Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Seventeen: Dark Winds Stirring

The next morning, breakfast at the Burrow had quickly become a mad house. Two days after the election and one after a slew of Hogwarts letters had arrived, the Weasleys, Potters, and Grangers had begun to coordinate how to get their mass of offspring to Diagon Alley. Of course, each family could have brought their own children there separately, but they would have all ended up together eventually, so it was far easier to start off from the same place. That, in turn, had brought Harry and Hermione to the Burrow, sans parents--both sets had to work. But because Arthur also had to work (he and James had departed at dawn to meet with the Muggle Prime Minister), Molly Weasley had also ended up playing host to Sirius Black, chaperone extraordinaire.

But breakfast with the Misfits in the house was still a disaster. Fred and George had been trying to light Hermione's hair on fire, until they were thwarted by Ginny's "accidental" orange juice spill that both twins were still howling about. Harry and Ron were ignoring their now-cold meals to play with Harry's set of Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls, which were wreaking havoc on the Burrow's kitchen. Hermione, on the other hand, was engrossed in learning about all the different methods of magical cooking from Mrs. Weasley, and probably represented the only calm person in the entire kitchen, since Percy had stormed out over twenty minutes before.

Except for Sirius. He was reading the Daily Prophet, and was quite content to munch on his bacon while the children shouted, laughed, and tried out new practical jokes on one another.

"Did you know," he asked Molly without looking up from the paper, "that Eric Dummingston died last night?"

"Who?" Fred asked, his mouth full of eggs.

"Fred!" his mother snapped. "Mind your manners!"

"Jeez, Mum. Can't you get it right?" the other twin asked wickedly. "I'm Fred. That's George!"

Sirius almost choked on his orange juice as Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't you two ever get tired of that trick?"

"No," both answered innocently.

Molly's eyes narrowed. "Fred, mind your manners. Don't talk with your mouth full--or chew with your mouth open!"

"Yes, Mum." Clearly, the boys all knew which battles weren't worth fighting. Within seconds, however, the chaos resumed, expect for Hermione, who asked:

"Isn't he that senior Daily Prophet reporter?"

Sirius half-smiled. "Yeah." His eyes met Molly's across the table, and he read her sudden understanding of what he would not say. "He died last night."

"How?" Hermione, unfortunately, was far too smart for her age.

"Wow, Fred, look at that!" Ron interrupted, grinned. One of the Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls had become caught on top of a tall bookshelf and was bouncing crazily between the top shelf and the ceiling. It served as a wonderful distraction, and let Sirius pretend that he had not heard Hermione at all.

"Ron, get that down!" Molly ordered.

"I'll get it, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, jumping up on a chair and trying to capture the Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Ball while everyone watched. Everyone, that was, expect for Hermione. Despite his attempt to ignore her, her eyes were still on Sirius.

"He was killed, wasn't he?" she asked quietly.

No one else was paying attention, but even if anyone had been, he wouldn't have lied to her. Sirius nodded. "Yes. He was."

"Was it because of the article?"

"I think so," he replied softly.

Hermione paled slightly, but she nodded. She was a brave girl, Sirius knew, and a very smart one. Not for the first time, he was glad that Harry had made a friend who was as sharp as she was. There was no doubt in his mind that Hermione's brains had pulled the Misfits out of a tight situation more than once, and Sirius was sure that she would continue to do so in the future. The boys, of course, had no idea how lucky they were to have her, but that wasn't exactly surprising. Especially at this age. Hermione leaned slightly forward before whispering, "That's not very fair, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Sirius agreed. "But that's what we're fighting."

"If the war is still going after I leave Hogwarts, I'm--"

"Ron!" Ginny howled, cutting Hermione off as a green Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Ball landed on her head.

"It wasn't me!" her brother objected.

"Sorry, Ginny," a red-faced Harry apologized. He'd managed to free the green Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Ball from its trap between the shelf and the ceiling, but it had obviously found a new target. "That was my fault."

"Oh--ahh!" She ducked as a purple one almost hit her in the face. "Ron!"

"That was Fred!"

"Fred!"

"It was George!"

"You can't fool me, you big--"

"That's enough!" Molly cut them off. "Accio Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls!"

