Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirty-One: The Sixth Circle

Remus glanced over his shoulder into a pair of glowing eyes. "It is time," he told his companion.

Slowly, the phoenix nodded.

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The same note reached seven people that afternoon, delivered with the speed and secrecy only a phoenix could muster. Of the five, only Lily Potter ever saw Fawkes, and that was more a trick of chance and talent than anything else. A phoenix who wished to remain invisible would always do so, no matter what the circumstances...and even to friends. Knowing this, Lily did not smile, for she knew it was time.

The notes arrived unsealed, simply tied like a scroll with a single blue ribbon. But if one looked closely enough, and had thought to do so, the pale outline of a phoenix was visible where a seal might otherwise have been, with its wings spread wide in flight. In freedom.

Each of the seven recipients gently touched the phoenix before unrolling the letter. They did not have to, but all understood.

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Your presence is requested at the Country House.

The time shall come at Twelve o' Clock, Post Meridiem.

The Sixth Circle forms.

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Some took easier routes to the Country House than others, of course, though all were required to arrive in the same manner. Lily simply stood and walked into the next room, noticing the scroll in her husband's hand as he nodded in return. She had been planning to spend the afternoon working with the Unicorn Group on Clean Air, just as James had planned to meet with Arthur. Both engagements, however, were now out of the question.

"I'll call the Burrow," she said with a half smile. "If we invite them to dinner, Molly can fill me in while you meet with Arthur."

"Sounds like a plan," James replied, and his return grin made her smile grow. For months, the remaining members of the Inner Circle had feared that they would never reform the Circle, and that they would be left to carry on, crippled and alone. The Inner Circle was small enough, even when filled, and recent events had only made it harder for all of them. Now, however, their fears seemed to be unjustified, and that dark fate was not to come.

Thank Merlin, Lily thought to herself, then wondered if she should not thank Fawkes instead. When she'd first joined the Order o the Phoenix, Lily had thought the name nothing more than symbolic, perhaps inspired by Fawkes, but not caused by him. She had thought, quite correctly, that using a creature who rose from the ashes to live again was a potent symbol, one that an organization formed to fight evil could proudly bear. Lily had thought of hope and of logic, not of mysticism and powers beyond human comprehension.

Back then, she had no way to know that the original Inner Circle had been formed from the Order's first members, or of the integral role Fawkes had played in choosing those few...and all of their successors. She had not understood that the Order of the Phoenix, in many ways, belonged to the phoenix. To Fawkes.

It had taken Dumbledore's death and Fawkes' refusal to allow a Sixth Circle to drive that point home. Despite how many inductions she had participated in, none of them had proven that fact to Lily--she had always known of Dumbledore's special relationship with his phoenix, and had assumed that Fawkes was simply acting on Dumbledore's behalf. It had been the logical conclusion, after all.

Then Dumbledore had died, and Fawkes had carried on. And the Circle was reforming, hopefully for the final time.

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He walked towards the Primary Apparation Center with not one letter in his hand, but two. The first was identical to the scroll his six companions had received, but the second was a personal letter from Remus, delivered by a boringly normal (if slightly frazzled) Hogwarts owl. That one, at least, prepared him for what came next.

"Sirius?" a voice spoke from his right, approaching from the direction of the Instructor's Quarters. Its expected presence made the senior Auror turn, smiling slightly--if he had to break his vow to stay on Avalon, he could hardly think of better company to do so in.

"Hello, Bill," he replied, shifting to face the younger man. Sirius still felt stiff, still felt different, but he was closer to himself once again, and that allowed him to smile--and mean it, for once.

Rarely had he seen Bill Weasley appear uncomfortable, but the other Auror was shifting uneasily from foot to foot. "I received a letter," Bill said dubiously. "It asked me to find you, and to follow you to the... 'Country House'?"

"I thought as much." Sirius gestured with his own letter to explain the remark. "Do you know why?"

Bill shook his head. "I don't have a clue."

"Walk with me, then," he replied, and Bill fell into step beside him. They strolled forward in silence for several moments, each listening to the quiet sounds of nighttime Avalon, and doing their own mental checks to make sure the island was all right. After they moved past the Student Quarters, Sirius continued: "What did your letter say?"

"Something about being brought into the Circle." Bill shrugged. "But what circle? And who is this from?"

