should--oof!"

Peter yelped at the same time as his puppy yipped; Joe, no longer so small of a puppy at almost a year old, had fallen asleep on top of Sirius' feet. That, in turn, foiled Sirius' attempt to kick Peter, because Sirius had somehow managed to miss the fact that there was a dog lying on his left foot. Hardly disgruntled, the puppy jumped to his feet and howled at Sirius, who only grinned and howled back.

"Sounds a lot more convincing when you're in Animagus form, Padfoot," James had to point out.

"I'll change now, if you like," his best friend replied with a grin.

Remus groaned. "If you do, we'll never discuss anything important."

"Were we even going to?" Sirius asked.

"I was trying to say that we ought to before you kicked me," Peter replied. "But no, you had to go and--"

"What I'm curious about," Remus overrode Peter easily, but no one minded at all; such was life with the Marauders, "is how your visit to St. Mungo's went."

No one outside of James' family knew about his most recent visit to St. Mungo's, more because of his position than because of his pride. While he certainly didn't care if the Wizarding public knew that his paralyzed condition continued to baffle the healers (the fact that he was still in a wheelchair gave that away, anyway), what James didn't want was to be mobbed by reporters every time he went to the hospital. Also, the healer in charge of his treatment was downright camera-shy, and James had no desire to add any extra stress to her life. Martha Blackwood was one of the most brilliant in her field, and if she could not find a solution, he doubted anyone could.

After a moment, he shrugged in response to Remus' question. "About the same," James replied, trying not to sound disappointed, but knowing that he could not fool the others. "Martha is still working on new spells to try, and did get a little bit of feeling for a few minutes, but..."

"You did? That's outstanding, James!" Sirius cut him off, wearing a huge smile. "Why didn't you tell us before?"

"Mostly because it didn't work for long," he admitted glumly. "She tried the same spells again, and nothing happened. Maybe it was just my imagination."

"I'm sure it wasn't your imagination," Peter said quietly. "You'll get your legs back. Wait and see."

"I wish I had your confidence."

Sirius' hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. "We'll find a way."

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"Ladies and gentlemen, time is winding down," Kingsley Shacklebolt said quietly. Rarely did all the members of Auror Candidate Class 4904 assemble in one place, but the morning of August 11^th had proved to be an exception. Oddly enough, Frank Longbottom was nowhere in sight, which made the class heave a collective sigh of relief--lack of Longbottom just might mean that they would have a few moments of peace.

"As you all know, your training has been abbreviated and expedited beyond that of any class that has come before you. The destruction of the Ministry of Magic last month and recent developments in the war have pushed us, and you, to train new Aurors as quickly as possible." Shacklebolt's dark eyes scanned the group carefully, making Tonks feel a nervous flutter in her stomach. Before coming to Avalon just over one month before, she had thought that she was a reasonably well-rounded witch, but her time in Auror training had taught her otherwise. Tonks had never been so stressed, so strained, so tired--or so proud of herself and her friends. They had been pushed hard, but Candidate Class 4904 had risen to the occasion.

Quickly, she glanced around at her fellow candidates, hiding a smile behind her hand. They'd only been on Avalon for thirty full days, but it felt like a lifetime, and she had already made friendships that she knew would last forever. In comparison, her friends at Hogwarts seemed like childhood acquaintances, despite the seven years they had spent together. As nice as they had been, none of them would understand where she was now.

An elbow dug into her side. "Pay attention!" Horace Smeltings hissed in her ear, and Tonks had to struggle not to blush. She'd been drifting again, and if any of the instructors saw it, she was so much toast.

Throwing her section mate a sheepish grin, she turned her attention back to Shacklebolt.

"On September 23^rd, Phase Three of your training will end," the big Auror was saying. "At that time, you will each be chosen by an active Auror, who will serve as your Mentor until they believe you are ready to operate on your own. Between now and that time, you will be watched by these Mentors, even when you do not believe you are. So I advise you to plan your moves accordingly.

"That said, you have case studies to do. Dismissed."

The candidates all rose silently as their trio of instructors departed, waiting for Weasley, Shacklebolt, and Jones to leave before the chatter began. Immediately, Horace turned to Tonks.

"So, who do you want?"