Oh, and was that a bad idea. Molly yelped as all twelve of the Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls suddenly came sailing at her head with no intention of stopping. She managed to duck most of them, but two bounced off of her head while a third hit her left shoulder. Then, the dozen Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls continued upon their merry way, creating chaos in the Weasley family kitchen like never before. The children shrieked with laugher as Molly snarled in anger, gesturing with her wand and sending a jet of energy at one of the yellow balls. She missed, of course, and broke a picture in the process. Molly would have tried a second time, however, if Sirius hadn't reached his left hand out to stop her. She glared at him, but the look faltered when the Auror shot her a lopsided smiled.

"Allow me." Having put the Daily Prophet down to stop her, his wand had almost instinctively come to hand. Now he aimed it in the general direction of the most Never Non-Bouncing Bouncy Balls. "Finite Exsilimultom!"

As one, the balls fell to the floor, making Molly sigh with relief and the children groan. Then Harry shrugged.

"We were wondering how to stop them," he commented.

Sirius snorted. "Didn't you think of reading the directions?"

"Well, uh...Dad took them." Harry shrugged. "He said that we'd figure it out. Eventually."

"Not in my house, you aren't!" Molly declared as Sirius struggled not to laugh. "That's quite enough playtime. Go get your lists. We'll leave as soon as this mess is cleaned up."

Julia Apparated into her apartment with a crack, dropping her mask and Death Eater robes on her way to the fireplace. A month previously, she had finally broken down and bought herself an apartment in London; she was spending far too much time in the city to justify staying in a hotel every one of those nights. It wasn't that she lacked the money to do so; rather, she deplored the waste of not having a constant place to come "home" to. In the five days that had passed that had passed since she'd spoken in depth with her brother, Lucius must have related the subject of their conversation to the Dark Lord, because Voldemort hadn't spoken the order that she had dreaded hearing. No, he'd approached the problem in a far different manner.

She tossed a handful of green powder into the fire, hoping against hope that no one was watching her. This certainly qualified as one of the stupider things she'd done in her life, but there was no time to find a safer way to accomplish her mission.

Emerald flames colored the fire, and without hesitation, Julia thrust her head in and began to speak, ignoring the usual dizzy feeling. The world could spin all it wanted, because she had much more important things to worry about.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," she said quickly, and hoped against hope that he was still home.

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"Guests first," Molly said, waving Harry and Hermione forward.

"Which one?" George asked innocently as Hermione blushed.

"I've never used Floo Powder," she said nervously. "I mean, I've read about it, but..."

Sirius chuckled softly, meeting Molly's eyes. He spoke calmly and without emphasis, but he was sure that she understood. "Perhaps I ought to go first."

"Why--oh." Her face suddenly matched Hermione's color. "Yes. By all means."

Sirius, of course, had no need to use Floo Powder and even less desire to do so. He'd been Apparating since he had turned seventeen, and had hated the Floo Network even longer. But it paid to be careful. While there was no reason to suppose that Voldemort's followers wanted to target Harry, much less knew that they were coming to Diagon Alley, Sirius no longer believed in taking chances with the lives of those he cared for. Poor Molly, though--she wasn't used to this, despite the years of war, and she was embarrassed by the fact that she didn't automatically consider all the security concerns.

He flashed her a smile, and took his wand out of his robes more for form's sake than anything else. He didn't need it to Apparate (no Auror did), but wandering into potential danger without a wand in hand was one of the many rookie mistakes that Aurors half-jokingly classified as "Involuntary Suicide."

Sirius appeared in Diagon Alley with a quiet pop, his eyes automatically scanning for danger. Yet the area around the public Floo Network fires was quiet, and the only people he could see seemed to be minding their own business. Moments later, Harry rolled out of the fire, sputtering ash and growling furiously. "I'm going to kill Fred and George!" Sirius' godson spat.

"What for?" Sirius asked, taking two steps sideways and leaning his back against the wall casually. In that position, he could see everything and everyone, and while everything seemed normal, he knew that could change in an instant. He wasn't trained to take chances.

"They threw some of Dr. Filibuster's finest in the fire with me." Harry scowled.