Sirius studied his companion for a long moment, and saw the other's mind working furiously. Bill was a very smart man, downright brilliant in many ways--and he was one of the best riddle solvers that Sirius had ever met. Cases that had stumped many Aurors were child's play for Bill Weasley, because it was instinctive for him to tear problems apart and look at every angle before giving up. If anyone could figure Remus' cryptic letter out, it would be him.

"What do you think it is?" he finally asked.

"There was a phoenix on the outside of the scroll," was the immediate reply, and Sirius saw brown eyes twinkle briefly. "Very faint, and hardly visible, but there."

"Yes, there was."

Bill frowned slightly. "I've never received a letter from the Order before."

"Nor will you again, unless things go terribly wrong," Sirius said quietly, taking one last glance around. He was certain that they were alone, but Aurors didn't live by making assumptions. "You know we have an Inner Circle."

"Yes, but--you're not serious?" Bill started.

Sirius nodded. "I will take you to the Country House, where the Circle will be formed. I do not know what seat you will fill, but from this moment forward, you are one of us."

"Why me?" Bill finally asked after a long moment of silence.

"Why any of us?" Sirius countered. "I joined the Circle when I was younger than you are now. I had little experience, and was virtually of no use to the Order, but I was chosen anyway. The same could be said for many of our number...at least in the beginning. There is no why, Bill. The Circle simply is."

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Peter looked down at his shaking hands. "I've refused this before," he whispered.

"And that was then," Remus replied gently. "We both know things are different now."

They were standing together under the beech tree which had once been the Marauders' favorite tree and still meant a great deal to all of them. Remus had asked Peter to meet him there since Apparating onto Hogwarts grounds was impossible and the lake wasn't too far from the boundaries. The headmaster was glad that he'd picked such a significant place, though it had not been intentional. Perhaps the old surroundings could help calm Peter's nerves.

"I'm still--"

"The same person," Remus finished for him. "Still our friend, and still someone I trust."

Peter flinched. "Trust," he snorted. "I refused Dumbledore because I was afraid. That hasn't changed, either."

"Afraid of what?"

"Failing. Of not being strong enough." His voice dropped to a raw whisper. "Betraying you."

"But you never did," Remus reminded his friend. "And you've shown remarkable courage by betraying Voldemort, and--no, don't argue, Peter. I'm speaking as the Order's head, not just as your friend. You deserve this seat. More importantly, you can help the Order by taking it."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." The headmaster chuckled gently, watching the surprise on Peter's face. "What you've done across Europe, and in France especially, has been of great service to the Order. Now I must ask you to do more."

Peter frowned sourly. "I'm not courageous."

"Yes, you are," Remus disagreed. "And you always have been, because doing what you fear most takes the greatest kind of courage."

"If fear equals courage, I'm a Muggle superhero," Peter's laugh was nervous, which made Remus reach out to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Years of friendship had made Peter a stronger man, but one moment of weakness still haunted him--even if he had acted for the right reasons. His time as a Death Eater shamed him, Remus knew, and years of hiding behind lies had made "little" Peter think of himself as a coward.

It didn't help that most of the Wizarding world seemed to agree with him.

"You're closer than you think, Wormtail," he said after a moment. "Sure, none of this comes easily to you, but that only makes your actions more admirable. You aren't a natural hero like Sirius or James. You've never sought or wanted to be in the spotlight. But that doesn't make what you do any less necessary. Or any less courageous."

"'Anyone can be a hero'?" Peter quoted, rolling his eyes. "You're starting to sound like James, mate." The response was flippant, even bitter, but Remus saw the emotion in Peter's eyes and did not press. Even after so long, there were some feelings that best friends found difficult to express.

"Maybe I am," he agreed slowly. "And maybe I'm crazy, too. But will you come be crazy with me?" Remus held out his right hand, offering power, hardship, risk...and perhaps, finally a way to find peace and atone for old wrongs.

"Ah, hell!" Peter cursed. "You really want me, don't you?"

"Yes. We do."

His friend scowled at the simple response. "This might turn out to be the stupidest choice you've ever made."

"I'll take that risk," Remus said levelly.

"Are you sure?" Suddenly, the bitterness was gone, and for the first time in two decades, Remus was staring at the same lonely and frightened little boy he had first met on the Hogwarts Express. The same loneliness and uncertainty resided in Peter's green eyes, something that Remus, James, and Sirius had thought they had eliminated years ago. They had tried to heal him, and had thought they succeeded.

