Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Darkness Comes

"Well, that's it, then," Alice said with a sigh. "Thanks for trying."

Bill nodded for the pair. "Not hard enough, we didn't."

"You did everything you could," Adam MacMillan intervened, sucking in a shuddering breath. His usually cheerful face was drawn and pale from many hours of missed sleep, and his brown eyes were dark from the pain of failure. "I guess I knew... Ever since Mulciber and Flint came out of the shadows at us, I had to know that this would happen."

"It's not your fault, either, Adam," Alice said gently.

"Right." The Auror snorted. "Tell that to Minister Pritchard's family."

Hestia's head jerked up; she'd been staring at a tourist map of Muggle London that she'd swiped hours before from a passing Muggle, but the dejection in Adam's voice made her features harden. "They've contacted you?"

"Just his wife," the other shrugged. "She was...upset. I understand."

"Still, it's not her place to blame you," Bill replied. "You did all you could."

Adam rolled his bloodshot eyes. "Sometimes, your best isn't enough, Weasley," he said quietly. "Sometimes..." he took a deep breath and stopped, shaking his head.

"We know." Surprisingly, it was Hestia who replied, and her voice was far quieter than usual. "You don't have to say it."

"Thanks," Adam whispered, and the silence stretched on. Finally, another quiet voice broke it.

"Damn this war," Alice sighed. "Back before...before the attack on the Ministry, I'd have called up the Personnel Division, and they'd have sent someone to talk to Mrs. Pritchard. Now, though..." She shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Adam. I'll talk to the Unspeakables, but there isn't much I can do.

"Don't worry about it," the Auror replied. "I understand." Adam managed to smile slightly, a half-sick and heartfelt expression that the others returned. Bill did, too, all the while wondering if he had been in MacMillan's place, could he have been so charitable? He tried not to frown. No, Bill knew. I would have wanted to scream at Mrs. Pritchard and say that I did my best, dammit. And even Aurors are human. Sometimes we fail. He shivered.

And sometimes we die.

"Next order of business," Alice said firmly, turning to another Auror. "The Riddle House."

Bill resisted the urge to grimace. While searching for the now-deceased Lachlan Pritchard, he and Hestia had uncovered an unusual degree of activity at the normally quiet and empty Riddle House. Years before, it had been one of Voldemort's primary bases, but the old mansion had fallen into disuse after the fall of Azkaban. Or so we thought, anyway, Bill reminded himself. Something was happening there. Something dark.

But it hadn't been Pritchard. Alice had brought that news with her to Avalon; what Bill and Hestia had suspected all along had been confirmed by one of the Order's spies, just like Pritchard's death. However, tragedy that the death of a senior minister might be, it was not enough to bring Alice Longbottom to Avalon. She rarely came to the Aurors' Island these days, although more and more Aurors had begun basing there after the Diagon Alley attack. Avalon might have been reactivated to train new Aurors, but the quite period was over. Once again, the isle was becoming the Aurors' full-fledged headquarters. A few Aurors had even taken to living on the island, like Derek Dawlish, who had Apparated home into an apartment full of Death Eaters and had promptly Apparated back out again.

Alice, however, was different. Although her husband lived on Avalon and her son was at Hogwarts, she was much too busy acting as Sirius Black's eyes and ears within the Ministry. After his recovery, Sirius had again resumed control of the division, but the rarely left the island--in fact, Bill strongly suspected that he was the only one who knew that Sirius had left Avalon three days before. Frank might have been told...but Bill was not sure. Sirius had acquired an uneasy habit of disappearing for odd lengths of time, and often, even the instructors could not find him. Why he did that, Bill did not know, but he suspected that it had something to do with Voldemort.

Dawlish, however, was speaking. "My team is ready to go," he told Alice. "We don't have enough people to cover the Riddle House twenty-four hours a day, but I've got roving patrols set up, and we'll go into active surveillance during hours that Death Eaters are most likely to be there."

"Magical or physical?" Alice wanted to know.

"Physical," Dawlish replied. "There's bound to be wards and counter charms protecting against any type of surveillance spells, so I'll have someone there every night."

"Have them be careful," she warned, frowning. But she didn't argue. Dawlish was the team leader, and it was his mission to construct--Auror policy tried to let the wizard in the field do his own planning, because he would be the one taking the risks, not just making the decisions. Of course, Auror policy also forbade switching teams out in mid-mission, too, but Bill and Hestia were instructors, which overrode everything else.

"Not a problem, Ma'am," Oscar Whitenack, Dawlish's second-in-command replied. "From what we've heard about that place, it isn't exactly the type of place that I'd want to spend the winter."