"Ooh." Sirius felt his eyebrows rise. "I've never tried that before. I imagine the results were interesting?"

Harry snorted. "You can say that again." Then he brightened mischievously. "Can we stop at Gambol and Japes before we go home?"

"Have revenge to plan?"

"Oof!"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione came tumbling out of the fireplace, coated in soot and with her frizzy hair sticking up in every direction. Laughing, Harry bent to help her up. "What took you so long?"

"Mrs. Weasley had to stop yelling at Fred and George long enough to put the fire out," she replied, brushing herself off madly. "The fireworks made quite a mess."

Harry snickered. "Serves them right."

"Harry!"

"What?" With his glasses slightly askew, Harry shot an innocent look that struck Sirius as a page straight out of the past. For a moment, he was almost reminded of James and Lily at a slightly older age--but no. These two were far too much like sister and brother for that. He smiled to himself. Me and Lily, perhaps, but never James and Lily. These two will never be lovesick and stupid. Sirius chuckled, trying to imagine Harry ever falling in love with Hermione, and failed. In that way, Harry wasn't like his father at all. He wouldn't fall for the brainy girl--he'd fall for the daredevil.

Ginny rolled out of the fire. "Sorry about my brothers," she said immediately. "They have no sense of timing."

"Oh, we already knew that," Harry and Hermione said together.

Ron, fortunately, emerged unscathed from the Floo Network, followed by Percy, who managed to make being soot-covered into a much more dignified and serious affair than it should have been. Next came the twins, who did not look abashed in the slightest, despite the fact that their mother Apparated right on their heels, scowling angrily. She was also in mid-rant, having obviously been cut off when the twins dove into the fire with unseemly haste.

"--You two had better be on your best behavior, or you'll be grounded from now until the beginning of school!"

Fred and George exchanged identically calculating looks, clearly weighing the cost of eighteen days without fun in exchange for making a bang in Diagon Alley for one afternoon. Molly, however, was far smarter than her devious twins gave her credit for being.

"And that means no Quidditch!" she hissed.

Fred started, "But Mum--"

"We have to play Quidditch!" George finished.

"Oh, do you now?" Molly challenged, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at the boys.

Fred nodded earnestly. "We're trying to help Ron qualify to play Keeper this year."

Percy rolled his eyes before his mother could reply. "Of course you are," he said dryly. "And your motives are always as pure as a newborn baby's."

"Actually, Percy, they are," Ron retorted, eagerly stepping forward to his brothers' defense. "They've been helping me a lot."

"Be that as it may, behave yourselves or no Quidditch!" Molly retorted sternly, but Sirius could tell that she was glad to see her rambunctious boys helping their younger brother out. Clearly, that hadn't been a regular event in the Weasley household before the advent of the Misfits--Sirius had a feeling that Ron used to be the little brother who the twins always used for the butt of every joke. Now, though, he was a full-blown prankster, which made this situation just a tad familiar.

Déjà vu, anyone? he thought to himself, trying not to smirk. Oh, you poor woman. There were only four of us.

"Shall we go?" he asked with a smile, his eyes still scanning for danger that his instincts told him did not exist. Sirius would have been perfectly amused to watch the Molly v. Weasley Twins War rage all day long, but they did have places to go and books to buy--not to mention the fact that Harry and Ron looked ready to wander off on their own if someone didn't get things moving. First I'm a chaperone, and now I'm a peacemaker, he thought ironically. What is the world coming to?

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Remus stifled the urge to groan, staring at the numbers and wishing that they would change. He had known that some students would not come back, but he had never thought that it would be so bad. Slowly, he went over the numbers again, and began ticking off students in his head.