Seeing that, Remus desperately wanted to reach out...but he did not. As a friend, he should have. As the head of the Order of the Phoenix, he could not. Peter had to face this before it killed him, and doing so was a decision he would have to make alone.

His hand still hung in the air between them.

"I--" Peter took a deep and shuddering breath. Remus smiled.

"I know."

Peter took the hand.

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"Shall we, Severus?"

The Potions Master's head jerked up like a spooked cat, and he scowled as the interruption forced him to look up from the stack of papers on his desk. However, his visitor chuckled, unaffected by the glare. Only Severus Snape would give a major exam just twelve days into the term.

"Depart, of course," Fletcher laughed.

"What--oh." Snape's scowl deepened, which, as Dung had learned long ago, was his equivalent of a blush. Snape never reddened, but he scowled well and often. Now, he stood in a flurry of black robes and angry eyes. "Yes."

"Are you all right?" Dung asked worriedly, watching his friend. It was 11:45, and Snape hadn't looked at all like he expected to leave Hogwarts anytime soon, even though it would take them a good fifteen minutes to get far enough across the grounds in order to Apparate to their destination.

"Quite," the other replied shortly. "I simply lost track of time."

"Ah." But something was wrong. Dung couldn't pinpoint what, but something was wrong.

Snape shot him a sideways glance, then gestured at the door. "After you."

"Right." Dung had managed to forget that he was still leaning on the doorframe, effectively blocking the only exit from Snape's office. He bounced away, wishing that there wasn't such an odd feeling growing in his stomach. "Let's go."

They walked though the darkened castle in silence, fortunately running afoul of no wandering students, be they sneaky Slytherins or brash Gryffindors. Now it was the Gryffindor head of house's turn to scowl. Fletcher often envied the respective heads of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Somehow, their students seemed less inclined to creep around after hours and create trouble. Dung snorted to himself. Then again, he even envied Severus his Slytherins--as sneaky as they could be. At least Severus didn't have all of the so-called Magical and Invisible Society For Instigating Trouble in his house! The Misfits, Dung corrected himself grimly, plus their newest and truest convert. Only two days before, he'd found out the hard way that little Ginny Weasley wasn't nearly as innocent as she looked.

"What?" Snape asked abruptly, startling Fletcher into missing a stride.

"Eh?"

"You snorted."

"Oh. I was just thinking about my...well-behaved Gryffindors," Dung replied with a half smile. He knew that Severus, the everlasting Slytherin, would have something to say about that.

Surprisingly, he didn't. Instead, the Deputy Headmaster asked, "So, how has teaching the Dark Arts been thus far?"

"Not bad." Dung shrugged. "I'd rather you were teaching it, but...not bad."

"Frankly, I'm glad to see you there," Snape replied, startling the ex-Auror.

"What?"

"I understand Remus' reasons for keeping me out of the Dark Arts classroom," the Death Eater said levelly. "All of them, including the ones he won't admit having. But what he doesn't understand--at least, what I think he doesn't understand--is why I wanted the job in the first place."

He paused, seemingly waiting for a reply. After a long moment, Dung ventured: "I know you have a lot of experience..."

"Experience." Snape snorted. "That's the last thing I want to share with these children." His voice lowered, and Fletcher saw some of the bitterness seep off of his face. "What I want...wanted was to teach them not to walk the road I did. To show them that darkness is worth fighting."

Dung swallowed in the intervening silence. Rarely, if ever, had he heard Snape speak so openly, so honestly. And he would have never expected this. It was strange; although he readily would call Severus Snape a friend, even a good friend, he hadn't thought that the other wizard shared his outlook on darkness. On the war. On teaching.

"That's why I'm glad to see you teaching the class," Severus continued after a moment. "Because I know that, no matter what lies in your past, you will show them that the right path does exist...even if it isn't always the easy one."

"Thanks." He swallowed.

"For what?"

"Believing that I can do that," Dung replied so honestly that he surprised himself. "I've wondered about the same thing, sometimes."

Snape shot him another sideways glance. "Whatever for?"

"Because I think I'm going to have to go back to the Aurors, unless I want to turn myself into a hypocrite and ignore my own lessons." There. He'd said it. Dung had finally voiced the decision that had plagued him since the day 'Bella Figg had died. "I need you, Mundungus. You knew this would come," she had once told him. After nearly four months, he could finally admit that she was right.