"Not at all," Taylor Hall replied. To his right, the fourth and final member of their team, Missy Erickson, nodded emphatically. Despite the feelings on their face, all four looked ready. Then again, Bill and Hestia had already passed on everything they knew, which although not much, might make or break the mission. Little things often did.

"Good." Alice rose from her chair, and the others followed suit. "Let's get this thing done."

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"Remus!" Snape burst into the headmaster's office, startling Remus out of a warm and comfortable catnap. It mattered not that he hadn't intended to fall asleep at his desk; the Font had been feeding him increasingly dark and numerous visions lately, and he was exhausted by them.

Regardless, by the time his eyes snapped open, Remus was fully awake. Pain like that simply didn't enter Severus' voice every day.

He was on his feet without realizing it. "What happened?"

"The Dark Lord." The usually immaculately groomed Potions Master was disheveled and out of breath. "Coming to Hogwarts. Now."

"Now?"

Thanks to Severus' spying efforts, Remus had known that Voldemort planned on attacking the school in mid-September, but he had expected more warning than this. Even the Font had not--Yes. It had. Somehow, it had known.

"We have an hour," Snape gasped. "Perhaps less."

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The two Aurors crouched together in the shadows, with the younger one chewing on his lip thoughtfully.

"Sorry to call you out here, Derek," Oscar Whitenack apologized quietly. Neither even attempted to tear their eyes off of the Riddle House. "But there's something...twisted going on here."

"Twisted?" his team leader echoed.

"Yeah. I don't know what other word to use," the younger Auror replied. "First it was the screams, and the laughter...they were different, somehow. But now it seems like all the Death Eaters have left."

"All of them?" Dawlish demanded.

Oscar nodded. Normally, the Riddle House wasn't left so open, so unguarded. Ever since the Death Eaters had suddenly reappeared in the Little Hangleton mansion, there had been a flurry of activity almost every day--and even more at night. The screams were especially unnerving, even for the Aurors, who should have been numb to such things but could not be. However, the Riddle House was now eerily silent, and that very silence set Oscar's teeth on edge.

"Even the Lestranges are gone. Well, Rodolphus, anyway. Bellatrix left late last night, according to Missy," Oscar replied. "But Rodolphus left about three hours ago, with both Mulciber and Flint."

"All three of them?"

"Yes. And they looked like they had a package with them," Oscar replied uneasily.

"Package like object or package like body?"

The younger Auror shrugged, squinting in the direction of the house. Although he hated reconnaissance missions more than anything else, he had a feeling that this one was about to grow into something else entirely. "I'm not sure. If it was a body, it was awfully limp, but if not, it was a really strangely sized object."

"That's real helpful," Dawlish muttered.

"Sorry."

"No, don't be." The older wizard sighed, fingering his wand. "I wonder if they're all gone."

"Alice'll kill us if we get caught," Oscar pointed out, catching Dawlish's meaning immediately. Derek grinned at him.

"She doesn't have to know."

"Right," Oscar snorted, then smiled back. "Then again, I would like to know what the hell is going on in there..."

"So let's do it. Fast in, fast out. The Death Eaters won't ever know, and hopefully we'll get to present Alice with a finished and successful product."

"Or with two new Aurors to decorate the Azkaban interior."

"Well, you'll have that sometimes," Derek replied lightly. "Ready?"

"Why not?" Oscar grinned; he knew the risks, but it was high time they did a bit of sneaking around in their nasty neighbors' backyard, as his Mentor would have put it. "Then again, if we're lucky, we'll get to explain this to Frank instead of Alice. He's nicer."

"Only if we're lucky, Oscar. And we never are."

"True. Let's go."

Together, the pair crept up the hill and miraculously, into the Riddle House without being seen, hexed, or otherwise impeded. What they found in the empty manor, however, was not exactly what they expected.

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"Professor Fletcher, what's going on?" Hermione gasped.

"Don't argue, stupid girl. Just get in the Great Hall!" Professor Snape snapped before his colleague could answer, and for once, Professor Fletcher didn't seem to care. Usually, he took exception with the Deputy Headmaster's hatred for all Gryffindors, but not today. The deep lines in his face spoke of greater worries, and of far greater dangers.

Driven by the professors, the students were being pushed into the Great Hall at an alarming rate and with no explanation. The first class of the morning had been upended with an ear-splitting announcement by Professor Snape that told all students to go to the Great Hall immediately. Most of the professors had clearly not known why they were ushering their students to the hall, but all had complied. And none had answered questions, no matter who asked them.