"Want as--oh, damn." Without meaning to, she'd managed to sidestep straight into Dana Lockhart, who only chuckled.

"Never mind that, Tonks," her friend replied, and Tonks shot her a grateful smile.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"Not a problem." Dana waved her apology off, then went straight to the point that Horace had been attempting to warm up to. "So, do you think you'll get your cousin?"

"Sirius?" Tonks asked as they walked out of the classroom, barely managing not to bump into another desk on the way out. Dana and Horace both nodded, but she shrugged. "I have no idea, really. I hardly know him."

"He's your cousin," Horace objected.

"Yeah, but I was only nine when he was captured," she said. "I have some memories of him from before that, but not many. And I've only talked to him once since then." And made a fool of myself doing so, but what's new in that?

"But he is family, and the old families do stick together," a new voice intruded, and Tonks found it hard to wipe the scowl off of her face before she turned to face the other two members of her section. Cornelia Crouch was not so bad, but when she had been thinking of lasting friends earlier, Jason Clearwater had definitely not been someone she'd had in mind.

It was odd how some members of her section seemed desperate to view her as a Black, Muggleborn father notwithstanding. Equally perplexing (at least to Tonks) was the way that Horace and Dana steadfastly ignored her old lineage, choosing instead to look at who she was rather than what her family had done. Tonks suspected that Cornelia would have been more likeable had it not been for Jason, but Dana's stance was still a mystery. The Lockharts weren't exactly one of the oldest families in the Wizarding world, but they were pureblooded, which meant that Dana should have sided with the pureblooded Clearwater and Crouch faction against the Muggleborn Smeltings and Half-blood Tonks. Still...she shrugged. Friends were friends, and it was nice to know that every pureblood wasn't as stuck up as Tonks' horrible aunts.

She ignored Jason's remark and instead continued talking to Dana. "I don't think he'll take a student at all, actually."

"Why not?" Surprisingly, it was Cornelia who asked, and the interest on her face made Tonks suddenly wonder if the classically beautiful Cornelia wasn't sweet on Sirius. Oh, that would be funny! She had to resist the urge to giggle out loud. I don't think she's his type at--

"I would think that he'd be too busy, wouldn't he?" Horace asked quietly.

"Maybe." But Cornelia's sharp eyes continued to study Tonks as the members of Class 4904 filed into the candidate housing areas. "Would you want to be his student?"

"Well"--Thump--"Ouch! Not again!" Tonks snarled despite herself as she tripped over a fallen chair that someone had left right inside their common room entrance--was that someone me? Still, the impact made her think about more than whoever had left the fallen chair there. Tonks shrugged. "Of course I would," she replied, righting the chair. "Who wouldn't?"

But something told her that she wasn't being truthful, even with herself. On the surface, yes, Tonks would have loved for her cousin to be her Mentor, but underneath... Underneath, there was a different feeling. She respected her famous cousin a great deal, and still felt an enormous amount of awe every time she thought about everything he had done. He was the only one to face the Dark Lord alone and survive, a legend even amongst Aurors. There was no doubt that Sirius was a hero, but what had that cost him?

"So, speaking of Sirius Black, what about those case studies?" Horace suddenly asked, reminding the section of what they were supposed to be doing with their few hours off.

"Good question," Dana snorted. "Too bad you don't know him better, Tonks. That would make it a lot easier to compare Black v. Voldemort to Slytherin v. Gryffindor."

Tonks chuckled as she flopped down onto the couch next to Cornelia. "Who needs Static Dueling, anyway?" she asked half in jest. "Why the hell would anyone want to stay in one place?"

Dana rolled her eyes. "You might not have a choice, you know."

"It's more dignified, as well," Jason pointed out.

"Dignified?" Three voices echoed incredulously, and even Cornelia laughed.

"Next we know, you'll be asking to fence," she added.

"I'm not that old fashioned."

"Sure you aren't!" Dana teased him, and for a moment, Tonks thought that the ever-prickly Jason Clearwater might be offended. The rest of Section Four had a wonderful ability to get right under his pureblooded and old fashioned skin, but today, at least, Jason chose to laugh. He even blushed a little bit, though Tonks thought she sensed something else lurking behind the smile.

"Can we go back to the case studies, now?" he asked plaintively.