Attendance was down by a full ten percent. Remus had expected two or three percent, or maybe even five--but ten? Aside from Lee Jordan, there were seven other students who should have returned but could not, and the rest of the missing children were first years who now could not be--and the horror of it was that many of them came from families that were involved in the war against Voldemort. Those parents should have been the ones who sent their children to Hogwarts in defiance of the Dark Lord's increasing power...but they were afraid. A part of him could understand fear, but Remus could never comprehend hiding because of it.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. Bad enough that he'd transformed the night before and had slept late into the early afternoon because of it, but Remus had not been sleeping well at all lately. Although he could not remember them, he knew that his dreams had been disturbed, and he could not escape the suspicion that something was about to happen. The feeling had been growing worse throughout the summer, perhaps because of his proximity to the Font and the lack of students at the school, but Remus had such a feeling of foreboding that he'd hardly been able to keep food down--and that was not a problem that he ever had after transformations. Still, his stomach was churning, and he knew that something was going to happen.

Screams.

His head jerked up from where it had fallen on the oak desk; somehow, Remus had managed to drift off without knowing. Disoriented, he shook his head. For a moment, his office had possessed a remarkable similarity to Diagon Alley, and Remus had to take a moment to remember where he was.

Sighing, he reached over and took a sip of his now cold tea. Obviously, it hadn't helped keep him awake before, but Remus disliked losing control. Doing so always had consequences, and given his unique...status, those consequences were never pleasant. To say the least.

Fire.

He blinked, suddenly closing his left hand on the teacup so hard that Remus heard an audible crack. Quickly, he placed the cup on its saucer, slowly shaking his head to clear it yet again. But visions of flames still danced before his eyes.

They had not left. He was not dreaming. He had not drifted off again. Not this time. Was I even asleep the first time? Remus wondered, his heart pounding. He had suspected for weeks that his dreams were not just dreams, but he had never been able to remember them long enough to consider what they might mean. He took a deep breath. What are you trying to tell me?

Too bad the Font never answered. Had the infernal source been able to speak, it might have solved all kinds of problems--like his sleeplessness, like his uneasy feeling, like his changed transformations--

More screaming.

Suddenly, Remus was sitting bolt upright in his chair without having realized that he had done so. Now, however, he felt fully awake--and very dizzy. Even five months after going into the Font of Power, he was not used to the odd feelings the visions gave him. He often wondered if the effects would ever fade, if he would ever be able to control them in the way he thought Dumbledore had...but there was no way to know and no one to ask. However, there was no time for thought, either. A whirlwind of colors blurred his office's furnishings into rainbow streaks, and for a moment he felt like he might completely lose consciousness, but--

Images began to dance before his eyes.

Florean Fortescue's was burning. Flames leapt out from the windows, peppering bystanders with ash and smoldering wood. A black-haired witch screamed as her hair caught on fire, and it took her companion three tries before he could extinguish it while her little son cowered in terror.

Laugher.

Whirlwind.

Screams.

He could almost feel the heat from the flames.

Smoke in the streets, billowed by false winds. Debris flew through the air, crashing into those who fled from the flames. Flash. Green light. A man's howl of grief. Lifeless bodies in the street. Death everywhere.

His office smelled like smoke. Was it burning? Charred flesh.

Flash.

Dark robed figures striding down the center of the street. Laughing.

He was cold.

All were masked, save one. And his red eyes burned.

Those who could not flee took the only option that was left to them--they submitted. Witches and wizards knelt to the Dark Lord. He swept forward, ignoring their surrender.

So cold.

Green light. Green flash. Green death.

The Dark Mark burned bright in the sky. Flash. Something exploded. A woman screamed in a voice that he knew. She was struggling free of rubble from--what? Her face was hidden, but there was a flash of red hair. She turned towards an open doorway, and shouted the name again--

"Sirius!"

"What?"

Startled, Remus jerked back in his chair. His vision cleared abruptly, the images of death, fire, and Diagon Alley vanishing to reveal Fawkes. The red and gold phoenix stood on Remus' desk, studying the headmaster with worried eyes. Blinking, Remus realized that it was Fawkes' quiet song that had awoken him, had freed him from the dizzy vortex of visions. He sucked in a shaky breath.

"Thank you," he said quietly, hoping that he meant it. Was this how Dumbledore had dealt with the visions? Had Fawkes been his failsafe, the one who rescued him when he went too deep? Remus shivered.

The phoenix's head bumped gently against his chest as Fawkes continued to sing. Slowly, the headmaster let out the breath he had not intended to hold. "I know," he sighed, wishing that he knew what he knew. But Fawkes' beak tapped his hand.