In a small bright note, Percy was scowling at Professor Tonks' back, having clearly been told that this was none of his business and to go into the Great Hall like a good little prefect. Harry was having a hard time not laughing, despite the seriousness of the situation. He'd heard those exact words come out of Professor Tonks' mouth.

Hermione, however, wasn't giving up. Red in the face, she planted herself firmly in the entrance to the hall, and started to object. "But--"

"Don't be daft, Hermione!" Ron hissed, grabbing her arm. "We've got to--"

"Got to what?" she demanded. "And why? What's so frightening that we don't have a right to know what's going on?"

"Miss Granger, this is not a time for arguments!" Fletcher suddenly snapped. "Get into the Hall!"

"But we--"

"C'mon, Hermione!" Without warning, Fred and George grabbed her by the arms and hauled her inside, with the rest of the Misfits hard on their heels. Harry, however, was frozen in his tracks.

Professor Lupin swept by them, exiting the Great Hall with a hurried stride. But the fact that he was leaving wasn't what caught Harry's attention; it was the look on the headmaster's face that made him stare. Remus' face was tight and drawn, and paler than Harry had ever thought it could be. His blue eyes, though, were burning.

As he passed, Snape fell into step behind him without a word, but Remus gestured him back. "Stay with the students," the headmaster said quietly.

For the first time in Harry's life, the greasy Deputy Headmaster looked taken aback. His dark eyes widened, and for a moment, Harry thought he saw fear.

"But I--"

"No, Severus. This one is mine."

And Remus strode away without a further word, leaving both Snape and Harry dumbstruck in his wake.

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Two hours later, Bill stood outside the Labyrinth, waiting for a candidate to finally emerge. This was the first time that Auror Candidate Class 4904 had attempted the ever-changing Labyrinth as individuals and not one of the first seven to enter had managed to exit--currently, all of them were stuck in what the instructors fondly called the basement. None of candidates had even known that the hole existed; when they had negotiated the Labyrinth in teams, no one had fallen in. Now, though, they would stay in the basement until someone made it through, or until all the candidates had failed.

Testing phase or not, there was still plenty left to learn. They had less than ten days until graduation and the assignment of Mentors, and the instructors would push them as hard as possible on each of those days. Bill suppressed a smile. His would likely become a long wait.

"Have a moment, Bill?" Frank Longbottom's question startled the younger instructor, and he jumped and instinctively went for his wand, smiling sheepishly as he turned. Embarrassed, Bill pried his fingers out of his pocket, thinking that perhaps his wait would not be as lonely as he'd anticipated.

"Several, I suspect," he replied dryly, making Frank grin.

"They are doing rather impressively bad, aren't they?" the Senior Candidate Instructor asked.

"I don't think they expected us to play dirty."

"More fools they, then," Frank replied. "Aurors always play dirty."

The two wizards exchanged grins at the remark; it was one of the Aurors more unofficial mottos. Death Eaters play dirty. Aurors wallow in the mud. But they didn't mention that one in public--the Aurors' private disregard for official policies might have given certain Ministry workers massive coronaries. Especially this far into the war, though it did help that the current Minister was one of their own, and had a bit of a reputation for working...outside the rules.

"Yeah, but some of the candidates are still stuck on the 'Stalwart and Upright Defenders of the Light' image," Bill snickered.

Frank snorted. "Stalwart? Sometimes. Defenders? I'll buy that. But upright?--"

"Not often!" they finished together, laughing. Humor, even dark humor, was a rather necessary relief in their line of work.

After a few moments, though, the amusement faded off of Frank's face, replaced by something quieter and more serious. Slowly, he nodded slightly in the direction of a nearby trio of oak trees, and Bill followed his senior to stand in the shadow cast by the trees. On such an overcast day, they didn't particularly need the shade, but the trees were nice to lean on, and Bill could still see the Labyrinth's exit from there. Frank cleared his throat.

"We've got a problem, Bill," he said quietly, leaning back against the largest of the oaks.

"Problem?" Something in the older man's voice made Bill swallow.

Frank nodded. "Two weeks ago, Candidates Tonks and Smeltings were exploring the island. They've apparently done so often, and though it's a gross violation of Candidate Regulations, I think we might have reason to be grateful for their rule breaking."

"Oh?"

"Ms. Tonks came to me yesterday. I think she would have preferred to speak to you, but you and Hestia were still off the island," he continued bluntly. "She told me about her and Mr. Smeltings' explorations, and that thirteen nights ago, they saw an unidentified figure altering the wards."

"The wards?" Bill frowned. "How can they be sure?"