"When?" Severus seemed unsurprised; he didn't ask the useless questions, just when? Nothing else mattered.

"I'm not sure," Fletcher admitted. "At the end of the school year, if the war's not over. Maybe sooner, if I'm needed." The next words escaped before he could stop them. "But I really don't want to."

"I know." Severus smiled grimly, and paused for a heartbeat. "I understand."

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The feeling sank in the moment he lifted his wand: a feeling of oppressive darkness, of destruction, and of victory. But he recognized the distant laughter far too late to act; he was in the Apparation Center, and Avalon was already fading around him.

The dizziness struck as his feet landed on the dirt of a windswept field, and Sirius stumbled, something he never did after Apparating. For an Auror, any unplanned motion could turn into suicide, and he'd never been one to trip over his own two feet. Sirius barely managed to catch himself before falling, and he felt his head spin faster in reaction to the sudden movement. Familiar nausea rose, and Sirius choked it back, shaking his head in a failed effort to clear it. Staring at the burnt--burnt?--grass, he tried to catch his balance, and stumbled instead. Everything was so cold. So dark.

"Dear God," Bill whispered from his right, making Sirius' head snap up.

Remus was there. So were James and Lily, along with Snape and Dung. So was Peter, which he had expected, but was still pleased to see. But the ramshackle and beat-up old house that he had also been expecting to see...wasn't.

The Country House was gone.

There was hardly even a trace of it, save for a few chunks of charred wood strewn around the field. The house had been yellow, Sirius recalled, but no evidence of that color remained--everything was black. Black and poking out of a smoke-filled crater in the ground, mostly in the form of ashes and a few still-burning flames.

"It's gone." The ragged voice belonged to Fletcher, who looked stricken. To his right, however, Snape looked furious.

"How?" Lily whispered brokenly.

"He was here," Sirius said abruptly, speaking before he could stop himself. "Just moments ago." He shuddered, but the nausea was fading. "He was here."

Even as the last word left his mouth, the Dark Mark blinked to life in the sky, and everyone fell silent. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done--and Fawkes was now the long flash of color in the crater, weeping quietly amongst the ruins.

Eight pale faces watched--six who had been in the Circle for years, and two who already understood enough to be heartbroken. Fawkes finally went still, but even a phoenix's tears could not heal the damage done. Sirius stood frozen with the others, feeling the heavy sense of darkness fade...but staring at the Mark in the sky and feeling its twin prickle on his forearm was unnerving. He could still feel the evil Voldemort had left behind.

"How did he know?" James asked, his voice cracking.

"I don't know," Remus admitted. His blue eyes were filled with pain, and he was so pale that it seemed like someone had drained all the blood from his body. If Sirius hadn't known better, he would have guessed that the destruction of the Country House caused Remus physical pain.

Another long moment of silence followed before Dung whispered, "What now?"

Remus swallowed as Fawkes' head came up, and Sirius watched their eyes meet. The phoenix looked haggard and defeated amid the wreckage, and his eyes, too, were dull with pain. In fact, Fawkes and Remus bore uncanny resemblances to one another at the moment, more so in spirit than in a physical manner, but it came close enough to spook Sirius. The darkness binds them, he realized. The darkness and something more.

Slowly, Remus turned to face them. "We cannot reform," he said sadly. "Not today."

A ripple ran though the small group, a ripple of sadness and...something else. Anger. Voldemort had sought to make a statement, but Sirius realized that he had made a mistake. The Dark Mark burned in the sky above them, but something darker burned within their souls. Yes, the Dark Lord had sent a message. However, Sirius wondered exactly what Voldemort had expected as a reply.

He wondered if anyone knew.

"We will form again," Remus continued. "When, I cannot say, but...this is not over.

"Until we do, remember this day. Remember that evil can strike even that which is most dear to us. If we fail to fight it, we shall end up like the Country House, burnt out and with friends weeping amongst our ashes." Movement caught Sirius' eye, and everyone watched silently as Fawkes lifted off the ground and flew unevenly to land on Remus' right shoulder. Silver tears still shone in his eyes, and Remus seemed to sense them. He never looked up, but he reached up to stroke Fawkes' head, and the phoenix whistled mournfully in thanks. While the pair stood in silence, they seemed to blend together like a shadowy stature.

"We must stand together," Remus said softly. "As we fight or fall, the Inner Circle must not break."

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