"What--?" Remus started to ask, then realized what his companion was trying to tell him. There was a head in his fire.

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

"Remus?

"Hello?" She let out a hurried breath and struggled to stay calm. In a few moments, she would no longer have a choice... "Please be here. Please look at the damn fire...Remus!"

Suddenly, Hogwarts' headmaster was crouching before her, pale faced and surprised. There was a phoenix on his left shoulder. "Julia?"

"Yes!" She resisted the urge to cry in relief--Julia never cried, but she was sorely tempted now.

"What's wrong?" His blue eyes never missed a thing, so she plunged right in. There was no time to waste with niceties.

"The Dark Lord is going to attack Diagon Alley--"

"I know," Lupin cut her off calmly, and Julia felt her heart do a back flip.

"How?" She stared.

"Never mind that." He shook his head, looking vaguely embarrassed and completely exhausted. "But I know that he's going to attack. I just don't know when."

Whatever his reasons, she knew that Remus Lupin was not a Death Eater. Nor was he a traitor, and there was not time for curiosity. He knew, but he didn't know enough. "He's attacking now, Remus," Julia said quickly. "Right now. I tried to call Sirius, but he wasn't home--"

"Because he's already gone," he interrupted when she started to ramble, confirming her worst fears. Julia's heart crashed.

"We have to do something."

Lupin shook his head. "No. I have to do something--you can't risk it."

"But--" Having already known that did not make acceptance any easier.

"Let me go, Julia," Remus said quietly. She had always thought of him as a kind man, but there was steel behind his words that she'd never seen before. "The sooner I get moving, the sooner this ends. Trust me."

She took a deep breath, knowing that he saw how much it cost her to do so. "I trust you. And good luck."

"Thanks."

Then he was gone, leaving Julia to reluctantly pull her head out of the fire. Her chest was so tight that it was almost impossible to breathe, and she knew that her hands were shaking. But she didn't look down. She didn't want to see. Please let him be alive, Julia thought desperately. Let today not be the day. She would do anything to save him--but Remus was right. And he hadn't had to say that any action was far more likely to kill Sirius than it was to help him.

Julia Malfoy was a highly logical woman, and she recognized the truth when she saw it. That, however, did not mean that she hated it any less.

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"Are you done yet, Hermione?" Harry asked with impatience.

They'd been in Flourish and Blott's for almost an hour, and his stomach was growling so loudly that he was surprised that Mrs. Weasley couldn't hear it from where she and Ginny waited outside. Ron looked ready to eat his copy of The Dark Arts Outsmarted, and the twins were ready (and willing!) to put something unsavory in Hermione's gigantic bag of books if she didn't hurry up. Harry sighed. Hermione was a great friend, but taking her into a book store seemed to last as long as a Muggle marathon. Even Sirius looked impatient, but maybe that was because the young witch behind the book counter kept flirting with him.

Harry smirked, not feeling very sorry for his godfather. To his left, Ron shifted uneasily, rolling his eyes and glaring at Hermione's oblivious back. Fred and George were drifting towards the exit, probably having decided that pranking on a fellow Misfit was not a good idea...or at least when Mrs. Weasley was around.

"Can we go to Gambol and Japes next?" Harry asked, turning to Sirius.

"After lunch," his godfather replied. "Then, sure."

Harry grinned. There were a few things that he desperately needed to stock up on before school started, and a few more that he wanted to hide from Fred and George (Mrs. Weasley had never said anything about Harry having to behave, and besides, she wasn't his mother. Harry's parents knew better than to try and stop their son from pranking).

"All right. I'll just buy these two, and then we can go," Hermione announced.

Harry felt like cheering, but then the floor rocked under his feet. "What--?"

"Get down!" Sirius shouted, shoving Harry forward. He stumbled, and then landed face flat on the floor before he knew what hit him.

Books flew off the shelves like bludgers, hitting unsuspecting customers as they cried out in pain. Fred took one in the stomach and doubled over, but his twin dragged him down to the floor before a shelf could hit him in the head. Harry smelled smoke, and Mrs. Weasley's voice suddenly split the air.

"Sirius!"

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