"Smeltings cast a diagnostic spell, and Tonks dissuaded the individual with some fireworks," Frank replied. "Smart girl, that one."

"Look at her cousin," Bill reminded him.

"Right. Anyway, the mystery man--both agreed that the individual was male--entered PriApp before either could act. The doors admitted him, and they assume he left."

"Was there any ward maintenance scheduled for the first or the second?" he asked. "It might explain everything if someone was working late."

"No," Frank said with certainty. "Unlike the old headquarters at the Ministry, these wards can be controlled and maintained by two individuals: myself, as Senior Candidate Instructor, and Sirius, as the head of the Aurors. I know it wasn't me, and Ms. Tonks would have recognized her cousin."

Bill whistled. "So, do we have a traitor in our midst?"

"I don't know." Frank shrugged. "It could be something entirely innocent, someone who got paranoid and decided to simply test the wards before leaving...but I don't know. So, I'd like you to check it out."

"Me?"

"You're our best problem solver, Bill, and I'd like you to keep this quiet. I trust you, but if there's someone out there..." Frank didn't have to finish. They both knew what a traitor on Avalon could mean.

"Consider it done," Bill replied quietly. "I assume that you want me to go at this alone?

"For now. Let me know when you find anything out."

"No problem."

Frank slapped Bill on the shoulder, and moved away from the trees. "Thanks, Bill," he said with a lopsided smile. "I'll leave you to your waiting."

"Oh, that's brilliant of you," Bill grumbled. "You and I both know that I'll be here all night!"

"Nah. Kingsley swears they'll all be done by dinner."

"Lovely! Mighty thoughtful of him, that." They exchanged smiles once more, and then Frank walked away, leaving Bill alone with his thoughts. The distracting banter had been just that, a distraction, and both Aurors realized how important this was. Avalon was their last sanctuary. If it had been breached...

Bill shook the dark 'what ifs' away, but could not forget the truth. If not for two candidates' aptitude for exploration, the Aurors would not have known even this much. As it stood, they knew very little, but any lead was a start. Frank had been right in choosing him; Bill enjoyed mysteries, and was good at solving them. Once, he'd even wanted to do so as a career, but that dream had faded when the war raged on, and Bill had chosen to make a difference.

He smiled wistfully, supposing that a small corner of his soul would always belong to the little boy who had wanted to be a Gringotts curse breaker...but no more. He had a job to do, and he'd do it. Like so few remaining things in their world, being an Auror meant something, and Bill would not let down those who depended upon him.

His eyes watched the dark exit from the Labyrinth as his head whirled over the possibilities, wondering the mystery wizard might be and what his intentions had been. They were lucky that Tonks and Smeltings had spotted him, and somehow, Bill was not surprised at all to see that the first student to emerge from the Labyrinth was Nymphadora Tonks.

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Remus stood alone outside the castle's giant front doors, feeling light rain drizzle down around him. He, however, was oddly dry, and wondered idly if that was the Font's influence. Not a day passed where he did not learn something new about Hogwarts' Font of Power, and he hoped that this would be another of those days. He took a deep breath. He would need the Font today.

Eight years ago, Lord Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts and had been repulsed by Albus Dumbledore. At the time, Remus had wondered how, had not understood the ability of wizard to take on the Dark Lord and all his Death Eaters. Even Albus Dumbledore should not have been able to do so unaided, even at Hogwarts...but before Remus had entered the Font, Dumbledore had explained. The Font could save Hogwarts.

Only the Font could save Hogwarts.

Remus closed his eyes. Although he could see the ant-like figures of Death Eaters and Dementors approaching in the distance, his eyes would only serve as a distraction. He had never been as instinctually brilliant as James or Sirius, but Remus knew that he'd have to operate on a different level of magic today. Words would be as useless as his eyes. Everything would depend upon his connection to the Font, and how long his body would stand the incredible strain of old and deep magic.

He put his wand away. It was time.

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"Hey, Sirius."

The voice mad him look up in surprise; with all the candidates and instructors occupied in the Labyrinth, Sirius had expected to have Lab Six to himself. However, he'd managed to forget that Avalon was no longer as quiet as it had been.

"Adam," he acknowledged, trying not to frown. "What are you doing here?"

The other Auror shrugged. "I was bored. You?"

"Working."

And he had been before Adam MacMillan came through the door, but now Sirius could not. It wasn't that he didn't trust Adam--he simply didn't want anyone to witness what he was doing. Trust was certainly not an issue; had James Potter walked into Lab Six, Sirius would have hidden this from him, too. Especially James.