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"Mum!" Harry rushed into the kitchen, waving a piece of parchment wildly. "It's here!"

Startled, Lily's wand twitched out of line and made the burner's flames leap straight into the frying pan and wrap around it. Immediately, the pan began to glow, and the small room filled with the smell of burning omelets. Lily bit back the need to snarl and regained control of the pan, sending it crashing into the sink with a wave of her wand. Harry, however, never lost his smile, and the obvious happiness on his face made his mother grin. Despite herself, she laughed and reached out to ruffle his hair, making the twelve-year-old yelp indignantly.

"Mum!"

She snickered. "That's what you get for ruining breakfast."

"Did I?" he asked worriedly with an innocent look that was completely identical to his father's. Even after thirteen years of marriage and twelve as a mother, that face could still slay her with a glance.

"No, there are more eggs," she relented. Lily pointed her wand at the smoldering omelet ruins in the sink. "Scourgify. So, tell me about your Hogwarts letter."

"How did you know it was from Hogwarts?" Harry asked as she turned back to the now-clean frying pan and used her wand to bring the egg carton flying over. Lily placed her wand down and began cracking open another set of eggs as she answered,

"Where else would it be from?" She chuckled at the confused look Harry shot her, then continued, "You've only been worrying about it for days."

Lily heard the blush in her son's voice. "Was it that obvious?"

"Oh, yes. But did you really think that Remus would let you down, Harry?"

"No," he replied uneasily. "I was just..."

"Worried. I know." Lily turned around after placing the pan back over the burner and muttering a spell to keep it level this time. She smiled slightly. "And I understand why. It hasn't been an easy summer."

Harry's smile was rueful. "No kidding."

"But tell me about the letter. What new books do you need?"

"The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, Intermediate Transfiguration, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection and The Dark Arts Outsmarted because Professor Fletcher is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts now," her son replied with shining eyes. "I can't wait. It'll be great not to have to listen to Professor Quirrell stuttering all the time."

"I guess that the cursed job is about to become uncursed, huh?" she asked with a smile that hid her relief. Lily had never been comfortable with Quirrell's role as Hogwarts' Dark Arts professor, because like Remus, she had known what he really was. But Remus hadn't had a choice in the matter then, because Fletcher wouldn't take the job. So, while she had no idea how Remus had convinced the scared and haunted Mundungus Fletcher to take a job teaching a subject that he hated more than anything, Lily was very glad that Dung had been convinced. Harry and his fellow students needed someone like Dung to teach them. They needed someone who would not hide the truth.

"Yeah, I don't think any curse could get rid of Professor Fletcher, no matter how nasty," Harry agreed. "I wasn't looking forward to having a new Dark Arts professor every year, either. But I wonder why Remus won't tell us who the new Transfiguration Professor is? I mean, he's told you, hasn't he?"

Lily chuckled. "No, he hasn't, actually, but I suspect that he's told your father."

"So, you don't know, either?"

"I never said that I didn't know, dear. Only that Remus didn't tell me. I happen to be personally acquainted with your new Transfiguration teacher."

"Not fair!" Harry howled, making his mother laugh wickedly.

She reached out to tousle his hair again. "I may not be a Marauder, Harry, but I always get my revenge."

"Mum!" Then he peered at her with an angelic expression. "What'd I do?"

"Ha! Don't play innocent with me," she snorted. "I didn't miss the rampage your new set of Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls wrecked on the parlor--nor did I miss the fact that your didn't clean up after yourself, either."

"Dad told you, didn't he?" Harry scowled.

She smiled. "I did marry the man, dear."

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"Chicken?"

"Chicken," she confirmed. "It's the only thing I dare eat here."

"Me, too." They both chuckled. Sirius and Julia were in a seedy Muggle pub that was far better known for its home-brewed beer than for the quality of its food--though The Dirty Dog's food was locally acknowledged to be slightly 'interesting,' which was what prompted both to order chicken. That, at least, would not kill them.

Sirius sipped his beer, watching her smile over the rim of his glass. Were he feeling in a sappy mood, he could have played the medieval poet and waxed rhetoric about how he could stare at that smile all day long--but this wasn't a time for romance, and Julia would only have laughed at his sorry attempts to rhyme, anyway. However, he did wish that they didn't meet so often to say farewell. "So, when do you leave?"