"Dissimulous," he muttered, tapping the work table with his wand. Disillusionment Charms were so useful. Now Adam (and any other unexpected visitors) would see only what they expected to see, which would probably be a typical array of experimental materials. Sirius resisted the urge to snort. I should have thought of that sooner.

"You're turning into a workaholic," Adam said playfully, but his smile didn't extend all the way to his eyes.

"If I'm going to beat Voldemort, I need to be," Sirius replied quietly. He wasn't in the mood for jokes, anyway.

"Do you really think you can?" Adam asked. "Defeat the Dark Lord?"

"I know that I have to."

The stark words hung in the air between them, startling even Sirius by their simplicity. Yes, he had known that he'd have to stop Voldemort, had known for some time. However, that wasn't the same as admitting it, and he hadn't before, except to good friends. This was different. Adam was different. Friends he could expect to understand. Others...

"Better you than me, mate," Adam finally said with a shrug, breaking the awkward silence. The forced levity in his voice failed to help matters, though. "So, what's that?"

The item he gestured at was a small leather-bound book which lay open on the table in front of Sirius. It was barely the size of a Muggle paperback novel, but it was much more important. However....Sirius shrugged. "An old book. I was looking up some little-used spells."

"Sounds engrossing," the other said dryly.

"More or less." He forced a smile, feeling something cold trickle down his spine. "Mostly less."

Mostly dangerous.

Adam chuckled, unable to hear Sirius' inner thoughts. Then, much to Sirius' disappointment, he wandered halfway around the lab's perimeter towards a clump of chairs. "Mind if I join you?"

"Erm...well, to be honest, yes," Sirius said carefully. "You're slightly distracting."

And I can't work at all with you in here! He desperately wanted to order MacMillan to leave, and could, but doing so wouldn't help his relationship with the Aurors one bit. All eight labs were open to all, and if he started playing an autocrat without explaining himself first, some noses were bound to get bent out of shape. The fact that half the Wizarding World hated him because of the brand on his arm was bad enough; if the Aurors stopped trusting him, it would all be for nothing.

"Sorry." Adam smiled apologetically and headed for the exit. "I'll leave you to your work, then."

"Thanks, Adam," Sirius said gratefully. "I wouldn't normally be so rude, it's just hard to concentrate, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do." The Auror paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned to look of his shoulder. "Just tell me one thing, Sirius. Why does it feel like you're using Dark Magic in here?"

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Remus collapsed straight into Snape's arms when it ended. He hadn't noticed when his Deputy Headmaster approached, and was almost beyond caring. His head spun with exhaustion and power, and he could still feel the Font whispering in his soul--

Dementors approaching Hogwarts.

Were these memories or the future? The Dementors were gone...

Snape on his knees in front of Voldemort--

Sirius twisting away from a curse, with pain on his face--

A woman mixing a potion--he recognized her, but could not remember why--

Dung Fletcher with tears on his face--

Little Hermione Granger, with her wand pointed at someone and fury on her face--

Hagrid--

"Remus!" Snape had to shout in his ear to be heard. In response, Remus tried to shake his head to clear it, but only succeeded in making himself more dizzy. He wouldn't have been standing if Snape hadn't been holding him up. "Headmaster!"

The other professors seemed to have come through the doors on Snape's heels, but Remus was almost too lost to tell. He blinked again, feeling so limp, so exhausted.

"Are you all right?"

It was Dung, but there weren't tears on his face. Remus had to squint at him to figure out who he was; his brain was working too slowly. The headmaster blinked again.

"Yeah," he tried to say, but it came out sounding more like "teah."

Poppy Pomfrey knelt at his side, gesturing for Snape to lower him to the ground, which the other wizard did without argument. "Stay still," she ordered needlessly.

Remus didn't even have the energy to nod, but he did have the energy to jump when Fletcher bellowed:

"Get those students back inside!"

He didn't bother to turn his head to look, but then again, he didn't have to. Undoubtedly, Harry and the Misfits were among the curious onlookers, along with Malfoy and his Slytherin friends. Out of all the groups of Hogwarts students, those were certainly the most nosy.

"I can't find anything wrong with you," Poppy said with frustration as Fletcher asked,

"What did you do?"

Remus shook his head wearily. "Don't ask. It worked...and that's what mattered. Matters."

He knew that he was tired when his grammar got mixed up.

"Are they gone?" Auriga Sinistra asked in a small voice.

"Yes."

The world spun as he spoke, and Remus distantly heard Snape curse, but he couldn't quite figure out what the other man had said before he blacked out. The last thing he remembered thinking was that something hadn't been right about that attack--for all he managed to blunt Voldemort's best efforts to invade the school, something was lacking. Something was different.

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