"Friday morning." Her smile faded. "I wish that I didn't have to go so soon, but all the same...I've been in London for too long. I'm getting restless."

"I can tell." He spoke lightly, but knew it was the truth. Julia thrived on adventure, on challenging herself. She chafed under the constant supervision of her brother and the Dark Lord, and hated the role that they forced her into. She'd be much happier after spending a few months off in some abandoned jungle or cave--some magical archeologists might Apparate home to sleep in comfort every night, but not Julia. She lived the life that she loved.

"I'll visit," she promised. "Often."

One of the things that he loved so much about her was that she was so much her own person--but she would keep that promise. Sirius grinned. "I'll chase you if you don't."

"You think you're up for the challenge? she retorted with shining eyes. "I can be awfully hard to find in the Nile Valley."

"Is that where you're off to this time?"

"Yeah." Julia's enthusiasm wavered. "Not by my choice, but he thinks that the Temple of Isis may hold the original Philosopher's Stone."

Sirius whistled softly despite himself. "He still seeks immortality."

"Always," she agreed. But then her face tightened. "Speaking of my...employer, Sirius, Lucius reminded me of something the other day."

"Oh?" The change in her tone immediately told Sirius that this was no laughing matter, and he felt a chill run down his spine. Unless he was wrong, the worry in Julia's eyes meant that the moment they'd been dreading for months had finally come. "Has he--?"

"Not yet. Lucius thinks soon, though, and I can't fault his logic," Julia admitted.

"Ah." His mind raced. "But no order yet?"

"Not even a hint." Her voice remained quiet but took on an urgency that set Sirius' teeth on edge. "But he wants you dead, and I know that he won't wait. Unless I offer him some sort of information that makes you more valuable alive than dead, someone is going to try to kill you. I've tried to keep it from being me, but I doubt that will work long."

"Not with him, it won't." Sirius took a deep breath. Back when they had made the fateful decision to pick up where they had left off a decade before, both had known that that this day would come. Yet that knowledge did not make facing the dangers any easier, and Sirius knew even one small mistake would kill at least one of them. "Well. In that case, we need to tempt him with something."

"But how? And what?"

He paused, thinking fast. "Tell him that we're meeting again tomorrow," Sirius said slowly. "Say that you don't know why I want to talk to you, but you're curious."

"But we won't be meeting then, will we?" Her gray eyes narrowed.

"No, I'll be in Diagon Alley with Harry and his friends, but it will buy us a little time."

"Not much."

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There were certain things that Severus Snape despised about his life, and this had long ago become one of them. Years ago, maybe, it had not mattered so much--but he had been blinded then, by dreams of power and purity and glory. Now he wasn't nearly so starry-eyed, or so damn hopeful. People called him bitter, and they were probably right, but that's what came of skunking around in the darkness after killing someone who did not deserve to die.

He Apparated several hundred yards short of his destination, needing to walk some of the tension off. His companions had no qualms about what they had just done, he knew. Their Lord had ordered the death, and so it was decided. Right and wrong did not enter the equation; Death Eaters did not need to concern themselves with such matters when the Dark Lord commanded them to obey. Most of them probably would not have even thought of the fact that their victim had possessed blood far purer than their own. He had been an enemy, and that was enough.

Severus tore his mask off as he walked, wishing that he could simply drop it along the way and forget. It was a foolish wish, and not one that such a practical man often indulged in, but sometimes... He shrugged, not bothering to complete the thought.

Domus Archipater loomed large behind the high gates, but Severus no longer considered his ancestral home beautiful. In many ways, he did not even consider it home--because what was home, if not a place where one could relax? Domus Archipater, for all its illustrious history and Snape family traditions, was an empty shell of a house. A large and luxurious shell, of course, but a shell all the same. It held no importance, except as a symbol. Hogwarts was more his home than this dark place had ever been.

He sighed. A few more days and the lie would begin again, but it would be a relief to go back to the same old lie. At least there was meaning in his play-acting at being a professor; at least there was a point. Here, he was just another Death Eater at the Dark Lord's command, and no amount of soap would ever clean the innocent blood from his hands.

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